Head First (Quinn Brothers Book 1)

by Samantha Black

  What greeted her was a horrible sight.

  At least two sheep were dead, and another three wounded. The two dead sheep were ripped apart, their heads bent at strange angles and bloated bodies already attracting flies. The three injured sheep were bleating in distress. One of them was bleating pitiful, tiny noises and looked as though it was barely hanging onto life, and Alexis gasped as she saw its stomach had been ripped open. The other sheep were standing in a tightly packed group, a few meters away from the injured animals and bleating at them and shaking their heads in fear, pawing at the ground with their hooves.

  “Oh no, oh no.” Her hand was over her mouth to try and block out the smell. She stood dumbstruck for a minute, trying to comprehend the scene in front of her. It must have been dogs, it was the only thing she could think of. But every dog around here was trained and looked after by the protective sheep farmers. Surely none of their dogs would have done this?

  The pitiful bleating sounds pulled her back into the present. She couldn’t bear the thought, but she had to do something. She couldn’t leave the poor thing there suffering like this.

  She ran back to the farmhouse, straight to the locked cabinet of Bert’s that held his old hunting rifle that Mason had taught her to use not that long ago. Shaking, she picked up three bullets and tucked them into her pocket, before hesitating and picking up an extra three. It would do no good for it to suffer the pain of a bullet also and still be alive to suffer more. She grabbed the earmuffs that sat on top of the cabinet almost as a second thought.

  She took the rifle from its hook and slung it over her shoulder. It was harder to run with it across her back, and even without a bullet inside it she felt wary. Being from New York, she knew many people with guns, and had girlfriends who kept small revolvers concealed in their handbags for protection against violent muggers. She had never wanted one, or felt the need for one, and she didn’t like the feel of the heavy metal resting between her shoulder blades.

  When she got back to the field the sheep were still bleating, although it was quieter now. Alexis carefully unslung the rifle from her shoulder and climbed over the fence. It was something Mason had taught her—never climb over a fence with a rifle in your hand, even if you’re sure it’s not loaded. Put it on the other side of the fence and then climb over to it.

  As she neared the fallen sheep, her stomach dropped to see that the smallest one with the stomach wound had fallen quiet. Its eyes stared blankly up to the sky and Alexis wanted to cry. Instead, she carefully placed one bullet inside the rifle, and held it up to one of the injured sheep. It was trying to move away but its legs couldn’t hold its weight, and it stumbled to the ground again. There was blood across the grass and her gumboots almost slipped.

  She pointed the barrel at the sheep, took a deep breath, positioned the rifle the way Mason had taught her and pulled the trigger. The blast was deafening, and she was thankful she had thought to take the earmuffs. The sheep’s head fell back.

  She quickly loaded the second bullet and took her second shot.

  The injured sheep lay silent on the grass as the gunshots rang across the valley. The remaining uninjured sheep scattered, bleating loudly.

  She fell onto her knees in tears. Who would do this to these innocent animals?

  Bile rose in her throat and before she could attempt to hold it down, she was sick onto the grass.

  The scene disturbed her in more ways than one. The slaughter of innocent animals, the loss of five healthy, breedable sheep, and the fact that the attack had obviously been a targeted one. To get a dog into this field, the gate would have to have been opened. And that meant a person had come here with a dog, or more than one dog, opened the gate to let them do this, then let them out and closed the gate again ready for her to find in the morning.

  A cog in her brain clicked into place. Mason. Wasn’t this exactly what he had said he would do to someone that he wanted to get even with? Didn’t he say this is exactly what he would do to her if he was trying to drive her away?

  He had told her this to her face, when they had been out hunting, and then laughed about it. And he had been trying to buy this farm off her for weeks.

  She should have known. No man could be trusted when he wanted something from you. He’d probably thought that sleeping with her would soften her up to his offer for the farm.

  Worse, he probably hadn’t even really wanted to sleep with her but thought that seducing her would be a last resort to try and sway her decision.

