Sally: Autumn Storms (F&L Story #4)

Sally: Part 8

A scampering sound came out of the bedroom end of the camper. Sally automatically backed up into Wilson's chest. The sound got louder, and she slipped behind him, peering around his shoulder.

Lord, he smelled good!

A furry body ran across the small doorway that led to the bedroom, and Sally forgot about how good Wilson smelled. She jumped out of her skin and clutched his arm. Hard muscles bunched under her fingers through the material of his shirt. Wilson turned his head to peer down at her, his face inches from hers. For a moment, he just looked at her.

Then he said, “You don't have to help, ma'am. I can get it done before my break was over.”

He was giving her a way out, but Sally couldn't allow herself to take it. Her eyes darted back to the where the rat scuttled around, and said, “It'll take two of us to finish on time, or you'll be sleeping in your truck again tonight.”

His body rotated, blocking her view of the back end of the camper and the rats that lived there. She raised her eyes up, realized her hand still gripped his arm and let go on him. He nudged his hat up a bit and offered, “How about I do a sweep-through before we get started then?”

Sharp and not-so-tiny claws scratched at the wall behind her. She whirled around, searching for the rodent that snuck up on her. “That...that sounds great,” she said shakily and dashed out of the camper. Wilson was a big man. He can take care of himself. He can deal with the rats. He can--

A mangy, ugly creature the size of Chihuahua flew out of the camper door and smacked her on the knee. Sally screamed and launched her body into the back of Wilson's truck bed. Two more distinguished thumps and scratching of frightened feet followed, but she could only lay there, curled-up and shaking uncontrollably. She hated rats! Their matted fur, their long toes, their beady eyes, the thick whiskers...

Wilson poked his head over the side of his truck and rested his forearms on the tailgate. Sally swallowed and closed her eyes. She felt sick from fright and sick from humiliation. But he didn't comment on that. All he said was, “All done.”

Sally nodded. “Okay. I'm just gonna lie here for a moment.”

Wilson vanished, and she stared up at the blue October sky, watching the clouds drift away. Soon, her heart stopped stuttering and she could sit up. Her first thought was to go get some traps. Big, deadly, spring-loaded traps. No humane cages for these rats. The last thing she needed was an infestation of large, revolting rodents raiding her hen houses and spreading diseases.

Then she wondered how much extra she'd have to pay Wilson to check and empty the traps.

*****

Wilson wrestled the double-sized mattress down the length of the camping trailer, feeling odd and hollow. Seeing Sally vault over his tailgate was the funniest thing he'd seen in years. So funny that he knew he should be laughing so hard his lungs would seize up and his diaphragm cramped. But there was nothing. Oh, there was amusement and mirth inside him, but it was like his body forgot the motions of laughter. He'd forgotten how to laugh.

And that wasn't the least bit funny.

Sally peeked out of his truck bed when he tossed the mattress on the ground. “No good?” she asked. He shook his head. “No, ma'am. Chewed up and spit out, from the looks of it.”

Sally went a bit pale. Man, she really did have a fear of mice and rats. He assumed it was just from seeing and hearing them, but even the mental image of them seemed to get to her. He curled his fingers around his hips and watched as she climbed out of the truck bed, quickly searching the ground for the obnoxious critters.