Thus Always to Tyrants

[Erinland]

Old Jim Harrison overlooked the calves that had been weaned this season. Many of them were big. Too big to still be in the herd. Several small calves were weak and scrawny because the bigger calves had not been weaned earlier and had hogged all of the cow's milk. The old cowhand scoffed. Someone should've been here to manage the farm. Many things had been let go since his brother had gone into the coma. But he was here now, and vowed he would fix things to be as they should be. He would put things back to working order. It would be hard work, and he knew he would need help. He wanted his nephew to come back from living in town with his aunt and return to the farm to help him. But he didn't count on it. He couldn't rely on that boy. Jim thought his brother's son was an odd one, air-headed and stupid. Took too much after his mother, Nancy. He thought of hiring hands, and decided he would put out an ad in the paper.

Jim stalked around the farm in his boots, inspecting the barns and patching them up where he found broken boards. He went inside the house and rummaged through his brother's things until he found what he was looking for: the ATV key. He packed nails, gloves, barbed wire and pliers onto the back of the four-wheeler, and drove into the field among the cows. He began to ride the fence, looking for problem spots of saggy wire or leaning posts. He repaired them well, making the wire tight. Upon his fifth repair, he stopped as he saw a piece of hair caught on the barbed wire. His cows were Hereford cross, and most of them were red with white faces. This hair was gray, black and tan. Wolf hair.

"Damn wolves," He said, muttering. The cowhand swore no wolves would get his cattle. They weren't his yet, of course, but they would be. He finished with the wire and mulled over the notion of getting some watch dogs.

He rode back to the house after he had finished, still thinking and planning and dreaming about how great a farm it would be when he had finished with it. As he passed by the cattle grazing, he made a mental note to himself to buy more gun ammo.

[DA VINCI~]

((I'mma just-a 'gonna say that-a Jim already put up advertisements. For the sake of replying, lol.))

The many patches of light born from the sun above the trees shone defiantly through branches and onto the earth below. And in an instant, the rays were invaded by a dark shadow. The beast ripped through every patch of light with it's obsidian fur bouncing as it ran. The wolf muffled its jaws with a pair of pants and a sweater. It was panting through both its nose and its wide nostrils. Through that, it followed the scent of cattle.

When at the brink of the farm, the wolf stopped, surveying the land with its mismatched blue eyes. It panted quietly now before going back a couple trees and dropping its cargo. The clothes fell quietly amidst the sudden cracking and rearrangement of bones. The wolf growled and snarled before finally it coughed, fur sinking into pale white skin as it shifted into its alternate form.

Xaen coughed slightly, squeezing her ribs in response to the slight cramp she gained through the shifting sequence. Her navy hair fell just at her shoulders as she grumbled and swatted it away, bending down to retrieve her clothes. Walking through the wall of trees, she was greeted with the sight of a rather grand cattle farm.

At mercy of the strong cattle scent that plagued the air, Xaen had to fight the urge to jump a cow right then and there. The thick air hung with their smells, dewey and tempting. She ignored that though and decided to unappatize herself by focusing on the equally strong smell of their manure.

Wrinkling her nose and settling for mouth-breathing, Xaen rumpled up the collar of her hoodie and pressed it to her nose. She walked along the fence towards the smell of man; her eyes flashed a dangerously electric blue at every cow that reeled away from her in horror.

All cattle within a 20 step radius began to cry out in alarm, starting a chaotic and unpleasant choir of noise throughout the herd. "So much for a quiet entry," she muttered under her breath. Cracking her knuckles and her neck, Xaen stopped at the farmer's home. Taking a breath and knocking on the door. As it opened, she looked up and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper from her pocket. " 'Says here, you could use some help."

[Erinland]

Old Jim got up from his desk and papers, and out from under a pile of Beef magazines as he heard the knock at the door. He crossed the room and opened it to see what he least expected. A girl. A teenage girl with dark blue hair and very noticeable blue eyes. She did not look like she belonged anywhere near a farm and the old cowboy's Grey mustache twitched as she spoke.

" 'Says here, you could use some help."

Jim saw that she held his ad. He had not specified in gender nor age, and had known he had done so, but he had not expected any girl at all to answer the ad no matter the age. He was old fashioned, and of the opinion that girls could not do all that boys could. Though he was not above giving them a chance to try. He crossed his arms over his denim button up and looked her over. Over her shoulder he noticed the cows were crowding together for safety, and the calves were running and bleating.

"Missy, I ain't sure you're suited for the type work we got around here. I could use some help, and I pay good for a good day's work, but are you really gonna be willing and able to do what needs to be done? This ain't no petting zoo."