  She wanted to be sick again, but her anger took hold.

  He wanted her farm but there was no way in hell she would sell to him now, not after this. He could take the deed to this farm from her cold dead fingers before she signed it away to that man.

  As she lay crying on the grass, Terry came running. “I heard shots. Are you okay?”

  She sat up, her face stained with tears, and simply pointed.

  He swore loudly and sat down heavily on the grass next to her, his face a sickly shade of green. He swallowed a few times. “Dogs?”

  What else could have made such a mess? She hadn’t known that dogs could be so vicious. Mason’s sheep dogs had always seemed so eager and willing to please. “I guess.”

  “Did you catch them at it? See whose dogs they were?”

  She shook her head. “I didn’t see a thing. They were gone when I got here. And they left…that.” Besides, she had a very good idea whose dogs they were. They belonged to someone who would stoop to any depths to get what he wanted—her farm.

  He swore again. Then, “They’re no good even for dog tucker. I’ll go borrow the dozer from over the way and bury them.”

  She cried on and off all morning as they worked together. Terry dug a hole in one corner of the field and together they moved the mutilated carcasses and threw them in before covering them up again with a mound of dirt.

  It wasn’t the sheep she was crying for. She was on a farm, and she knew that the sheep were raised for eating. That was the way of farming. It was the senseless destruction, the vicious waste, and the knowledge that her sheep had been used as a weapon deliberately to hurt her.

  “I’ll stay up tonight with the shotgun,” Terry said, as he brushed the dirt from his hands. “They won’t survive coming back a second time.”

  A second time? She hadn’t considered that this might be just the beginning of a war. What else would he be prepared to do to force her to sell?

  Alexis shook her head. No, there was no way she could face this level of upset again. No farm was worth this.

  She had done her best to learn about sheep farming and to get to know the community. She had risen early in the morning and gone to bed late at night, slogged through rain and mud, put up with Nate’s insolence and Trev’s teasing, and still not given in.

  But this? This was different. This was personal. She had no energy left to fight. If Mason wanted her gone that badly, then she would simply go. She would sell him the stupid farm and hope that his conscience pricked him with every step he walked on it.

  That afternoon, she trudged up the hill to find Mason and give him the good news. He wasn’t at the house, but his mother looked at her with some worry in her eyes before pointing her to the barn. “He’s with the horses.”

  She pushed open the door to the barn, blinking as her eyes adjusted to the light. Mason was standing beside his favorite mare, patting her neck and feeding her apple slices, which she picked from his hand with a soft whumph of pleasure.

  Forgetting about the mare, he turned to her, and the horse whickered in annoyance at the sudden absence of apple slices. “Hey, what’s up?” He sounded pleased to see her. Doubtless he knew he had won and was wanting to gloat. She wanted to scream, to spit, to curse at him, but she knew it would do no good.

  “I’ve come to tell you that you’ve won.” Despite her best intentions, her voice broke on the last words.

  “Won? Won what?”

  “I’ve come to accept your offer on the farm. I�
�m selling up. You can take it, since you want it so damn much.”

  He stepped forwards and tried to take her into his arms, but she sidestepped away from him. She couldn’t stand the thought of his hands on her. “Alexis, what’s the matter?”

  “Aren’t you happy? You’ve got what you wanted, after all.” She couldn’t keep the bitterness from her voice. It had taken a few mutilated sheep for her to see the light, but now it was blinding her. She had to leave, and the sooner the better.

  He reached out to her again, a puzzled look on his face. “Of course I wanted to buy the farm. I made that clear right from the outset. What I don’t understand is why you are selling at all if you are so upset about it. I thought you wanted to stay here and run it yourself.”

  Great acting. He looked so innocent, as if butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth. Worthy of winning an Oscar. “I’m not cut out to be a farmer. I should never have come here.”

  “I know it’s been a steep learning curve, but you’ve done an okay job so far.”

