After that, Princess kept her position, curled up in the far corner of the car, throughout the long drive. Agostini thought it best to leave her some time to get over that meeting.
She seemed to be coping well, though. This strange girl had reserves of strength on the inside, probably more than she knew.
He hadn’t planned for it to end as brutally as it had, but there had always been a risk. When Marley reached for the shotgun, he solved a big problem for Pierce.
Every fiber of him had wanted to kill the bastard, but he hadn’t expected Marley to provide him such a tidy justification as to pull a weapon.
After a long drive, Callaghan swung the car into the big lot, crowded with pickups and oversized SUVs. It was by the side of a low, wide metal barn.
Through the gaping side of the barn, he saw the mass of people that milled around inside. When Callaghan opened the car door for her and she stepped out, Princess’ shoes were unsteady on the wet shale.
They crunched across the lot and toward the yawning darkness inside. Pierce told her, “This will be an experience for you.” By the slump of her shoulders and her closed face, he knew she would rather wait in the car.
He slipped an arm onto her shoulder and squeezed. She blinked and her lips tightened. When she quickly looked up at him, unfamiliar feelings stirred in his chest. Gently, he took her hand, and she drew a breath, then nodded and squeezed his hand back.
He should have just fucked her when he got her back to the apartment. Got it out of the way. Once and never again. Fucking the hostage could bring complications, though. But just the thought stirred some tender longing, like an old, unfamiliar part of himself, deep inside of him.
Farm odors greeted them at the barn door and they got warmer as they stepped in out of the sun. Callaghan and Calhoun flanked Agostini and Princess as they walked over the sawdust in the hot, noisy shade. The tin barn echoed with men’s voices, some cattle mooing and the sounds of movement.
Ruddy and rugged men bustled in the big tin hut. Country men mostly, hard-working toilers of land and stock. Some dealers, too. Some of the outdoor coats and plaid wool shirts were well-cut from fine cloth.
Men in blue jeans herded around a pen where cattle were led around. Behind the pen, a crowd faced a stage. A stammering stream of babble like one-note, high-speed preaching came from the animated man and he waved his gangly arms behind a lectern on the stage.
He had on a gray suit and a white shirt, with a mustache and a cowboy hat. He called out and gestured with a black gavel.
On the lectern was a big book, and the man’s calls were in a crackling rapid-fire. As he gabbled, he pointed to men in the crowd, who would nod or shake their heads or raise a hand.
Pierce judged that the men who were the most experienced made the least movement. By the side of the auctioneer was an easel where a blown up photo showed a fine looking herd of horses.
He brought the hammer down with a bang. When he said, “Sold. Two-twenty-nine to Mr. Clarke over there.” Princess looked up and peered around for the buyer. Pierce watched her register the older man pressing a smile between his lips.
The auctioneer pointed with the gavel to the smiling man and dispatched an assistant as he slowly turned over the next big page of the book. When he looked up and spoke, it was with an easy drawl, in a normal voice. It was like he was another man completely.
“Before I call the next lot, ladies and gentlemen, I have to remind you, or tell you if you didn’t know it before, the Marchmade farm sale has been held over—that’s lots two-thirty-one to three-five-five. The Marchmade farm sale is held over. We’re expecting it to be listed on the first sale next month and that listing will be out on Monday, but keep an eye on the website and watch your catalogs.”
He repeated all of that, then announced the coming lot as a collection of farm buildings with equipment and a number of acres of plot. The photo on the easel was replaced. Pierce Agostini was engrossed in conversation with Callaghan.
The electricity rose in the air, along with the warm, ripe smells. Excitement made the air thrum. There were codes and signs that insiders would know instinctively, that would be unreadable to outsiders, like a set of manners, not so very different from the car auctions and property sales that Pierce had attended in the city and New Jersey.
The barn stirred as the next lot came up. Hums of pleasure greeted the picture on the easel, and Pierce smiled at the massive yellow combine harvester with eight wheels on the front and caterpillar tracks at the back.
Some grunts and chuckles and a buzz of enthusiasm went around the barn. Agostini didn’t share the love of heavy farm equipment, but he understood it and enjoyed it. Big boys’ toys.
At the end of a fierce run of bids, the hammer came down to a burst of applause. Men smiled and nodded to each other and the harvester sold for one point six million dollars.
When bidding started on the next lot, Princess jolted by his side. She must have thought that the auctioneer was nodding at her until she realized that his hammer was pointed at Agostini.