After Supper

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The dinner was digesting comfortably as he walked down the barn path. Though he ate better than most on the ranch, he hadn’t eaten anything that good for as far back as he could remember. His stomach may have been happy, but the uneasiness he felt upon invitation to supper had been creeping up on him throughout the meal. The whole affair produced an artificial ambience.

He was just coming up over the little hill that hid the barn from site for about 200 ft. back on the path. In the silence of the evening metal meeting wood with force could be heard echoing up and out of the slight ravine where the barn was nestled. The abrupt sound of his boots skidding to a halt on the dusty, rocky path replied. His heart took a double-beat and he held his breath for a few seconds.

He darted a deciphering glance over to the living quarters. From the crown of the hill he could see the L-shape they formed along the northeast corner of the tobacco fields, his facing west and the other two, slightly larger, one after the other facing south. It was late enough that the other workers were inside by curfew order.

Lights out, no movement. His eyes snapped back to the barn.

He finally inhaled. Some oxygen returning to his brain, he switched modes taking a lower, balanced stance. With his knees bent and his hands, fingers open extended out at either side, he set a brisk pace down the ravine.

The path had a thin gulch weaving through it cut by the rainwater, which found the least resistance here on its way to the stream at the bottom of the hill. He made quite, little bounds off the walls of the gap using them to propel himself downward at an accelerated and modestly stealthy rate.

Bounding down the slope he could see slivers of dull light escaping the barns interior. As his perspective on the building changed the lines of light transferred across the minute cracks giving him a sense of where inside it was originating.

The herd crew was about three miles out feeding the cattle and wouldn’t be back until later the next morning. The horses were with them. His mind was running through possible suspects in an attempt to prepare itself for an eminent confrontation. A coyote, raccoon, or bear?

As he closed in he slowed his approach and lunged gracefully across the trickle of a stream avoiding the doubtless racket his boots would make over the short wooden plank bridge. Any animal was preferable over human intruders, but he felt dim promoting such wishful thoughts. No beast would meddle by torchlight.

A low, muffled laughter came from inside the barn. He stopped and dipped further down on his toes with legs folded, fingertips gently touching the ground. At the southeast corner of the structure he was briefly distracted by the water rot setting in on the bottom foot of the barn.

He was immediately set back on full alert upon hearing the substantial thump of what could only be described as a body against the solid ground. The hair on his arms stood straight up, he could have sworn it was accompanied by a stifled female screech.

He realized he was holding his breath again.

This time releasing the overused air, he pivoted and shuffled along the broad side of the barn, still down on his haunches. He stopped where a knot had broken away from the wood and slowly moved his left eye to the hole. He saw tools hanging on the wall, angling his head for a glimpse. To the left? Corrals. Up and down didn’t offer a better aspect.

He switched to his right eye, quickly angling it to get as much of a view to the left as possible. There were a set of feminine legs, dress pushed or pulled up to the hips, horizontally squirming on the dirt floor. And just beyond those a vertical pair, work pants and undone belt crumpled up at the ankles. All resplendent in a soft orange light.

He tried in vain to get an upward angle on the standing party – no luck. The urge to uncover was overwhelming and a mild guilt was expanding in his already full stomach. The one standing dropped down knees first between the woman’s legs and now they both laughed together.

“Quickly.” A female voice loudly whispered.

“Not too quick.” They laughed together once again.

No matter which angle he tried, he couldn’t fit their torsos into the ovular frame of his view.

Accompanying the sound of buttons popping away with a rip, the lower half of the man eagerly attempted insertion. He rolled his entire body away from the peephole scraping at the ground with his right boot. He held his breath once more.

The only return was a submissive squeal and a cacophony of primal grunts. Whatever this was, it wasn’t his business. It sure as hell didn’t fall within the parameters of his job description.

Wobbling forward into the dry grass a few feet, he slowly stood up full length and walked slowly back to the stream, this time taking the step bridge across before joining back up with the path that lead to his quarters. He had his head tipped down kicking rocks as he strolled in the starlight.

He induced a breath. This one more of a sigh. His mind wandered to the past, weighted by the present. He would never admit it to a living soul, but to the moon over his shoulder it was obvious – he was a lonely son of a bitch.

“At least dinner was pretty damn tasty…”

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2 Responses to “After Supper”

  1. datingdilemma2014 Says:

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