  She swallowed back her nausea. “There’s half a dozen dead sheep in my paddock right now who would tell you differently.”

  “I’m really sorry to hear it, but you mustn’t blame yourself. Accidents happen.”

  “This was no accident. It was deliberate. Someone,” and she looked him straight in the eyes, “opened a gate and let a couple of vicious dogs loose in my sheep. You can imagine the scene I woke up to this morning.”

  “And you think it was me?” His voice was filled with a mixture of incredulity and hurt. “You seriously think I would do such a thing?”

  “You were the one who told me that if you ever wanted to get rid of me, you’d set dogs on to my sheep.”

  “And you thought I would seriously ever do such a thing?”

  “If not you, then who?”

  He shook his head. “I’m sorry for your loss, I truly am. But I’m even sorrier that you think it was done by me, or on my orders. I would never do that to anyone, let alone to the woman I—His voice broke off. “Yes, I will buy your farm for whatever it was valued at. I will keep my end of the bargain. Unless you think I may have swayed the valuer to give you a lowball number?” he added sarcastically. “After all, if I’m prepared to set the dogs on to your sheep, I’d surely be willing to bribe a valuer. I wouldn’t even have to get my shoes dirty to do that.”

  “Funny, that’s exactly what the valuer said.”

  He glared at her. “Thanks for making it absolutely clear to me exactly what you think of me. I’m glad to get any doubts I had on the matter cleared up. Now, if you will excuse me, I will go talk to my lawyer about getting a bill of sale drawn up. I’m assuming you would like to close the deal and get the money in your pocket as soon as possible so you can leave here right away?”

  Her heart was breaking on the inside, but she refused to let it show. “Yes, I would.”

  Before he could see her tears start to fall, she turned her back to him and strode back out into the gray afternoon.

  Chapter Seven

  Alexis stood at her cooktop, stirring the pot of Spanish chicken stew on the stove. The sun was high in the sky and ironically it meant the kitchen was the darkest it would be during the day. When the sun was lower in the horizon, early in the morning or in the evening, the light came straight through the kitchen and dining room windows, lighting the house in a warm glow. Midday however, the sun beat down on the roof and little light hit the windows. She’d turned the inside lights on to cook but it was still frustratingly dim. If she’d have been planning on staying longer, she would look at replacing the lights. Or buy better bulbs. Or install a skylight. But at this stage she just wanted to leave the house in its dilapidated state to the next, soon to be confirmed, new owner. She was not going to do anything at all if it meant it would make the place nicer for Mason.

  Alexis sprinkled olives and almonds into her stew and turned off the stove, letting the heat of the stew absorb the flavors. Aside from birds chirping outside and the stew bubbling, her house was silent.

  She hadn’t heard the sound of another car on her driveway for two full days now, since her run-in with Mason. All she had received from him was an email stating that his formal offer on her farm for a number just above the official valuation was going through his lawyer and would be with her soon. It represented more money than Alexis had ever thought she would have in her lifetime, and yet knowing it was coming brought little joy to her. In fact, when she had opened the email and read the offer, she felt a distinct urge to hurl her cup of coffee through the newly cleaned windows. She had refrained only because she had just used the last of her coffee beans and she needed the caffeine.

  She had replied in an equally terse email stating that she looked forward to receiving the offer very much and would appreciate this being completed in the utmost haste, so she could return home again quickly. She had then driven into town on her own, only stalling once at an intersection (and thankfully out of view of the Quinn house) and stocked up on coffee beans so that next time she felt the urge to throw her cup she could do so.

  She also bought two of the most expensive bottles of wine at the local supermarket, although it was not such an opulent treat really, seeing as together, they only cost about as much as a cup of coffee and a bagel from her favorite New York deli. One of these bottles she drank that very night on her own, curled up on her couch feeling sorry for herself. That evening she had ended up on a terribly trashy website reading self-help articles on love and sex and completing a quiz on ”How to tell if he’s really the one?” This quiz answer told her that Mason was her “Mr. Right”. She redid the quiz for James and the quiz announced he was also her Mr. Right. She had shut the laptop with disgust.

