“And if I refuse to be your house slave?”
“I’ll whip you with the belt until you’re more agreeable. And I’ll do it in front of the ranch hands. You want to test me on that? I can ring the bell and bring them all in for a show. They’d be eager to watch that pert little ass get whipped.”
Veronica shook her head quickly, knowing he’d do it. If he’d gotten away with doing this once before, she didn’t want to think about the kind of men he employed, or how they might get off on her pain and humiliation. It was easier to just make breakfast.
“That’s what I thought. You’ll be making two meals a day for all of us, but the evening meal will just be the two of us. I’ll show you the garden after breakfast.”
Oh yes, the garden. She’d forgotten about her gardening duty. The joke was on him. She couldn’t even keep a potted fern alive.
Standing on the back patio barefoot in a sundress, getting ready to make them all breakfast was the old-fashioned stereotype, minus one element. “I hope you don’t plan on getting me pregnant.”
“Don’t be silly. You’d be next to useless to me pregnant.”
A horrifying thought hit her and she couldn’t stop the question from flying out of her mouth. “Did Trish get pregnant?”
“Yes.”
Before she could ask anything else, he’d turned and headed out toward the cows, that ominous yes hanging in the air. What did that mean? She’d gotten pregnant, and he’d killed her? Veronica took a couple of tentative steps into the backyard trying to get her breath to come normally. She couldn’t get pregnant; that risk was gone. But that wasn’t the problem; it was the idea he’d kill a woman over something like that.
The grass was soft and well-manicured. She jumped at a low whistle, and turned to see a man that looked maybe fifty, a touch of gray starting at his temples. He was good-looking, but nothing like Luke. She mentally berated herself for that thought. For either of those thoughts.
“Well, ain’t you a pretty thing? I coulda swore you was Trish for a minute. You like that grass? It’s sod. We put it in for her. She was the damnedest woman. Couldn’t get her to wear shoes for nothin’ hardly.” So Luke hadn’t stolen her shoes? Or was that just the story he’d sold the ranch hands when he’d broken her down too far to protest the lie?
Veronica took a step back when the guy walked toward her, his hand outstretched.
“I’m Will. I won’t bite ya, honey. Luke would have my ass. I’m in charge of the dairy side of the operation. We don’t have as many cows for that, but Luke likes fresh dairy. We sell the extra. I’m also in charge of mowin’.”
She tentatively shook his hand. “I’m Ronnie.”
“Ronnie?”
“Short for Veronica.”
He nodded. “Now that I’ll believe.”
She jumped again when she heard a squawk. She barely moved out of the way in time before a chicken could peck at her feet.
“Betsy’s hungry. You’ll be in charge of that. I’ll show ya where the feed is.”
“I-I thought it was just a cattle ranch.”
“These are Luke’s personal hens. Just enough for eggs for all of us, sometimes some meat, but usually we trade for that.” Several other chickens made their way out of what looked like a little red house nearby. They weren’t as brave and curious as Betsy. Will kept talking. “Hens are also good for the garden. We’re all natural and organic out here. It’s better for the soil, better for the animals, better for us.”
She wondered if he was also in charge of marketing.
He hefted the bag of feed out of a nearby shed. “They’re free range so they’ll eat bugs and grubs. This is just some extra we give ’em, so not too much. Ya hear?”
Sensing Will wasn’t about to touch Luke’s property made her a little more comfortable around the other man. “What did he tell you about me?”
“The boss? He said you was homeless and needed a place to stay and some work. And we needed some help for around the house. Luke had a housekeeper come in for awhile, but it was still tough.”
“Did he tell you he took me against my will? That he kidnapped me to bring me here and treat me like a slave, and god only knows what else he has planned?”
A dark smile lit Will’s face. “Oh, he said you was given to melodrama.”
“I’m serious. He tied me up and brought me here in his pickup truck. Against. My. Will.”
“So you wasn’t homeless?”
“Well, I... kind of... It’s not like I was living under a bridge with some vagrants.”
“But you woulda been if Luke hadn’t brought you here...”
“Are you not listening to me? He’ll hurt me.”
“Nah he won’t.” Will took some of the feed and put it in Veronica’s hand. “Just scatter that out, and they’ll come runnin’.”
She scattered the feed and the chickens raced over on their skinny legs, clucking and pecking at the feed around her. She would have been amused, if not for the conversation she was in. She had to get through to this Will guy and get help.
“He hit me last night.”
Will broke out into a full-bodied laugh. “Honey, spankin’ ain’t the same as hittin’. You don’t got a mark on ya.”
Veronica’s mouth dropped open. “Yes it is. You can’t just run around hitting a woman like that.” Unless it’s consensual, the dirtier part of her brain supplied.
“Whatever you say dumplin’. I need to get back to work, and you need to get your cute little ass back in the kitchen and make us some breakfast. We’re about to pass out from the hunger.” He pulled a sad face.
He was already out of shouting distance by the time she could come up with a retort. They really were going to just treat her like one of the animals.
