Page 24 of Roping Her Alien Ranchers

As I moved, my eyes darted around for anything I could use as a weapon to defend myself against whatever alien ship lay wrecked in the middle of my damn supply barn.

“Crap,” I muttered, coming up empty. There was a leather riding crop in the stables; I hadn’t touched it, an artifact left by the old owners. That wouldn’t be enough against… against what? An unidentified flying object and a couple green-skinned space men?

It was official. I was absolutely cracked. A broken egg, yolk spilling out. I couldn’t possibly be sane if I was seriously preparing to fight aliens.

Only a few feet from the barn, I remembered the pile of old wood I hadn’t taken to the dump, stuff ripped from the fencing during repairs. The lumber might be weather worn, splintered, and full of nails, but that made it absolutely perfect.

My determination surged, and I shifted my path, racing around the barn, giving it a wide berth, toward the jagged remnants of lumber.

As every ounce of my being urged me to find something sturdy—like it might help chase away the choking anxiety as I moved—the fruity smell that didn’t quite belong intensified. It was coming from the supply barn, not the neighbor’s pig scraps. I inhaled deeply as I stopped in front of the busted-up, weathered wood pile.

Bananas. It smelled like overripe bananas. Ugh. I hated that smell.

Yet, I didn’t have time to analyze it; I had to focus on whatever lay ahead, whatever answer awaited me.

I leaned over, rifling through carefully until I found a sturdy, knotty length boasting half a dozen bent nails. When I stood up, weighing the wood in my hand and wondering how hard I needed to hit an alien to bash its brains in, a strange buzzing began.

It was a swarm of cicadas.

Growing louder every second.

Suddenly, I decided that I was still dreaming. I hadn’t woken up today. Hadn’t had a cup of coffee. Hadn’t seen the barn shimmer. I supported the wood in one hand and I pinched myself hard. I winced; the sharp pain did nothing to make the buzzing stop or lessen the scent of rotting fruit.

I clutched the board and pushed myself into action again. My pulse raced. Sweat beaded across my forehead. As I rounded the building, it shifted from standing to collapsed once more. Only, this time it didn’t immediately erect back into place.

Shit. Today was not going to be just another ordinary day at Sunflower Hills Ranch.

When I finally stepped inside the warped wreckage of my supply barn, shock washed over me in waves. I drowned in it, head below water. The building really was in ruins. I was surrounded by a mess of sharp edges and broken boards. The remnants of my reality were punctured by what stood at the center of the destruction.

The UFO.

Not a dream. All real.

A breeze kicked up. Each gust of wind rattled the wreckage. There was zero way I could re-enter denial zone now. Not when the truth assaulted my senses from all angles.

The shimmering had completely stopped, as if the illusion knew it did no good now. Details sharpened around me. The large metal sphere raised from the ground by six hinged legs reflected its surroundings. If I cocked my head a certain way, it almost disappeared, blending with the ranch.

This was so strange. So surreal.

The biggest question now screamed inside my head: what the hell is inside this spaceship?

I turned around in a wide circle, drawing on the nearly empty reservoirs of my hope. Please. Please. Please. I begged the universe. Do me a solid. Put the barn back together. I don’t care if it’s leaning or weathered.

“Breathe, Tammy. Just breathe.” Panic was winning.

My legs shook as I pushed through the fear, approaching the dented and scarred alien vessel currently nestled against splintered beams, smashed hay bales, and frayed rope.

The hum was almost unbearable once I was only a foot or so away. I raised one hand, the other still gripping the wood tightly, and I pressed my palm against the ship. At my touch, the metallic surface began radiating a bizarre luminescence. Warmth pulsed against my skin, seeping into my insides.

“What the hell is this?” I blurted, my heart thumping erratically. I tried to pull my hand back, but I couldn’t. My palm felt glued to the ship surface. “Let me go! Let me go!” I shouted, yanking brutally. I’d rip my own skin off before I let this damn UFO trap me. What if it took off? Would it drag me into freaking space?

I raised the two-by-four, knuckles going white, and slammed it down on the spaceship. Its surface rippled, like a stone dropped into a placid lake. That was enough to spur me onward. I hit the ship over and over again. When my hand broke free, I stumbled backward violently, losing my footing, and falling. My ass slammed into the ground.

“Ouch,” I grunted out, rolling to my side and nursing my aching hand for a heartbeat before remembering what the hell was happening. As quickly as I could, I stood, brandishing the wood again. I held it out, aimed at the ship, wondering if I should keep beating the damn thing in hopes it would suddenly fly away.

And then—without warning—a whooshing sound erupted, a hatch began to lower, and a thick cloud of lavender smoke spilled outward. The very air turned heavy and cloying, and I instinctively recoiled, fanning the acrid mist from my face with one hand. But that was futile; the overwhelming smell surged toward me, entering my gaped mouth and nostrils. It left a sugared, acidic taste on my tongue.

“Ugh, what is this?” I gasped, blinking rapidly and coughing against the smoke. The lavender haze twisted around me, as if sentient. A strong sense of vertigo threatened to plunge me into the floor, and my body felt heavy, pulled down by an invisible weight. My heart pounded in my chest—the panic wasn’t something I could swallow down anymore—and my vision blurred as I nearly fell again.