This is a love story, there is sex, but it takes awhile to develop, just like love!
Chapter 1
He looked out the window and saw them immediately. He took another sip of coffee and sighed in exasperation. Another group of undocumented people from God knows where was once again crossing his land. When he'd bought the ranch thirty years ago Mexicans or whomever it was these days was only a dozen men crossed the river during a normal month, but since the president lifted almost of the restrictions and tied law enforcement's hands, the numbers had soared into hundreds a day.
Standing slowly to stretch his bones before moving, getting older was not as much fun as folks made it out to be. It seemed that everyday a different part of him ached. Although he felt fortunate that he was in good health and able to work the ranch with its small herd of cattle without having to hire additional help. As he walked to the door, he grabbed the 12 gauge pump from above the door, snapped his fingers at the dog and opened the door.
The aromas of the south Texas land filled his nostrils, along with the aromatic smells of cattle poop. He stood on the porch and watched the stream of immigrants move slowly towards the road a couple miles down the way. It didn't matter to him that they were seeking asylum and a better life in America. He had been to parts of Mexico and didn't blame them for wanting an opportunity to experience the luxuries the USA offered. But at the same time, he didn't want them to destroy his property. He had dealt with some of the men who tried to steal stuff before and it had not been a pleasant experience. Keeping them at bay was almost a full-time job.
Maggie, a mix of German and Australian shepherd, growled softly as she kept her eyes and nose trained on the straggling group. "It's okay girl, they're keeping their distance." He surmised that word had circulated on the other side of the border that a man with a shotgun lived here and wasn't afraid to use it. Maggie was instrumental for alerting him, especially at night when most crossings occurred, when strangers were on the ranch. "They'll move on soon enough." He reached down and ruffled the fur around her neck.
When the last of the line moved from his vision, he turned towards the barn to administer to the needs of the cows. He slipped the lanyard of the shotgun over his shoulder and let it hang at his side. One never knew when a firearm would be needed. Sliding the barn door open the smell of manure assaulted his nostrils. Many would find it offensive, but to him, it was an affirmation that the animals were healthy and well-fed. Later he would use the small tractor to remove the waste from the building, using it as a natural fertilizer for his small garden.
He placed a adequate amount of feed in each of the twelve stalls and while the herbivores ate, he refilled the water trough just outside the barn. In the fall he would sell a few of the animals and have one butchered for the freezer. It would be enough to keep in him in beef for the next year. Since his children had grown and moved and the loss of his wife to cancer last year, feeding him and the dog didn't take much food.
The steers finished eating and began moving out of the stalls heading to drink their fill of water before moving out to the sparse brush that covered the ten acres. Maggie snuffled and growled as she lifted her nose into the air. He watched her intently while reaching to his side and bringing the gun up into position. "What is it, girl?" He softly said. Maggie whined and moved towards the ladder that led to the loft where hay was stored. His eyes surveyed the bales of hay searching for whatever or whomever had attracted the dog's attention. She sniffed around the ladder and looked up into the storage area intently.
The man relocated the shotgun into one hand and began to slowly climb, keeping the gun and his eyes glued to the top. He carefully peered over the edge, his heart pumping furiously in his ears while the adrenaline heightened his senses. As he crested the second story, he could see the hay had been slightly moved. He crawled on his knees towards the area that might conceal someone. He stood quickly aiming the weapon towards an indentation in the hay, his finger on the trigger at the ready.
