Mate Marked(19)

“Oh, sheep, sheep, sheep.” The woman made an impatient gesture. “All this sheep talk is just—”

“Gramma! Gramma!” a frightened voice called from outside the house. It was the voice of a young boy.

Something changed on the older woman’s face. She straightened up and seemed to shed twenty years. She dashed into the living room with the grace and speed of an athlete and grabbed a shotgun off the wall. Then she ran out the back door, with Chelsea following.

Two tow-headed, freckle-faced young boys were standing there, and the older one was carrying a small white lamb. The lamb was bleating in distress, and there were splashes of blood on it.

“Gramma, there’s ten dead sheep out there,” the younger boy said anxiously. “Something ripped their throats out. This one was hiding in the bushes.” He stroked its head. “Can we keep it?” he added hopefully. “I’ll feed it. I’m going to name it Lamby.”

“Lamby is a stupid name, and we can’t keep it—that’d be stealing,” the bigger boy said.

“Your face is stupid.” The younger boy stuck his tongue out.

“Ryan! Shawn! Where are the dead sheep?” the older woman demanded. As she spoke, a younger woman came rushing out of the house.

The two boys glanced at each other.

“Where are they?” the younger woman said.

“Oh, hello, Joyce. I was just telling your twin sister that she needs to put some meat on her bones,” the older woman said. Then she looked puzzled. “Since when have you had a twin sister, anyway? I’m not sure that I gave permission for that. And you two don’t look anything alike. I’m not sure you’re even twins at all. Don’t think you can pull a fast one on me, young lady,” she said indignantly.

Chelsea thrust her hand out in greeting to Joyce, who looked as far from her twin as could possibly be. Chelsea was round and had a big mop of curls; Joyce was petite, pretty, and had an elfin quality to her little face.

“I’m Chelsea Wintergreen, from Silver Peak. I was just elected sheriff,” she said.

“I’m Joyce Dudley, and this is my grandmother, Edna.” Joyce made a quick twirling motion at her head with her finger as she glanced at her grandmother. Crazy.

“Pleased to meet you all.”

“New in town, I take it? That’s how they suckered you into that job?” Joyce said, shaking her hand.

“That’s about the size of it,” Chelsea said ruefully. “They got me but good.”

“Well, I waitress at the Hootenanny, so come on by some time. I have a feeling you’re going to want a good stiff drink,” Joyce said. She turned her attention back to the boys. “Where did you find those dead sheep?” she demanded. “How far did you wander from the house?”

“Uhhh…not far,” the older one said, avoiding her eyes, as the younger one said “Over by the Rodgers property,” and jerked his head towards the east.

“Tattletale!” the older one said angrily.

“Are you crazy, going that far? Do you want to end up like those sheep? You two are both grounded. No TV for a week. You are no longer allowed to leave the back yard without a grownup,” Joyce said angrily.

They both broke into noisy protests.

Joyce walked over and took the lamb. “Inside the house, now. I should whup your butts, both of you.” The two boys slumped off, their faces glum.

“Well, at least they fixed the fence,” Edna said suddenly.

“What fence?” Joyce looked puzzled.

“The fence between our properties and the Rodgers property, the one that was all old and rotten. It’s like new.”” Edna looked puzzled. “I wonder where the boys got the new wood.”

“Gramma, I’m sure the boys didn’t fix the fence. It must have been Mr. Rodgers. You aren’t supposed to be out walking alone either,” Joyce said, her voice rising in dismay. “What am I going to do with you guys? Why doesn’t anybody listen to me?”

“I came here to talk about the sheep, actually,” Chelsea said to her. “There’s been some talk that Mitch Rodgers thinks it could be Roman and his guys. Do you think that could be the case?”

“Oh, good heavens, no. None of them would do that. Definitely not. No way.” Joyce shook her head vigorously. “Why would they do that? It’s not like they need the money. They’re our best customers at the Hootenanny. They’re working over on the Purcell property doing a bunch of repairs, and he pays them well for it.”

Why indeed? Chelsea thought. Roman’s gang was the least likely group to be stealing sheep, since they weren’t as broke as the townspeople, but not all humans would necessarily know that. Some humans thought that shifters turned savage and killed at the drop of a hat, but that wasn’t true at all. Shifters hunted their food out of necessity, and they didn’t kill for pleasure.