He was doubtful about her response. In his opinion, teenagers couldn't do nothing these days. They expected things to be handed to them, and didn't know what real work was. Most people's idea of a hard day at work was fooling around in an office chair in front of a computer. What a back-breaker. He resented people of that type, and considered them lazy.

"We got hay to be unloaded, fences to be mended, feed to grind, troughs to patch, water pipes to insulate, cattle to worm, gates to hinge and that's just the beginning. No malls, no stores, no music, no parties going on 'round here, you know?"

And so skeptical old cowboy, Jim Harrison, looked down upon the girl on his stoop, expecting her to shrug and amble off home.

[DA VINCI~]

Xaen saw the look in the old man's eye. A look that made her feel slightly angry and defensive while embarrased and stupid. As he looked her up and down, his mustache twitched in distaste. She could care less, however, and lowered the paper to her side.

"Missy, I ain't sure you're suited for the type work we got around here. I could use some help, and I pay good for a good day's work, but are you really gonna be willing and able to do what needs to be done? This ain't no petting zoo."

Xaen smirked without emotion, moving her bangs aside and crossing her arms at the man. "Look 'pops, you said yourself that you need help. I can do what you want me to, just point me in the right direction." She looked over her shoulder in disgust and pulled up her hoodie before crossing her arms again, "Besides, there'll be no petting from me," the cows mooed in fright, supporting her point.

The grizzled farmer seemed to be chewing his cheek to her response. His eyes seemed skeptical and full in the belief that she couldn't handle the job. She was about to make a rude remark on his testing eyes before he spoke up once more. "We got hay to be unloaded, fences to be mended, feed to grind, troughs to patch, water pipes to insulate, cattle to worm, gates to hinge and that's just the beginning." His hands gestures this way and that as his eyes remained focused on hers. Her own colors dimmed and she reconsidered the job. "No malls, no stores, no music, no parties going on 'round here, you know?" Xaen growled mentally as a bout of anger and defense boiled in the pit of her stomach. 'Prejudious old bastard...' She tapped her fingers on her crossed arms and looked around with an almost unimpressed look on her face. She analyzed the land and turned back to her employer, "I can do it," she said simply.

If she was going to get this bastard to hire her, Xaen had to contain herself. Anger and hunger. Two rather dangerous combinations, she realized. But as Xaen looked into the farmer's doubtful eyes, she felt determined to prove herself. "I can do it," she repeated. "When do I start?"

[Erinland]

Jim watched as the girl turned and looked around at the barns and land. She turned back and looked undaunted and unimpressed.

"I can do it." she said.

Jim crossed his arms and pulled his lower lip slightly over his gray mustache. He was thinking.

"I can do it," She said again. "When do I start?"


The girl was persistent and determined, two fine things in old Jim's book. He was still skeptical, but perhaps optimistic too. She was the only reply after all. He sighed.

"Fine. You wanna try, we'll try. But if you turn out to make things harder for me by being slow or useless, I'm afraid you'll have to find a job elsewhere. I ain't got time to babysit."

He tromped down the steps in his boots, closing the door behind him. "Come on," He said, "I'll show ya what's first." He led the way across the open dirt drive toward the many tin lined white washed barns the lay beyond. There were four or five in all and were spaced so that tractors could fit between them easily. He opened the door to a high roofed barn that housed a large flatbed trailer. On it sat a large roll of hay.

"This here hay has been compacted by the baler and wrapped with twine to keep it tight. The bale has to be peeled or tore up before we can put it in the grinder, you follow me?"

He reached for a pitchfork and handed it to the girl. He fumbled around in the the nearby shelves looking for something. Both the Harrison brothers and their fathers had been pack-rats and being men they were not prone to neatness. The shelves were packed with cans and tins and nails and greasy tracker parts. Ropes and hammers, chains and wooden handles. Old things were everywhere. As a third generation farm, there were some things still leftover from the old days as well. Old mule harnesses and animal traps, even an old wagon wheel. On the wall of the barn hung a dusty old wolf pelt.

"Here," Jim finally said. He produced what looked like a hand-held crowbar with a tiny blade which was covered with a rounded edge.

"You use this to cut the twine. Stick the blade underneath and it cuts right through. Pull all the string off before you peel the bale, or we'll end up feeding string twine into the grinder, which will ruin it. Throw out any rocks you find to, sometimes those get baled in with the hay. Hope you aren't afraid of mice, they bury into these bales and live in 'em. Once you tear it apart, they come skittering out."

Jim used his knee to climb up onto the trailer with the tool. He demonstrated with it how to cut the twine, and pulled it off the round bale coiling in his fingers. He tied it in a knot and threw it aside.

