Page 66 of Rough Stock
The light glinted off of a tiny bronze-colored star, a nailhead decoration, and it was just like the ones on Jensen’s boots. Checking carefully, she could see some faint scrape marks near it. She stood and stared at them, trying to figureout which direction they were going, when someone said, “ShyannaOwens?”
When she spun to face the voice, she found a police officer standing nearby. “Yes, sir? Can I help you?” she answered, slipping the little star into her pocket.
“I’m going to have to ask you to come with me. We need to ask you some questions,” he said and pointed back toward the arena. Shyanna let him lead her there, all the while wondering how long they’d detain her. She had to get busy.
He was out there somewhere. And he was depending on her to find him. She couldn’t let him down. In the brief time she’d known him, he’d become everything to her.
Everything.
His head hurt so badly that he thought he’d be sick, but as soon as the thought went through his mind, he knew he couldn’t throw up. There was something across his mouth?most likely duct tape?and he’d aspirate. It was a few more minutes before he realized he wasn’t in a room, but where was he? He could feel grass under his cheek, and that meant he was somewhere outside, but god, it was dark. It was also just a little chilly. Blood-deprived fingers felt around behind him, but his hands were tied tight, and from the feel of things, his ankles were bound too. Worse yet, he was pretty sure the smell of shit in the air was his own.
Jensen tried to listen for anything that would give him a hint of where he was, but it was quiet, with only crickets calling. No cattle sounds, no horses, not even air stirring. Ankles bound tight, he could barely move, and it was cold there. His own wastewasn’t the only smell in the air. He could smell blood, and he had to assume that was his too. He was thirsty, he was hungry, he was cold, and he needed a shower badly. And some clean clothes would’ve been great too.
After struggling for at least an hour in an attempt to break free, he gave up. There was no point. Unless someone came along and freed him, he was stuck there. What day was it? He thought back as best his pounding head could. He remembered finishing the bull riding event on Friday evening, but nothing after that. Wait?was that Friday or Saturday? Or was there something else? As he lay there, he tried to piece together the last few things he could remember.
He'd done okay. Shyanna hadn’t done very well. She was getting ready for the bull riding competition when they’d realized the chute boss hadn’t had her bull loaded. Being told they’d scratched her for no reason was the last straw, and he’d headed upstairs to talk to Dale and Jimmy about it.
Stepping into the little office, Max had stared at him as they stood near Dale’s body. He remembered them looking at each other, and Jimmy speaking from behind him.
And that was all he had. Based on the headache, he had to assume one of them had hit him over the head. Must’ve been Jimmy, the son of a bitch, because he’d been the closest in proximity. Max was somehow behind everything, but he wasn’t sure why or how, and it all had something to do with that pharmaceuticals company. That much seemed obvious. Damn near killing him and leaving him for dead was a bit extreme in their attempts to get rid of Shyanna.
Shy. Lying there in his own piss and shit, covered in bruises, duct tape, and blood, she was all he could think about. It was obvious he’d been there for a while. Dale was dead, and they’d left him to die. But his situation was the least of his worries.
Shyanna would think he’d done what everyone else did to her?told her he loved her and bailed. What little trust she’d developed would be crushed, and she’d be even more bitter than she’d been when he’d met her. Jensen thought about that soft skin, that silken hair, and that determined look in her eyes. She was tough, but this? This was too much. It wasn’t about him. He sent up a little silent prayer…
God or whoever is up there, I don’t give a shit about myself. I’m worried about Shy. If they’d do this to me, what are they doing to her? And even if they leave her alone, what’s she going to think? That I was one more person who said I loved her and walked away? That she can’t trust anybody? That the world is full of people who don’t care and can’t be trusted? So listen… I don’t care what happens to me, but please, let somebody find my body when I’m gone. I need her to know I didn’t leave her, at least not of my own choice. It’s the only chance she’ll have to believe somebody really did care about her. Wherever you are, please, give her that. It’s all I really want, because she’s all that really matters to me.
“For the last time,I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Shyanna said, puffing up like a toad. “I don’t know how many different ways to say it.”
“So you don’t know where JensenStrader is?”
“No, sir, I don’t. I was looking for him myself before you dragged me in here.”
The officer shot her a dirty look, which she ignored. “And you don’t know why he was in the office upstairs?
“No.”
“It was our understanding from the chute boss that you’d been scratched and Mr.Strader was pretty upset about it. What do you know about that?”
“Don’t know anything about it except that it’s true?they scratched me for the evening without my knowledge or consent.” Eyes narrowing, she stared at the officer. “Do you even know for sure he was in there? Or did that lying sack of shit Fuller just tell you that?” she spouted off.
“No, ma’am. And there’s no security footage, so we have nothing to look at. But Mr.Fuller said?”
“Did you bother checking the camera behind the arena where that back staircase comes out?”
The officer shook his head. “The camera wasn’t working.”
“How convenient. And by the way, where’s MaxBarlow?”
“Max who?” the officer asked, still writing in his little notepad.
“Max. Fucking. Barlow. He and JimmyFuller are tight. I’m pretty sure he had something to do with this. If there’s some kind of nastiness going on, Max will be right in the middle of it.”
“MaxBarlow, MaxBarlow. Oh, here it is. He roughed you up earlier in the season. Is that true?”
“Yes. It’s true.”
“And you and Mr.Strader are in a relationship, right?”
