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Authors: Susan Mac Nicol

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BOOK: Waiting for Rain
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“No you don’t, young man,” Dave growled. “I want to talk to the pair of you.”

Rain looked surprised at that comment, but he closed the car door and leaned against it, waiting for Dave to carry on. I tried a morning greeting.

“Morning, Dave. This is early to see you here. What’s up?”

The big, burly man moved toward us with a fierce scowl. “Fucking sheep thieves.”

My jaw gaped, and Rain’s did the same. We stared as Dave planted his very sizeable and meaty body in front of our gobsmacked faces.

“Sorry?” Rain managed to get out finally. “We’re sheep thieves? I don’t even like bloody sheep—”

The farmer waved an impatient hand. “Not you two, you idiots. But I want you to find them.” He frowned at Rain. “Where are you from, then? Foreign lad, are we?”

I wanted to giggle at the put-out expression of Rain being declared a foreigner after eighteen years of living here, but I thought better of it. I felt like Alice down the rabbit hole. “Find who?” I squeaked. Rain moved closer to me, as if together we’d form some sort of wall against this obviously angry bundle of fun in front of us. I was touched that my lover was trying to protect me until I noticed he was standing slightly behind me, as if I was to be the first one in the firing line.

“Bloody sheep thief. I want you two to find out who’s stealing my fucking sheep from my field.”

I didn’t recall having “sheep thief detective” on my CV, so I was a little taken aback by the request. “Dave, you’ve lost me. Why would we be able to find out who’s stealing your sheep? I don’t think we have the expertise—”

Dave glared at me and gave a loud, explosive snort. “Don’t need no special talents, boy. Just a pair of eyes and a bit of patience.” His eyes narrowed. “And you two owe me for what you got up to in my field.” He smiled slyly. “That thing you did on my bloody haystack.”

Rain tensed beside me, and my stomach sank into the ground.

Dave grinned. “I was out walking the dogs late one night, and I heard some really funny noises. I thought a badger might be caught in one of the poacher’s snares. But it weren’t no bloody badger, were it? It were you two going at it like stoats.”

I wanted the ground to open up and swallow me whole. My face must have been flaming red. I swear they could have seen its glow from the space shuttle millions of miles away. Rain’s jaw was still hanging open. For a change, he was speechless. The farmer laughed, his jowls wobbling and his hands gripping his tree trunk thighs. “It was quite a sight, it was. I’ve seen it on the special telly channels but never in real life.”

I assimilated the words, but I couldn’t make sense of the fact that Dave watched gay-man porn. He was married, for God’s sake—to a woman. The farmer laughed harder.

“If you two could see your bloody faces, classic it is. I like a little bit of man-on-man action. But don’t tell my wife. I got a real hard-on watching you two on top of that stack. What I could see looked very interesting.”

Rain stepped forward, having found his voice. “We’re sorry if we offended you. It was a momentary aberration. We won’t do it again on your haystack.” I looked at him in amazement. He sounded so contrite, using big words like “aberration.” His face was pink too, and he looked very uncomfortable.

Dave chuckled. “Don’t matter. I enjoyed it, so you carry on whenever the urge takes you.” He leaned in threateningly. “But it means I want a favor from you both. I want you to stake out my field and see who’s pinching my sheep. I’ve had three go missing in the last six days, and I can’t afford to lose any more. My old bones won’t take lurking in the bushes all night. The snap, crackle, and pop will warn the thief. But you two young’uns—you’ll manage it all right.”

He turned to me. “You know I’ve got a few fields being used for different crops, Toby. You know where the sheep live. I want you both out there tonight and every night until you find out who’s behind it. When you do, you tell me, and I’ll deal with him. I’ll teach him not to steal an old man’s livelihood. It’s bad enough not having the bloody rain to water the fields, and the irrigation is costing me an arm and a leg. But pinching my fucking sheep?” His face was red with fury, and I pitied whoever it was if they were found. He turned to leave, and Rain and I breathed a sigh of relief, moving apart a little. He turned back to face us, and we moved together again instinctively. His face was less angry now and more amused. “And if you’d like to invite me to the next little floor show you have planned on one of my haystacks, feel free. Live action certainly beats the telly.” He gave a wicked chuckle and sauntered across the car park, whistling jauntily. Both Rain and I watched him go.

