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Description
”Mighty sorry about all this, chicken.”

“I’m tellin’ you this right now, asshole-you better pray to whatever God you think is in your corner that you bought enough tape because the moment I get outta this here mess I AM coming for you. I don’t care HOW far you think you can run. I will shit fury down onto you and you will drown in it. Mark my-hhllhmhggghghh! MHHHFFFHHHH!”

An old rag wrapped tightly around a very angry mouth.

The man in the Stetson crouched next to Spencer Wallace-making sure the layers of tape coiled around her weren’t going anywhere for at least a few hours. There was a bit of apprehensiveness in the way he inspected her bonds-each sudden jerk she made caused a little bit of recoil in his body.

Of course, his partner in crime lying on the ground unconscious a few feet away could probably explain his timid approach to the captive girl. “Little Luling” (who was actually well over 400lbs) made the mistake of trying to apprehend some airhead ranch-hand girl who decided to peep in on their midnight cattle rustling. In trying to sneak up on the snoop, Luling found his left arm suddenly pulled out of joint, with the right being put in just the right place to be broken right in the middle of the forearm-all of this culminating in a furious Spencer grabbing his collar and slamming his head into a nearby support beam.

Unfortunately, one usually needs two hands to knock a man that heavy out cold, leaving the opportunity for Luling’s buddy to tackle and restrain the girl.

Spencer’s boots clacked on the ground as Stetson stood back up the same way a man warily backs away from a Coral Snake.

“I’m thinking we’ll be on our way, little miss.” The man tipped his hat, dragging his large partner away from the barn. “Try not to kick up too much of a storm-there’s enough dust and old lanterns in here to start a pretty hefty fire. Not to mention those old fuel barrels there...”

“Yhhh ffhhkkknn sshhrrrrhssss?!?”

Looking over her shoulder almost made her laugh as she found herself nestled up against several 55 gallon drums of what was presumably tractor fuel.

Ashley is NEVER going to let this one go. Spencer thought to herself, realizing the almost comically appropos scenario she was now in. Tied up and gagged in a barn very liable to explode after trying to stop some midnight cattle rustlers in flannel shirts and cowboy hats in the middle of nowhere. All that was missing was John Wayne or Gary Cooper to heroically ride up and ask if “this lil’ lady needed a hand”

Who the hell even rustled cattle in a year that wasn’t 1911?

Who does that??

Description
”Mighty sorry about all this, chicken.”

“I’m tellin’ you this right now, asshole-you better pray to whatever God you think is in your corner that you bought enough tape because the moment I get outta this here mess I AM coming for you. I don’t care HOW far you think you can run. I will shit fury down onto you and you will drown in it. Mark my-hhllhmhggghghh! MHHHFFFHHHH!”

An old rag wrapped tightly around a very angry mouth.

The man in the Stetson crouched next to Spencer Wallace-making sure the layers of tape coiled around her weren’t going anywhere for at least a few hours. There was a bit of apprehensiveness in the way he inspected her bonds-each sudden jerk she made caused a little bit of recoil in his body.

Of course, his partner in crime lying on the ground unconscious a few feet away could probably explain his timid approach to the captive girl. “Little Luling” (who was actually well over 400lbs) made the mistake of trying to apprehend some airhead ranch-hand girl who decided to peep in on their midnight cattle rustling. In trying to sneak up on the snoop, Luling found his left arm suddenly pulled out of joint, with the right being put in just the right place to be broken right in the middle of the forearm-all of this culminating in a furious Spencer grabbing his collar and slamming his head into a nearby support beam.

Unfortunately, one usually needs two hands to knock a man that heavy out cold, leaving the opportunity for Luling’s buddy to tackle and restrain the girl.

Spencer’s boots clacked on the ground as Stetson stood back up the same way a man warily backs away from a Coral Snake.

“I’m thinking we’ll be on our way, little miss.” The man tipped his hat, dragging his large partner away from the barn. “Try not to kick up too much of a storm-there’s enough dust and old lanterns in here to start a pretty hefty fire. Not to mention those old fuel barrels there...”

“Yhhh ffhhkkknn sshhrrrrhssss?!?”

Looking over her shoulder almost made her laugh as she found herself nestled up against several 55 gallon drums of what was presumably tractor fuel.

Ashley is NEVER going to let this one go. Spencer thought to herself, realizing the almost comically appropos scenario she was now in. Tied up and gagged in a barn very liable to explode after trying to stop some midnight cattle rustlers in flannel shirts and cowboy hats in the middle of nowhere. All that was missing was John Wayne or Gary Cooper to heroically ride up and ask if “this lil’ lady needed a hand”

Who the hell even rustled cattle in a year that wasn’t 1911?

Who does that??