Billy Bob and Katya

By Gary Robinson (as told to Alured de Valer)

Billy Bob Barnes dragged himself out of bed that Saturday morning to tend to his chores. He again asked himself why he'd let his dad talk him into coming back to the farm after earning his degree in agriculture economics. He'd passed on a couple of job offers that sounded quite lucrative.

Yeah, he would've had to spend a lot of time traveling from a home base in a town like Amarillo or Lubbock, but there were worse places to live. At least Lubbock had a major university and an airport that'd enable occasional visits to civilization. And he'd have been that much closer to the ski slopes.

Instead, he was back in the bedroom he'd grown up in, 20 miles from the nearest town that even sold beer. He'd have to drive farther than that to get a bottle of bourbon.

He pulled on a pair of jeans and staggered to the kitchen, where his parents were almost finished with their breakfast even though it wasn't even 6 a.m. They were in a hurry to get on the road. They were taking the farm's prize bull, Ferdinand, to the state fair and fully expected to come home with another blue ribbon. Billy Bob was tasked with keeping an eye on the place while they were gone.

At least fall planting was out of the way. All he had to do the next few days — assuming there were no major disasters — was make sure the stock was fed and watered, check a few fencelines and such, jobs he'd been handling since he got big enough to carry a sack of feed by himself. Once that was done, he'd have the rest of the day to himself. His plan was to run into town to get enough barbecue and beer to get him through the weekend, then watch a lot of football.

His dad had to make sure Billy Bob knew his various duties while they were gone.

"One more thang I wantcha to do," his dad said, draining his coffee mug and putting it in the sink, "is run by the Anderson and check on it for me. We better get movin.' Stay outta trouble. See ya no later than Thursday."

His mom at least gave him a hug before leaving in addition to issuing her own orders.

"Clean up after yourself," she said. "I better not come home to find a messy house."

"Yes, ma'am," he said. "Y'all have a good time. Eat somethin' besides corndogs and funnel cakes."

Billy Bob prepared and quickly consumed what passed for breakfast, then went to finish getting dressed. The sooner he got started, the sooner he could plop down on the couch in front of the TV.

Work shirt, denim jacket, work boots, gimme cap. One advantage of farming was he never had to wear a tie to work. The downside was he went to work seven days a week.

The stock was checked and a bale of alfalfa hay was delivered to the horse trap, then a big round bale of Coastal Bermuda was delivered to the pasture holding the bred heifers. Billy Bob, who'd pregnancy tested every one of the heifers, was glad Ferdinand was doing his job.

It was the kind of job Billy Bob wouldn't mind having. Wake up, have a little breakfast, have sex with however many females were in the mood, nap until lunchtime, repeat the process in the afternoon with more females, maybe a few more after supper if he still had some energy.

He finished up around the headquarters by 8 a.m. If traffic wasn't too bad, he should make it to the Anderson by 8:30. Of course, traffic jams out here were usually caused by someone's livestock getting out in the road.

The Anderson, which Billy Bob's dad had leased for years before finally buying it last month, actually adjoined the back of their property. The problem was the headquarters was a good 10 miles away from the boundary fence. To get there, Billy Bob had to go about five miles out to the nearest Farm-to-Market Road, then about 15 more to the gravel county road that led to the place.

And it was in the opposite direction of the nearest beer store, meaning Billy Bob faced about a 40-mile drive into town once he was done.

He considered that the main drawback to his dad's suggestion that he move into the old Anderson house. Yeah, he'd have his own place and his mother wouldn't be able to meddle in his affairs as easily, but he wasn't having many affairs in the first place. Most of the eligible women in the county were either former classmates or some kind of cousin, often both. Billy Bob was looking to bring fresh blood into the mix. He knew genetic diversity helped strengthen the herd.

Billy Bob encountered his first obstacle at the cattle guard at the Anderson entrance. Why was the gate shut? Had his dad come by here without him yesterday?

The gate was not only shut, it was chained with a padlock making sure it stayed shut. That wasn't right. Even if Dad had closed the gate, he wouldn't have put a lock on it and not given Billy Bob the key.

A look at the cattle guard and rutted lane — better get a road grader on that, Billy Bob thought — showed tire tracks from a big rig. They hadn't ordered one that he was aware of. They didn't even have stock over here yet.

The Anderson was so named because of the original owners, not the absentee owner Billy Bob's dad had leased from and recently bought out. Billy Bob had never met the guy, just heard he was some big-city lawyer with supposedly shady dealings.

It sounded like those dealings finally caught up to the guy. The purchase had been made at a firesale price, Billy Bob had overheard his mom say on the phone, because the big-city lawyer himself needed a good lawyer.

Billy Bob pulled some boltcutters out of the pickup bed and dealt with the lock. He'd find a use for the chain. There was always a need for some out on a farm. Opening the gate, he drove slowly up the lane to the headquarters. The house appeared undisturbed, but the barn door was closed. That wasn't right, either. The barn had been empty when they were over here a few days ago. There wasn't even any hay in the loft.

