Cowboy Outcasts
Evernight Publishing
www.evernightpublishing.com
Copyright© 2012 Stacey Espino
ISBN: 978-1-77130-066-7
Cover Artist: Sour Cherry Designs
Editor: Marie Medina
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.
This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
DEDICATION
I’m dedicating this book to my husband Marden and my youngest son Julian.
They both have to live with Tourette’s Syndrome. Hopefully, one day there will be a cure…or at least more public awareness.
COWBOY OUTCASTS
Stacey Espino
Copyright © 2012
Chapter One
Tourette Syndrome (TS) is a neurological disorder characterized by tics: involuntary, rapid, sudden movements or vocalizations that occur repeatedly in the same way. The cause has not been established and as yet there is no cure.
“Ms. Watson, I don’t have time for this now.” Carl Fischer adjusted his glasses as he continued down the hallway of the university. Hailey tagged along behind him, balancing a pile of heavy textbooks in her arms.
“Sir, please. I need more funding for my research. If you read my proposal, you’d see the validity of what I’m trying to achieve.”
The professor turned a corner, keeping up his hurried pace. “Everyone’s proposal has validity, Ms. Watson. The university would be bankrupt if we funded every shining star.”
One of her books dropped to the ground. She struggled to pick it up, attempting to bend down without spilling the rest of her load. The professor had made it to the other end of the hallway, about to escape into the stairwell. “Sir! The hogs are going wild. Something has to be done.”
He pushed open the door and then turned to face her. “Then I suggest you find a way to deal with it. Without university funding.” The door eased shut behind him, leaving her standing alone in the quiet hallway. She never expected him to agree. She’d already applied for every grant in the state, to no avail.
Hailey exhaled, her shoulders slumping as the slim hope she’d held onto faded away into nothingness. The right side of the hallway was all windows, looking down onto the courtyard. She set her bundle on the ledge and watched the students walking along the various paths. Only two years ago she was doing the same thing, rushing to classes, studying day and night. Some days she didn’t know why she bothered at all, but then she’d remember her research. Understanding the human mind was her passion, and she wanted to take it as far as possible. But until now she’d only dealt with horses and dogs.
Hailey quickly learned that a Master of Science did not equate to a six-figure income. In fact, she barely made enough to pay her rent at the boarding house. She wouldn’t complain if they’d only give her enough money to continue her animal behavioral research. Her options became fewer each day.
She made her way to the parking lot. Her old jalopy waited for her in the same spot every day, its mix of rust and layers of old paint making it the talk of the campus. Luckily she was usually the last to leave each day because her pickup was in desperate need of a new muffler. The two mile drive to the boarding house was enough to wake the dead.
“Hales, wait up!” Peter ran across the parking lot towards her, waving a few pages of paper.
She dropped her research books into the bed of her truck and waited. Peter was a good friend. He’d graduated alongside her, but his focus was on agricultural management and pest control. “What is it?”
He was slightly winded, bending over to catch his breath. “I thought these might interest you.”
She took the papers from him. “What are they?”
“They were posted in the local feed shop just south of here. I thought it would be a good way for you to do your research…on a budget.”
She smirked. “You knew Fischer would say no, didn’t you?”
Peter shrugged. “I feel bad. It’s not fair that my project got funded and yours didn’t.”
“That’s because there’s money to be made in your case. The pesticide market is huge around here,” she said. “Besides, I’m glad at least one of us got funding. One day I’ll be able to say I was best friends with a Nobel Prize recipient.”
“Sure, Hales,” he scoffed. When a distant group of students called out his name, he tapped the papers he’d given her and started jogging down the manicured lawn. “I’m booked to tutor a group of second-year chemistry students. Five minutes ago.”
“Thanks, Pete. See you tomorrow.”
Hailey climbed up into her truck and slammed the stubborn metal door shut. She sorted through the papers. Several local ranchers had placed ads in the feed store requesting professional help to rid them of their pest problem. Most sought archers and huntsmen. The need only confirmed what she’d been trying to prove to her superiors—hogs were having a major negative effect on the farming industry in their state. There had to be a better balancing act between keeping the animals safe and the farmers profitable. It seemed like the perfect symbiotic relationship. Hailey would be able to conduct hands-on research in the field, and she’d hopefully be able to help a farmer save his crops.
****
“You seen that brother of yours lately?” asked Howard.
“Uh-uh,” said Callum. He scanned the ads on the bulletin board in the feed store, not paying much attention to the owner.
“How long’s it been now?”
“Nearly a year since I last saw him,” he said dismissively. “You take down my ad, Howard?”
“I never touch the board. There was a student in here yesterday asking about fertilizer and pesticides. One of those tree-huggers from the university. He took a few ads with him.”
