She put on a show of trying to grab it with her bound hands. Her nails scrabbled against the rim before she dropped it. Giving him her best wide-eyed innocent look, she held up her bound wrists. “I can’t hold it when my hands are tied so tight.”
Bob kicked the bucket into her shin, and she couldn’t hold back her cry.
She hopped up and down on one foot as the sting eased, glaring at the bastard.
“Sodding hell.” Roger rose and tromped towards them. “We were told to watch her, not abuse her. Why do you feel the need to bully?”
“She knows what happened to my brother.”
Roger put his hand on Bob’s shoulder. “You don’t know that for certain. How many times have I told you that if you want to get ahead, you have to use your head?”
“But—”
“No buts. You are responsible for your own success.” He clasped both of Bob’s shoulders and looked into his eyes. “Now, repeat after me. I am the master of my own future.”
Bob’s shoulders curled, but he repeated the mantra.
“I am in control of my destiny.”
“I am in control of my destiny,” Bob repeated.
Netta stared at the men in horrified fascination. The absurdity of the situation made her want to laugh, or perhaps that was hysteria setting in. As abductions went, this one had to be one of the strangest.
“Now, do you really think this tiny thing had anything to do with your brother going missing?” Roger turned Bob to face her. “It is only through logic and reason that a man will get ahead. Not by venting his spleen.”
Bob grumbled. “I suppose not.” He bent and swiped up the bucket. “Loosen her ropes, will you? But not too much.” He curled one side of his lips. “That wouldn’t be logical.”
Roger untied her binds then retied them leaving several inches of rope stretched between her wrists. It wasn’t what she had hoped for, but her mobility was better than before.
She grasped the bucket. “Shall I just follow my nose to the cows?”
“Come on.” Bob pushed open the door and jerked his head. “Follow me.”
Netta examined the bucket as she trailed after him. The other man followed behind, leaving her little room to flee. The bucket was large and unwieldy, but she didn’t think it had enough heft to do any lasting damage. Perhaps if she hit a nose it would break.
But the men never stood within arm reach. They led her to a stable lined with cattle in their stalls and told her to pick one.
“Pick a cow?” All the cow faces looked the same. Black and white and staring at the trio with mild curiosity.
“The one that looks like it has the most milk.” Bob waved her forwards. “I thought you’d done this before.”
“Of course.” She held the bucket tight to her belly. “Many times.” She peeked over several stall doors, pretending to examine the animals. She nodded at the cow in the last pen. “This one.”
Roger opened the stall door and thumped a low stool next to the cow.
“Thank you.” Netta gently settled herself on the stool and stared at the swollen udder swinging from the animal. This couldn’t be difficult. Children performed the task in the country. Step one was to place the bucket under the cow, and that was easily done. The animal seemed not to care that three humans invaded its space. It probably wanted to get back to sleep.
Roger hooked his elbows over the gate. “I heard you’re moving,” he said to Bob.
“Yeah.” Bob slid his fingers into the top of his trousers. He rocked up onto his toes. “Me and Sally got ourselves a bigger house.”
“Jesus, don’t tell the boss that,” Roger said. “He’ll try to fob more cats on you.”
They both shuddered.
Bob looked down at her. “Where’s the milk?”
“Right.” Netta rubbed her hands together as best she could. “One pail of milk coming up.” She stared at the udder and kept rubbing her hands.
