Final Scream Read Free

was up to no good, but he didn’t. Not today. He didn’t like the idea of working for Buchanan, but in a town the size of Prosperity, he had little choice and he’d lost more than his share of decent jobs already. At nineteen he was nearly out of options. He gritted his teeth and told himself that he was lucky to be here, but a part of him, an inner rebellion that he couldn’t quite tamp down, told him that working for Rex Buchanan was going to be the worst mistake of his life.
    “Good.” Mac clapped him on the shoulder. “Then we understand each other. Now, come on, I’ll show you where you can start.” He headed off for the stable, Brig at his heels. “I expect you here at five-thirty every morning and sometimes we’ll work until it gets dark, at nine—ten o’clock. You’ll get overtime. The boss is death on payin’ a man his fair share, but you’ll be expected to stay until whatever job we’re doin’ is done. Okay?”
    “No problem.” Brig couldn’t hide the sarcasm in his voice and Mac stopped dead in his tracks.
    “I’m not talkin’ about just occasionally. In the summer we work nearly ’round the clock and you won’t have much time for drinkin’ or women.” He threw open the door to the stable. Dust swirled in air thick with the smells of horses, dung, and urine. Flies buzzed against grimy windows and the temperature in the stable seemed to rise another five degrees. “Let’s cut the crap, okay?” Facing Brig again, he jabbed a long, bony finger at Brig’s chest. “I know about you, McKenzie. Heard all the stories. If it ain’t stealin’, it’s booze, and if it ain’t booze, it’s women.”
    Brig’s shoulder muscles bunched and his fingers coiled into fists, but he didn’t say a word, just held the bastard’s hard gaze.
    “The women around here, they’re ladies, and they don’t need no riffraff from the wrong side of the tracks sniffin’ at their skirts. One thing that’s sure to piss off the old man is some randy young buck tryin’ to get into his daughters’ panties. And that doesn’t begin to say what their older brother would do. Derrick’s not someone you want to mess with; he’s got a mean streak in him that runs real deep. He’s on the possessive side and he won’t take kindly to anyone tryin’ to feel up his sisters. Miss Angela and Miss Cassidy, they’re off limits, y’hear?”
    “Loud and clear,” Brig replied with a sneer. As if he’d want one of Buchanan’s uppity daughters. He’d seen the older one in town, a flirt who knew she was drop-dead gorgeous and toyed with the randy boys that hung out at the Burger Shed. The younger girl wasn’t near as pretty as her half sister, but she could look right through a man. Rumor had it she was a tomboy, liked horses more than she did boys, and couldn’t control her sharp tongue. She was too young anyway, barely sixteen. Brig wasn’t interested.
    He hadn’t had much contact with the Buchanan girls. The dark-haired tease had been shipped off to a Catholic school in Portland—St. Something-or-other—boarding there during the week, coming home only on the weekends to show off for the boys, and Cassidy was just too damned young and headstrong. Neither one was Brig’s kind of woman. He liked them sexy but honest, horny but clever, with no plans for a future with him. He wasn’t interested in rich women; they just spelled trouble. He’d leave the wealthy girls who were looking for a good time with the wrong kind of guy to his brother. Chase had a lust for wealth, expensive cars and rich women. Brig just didn’t give a damn.
    Mac was explaining what his responsibilities were: “…as well as hauling hay and helping with the combining. We’ll be puttin’ up fence over by Lost Dog Creek where it borders the Caldwell place and then you can work with the horses. From what I hear, you’re supposed to know how to handle even the meanest of the lot.” They walked through the back doors to stand in the shade of