Undercover Exposure Tiara
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Undercover RoseChapter 96 free porn video
We had about half the shit from one greenhouse ready to begin processing. First Steve and I planted the seeds to try to get a start on the next cycle of seedlings ready. The seedlings for the house we had just completed harvesting were ready to plant as well, but the soil in the house needed to be prepared. That meant we would be doing that as well.
The grooming took only a day since there was less than half a crop. It was a long day to be sure, but it was still just a day. The bags were sealed and ready to transport by 6 PM.
"I know the payday is going to be short this quarter, if you need to cut cost, I don't really need to be paid. I'll work for board and cigarette money," Steve said.
"Funny you should say that. Is someone else paying you?" I asked.
"No I'm between jobs. But like you, I don't need much," he said.
"Well tomorrow we will spend the day selling this crop, then come home and start all over again," I suggested. "That will include paying your salary. There just won't be a bonus, if that makes you feel better."
"It does," Steve said smiling.
That night I read everything I could on how to get the place secured. Hell I was up past midnight making the plan.
The ride into town was especially difficult since I was half asleep. It was hard to get the muscle power matched with the battery for maximum efficiency. Steve had only the gearing to deal with as he worked his way down the road. He actually was within sight of me, when I pulled into the parking lot of the Dairy Queen.
"I am having a bad morning," I said.
"It doesn't become you to make excuses," Steve said. We were at the door when Bart came tooling in.
"You are late," I suggested to the man who was almost always seated when we arrived.
"Way too much Rita last night," he explained.
"And that is way too much information," I said with a laugh.
"Strange, I get the distinct impression you two are getting chummy," Bart said.
"Bart for god's sake she is a lawyer," I replied.
"Well, she wants me to talk to you," Bart said.
"About what?" I asked.
"Hannah," Bart said.
"She is going inside," I guessed.
"Yeah, she doesn't know for how long, but Hannah knew about the break-in and withheld the information," Bart said. "I guess the temptation was too much."
"So she decided being cool was more important than her friends," I said almost angrily.
"It was new friends versus old friends," Bart said.
"I suppose so. I guess us old friends weren't screwing her, so she fucked us," I said being a little more vulgar than Bart was used to. It wasn't the first time I said it by any means, it just wasn't my usual vocabulary.
"Did you know that Sylvia was going to call you?" Bart asked.
"What, are you and Sylvia asshole buddies now?" I asked. I was a little miffed that Sylvia gave people around me information on our relationship.
"You know Rita has been her lawyer since before she was a Sheriff," he said.
"Yeah back in the good old days, whenever that was?" I asked.
"Yeah like that," Bart explained. "Anyway she asked Rita how you and Steve were getting on. That's when she decided to call.
"In that case I will turn my phone off today," I said. "We are going to Mobile with a load of pot for the USDA warehouse there. I don't need the distraction."
"So, you will have to talk to her eventually," Bart said.
"Sure, when I don't have fighting off hijackers on my mind," I agreed.
After breakfast Steve and I dug out the small electric tow motor. With it we pulled a small trailer filled with pot. It required several trips to the back of the truck to move even the smaller than normal load. The path between the sheds and the houses wasn't wide enough for the truck. It was extra work but I preferred that to collapsing a green house while trying to squeeze the truck into the path between the sheds and the greenhouses.
It was 10 AM before we were on the road to Mobile. The two hour drive made me a little nervous. First of all Steve was driving and that made me nervous. He was a high functioning victim of PTSD. He was also a ticking bomb. Being sympathetic wasn't the same as denying the truth. He could go off at any time and hurt someone even me.
Steve wasn't in therapy. He was being warehoused by me in the hopes he would exorcise his demons. He hadn't been so bad by that time so that I worried about him becoming violent.
"So, how do you like farming," I asked.
"You know my dad gardened in the back yard. This is a lot like that so far. I never figured out what he got from it. He spent more on tools and crap than he saved. Hell he gave most of the shit away. It all came in at the same time. Now I think I know. It is more about the peace," Steve confided in me.
"And of course the pot," I said smiling.
"That too," he said with a smile.
We didn't stop even for gas on the way to the warehouse. When we got there Steve stayed with the truck while I made the arrangements. Even though there was a guard on the gate, I didn't feel secure about the pot. I had been a little paranoid since the break in. I would only feel safe when the pot was out of the truck and I had the money in my account.