On her way back to the kitchen, she passed the garden, and a small man-made pond with a family of frogs around it. She shrieked when one of them hopped over her foot. If Luke wasn’t going to provide her with shoes, the least he could do was not have chickens and frogs running amuck. In the city, not once had she been forced to encounter an amphibian or farm animal.
Veronica sighed when she reached the kitchen. She was getting pretty hungry, herself. And it was practically brunch by now. She almost felt sorry for the guys out there working on an empty stomach. Almost.
She rummaged through the cabinets and drawers for the things she needed and put some bacon in a pan and put the biscuits in the oven. While that was going, she set the table. There were six chairs, so she set six places, unsure if they would all be used. Then she put out some jam, butter, juice, and that milk would have to be last. It was in a large, clear, glass jar and had probably come straight out of a cow. It wasn’t white like the milk she was used to, but had a yellowish tinge and a line of something thick at the top that looked like cream. She wasn’t entirely sure it was good. She took a whiff. It didn’t smell off, but what did she know? Her milk came from a sealed plastic jug in the refrigerated section of the grocery store.
In the city she’d gone out a lot, and eaten frozen dinners even more, but at least she could make a basic breakfast. That simple skill might keep her out of trouble for awhile.
Fifteen minutes later, she gritted her teeth and rang the bell, then she finished up the eggs and brought the food out to the table. The eggs had been a little strange—red spots in them. Was that normal? She was afraid she’d look foolish for asking so she’d just cooked them up.
If she hadn’t been so hungry herself, she didn’t think she’d have the will to demean herself in this way.
She’d already fixed her plate with a biscuit and strawberry jam, some eggs, bacon, and orange juice. She wasn’t about to touch that milk. It probably wasn’t even pasteurized. She was already eating when the men arrived. If she was going to slave and cook for them, she’d fucking eat whenever she damn well felt like it. Unless Luke gave her that scary look again and ordered her not to.
“Will tells me you’ve met him,” Luke said as the guys came up. “These o
ther two are Jake and Robert.” He didn’t seem put off by her eating. If anything, he seemed impressed by her healthy appetite.
“Ma’am,” they said with a nod, tipping their hats. Robert was about Luke’s age and tall with a deep tan and sun-streaked blond hair. Jake had dark hair like Luke’s, but blue eyes, in place of Luke’s inscrutable dark brown.
This was surreal.
“Is this everybody? I set six places. There were six chairs.”
“Trish always thought the table looked uneven with five chairs,” Robert said.
Luke’s face darkened.
“Uh, sorry, let’s eat.”
“Where’s the maple syrup?” one of the guys asked.
Veronica looked up. “I-I didn’t know. There aren’t any pancakes or waffles.”
“Ya made biscuits,” Will said. “This is Vermont. Maple syrup with breakfast may as well be a state law.”
“I’ll get it,” Luke said, scooting his chair back. “Finish your breakfast, Ronnie.”
The men mostly ignored her during breakfast, instead talking about things she couldn’t begin to fathom, speaking about machinery and tools she’d never heard of and what needed to be done before dark. She quietly observed them to see who might prove to be an ally. Who could get her off Hell Ranch?
Even as she thought it, she wasn’t believing it. Despite the Neanderthal treatment, this place wasn’t hell—at least not yet. The sun was shining and a breeze was blowing. When she finished eating, while the guys were talking, she watched the clouds as they lazily rolled by in the enormous sky. Part of her wanted to lay in the grass under it, but it probably wasn’t on Luke’s list of things for her to do today.
“Ronnie, we’ll have lunch about three thirty. Just soup and sandwiches is fine. It doesn’t have to be anything big since we’re eating breakfast so late,” Luke said. There was no condemnation there, just a statement.
“Sure, dear,” she said, sarcastically. He was, after all, speaking to her as if she were his little farm wife who lived to do her part with the laundry and the baking.
Everyone dropped their forks.
“Sir,” Luke said.
“Nobody else here calls you sir.”
“That’s because nobody else here is my piece of ass.”
“I’m not your piece of anything.” She turned to the others. “He has me here against his will. You’re all accessories to kidnapping. Kidnapping is a felony. You’re all going to prison when you get caught.” She spoke slowly, careful to enunciate for the lower IQs in the audience.
“She’s feisty. Good job,” Jake said.
They all went back to eating and Luke raised an eyebrow at her. “Sure, sir,” he said, not about to let it go.
“I’m not saying that.”
“Who wants to see Ronnie get her ass blistered?”
The guys looked up, lecherous expressions on their faces.
“Sure, sir.”.
Veronica got up from the table and retreated to the kitchen. She gripped the edge of the sink for support and let the tears fall. Luke was a fucking monster. There was no way she could live like this, and it was only going to get worse.
A few moments later, the kitchen door opened and banged shut. She didn’t turn around, but she knew it was Luke. Somehow in the space of a day, she already knew the cadence of his steps.
“How can you treat me like this?”
He moved behind her, his hot breath on her ear. “How can you like it so much?”
“I don’t like it. I hate it, and I hate you.”