“Oh my fucking God.” I finally expelled the words I’d felt building. “That was the most surreal experience I’ve ever had. How many more closet gay men are there in Stamford we should know about that want to invite us to perform for them? And why am I not meeting them?” I saw Rain’s flinty stare at me and hastened to correct my statement. “I mean, why
didn’t
I meet them. Do you think he really meant it—about watching us, I mean? And the sheep thing, how the hell are we going to do that? You’re bloody scared of sheep, so that won’t help—” I stopped as Rain regarded me with narrowed eyes.

“Toby, you’re blabbering. Shut up and let me think.”

I shut up and let him think. Finally, he turned to me with a sigh. “I think he was serious about the whole voyeurism thing, but he’s damned well not getting another show. And on the sheep thing… he’s deadly serious. He wants us to be the bloody sheep police.”

I giggled at that but stopped when he looked at me with gimlet eyes. “I am not bloody going anywhere near those bloody things. I don’t even like seeing them on TV, let alone watching them in a field.” He shivered, a full-body shiver that really showed his phobia of the woolly mammals.

“Well, you’ll have to get over it,” I said firmly. “I’m not going out in the field on my own to watch for sheep stealers. We’ll figure something out. You can sit outside the field and keep watch on the road, and I’ll watch the sheep themselves.”

Rain looked at me in horror. “You can’t really be serious about doing this? Let’s just tell him no way. He can find his own bloody thieves.”

I laid a hand on his arm. “Rain, Dave was really good to me when I first came here. He gave me work, he fed me, and he even let me sleep in his shed and gave me blankets and clothes until I got myself sorted with this job. I do owe him something. If this is it, so be it.” I swallowed. “If you really don’t want to do it, that’s fine. But I’m going to see if I can help him.”

Rain regarded me steadily. I gave him puppy-dog eyes back. It worked. He heaved a resigned sigh. “Fine, I’ll come with you. But, Toby, I am not going anywhere near a fucking sheep. That bit’s all yours.”

“What the hell is it with you and sheep?” I was honestly intrigued. “Did a little sheepy weepy hurt you, then?”

He growled at my tone, reaching out and pulling me into his arms. “I’ll sheepy weepy you if you don’t stop teasing,” he whispered angrily in my ear. “It’s a proper phobia, so stop making fun of it. It’s bad enough I have it in the first place.”

I immediately felt bad and reached up to cup his face in my hands. “I’m sorry. I guess I just don’t understand it. I’ll stop teasing you. But we need to make a plan for tonight. We need some warm gear, torches, and a flask of coffee.” I was getting quite excited at the thought of camping out in a field under a bush trying to investigate a sheep-rustling crime. “Leave it with me. We can meet here after work, around eight, and make a start.”

Rain was looking at me as if I was crazy.

I sniggered. “If we have to do it, we might as well do it properly. You know me. I like to organize stuff.” I patted his rump and squeezed it. “Now I have a job to go to. I’ll see you later.”

He got in the car and wound down the window.

I leaned in and kissed him good-bye. “Now don’t fall asheep at the wheel on the way home,” I managed to get in before he engaged the gear and drove off in a snarl of dust. But I saw the smile on his face in the rearview mirror as I watched him go.

Chapter 12

Rain

 

O
UR
SHEEP
-
STEALING
investigation was a bit of a washout for the first two nights that we were out in the field. Not literally, unfortunately. I knew the farmers in the town were all bemoaning the lack of precipitation. I’d heard them in the bar when I sat with Toby, and everywhere I went the farmers were still grumbling at how dry it had been. I, for one, was pleased it didn’t rain. Being camped out in a field with a Toby who’d really entered into the spirit of the whole detective thing was enough to drive anyone crazy without it being wet. I was also fed up with all the sheep jokes. I was sure Toby had a joke book with sheep puns secreted on his person. I think I’d heard them all by now, and I’d threatened that I was ready to stuff said book down his throat. But in hindsight I probably wouldn’t. Toby’s throat was one of his most powerful weapons, and I wouldn’t have really wanted any harm to come to it. And shoving the book up his backside didn’t do it for me either. So, I patiently endured his terrible sense of humor on all things sheep related.