  There had been no reply since her reply to him, and Alexis felt a bit of embarrassment at herself for being so petty. But any time she felt any embarrassment it was quickly replaced with anger towards him for what he had done to her sheep.

  No matter how hurt she had been at James she would never, could never, go out of her way to hurt him or to hurt an animal to get back at him.

  She had to remind herself that she didn’t really know Mason at all.

  The noise of a car coming up her driveway startled her out of these thoughts. Her Spanish chicken stew sat steaming on the stove. Alexis turned the element off and took a deep breath. She wasn’t prepared to see Mason, but she’d hoped he would come back. He probably was just coming over to hand her over the offer papers personally; one more dig at her and one more opportunity to gloat that he had won.

  She breathed in and out, then turned to face the door. Her face composed into showing no emotion, she walked over and opened it, expecting to see Mason’s big, mud-splattered and constantly dusty truck. To her surprise, there was a small, sporty looking car, that looked as though it might have been exceptionally shiny a few hours ago, before it had hit the dry gravel roads of the back country. Its dark blue paint was now streaked with tracks of dust, born from the last two weeks of no rain.

  There was no one that Alexis was expecting. Maybe the valuer had come back to do another check?

  She walked hesitantly towards the car to greet the driver. The brightness of outside made her squint, and she couldn’t see who was inside the car. Then the door opened, and a leather shoe-clad foot stepped out. Alexis’s gaze travelled up from the expensive-looking shoes to the tailored pant leg, up and up, to lock into the blue eyes of her ex-boyfriend. Standing there, in the dusty gravel, looking as handsome and put together as always, and completely out of place.

  “James?” There was nothing else that her brain could think of to say. She smoothed down her hair and took a tentative step towards him. “What—what are you doing here?” She wasn’t prepared for this. Her stomach was suddenly doing backflips and she felt her breathing quicken.

  “Babe—I mean Alexis. It’s so good to see you again.” Then he stepped towards her and enveloped her in his arms, squeezing her tight. “I am so sorry for what I did.
” He gave her another squeeze and buried his face in her hair.

  Alexis closed her eyes and breathed in the smell of his aftershave. It smelled just like she remembered. She could have been back on her leather couch in Manhattan as if the past two months had been nothing but a strange dream.

  Suddenly she pulled back, conscious of the lingering smell of sheep poop on her tatty old work clothes, and of her unwashed hair.

  “I—uh, I wasn’t expecting you,” she said, gesturing at herself as way of explaining her unusually untidy appearance. She had never let James see her this unkempt before.

  “I know, I wanted to surprise you,” he said with a grin. “I guess that worked.”

  “Yes, it sure did.” She backed up a step. “James, I don’t know what to say.”

  “Just let me come in? And we can talk?”

  She couldn’t say no, not when he had flown all the way over, a two-day flight that she knew from personal experience was exhausting. Even though James had probably flown first class.

  She nodded, and they stepped towards the house.

  “Oh, wait there a sec,” he said and turned back to his car. He pulled an enormous bouquet from the back seat and handed it to Alexis. The flowers were a colorful mix of orange and yellow and wrapped in layers and layers of tissue paper. The weight of it surprised her.

  “Thank you, James,” she said, burying her face in the flowers and taking a deep breath in. They tickled her nose. “They smell great.”

  He smiled, looking pleased with himself. “I tried to buy roses, actually, but there was very little choice in Christchurch, to be honest. I’m glad you like them.”

  She nodded. “They’re beautiful.” She led him inside, suddenly aware of the baggy shape of her pants and how they didn’t flatter her at all. They were comfort pants, ones she wouldn’t have been caught dead in back in New York. The tickling in her nose was building but she needed two hands to hold the flowers.