"I only have a few rules, if you're gonna work here. No drinking on the job, a drunk's worthless. I don't care if you smoke, just not around any hay. Do as I tell ya, don't damage my stuff, and tell me everything that goes on, and I'll pay you eight fifty an hour. You think you can do that?"

He jumped down from the trailer and cleared his throat. "You call me Jim or Mr. Harrison, whatever floats your boat. What do I call you?"

[DA VINCI~]

"Fine. You wanna try, we'll try. But if you turn out to make things harder for me by being slow or useless, I'm afraid you'll have to find a job elsewhere. I ain't got time to babysit." Xaen grinned with relief at Jim's words of acceptance. She needed this job- next month she would turn eighteen and the child care paychecks would stop coming. Shaking the thought from her head, the shifter followed after her employer, mentally wagging at all the oppertuinity this job had to offer.

The farmer lead Xaen down towards open dirt that had the smells of diesel and fumes. She was familiar with the thick scent however, so Xaen didn't aknowledge it- wanting to look proffessional.

The grizzled man opened the doors to a large and very open barnhouse. Xaen immediately took everything in; solid smell of hay, the smell of parsley, possible tobacco, gunshot residue and of course cattle. Her navy eyes scanned the area, mentally storing it for further use before she came upon the wolf pelt along the wall. Xaen felt the hairs on her neck rise and she fought the urge to shift. The sight was almost too much until the farmer spoke. "This here hay has been compacted by the baler and wrapped with twine to keep it tight. The bale has to be peeled or tore up before we can put it in the grinder, you follow me?" For a moment, his calm, brisk tone disgusted her until she reminded herself that he was a farmer; she was there to work, not to make friends and not to judge a man's hunt.

Xaen hesitated a bit, the words of the farmer only just reaching her ears. She nodded, finally and he continued. A metal object was placed in her hands, shaped oddly like a crowbar. The farmer explained its use abd instructed her along as Xaen motioned the tool to fit his words. When the man mentioned mice, she grinned wolfishly and looked up, "You know, you're a nice man. I think I might take care of your mice problem while I'm here."

She followed his demonstation, imagining herself doing the same and take a note on the rules he stated. "Do as I tell ya, don't damage my stuff, and tell me everything that goes on, and I'll pay you eight fifty an hour. You think you can do that?" Xaen only had time to nod before he was back infront of her. "You call me Jim or Mr. Harrison, whatever floats your boat. What do I call you?" Xaen held out her empty hand, "Vixett. Xaen Vixett." Her eyes grew hard as she looked him in again and added, "None of that missy crap. I don't like 'toots' either," but there was a grin when she said it and a grin when she set to work.

[Erinland]

The old guy paused at the mouse comment, wondering what the girl could possibly mean. But he didnt ask or dispute it. She could catch 'em and eat 'em for all he cared. Yeah right, he mused to himself. The girl listened and payed attention to what he said, and even attempted to mimic his motions, so as to do the twine cutting properly. He nodded approvingly. He then proceeded to lay out his few rules and tell her what was to be expected, and He asked what he was to call her.

"Vixett. Xaen Vixett." She looked him in the eyes, a good sign. "None of that missy crap. I don't like 'toots' either," she grinned a bit.

Jim nodded. "Alright then, Vixett, no missy crap. Just tear this bale up for now, I'll bring another one in and then pull the grinder up to the door so we can feed the hay into it. I have to run some milo seed into it first with the auger."

It occurred to him that the girl from the city would not understand what he meant at all, but he had hope in this Vixett, and with time she would learn if she really wanted too.

"I know this is all new to yeh, but it aint much to know, just lots to do. We use the grinder to mix the hay with this seed called milo. Its round and brown like a bee bee pellet. Anyway, we grind them together to make a feed for the calves. S'good for 'em. Fattens 'em up. We do this once a week."

Just then, A little grey mouse skittered out from the hay and lauched itself off of the trailer. It ran right towards Jim, unknowing. With quick reflexes, he lifted his boot, and stomped it.

"Got the sucker." He said, and wiped his shoe on one of the wooden beams. He turned and went out to his smaller blue tractor. It was the most useful around the farm, as it had a fork and bucket attatchment which he could switch out. He climbed on, and proceeded to use the fork to spear one of the nearby bales that he had brought out from storage. He drove back to the tall white double-doored barn and set the new bale on the ground beside the flatbed trailer where the first one was. He cut the motor and climbed down.

"There ya are, just tear those up real good, and I'll be back in a while."

He tromped off to ready the grinder, feeling strangely confident in the girl he had deemed 'Vixett'.