“The whole damn ad?” Callum ran a hand through his hair, wondering what a student would want with his advertisement. “Now I’ll have to print off another copy.”
“Don’t be too hasty. I know plenty of ranchers who got free services through the university. Their students are just itching to get their hands dirty.”
“They could help with my hog problem?”
“Can’t see why not. Unless you have top dollar to pay a professional, you can’t go wrong using a student.”
He pondered the idea as a couple entered the store, the glass bells clanging against the glass door. They made a wide arch around him, not making eye contact. He stood tall, staring them down until they reached the other end of the aisle.
Three, two, one. One, two, three. Three, two, one.
Howard came from around the counter and whispered, “Callum, you’re grown now. Overgrown, if you ask me. You’re intimidating when you look at people like that. How do you expect to make friends?”
He scoffed. “I don’t need friends. Certainly not the likes in this God-forsaken town.”
The older man tsked, shaking his head. “I don’t know where you steered wrong but your parents wouldn’t approve.”
Three, two, one. One, two, three. Three, two, one.
“You think the lovely townsfolk have been good to us? They treat their fucking livestock better.”
“Lower your voice,” he whispered harshly. The only reason Callum allowed Howard to speak so forward was because he’d been one of the few rocks in his life. He’d taken Callum and his brother under his wing after their parents died over a decade ago. He wasn’t sure why the old man bothered to care. Nobody else did.
Everything just seemed to be adding up lately, and he was doing it all on his own since Arden took off. Each time he found a section of his crops destroyed by hogs, he felt powerless to protect them. He couldn’t be everywhere all the time. His land was vast, and he needed to sleep, even for just a few hours a night. Expensive surveillance equipment and fencing were out of the question, and he didn’t have the experience to hunt the hogs down, bringing him back to square one. He needed help, and he needed it free.
“I’ll bring a new ad by tomorrow,” said Callum, dipping his hat as he turned to leave.
“Call the university. It’s worth a try.”
He left the claustrophobic confines of the feed store, taking a deep breath of country air—a mix of pine, barley, and burning wood. The feed store was located on the periphery of town, the last stop before the open road.
If no one would help him, he’d have to help himself. He planned to set traps. Lots of them. He wouldn’t watch his crops go to hell because of the unchecked hog population. It was difficult enough running things without Arden, so he didn’t need any added headaches.
The booming sound of bass neared as he walked along the side of the road towards his truck. He didn’t bother to turn around.
“Hey, retard, stay out of town!” shouted one of the men in the pickup as it passed. His blood boiled. Jeremy and his friends had been a thorn in his side since grade school. Callum was twenty-nine now, not twelve. He should be able to control his temper and ignore such ignorant pricks, but he couldn’t let it go. His anger enhanced the twitch in his face, and things would only get worse now that his anxiety levels spiked.
If Arden were in town, he’d have hunted them down and given them a taste of cowboy justice. He struck out first and asked questions later. Callum only retreated more into himself.
Three, two, one. One, two, three. Three, two, one. He’d taught himself years ago to use number combinations to stay focused, to keep his Tourette’s at bay. Sometimes it worked—if he was lucky. When it really counted, nothing seemed to help him appear normal. Women often referred to him as a pig wearing cologne because they’d be attracted to him only until they found out about his problem. Older generations would quote the Bible, Mark 5:1-20, saying he was demon possessed with all his crazy animal noises. If he never had to come into town at all, he wouldn’t.
Jeremy didn’t realize he was playing with fire. Some days were more difficult for Callum to rein in his temper than others. Like the townsfolk frequently said, he was an animal, a freak of nature. He made people uncomfortable so they didn’t want him around.
The truck revved its engine, burning rubber as it peeled down the street, the music fading into silence. He sighed a breath of relief.
Callum settled in the driver’s seat of his truck. He drove the dusty back roads home, the rough surface doing a number on his suspension. He had to haul the rusty bear traps out of the hay loft and get them oiled up in addition to his usual work load. His mind processed so much at once. He had plowing to get done, fences that needed mending, and wood to split. Without Arden, he was a one-man crew, everything falling on his shoulders. But unlike his brother, he refused to abandon the family ranch. All their memories were preserved within the walls of the house.
Every night when he’d sit alone in the living room watching the flames dance in the fireplace, he’d reminisce about his parents. His father used to tell them about Ireland in the evenings, using his gift of storytelling to make the recounts fun and interesting. Whenever things got tough on the ranch—drought, flooding, lack of resources—his father would always compare their misfortune to life back in the homeland. After hearing the tales of true famine and suffering, Callum and Arden learned to keep their mouths shut and give thanks no matter what the circumstances. They’d study the Bible as a family, something Callum still did on his own.