That took another half hour of mostly waiting, but finally we were free to leave the USDA warehouse and purchase center. It was a short drive to the Mobile Family Steak House. We were in time for the late lunch crowd, so we ate in a noisy restaurant. I was extremely pleased that Steve didn't flip out. With Steve I could never quite be sure he wouldn't go off on someone.
I turned my phone on during the drive home. Of course there were messages from Sylvia just as Bart had promised. I placed the call and was put right through to her. "Hello Sylvia, what can I do for you?" I asked.
"How is Steve working out?" she asked as an answer.
"He is doing just fine. He might be quite the pot farmer one day soon," I replied. I knew there was more to the call than asking about Steve.
"How would you like another one?" she asked.
"I don't really need any more help," I said.
"I think you might need some more help soon," she said ominously.
"If Steve and I can't do it. I'm not sure an army could help me," I said.
"Rita tells me you are looking for a junk yard dog," Sylvia said.
"I would prefer you and Rita found something else to talk about," I suggested.
"Quit being a hard ass and listen," Sylvia said. "I got a former dog handler and trainer with the army's rangers. He did two tours in the sandbox and he wants to work with dogs again. You are looking for a dog. If you have a dog, you need a handler. Frankly he needs a soft landing spot."
"I guess we can find room for him," I said. "What's his name?"
"Sterlin Bright, he will be there tomorrow afternoon," she said.
"You in that big a hurry to get rid of him?" I asked.
"He said he has had enough killing, so he isn't much use to me," she said.
"Well we aren't a war zone here just yet," I replied. "I want to do something with dogs that is true. Okay, I will find someplace for him to stay."
"Good and thanks Rose," Sylvia said.
"Some days I feel that you are still trying to make up for the year in paradise," I said. "Then other days I believe you want me to run your emotional rehab clinic."
"Well don't let it worry you. As long as it works, go with it," she said, laughed, then hung up on me.
We had plants to go into the house we had harvested already. So we didn't need to do anything but start doing it. "So I guess I'll run the tiller in the number one house," he informed me when we arrived back in the compound.
"Then I'll get my little stool with wheels and plant the seedlings. Go easy on the fertilizer this time. I don't want to take any chances with for the next few cycles," I suggested.
When we returned to the Catfish Farm we began our ambitious late afternoon's work. The next morning after breakfast we continued working in the number one green house. Sylvia's latest cast off arrived after noon. Sterlin Bright drove, of all things, a Cadillac sedan. Boy was he going to be out of place here, I thought.
I made the introduction then suggested Sterlin just make himself at home. "We will be making our plans over dinner. If you want you can either familiarize yourself with the place or jump right in and give us a hand."
"Sylvia said I would be in charge of security for the farm," Sterlin said. He was standing in the parking lot while he explained his purpose."
"Yes I suppose that is right. At least at first we still have to discuss the other things," I said.
"You need blast walls around that gate with a switchback," he said.
"Sterlin it's not that kind of threat. Why don't you drop your bag in the travel trailer for right now? We can work all this out over dinner," I suggested.
"Okay, but I told Sylvia I ain't no farmer," he said.
"That's cool, we will find something else for you to do," I suggested. He came back in fatigues and began helping me plant the seedlings. With his hands added to mine we kept Steve working hard to stay ahead of us with the cultivator tool. He pulled it behind the very slow electric tow motor.
"Rose, I really would like to use your shower, I don't think I can get clean with that small amount of water," Sterlin said as we put the tools away.
"Sure feel free, just don't run around my house naked," I said joking.
"Don't worry, I promise I'll behave," he said.
"There is a cold water sink you can wash up in over in shed where we keep the tools. You can wash your hands there," I suggested.
"That's fine," Sterlin said as he walked to shed one.
"What do you think?" I asked Steve.
"I think he is probably OCD, as well as PTSD," Steve said. (Note: OCD = Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder; PTSD = Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder)
"Aren't you just the little therapist," I said mockingly. "Make yourself useful and go get some steaks and fancy bread. We can cook them outside."
The farm's cooker came from Sam. He had taken a metal five gallon bucket and cut a door in the open end. The closed end had a few holes drilled on the side away from the door. There was a metal grill like an oven rack that lays on the top. In a platform of three concrete blocks I built a fire using easy light charcoal. I started it the moment Steve left for the steaks. The bucket went over the fire after I was sure it would stay lit. I wondered how the OCD Sterlin would feel about steak cooked that way.
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