[DA VINCI~]

Xaen tuned out of the farmer's nonsenses when she realized that the rest of what he was saying was farmer's talk. She instead focused on scuffling sounds inside the barn. She heard small squeaks and successfully isolated the scent of live mice from the many other husky smells. The girl was just about to comment on the proximity of one of the mice when Jim began explaining his previous garbles. Just then, the mouse she'd involuntarily given her attention to scurried out in plain eye's view, obviously confident that it couldn't be harmed.

Xaen supressed a reflexive cringe at the sudden cracking and crushing of its body under Jim's boot. His triumphant voice commanded her focus once more; this time it was given with respect. "Got the sucker!" Xaen smirked wryly at that.

He turned and left the barn to do God knows what. Bringing something, she recalled from his earlier speech. Xaen looked down at the instrument in her hands, running her thumbs down it's cold, hard surface. It was roughened and slightly rusted but otherwise a fine and well-kept tool. Xaen's interest in it was short lived, however and the lively girl found herself exhaling impatiently and glancing at her surroundings.

Old Harrison soon came back and cut the roaring engine of his tractor before hopping off and placing another bale of hay on the ground. Xaen's dark eyes followed his movements and brought two fingers to her head, thrusting them outwards in a salute to his instructions. Twirling the metal instrument in her hands, Xaen brought it up into position and started her work. At first, she felt the awkwardness of her motions and slight strain of her muscles but quickly managed to adjust her arms and body to suit the work. She tried desperately to imagine the old farmer teaching her the correct way, but Xaen never did have a good imagination and focus hadn't been her best trait.

Soon enough, the strong smells of the cow began to taunt her senses, making her untreated stomach rumble in anticipation and her own throat growl in frustration. "All right, calm yourself you ravenous bitch," she scolded herself unbashfully. "This is your first day on the job" The reminder wasn't neccessary but she pressed it on in her head. "If you blow this job, you'll have to resort to blowing hobos."

Xaen finished cutting off all the string and tied them all into knots before tossing them aside and peeling the bale of hay. She had to stop a couple times and pick out stones and twigs before moving onto the next bale.

Again, the teenager's thoughts strayed from work, though her body continued its actions. Xaen's eyes glanced briefly at the pelt on the wall. Was Jim a hunter as well? It obviously wasn't the best choice for a birthday present so she doubted it was bought. The wolf had two sickeningly empty holes where its eyes should have been. Xaen shuddered; she wasn't here to make friends. Just money.

Stepping back and eying her work, Xaen pulled her hair off her sticky neck and stretched. The perspiration making her lust for a cold shower or rainfall to walk into. She snorted as her attention fell on the house not far across the farmland, she doubted the man wouldn't notice a black wolf running through his sprinklers. Xaen settled for calling him over instead, "I'm done!"

[Erinland]

Jim heard the girl yell from across the yard. He reattached the line to the fuel pump on the tractor he was attempting to repair and crossed the drive in back toward the hay barn where she was. She was damp and sweaty, but the job was done. She had peeled and demolished the bale into a big heap.

"Mmmhmm, good work. Be right back."

He went off and came back with an older model tractor which had a grinder attached behind. He backed in and maneuvered it to where an open chute was lined up with the pile of hay. He parked the tractor but turned the motor on full blast on order to turn the grinder, which was rather like a big water tank, only it was full of seed and hay instead of water. The noise was extremely loud as the grinder tore around and round and the tractor engine roared. Jim climbed down and looked at the girl.

"Now all you gotta do is feed hay through the chute into the grinder!" He yelled. "You can do it with your hands or with a pitchfork! If you do it with your hands, be careful not to let 'em go too deep into the chute! You could loose a finger that way!"

He started feeding hay into the chute himself.

"Try not to do that,'cause you haven't signed the paper that says you can't sue me yet!"

He laughed a bit, even though he was serious. It was a monotonous job, feeding hay into the grinder, but after an hour they were done.

"Climb on." He told Vixett, and he stepped onto the tractor. He pointed to the two grated steps that clung to the side. There was a small handle on the tire cover and he pointed for her to put a hand there and hold on. He drove through the farmyard and passed the barns, full of more various old junk, to a pasture gate.

"Go open the gate and then close it behind me." He said. "So the cows don't get out."

He drove in and lined the grinder up with a big bin that sat in the middle of the field. The calves ran around skittishly and stopped a very long way off to stare at the operation. Jim line the chute up with the opening in the bin and turned the grinder in reverse which expelled the contents. In fifteen minutes, it was unloaded, and the cowboy drove the tractor with the teenager still attached to it, back through the gate. He parked near the house and turned to the girl, smiling under his grey mustache.

"And that's how yeh grind feed."