“Lies like that aren’t very becoming on a lady.” He slipped his hand under her skirt, pushing past her panties. She wriggled against him as his fingers pushed inside her, a gasp slipping past her lips. “You’re wet. Let me tell you something about yourself, Veronica. You’re in the girl’s club I like to call ‘methinks she doth protest too much’. Your indignant behavior over the slightest perceived gender inequality makes it almost certain that inequality is what you masturbate to at night.”
He’d started pumping his fingers in and out of her. Against all reason and despite her fears about a grisly end, she moved with him.
“So this is all about my irritation over the stupid door at the diner?” she said.
“And you look like her.”
Couldn’t leave off that important point.
“If you were so into her, why did you kill her? Because she got pregnant, and you didn’t want a baby?”
Luke moved his hands away and spun her around so hard she almost slipped. His eyes were angry when they met hers. “Okay, I’m done with that. Not that this is any of your business, but Trish died in childbirth. The baby was stillborn. I lost them both in one night. I loved her. I didn’t kidnap her, and I didn’t kill her. If you think I’d kill somebody that looks like her, you’re crazy. Bring her up again at your peril, princess. I’d love to spank that lovely ass again today.”
“I’m sorry.” Veronica looked away. She couldn’t be sure if his story was true, but if it was, she felt like shit. Though, it still didn’t excuse the way his mind had apparently snapped when he’d taken her. “Do the guys know you took me the way you did?”
“Yes. And not one of them will go against me.”
“Are you sure about that?”
He nodded. “These men have been with me for the past ten years. They’re my ranch family. They’ve got my back, and I’ve got theirs. If I robbed a bank, they’d help me hide the money. If I blew up a building, they’d deny it under torture. If I killed some people, they’d help me bury the bodies. So give up.”
Will came in, then, with the juice and milk, followed by Robert with the butter and jam.
“Are we interruptin’ somethin’?” Will asked. “We thought we better get this stuff back in the fridge.”
“No, it’s fine. I was just about to show Ronnie the garden.”
***
Luke didn’t ask for dinner until about seven o’clock that night, which he claimed was very late given how early they had to be up in the morning. Veronica didn’t see the appeal in keeping this kind of schedule, or all the work involved. The late morning and afternoon had been spent cleaning, doing laundry and hanging it on the line, making lunch for the guys, and watering the garden, which thankfully was so late in the growing season that the plants were too hardy for her to kill if she followed Luke’s maintenance schedule to the letter.
She’d picked several small tomatoes that had ripened on the vine for the sandwiches. After lunch she’d lain out in the grass, watching the clouds float above her, shifting into new patterns and shapes and merging together and splitting apart. Even when she’d been in the penthouse, the sky hadn’t been like this. There had been too many buildings around.
Dinner was burgers again, more for expediency than anything else. Luke had showered while she’d cooked them on the grill out back with the last bit of light from the sky. When he came down again in just a pair of jeans, his dark brown hair still dripping water down his back, she tried not to stare. It was too wrong.
Twenty-four hours ago, she’d been tied up with ropes in the cab of his truck. There were still rope burns on her wrists, and a bandage on her arm from her escape attempt.
“What about the website?” She tried to sound casual about it. If she could get online, she could get out of here. Though even after such a short period of time, she felt less than excited about the plan. She didn’t want to go back to the city, living in a motel she barely felt safe in until she ran out of money. She didn’t want to go back to eating Ramen noodles and pork and beans. If he wasn’t violent with her, would it be wrong to just stay?
“We’ll work on it this weekend.”
“Where’s the computer?”
“Don’t even think about it. It requires a network password, and I’m the only one who knows it.”
“Did you go to college?” she asked. His manner of speech was relaxed, but still educated.
“I went to business school. I was going to op
en a tractor supply store a couple of cities over, but my old man got sick and asked me to take over here. I reasoned that it was a business, so I could still use the degree. And he wanted to keep it in the family.”
Veronica picked over her burger, suddenly sullen. She shouldn’t be making polite conversation with him and getting to know him like she’d been hooked up by an internet dating site. What had happened to her women are people, too philosophy? It seemed to have floated away with the clouds.
By dinner time, she’d worked up the nerve to hold a frog—out of curiosity more than anything—and had checked on the chickens in the hen house. It was hard to fight fresh air, a big sky, good, clean food, animals, and a cozy house. It was too contradictory to where her life had been just forty-eight hours ago when she hadn’t known if she’d be eating in a month or where she’d sleep or if she’d be safe.
“Ronnie, in the end, everybody’s a slave.”
“Don’t.”
“I mean it. Do you really think anyone in this world is free? Everything is a hierarchy. Were you free when you worked for the ad agency?”
“Yes.” But somewhere deep down she knew it was a lie, and that Luke was about to explain why.
He shook his head and took another bite of his burger. “You did good on the burgers. Eat yours before it gets cold.”
“I’m going to get fat.”
He laughed. “Not with all the work you’ll be doing here.”
She picked up the burger and took a small bite. He gave her a disappointed look, not impressed with the effort.
“You weren’t free there,” he said. “You had to work for money to pay your bills to live. Working wasn’t an option you did just because you liked it. You were a wage slave. Just because it’s packaged up like free will doesn’t mean it’s the recipe for happiness. What about your debt?”