the discontented screeches of mutinous poultry. The noise seemed to come from right outside the window. Beside her, Grayson began to stir. Lauren got out of bed and visited the bathroom. It took her only a minute to pull on her jeans and one of Grayson’s sweatshirts.
Outside, it was still dark. A faint orange glow trimming the hill tops signalled the imminent emergence of the sun. As soon as Lauren stepped out of the mud room, she found herself surrounded by a sea of agitated hens. Grayson followed her out, his shirt half undone, his expression grim.
Lauren turned to him. ‘How on earth did the chickens get out?’
Grayson hopped onto one bare foot as a chicken pecked at his toe. ‘I’ll put my boots on.’
Unable to wait, Lauren began to walk towards the hen house. She’d seen the havoc a predator could cause when she’d stayed on her grandparents’ ranch. Mentally she prepared herself for a bloody mess.
When Lauren got closer the reason for the chickens’ dawn visit became apparent. Someone had left the gate open. Grayson gave a low whistle as he surveyed the scene.
‘Did you shut the gate properly last night after you fed them?’
Lauren remembered how carefully she’d checked the lock. ‘Yes, I did.’
Grayson nodded. ‘Well then, we’d better try and work out why someone would want to play such a stupid trick on us.’
Lauren couldn’t believe his quiet acceptance of her denial. Her father would’ve kept on about her supposed guilt for hours and then not even bother to apologise when he inevitably found out he was wrong. Grayson believed her.
Still in shock, Lauren followed Grayson around the back of the hen house and they headed for the barn. Obligingly the sun crested the hills and illuminated the way. Grayson pointed at the huge white letters painted on the side of the red barn: OUTSIDERS GO HOME !
Lauren stared up at Grayson. ‘Well that must mean me. I’m sorry Grayson. I never meant to bring you trouble.’
Grayson put an arm around her rigid shoulders. ‘Don’t be too quick to take the blame. I’ve only lived here for six years. I could have offended a lot of people with my plans for the business park.’ He continued to walk, holding Lauren close. ‘Hey, it might even have been the chickens.’ He squeezed her shoulders. ‘I’ll check the horses.’
Grayson carried on down the shadowed corridor. Lauren stopped at the first door and stifled a gasp as she peered into the normally pristine tack room. Saddles, bridles and blankets lay in a heap on the wooden floor. The acid smell of spilled cleaning fluids and leather polish caught at Lauren’s throat.
‘The horses seem fine.’ Grayson came up behind her and looked over her shoulder into the trashed tack room. ‘Shit, what happened here?’
Lauren went to enter the room but Grayson held her back. ‘Let’s not touch anything until I’ve phoned the police.’
In the main yard, the hens continued to tail Lauren like incompetent stalkers. Grayson swore as he narrowly avoided stepping on yet another one. ‘Damn, we’ll have to put the hens back first. I wish I still had a dog.’
Lauren ran back to the barn and gathered a handful of dried chicken food. Feeling rather like a mother hen, she sprinkled a little grain on the ground and persuaded the hens to follow her back into the pen. After Grayson shut the door on the main bunch, he paused to retrieve three escapees who’d decided to try being free range.
In the kitchen, Lauren put on the kettle and managed to start the coffee as Grayson made his call to the police. She was eyeing the toaster when he hung up. Despite the stresses of their morning, he still looked composed. Her father would be red faced and shouting by now.
‘Bob Foster, the chief of police, says he’ll be over in about twenty minutes. That should give us time to wash up and have some breakfast.’ His gaze fell on the coffee percolator. ‘Hey, did you make that for me? Thanks.’
Lauren found him a
Outside, it was still dark. A faint orange glow trimming the hill tops signalled the imminent emergence of the sun. As soon as Lauren stepped out of the mud room, she found herself surrounded by a sea of agitated hens. Grayson followed her out, his shirt half undone, his expression grim.
Lauren turned to him. ‘How on earth did the chickens get out?’
Grayson hopped onto one bare foot as a chicken pecked at his toe. ‘I’ll put my boots on.’
Unable to wait, Lauren began to walk towards the hen house. She’d seen the havoc a predator could cause when she’d stayed on her grandparents’ ranch. Mentally she prepared herself for a bloody mess.
When Lauren got closer the reason for the chickens’ dawn visit became apparent. Someone had left the gate open. Grayson gave a low whistle as he surveyed the scene.
‘Did you shut the gate properly last night after you fed them?’
Lauren remembered how carefully she’d checked the lock. ‘Yes, I did.’
Grayson nodded. ‘Well then, we’d better try and work out why someone would want to play such a stupid trick on us.’
Lauren couldn’t believe his quiet acceptance of her denial. Her father would’ve kept on about her supposed guilt for hours and then not even bother to apologise when he inevitably found out he was wrong. Grayson believed her.
Still in shock, Lauren followed Grayson around the back of the hen house and they headed for the barn. Obligingly the sun crested the hills and illuminated the way. Grayson pointed at the huge white letters painted on the side of the red barn: OUTSIDERS GO HOME !
Lauren stared up at Grayson. ‘Well that must mean me. I’m sorry Grayson. I never meant to bring you trouble.’
Grayson put an arm around her rigid shoulders. ‘Don’t be too quick to take the blame. I’ve only lived here for six years. I could have offended a lot of people with my plans for the business park.’ He continued to walk, holding Lauren close. ‘Hey, it might even have been the chickens.’ He squeezed her shoulders. ‘I’ll check the horses.’
Grayson carried on down the shadowed corridor. Lauren stopped at the first door and stifled a gasp as she peered into the normally pristine tack room. Saddles, bridles and blankets lay in a heap on the wooden floor. The acid smell of spilled cleaning fluids and leather polish caught at Lauren’s throat.
‘The horses seem fine.’ Grayson came up behind her and looked over her shoulder into the trashed tack room. ‘Shit, what happened here?’
Lauren went to enter the room but Grayson held her back. ‘Let’s not touch anything until I’ve phoned the police.’
In the main yard, the hens continued to tail Lauren like incompetent stalkers. Grayson swore as he narrowly avoided stepping on yet another one. ‘Damn, we’ll have to put the hens back first. I wish I still had a dog.’
Lauren ran back to the barn and gathered a handful of dried chicken food. Feeling rather like a mother hen, she sprinkled a little grain on the ground and persuaded the hens to follow her back into the pen. After Grayson shut the door on the main bunch, he paused to retrieve three escapees who’d decided to try being free range.
In the kitchen, Lauren put on the kettle and managed to start the coffee as Grayson made his call to the police. She was eyeing the toaster when he hung up. Despite the stresses of their morning, he still looked composed. Her father would be red faced and shouting by now.
‘Bob Foster, the chief of police, says he’ll be over in about twenty minutes. That should give us time to wash up and have some breakfast.’ His gaze fell on the coffee percolator. ‘Hey, did you make that for me? Thanks.’
Lauren found him a
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