Page 82 of Roping Her Alien Ranchers

“Get. Off. My. Property.” Each word felt like a stone in my mouth, hard and unyielding.

“Or what?” Derek sneered, recovering his swagger now that he thought he’d found my weakness. “You’ll call the cops? Have them look into all the mysterious improvements around here? Have them check out your new friends who don’t seem to have any identification or background? I bet they’d be real interested in where these guys actually came from.”

The irony of his accidental accuracy might have been funny under other circumstances. Where did they come from, indeed. A hundred and twenty-four light years away, give or take.

“Your accusation that Tammy Tucker would engage in illegal activities demonstrates both your intellectual limitations and your moral deficiency,” Vantor stated coldly. “It suggests you project your own corrupt tendencies onto others.”

Derek’s face contorted with rage. “Who the fuck do you think you are, talking to me like that? Do you have any idea who I am in this town?”

“Yes,” came Cyro’s voice from behind Derek. “You are the waste material expelled from the lowest life form on this planet.”

Derek whirled around, and I nearly choked on a shocked laugh at what I saw. Cyro and Kalith had returned, each carrying a large metal bucket that steamed slightly in the cooling evening air. The unmistakable pungent aroma of fresh horse manure wafted toward us.

“What the hell—” Derek began but got no further.

With perfect synchronization, as if they’d practiced the move for years, Cyro and Kalith upended their buckets directly over Derek’s head. Wet, warm manure cascaded down, covering his expensive shirt, his pressed jeans, his perfectly styled hair. The smell hit instantly—a concentrated blast of ammonia and decomposing hay that made my eyes water even from several feet away.

Derek stood frozen in shock, manure dripping from his eyelashes, sliding down his neck and into his collar. A particularly large clump landed with a wet plop onto his tooled leather boots.

“Oh my God,” I whispered, half-horrified, half-delighted.

Kalith examined his now-empty bucket with unveiled interest. “I calculated the volume and consistency for maximum coverage,” he commented mildly. “The higher fiber content from this morning’s feeding created optimal adhesion properties.”

Derek finally unfroze, sputtering and spitting, wiping frantically at his eyes. “You—you—” Words seemed to fail him as he stood there dripping with horse excrement, the substance matting his hair and soaking into his clothes.

A strange feeling bubbled up from my chest—part hysteria, part pure joy. For years, I’d put up with Derek’s condescension, his control, his subtle put-downs. I’d left him, but never truly stood up to him. Now he stood before me, literally covered in shit, and I felt suddenly, achingly liberated.

I stepped forward, no longer afraid. “If you ever trespass on my ranch again,” I said, my voice steady and strong, “I’ll shoot first and ask questions later. I don’t need your money or your help. I never did.”

Derek stumbled backward, slipping slightly in the manure that had fallen to puddle around his feet. He nearly lost his balance, arms windmilling comically before he caught himself. “This isn’t over,” he sputtered, chunks of manure falling from his lips as he spoke. “You’ll be hearing from my lawyer!”

“Be sure to shower first,” I called after him as he squelched his way back to his truck. “I don’t think the county courthouse allows shitheads inside without special permission.”

Derek yanked open his truck door, hesitated as he looked at his pristine leather seats, then climbed in anyway, smearing manure across everything he touched. The engine roared to life, and he peeled out of my driveway, tires spitting gravel.

For a moment, we all stood in stunned silence watching the truck disappear down the road. Then Kalith raised one hand to his face, pinched his nose, and announced in a nasal voice, “The odor is rather intense.”

That did it. The laughter I’d been holding back erupted, bending me double as tears streamed down my face. Cyro looked confused at first, then his lips curved into a smile that grew wider as my infectious laughter spread. Soon even Vantor was chuckling, a deep rumbling sound that seemed to shake the ground beneath our feet.

“Did you see his face?” I gasped between fits of giggles. “When it first hit him? I thought he was going to pass out!”

“The consistency was perfect,” Kalith said proudly. “Maximum coverage with minimal drip factor.”

“His vehicle interior is now thoroughly contaminated,” Vantor observed with satisfaction. “The decontamination process will be lengthy and imperfect.”

I wiped tears from my eyes, my cheeks actually hurting from smiling so hard. “You guys are incredible. I don’t know how to thank you.”

“No thanks are required,” Cyro said formally, though his metallic-sheened eyes sparked with a human-like joy. “Defending one’s chosen human is a natural response.”

My heart swelled at the words “chosen human,” even as I remembered that my financial problems weren’t magically solved just because Derek was now covered in horse poop. The bank would still want their money in a week. But somehow, with these three beside me, the problem seemed less insurmountable.

“It’s too bad you guys don’t have some alien teleportation device to send him to Pluto,” I said, still grinning. “Or a way to erase me from his mind. Crisp suits, dark glasses, silver wand, and a blinding light. It would be so easy if we could pull a Men in Black.”

Three blank stares met my pop culture reference.

“Never mind,” I said, shaking my head. “Earth movie thing. I’ll show you sometime.”

My heart was still beating fast from the confrontation, adrenaline making my fingers tingle and my knees feel slightly wobbly now that the danger had passed. As if sensing my sudden vulnerability, the aliens moved closer, surrounding me in a protective circle. Cyro’s arm slid around my waist, Kalith’s hand found mine, and Vantor stood at my back, a solid presence I could lean against if needed.