Cowboy Cried Wolf

Blood, Sweat, and Tears

June’s POV

God dammit, Emily, move!” I tugged on the reins of the old nag, trying to get the horse to budge. She wasn’t having any of it though, sensing I was smaller and not much of a threat to her. The stubborn stone we were stuck on with the plow was large, something I could probably never move by myself.

“Come on! We need to move this thing.” I gave one last halfhearted tug on the reins, finally giving up. “If Jonah was here, you would have moved for him.” I scolded her, knowing that the animal would pay me no mind. Jonah, my fiancé, had died last month from an attack. Wild wolves had torn him almost to pieces in the woods, his body discovered by the sheriff three days after the fact.

It was a closed lid funeral that was held, along with the last three weeks of mourning and unwanted visitors on the ranch. At least I owned the land outright, a trust given to me by my late father. Two thousand acres staked and claimed by him legally with the settlers agreement through the government, mine now and would have been entrusted to Jonah when we were to wed; the stipulation in the trust that my husband take over when I marry.

Jonah had been my childhood sweetheart, someone my father had approved of before his passing; taking care of me and the ranch while I grieved and mourned my loss. The only person even in the small town who had ever had a thing against our union was Fred O’Shea, a settler who had a decent sized ranch adjacent to us with a commune of sorts on the land; none of the women hardly leaving there and the men nothing but trouble. He had asked for my hand in marriage once, but my father had turned him down, not trusting the man.

Now he was dead, Jonah was dead, and here I was; trying to get the garden going so I wouldn’t starve this winter. Emily neighed as I unhooked her, sensing her victory for the day. “Yah, yah… don’t rub it in.” I scolded her as I lead the way to the barn, chickens following us for supper time. I lead her into her stall and unhooked all of the tac, putting them away and brushing Emily down, feeding and watering her for the evening.

I scattered more feed along the ground as I walked to the house, the chickens scampering to get the kernels. One lone howl was heard in the distance, making me pause. “Fuck.” I ran to the house to get the double barrel shotgun I had propped by the door, loaded all the time now. I didn’t know if that one howl would be wolves or much worse, the O’Shea’s.

For some reason, any time those fuckers showed their faces, the animals on the farm went almost wild trying to escape; and each time they were heralded here by the sound of a wolf.

Pretty soon I had my answere as five horsemen appeared on the horizon, the setting sun behind their backs. I had the gun leveled at them as they came closer, riding in like the land was already theirs. “Miss June Crawford,” the one in front tipped his hat to me, his dusty blond hair greasy and hanging in his brown eyes. “We’re here on the behalf of Fredrick O’Shea to lend you a hand.”

The other four riders got off of their horses, stalking closer to the house.

“I’d advise both you and your friends here to clear off. I need no help, and I definitely don’t need the help with strings attached from Mister O’Shea.” I glared at him, making them pause.

The leader of the group looked out to the field where the plow rested, the large rock visible from where I gave up. He raised one singular eye at me, and smirked. “It looks to me though that you do.”

I c****d the rifle, the mechanism in the barrel breaking the hush harshly and getting a laugh from the group. “When I stop for supper is no business of yours. Now I advise you lot to clear out before I decide that I need some target practice for the day. And tell that lowlife O’Shea to go and f**k himself on the behalf of me and my father.”

I always blamed that lot for my father’s demise, his heart having gotten weak in his old age. With the O’Shea’s constantly harassing us, he was never able to relax properly. And one night when a wolf got into the barn and killed our favorite horse, chasing the large creature away was just too much excitement for him. He’d always laughed when I had told him I swore the O’Shea’s controlled the wolves around here, but I firmly believed it.

One of the men ignored my warning, heading to the barn. I aimed the rifle and pulled the trigger, spraying dirt right before his feet. “Sunofabitch!” He shouted, jumping backwards and falling onto his ass.

“I said to get out of here.” I aimed the rifle again, this time at the head of the ringleader.

“Come on gentlemen, the lady is insistent.” He motioned to the others, all of them getting back onto their horses. I wished I had one of the fine animals to be honest; they didn’t even flinch at the sound of the bullet, their training must be really well to have them used to the sound of a gun. Emily had whinnied and bucked in her stall at the noise, the chickens scattering.

“You’ll regret turning Fredrick down again.” The rider informed me as they began to file out, glaring at me and the surrounding buildings.

“Never.” I growled back. Fredrick wouldn’t even get this land over my dead body, I made sure of it. When they were out of sight, I turned to the house and went in, intent on supper. I had a pot of beans and ham I had been simmering all day, the salty smell wafting to me as I stepped inside; my stomach growling.

I changed into my nightdress, then sat down to eat my supper. If I could just get the damned garden planted, I would be as right as rain. Food was needed for the winter, and I very well couldn’t just spend my saving, although handsome, on getting food brought in from the town. For some reason since Jonah passed, it seemed that most of the folks there were charging me extra or even higher prices on goods and services. So I was bound and determined to be as self sufficient as possible.

A lone wolf was heard again in the distance, making me pause. It was further away than before, which was a good sign. I stretched and washed up my dinner, putting everything away before taking my oil lamp to my bed. Sitting down, I pulled out the deed to the property from the nightstand. I needed to take it to the bank, but lately I felt like I couldn’t trust anyone from there. I sighed and set it down, putting the oil lamp next to it and dimming the wick.

Maybe a good night’s sleep is what I needed, something calm and relaxing to make my paranoia go away. It wasn’t always like this before with having the men in my life, but it seemed that now that I was alone people saw me as weak and harmless. I scoffed a little and turned to the side. If they tried to take my ranch, I’d show them how harmless I could be.