Now he was alone—no parents, no brother, not even a friend in the world. Maybe God was punishing him for taking his family for granted when he had them. But blaming himself wouldn’t change the facts. He had to carry on, one day at a time.
Callum kicked off his boots and tossed his Stetson on the coffee table after arriving home. He was still pissed off because of Jeremy and needed to clear his head for a while. He dropped down in his favorite worn chair and massaged his temples. The only sounds in the lonely house were the drip of the kitchen faucet and the grandfather clock’s rhythmic ticking. He watched the pendulum, reminded of his mother. She’d brought the family heirloom all the way from Ireland when she came to the country. It was her pride and joy. No matter how rough times got, his father would never consider selling it. And Callum never would, either.
Just as the throbbing in his head began to subside, the telephone rang. It was such a rarity to hear that he jerked in his seat, looking back and forth before realizing it was just the phone. He hoisted himself up to answer it.
“Hello, is this Mr. O’Shea?”
“Who’s asking?”
“I saw the flyer you posted in the feed store,” said the girl.
He frowned. “So you’re the one stealing ads. You’re supposed to write down the number, not take the whole paper.” He didn’t mask the irritation in his voice. There was no one in the world left to impress.
“I may be able to help. With your hog problem, that is.”
“Unless you have some magical elixir that’ll wipe out the hog population for good, I don’t see how a little girl from the university can possibly help me.”
“I’m not a student. I’m a specialist in animal and human behavior.”
“Well that certainly sounds too fancy for me. I can barely buy oats for the horses, never mind pay some overpriced scientist who—”
“I won’t charge you,” she interrupted.
“Nothing’s free, sweetheart. What’s the catch?”
“I’d like the chance to study the animals firsthand, in their natural environment. I need to learn more about them in order to make sure they don’t pose a problem for humans.”
He really wanted to tell the girl to fuck off and bother someone else. But if she could help him get rid of the hogs at no cost, he’d be a fool to say no. “How long will this take? A day? Two?”
She chuckled as if he’d said something funny. “Weeks. Possibly months. I need to monitor their habits, conduct tests, get into their heads. I wouldn’t take up much room. I’m fine sleeping in the barn if it’s livable. All I need is a cot.”
“Live here?” He hadn’t expected that gem. “Nobody lives here but me. I’m not keen on hosting a National Geographic party, and certainly don’t have time to babysit you.” With that he hung up the phone and returned to his chair. The nerve of that girl, expecting a free ride for Lord knows how long. He needed the hogs gone now, not in a week or month. Tomorrow he’d clean up the bear traps and do things his way.
Chapter Two
Hailey had to find a better way to appeal to Mr. O’Shea. Cowboys in the area were so set in their ways that it was difficult teaching them anything new. The other ads she’d responded to had no interest in preserving the hogs. They wanted them all wiped out and roasting on a spit. Half the men were in the Stone Ages in the way they cared for their own livestock. It could get inhumane, even barbaric—she’d witnessed it with her own eyes during her training.
Her line of work gave her an intimate look into the mind of an animal. They weren’t much different than people when stripped down to the basics. It was her goal to ensure man and beast cohabitated peacefully, but half the battle was getting pig-headed cowboys to listen. Or universities to sponsor her research.
It was less than two weeks until her money ran dry. She’d worked in the
lab all winter, assisting the chemists with their dirty work. Now the semester was coming to a close and she was no longer needed. No money meant she had no way to pay her room and board. She couldn’t ask her parents for a handout because they didn’t approve of her choice not to follow tradition and practice medicine.
Hailey was going to try and get tutoring jobs like Peter but even the students would be off for break soon. She had to get herself set up on a ranch doing research or she’d been homeless. If she could prove any of her theories in the field, she could write up a convincing proposal for funding. With solid evidence to back her up, she was confident they’d finally see the validity of her work.
The next day after she left the campus, she drove out to the local diner. Carrie, the fulltime waitress, knew just about every piece of juicy gossip ever to grace the small town. She’d know the address to the O’Shea Ranch. Hailey knew she’d have a better chance of convincing Mr. O’Shea of her offer if she could talk to him face to face. He’d see firsthand that she wasn’t imposing, wouldn’t even take up much room.
It was lunch hour when she entered the diner. Dirty and dusty cowboys lined the counter and several booths held university students. It was an odd mix, one she’d never find in the city. But without her parents to finance her education, she had to accept the scholarship to the much lesser-known university right in the middle of the prairies.
“Mornin’, sweets. What can I get you?” asked Carrie. She looked to be about forty, her long blonde hair gathered in a ponytail.
“I was wondering if you could do me a favor…and I’ll have an iced tea.” She sat on the furthest swiveling stool, out of earshot from the men.