Our third night on stakeout, I was on my usual point duty on the dirt lane running past the field of sheep. Dave didn’t really have all that many, I had to admit. There were probably less than twenty of the disgusting things, all lying about doing nothing and regarding us with blank stares. We’d decided that anyone wanting to steal a sheep wouldn’t just be able to carry it away. They’d need a car of some sort. I was on the lookout for rogue sheep-stealing vehicles while Toby nestled comfortably in the hedges running around the field behind me. He was watching the sheep, some of which got far too close for comfort for me. I’d seen Toby’s pert backside wriggling about, trying to shoo them away when they came over to gaze at him in curiosity. Said backside was now protruding out of the bushes, swaying a little, and I gazed at it in lazy contemplation.

“I can feel you looking, you randy bastard, so stop it. We’re here to do a job, not make out in the field again.” Toby’s amused voice echoed out of the bush as he got comfortable.

I frowned. “Toby, no one’s coming to this bloody field to pilfer sheep. This is a bloody waste of time. It’s nearly midnight, for God’s sake. We should cut our losses and go home. I have a million and one other uses for that sexy backside of yours.”

There was a snort of laughter from the bush. “I’ll bet. But not right now. If you’re really patient and stick it out, you can have it later.”

“I know where I’d like to stick it,” I muttered sotto voce. There was another deep chuckle from the bush. I grinned. Then I frowned. I could hear a faint mechanical sound in the distance, almost like a drone. I stood stock still to listen.

“Toby, do you hear that?” I whispered.

“I do. It seems to be coming from in front of me. So, that would mean from the other side of the field.” Toby’s voice was muffled, and the hedge shook as he moved himself around. “I’m trying to get the night glasses working. Come down here and give me a hand.” My boyfriend had borrowed a pair of night-vision glasses from some kid’s science set and was hell-bent on using them. I hesitated. Making my way through the four-foot hedge meant getting closer to the sheep.

“There’s no bloody sheep nearby, Rain” was the exasperated retort from the bush. “So, get on down here. Something’s not working, and you’re better at this stuff than I am.”

I sighed. Even in gay relationships there appeared to be the stereotypical man who was more technically “endowed.” I happened to be him. Toby was useless with anything like that. I’d seen him destroy a whole toaster trying to get a piece of stuck bread out of it. I scrambled through the twigs and leaves to the little foxhole Toby had made, finding myself side by side with him on a large blanket spread out on the cold ground. Next to him was the basket with the coffee flask, cups, Twix and Mars bar selection, and a couple of half-eaten assorted sandwiches.

Toby waved the glasses at me in frustration. “I can’t bloody see anything. I’ve switched it on, fiddled with it, and it still won’t bloody work.”

The noise was getting louder as I took the goggles from him. “You can’t see anything, you idiot, because the bloody lens caps are still on.” I clucked in exasperation as he flapped his hands impatiently at me. I shook my head as I removed the caps. He plucked the glasses out of my hand and lay on his stomach like a sharpshooter as he raised the glasses to his eyes.

“Do you see anything?” I whispered, watching the field anxiously for any rogue ovine species.

He clucked impatiently. “Give me a bloody chance. I’ve just started… oh—my—God.” His voice was the epitome of disbelief. The droning noise was definitely much louder now, almost upon us.

“What is it? Can you see anything?” I was excited now, peering out into the moonlit field to see what I could spot. I noticed with a sense of disquiet that a couple of sheep were loitering with intent quite far away. My skin crawled at the sight of them. I can honestly say I had no idea why I had a sheep phobia, just that I’d had it since I was about five years old. My parents had never figured it out either. Nothing had ever happened that we knew of to cause such a thing. I kept a careful eye on them as Tony wriggled around next to me.

“Fuck me to hell.” Toby’s whispered words were an invitation that in any other situation would have made me obey him there and then. But with sheep in the vicinity and a drone in my ears that was drawing nearer, the timing just wasn’t right. Wordlessly, Toby passed me the glasses, and I scooted down on my front and peered out into the gloom. When I’d finally managed to focus my eyes on the field, I saw what had made him so amazed.

Toward the middle of the field, barreling toward where most of the sheep were congregated, was a motorbike with a sidecar. The figure on the bike was too wrapped up to see who or what it was. It held on to the handlebars and almost stood up halfway on the pedals as the little vehicle trundled across to the band of sheep. I watched as it came to a stop. The figure dismounted. For a while, it looked around warily. Both Toby and I held our breaths and hunkered down deeper into the bush.

BOOK: Waiting for Rain
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