Billy Bob opened the barn door to reveal a 40-foot van trailer with what looked like a car under a tarp parked beside it. That definitely wasn't right!

He went around to the back of the trailer. There were no locks and he didn't see anything suspicious, like wires leading to a bomb or anything, and opened a door. He thought he caught a brief glimpse of Benjamin Franklin just as a screaming banshee attacked him.

Billy Bob managed to cover his face with his arms, screaming he was only here to help as a woman tried to rip his throat out.

"You are not Vasily's man?" she asked confusedly in heavily accented English, hand still poised for a knife strike at his windpipe.

"Who's Vasily?" Billy Bob asked, also in heavily accented English for those who didn't speak fluent farmboy.

The woman informed him Vasily Ivanovich Topolov was the son of Ivan Sergeyevich Topolov, the big boss of a Russian Mafia outfit. Apparently, the shady lawyer who formerly was listed as the property owner was on Ivan's payroll. The Anderson was a good place for them to stash items waiting to be delivered around the country.

She introduced herself as Katya Kyrylenkova, one of Ivan's top problem solvers. Vasily wanted to make her his mistress, but she couldn't bear the thought of the loathsome toad touching her and told him so.

That was the last thing she remembered before she awoke in a dark, cramped space with a splitting headache. Just as Billy Bob opened the trailer door. She reacted instinctively and here we were, Billy Bob flat on his back with Katya astride him.

If it hadn't been for her killing intent, Billy Bob might have enjoyed the situation. The woman was frickin' gorgeous! She reminded him of Scarlett Johansson in that Avengers movie, only Slavic instead of Nordic.

As it was, Katya looked a little woozy.

"Do you need to see a doctor?" Billy Bob asked.

"Nyet!" she declared defiantly. "No doctors. No police. I veel handle Vasily myself. Need food, rest."

"You can have that at my house if ya trust me," Billy Bob offered.

Katya pondered that until her growling stomach decided for her. She had no idea how long it'd been since she last ate. She could also use a shower and some clean clothes. She could always kill the man she sat upon later if he tried anything. She wasn't some cheap whore!

Billy Bob pondered the situation as he drove Katya back to the house. The one thought running through his mind was if she was this hot in a bedraggled condition, what was she going to be like all dolled up?

Better not even go there, he told himself. She'd already expressed intent (and shown ability) to deal with the last slob who'd tried to hit on her.

His thoughts turned to what was in the trailer and under that tarp. Was that really bales of $100 bills he saw just before she pounced on him? And the tarp covered what was obviously some kind of vehicle. He could only dream of what kind of fancy ride a Russian mobster would have.

He'd need to do something about the trailer, at least. Maybe his buddy Jimmy Jack, a long-haul trucker, was back from his latest run.

"You haf guns," Katya said, interrupting his reverie.

"Just what's on the gunrack, there," Billy Bob said.

The rack in the rear window held his old huntin' rifle, which was mostly used to deal with varmints, and an even older shotgun that he occasionally used for dove and quail, but mostly more varmints. Snakes and skunks were its usual targets.

"Ve need gun shop," she said, almost making Billy Bob ask "What's this 'we' shit, Comrade?"

He pulled around the back of the house where he usually parked. He could probably count the number of times he'd entered the house through the front door. His mother was quite protective of her living room. Her son and husband could come in through the mudroom like all the other animals.

He guided Katya to the bathroom and set her up with towels and such, then waited outside the door until she handed him her clothes. He'd put the tracksuit and undergarments she wore in the washer while she bathed. Nothing he owned would fit her — his shirts wouldn't contain those boobs and his pants probably wouldn't go over on her hips, wide as they were. And he wasn't even about to think of looking through his mom's stuff. If he wanted to die, it'd be easier just to make a grab at Katya.

With Katya's laundry taken care of, he headed to the kitchen. The girl probably needed beef, of which there was plenty in the freezer. Billy Bob didn't claim to be much of a cook, but he could grill a steak.

While waiting for the grill to heat, he called his trucker buddy. The guy was not only available, but would be glad to help out his farmer buddy. For a price. Diesel ain't free, ya know.

"I'll even throw in enough for ya to take Becky Lynn out to dinner tonight," Billy Bob promised. "And not Dairy Queen, either. You'll have to comb your hair."

"That's what caps are for," Jimmy Jack snorted.

The washer finished its cycle just after Billy Bob flipped the steak. As he moved the clothes to the dryer, he noticed Katya's lacy unmentionables weren't all that lacy. Just a sports bra and matching panties, quite utilitarian. Combined with the tracksuit, a feller'd think she'd been abducted from a gym. Or maybe that's just how she dressed when solving problems for Ivan.

Katya emerged wrapped in his mother's bathrobe. It sure never looked like that on Mom. She'd also combed the tangles out of her hair, which was still wet enough he couldn't tell the true shade.

"Have a seat," he said, flipping the steak once more. "Medium good for ya or do ya want it a little more done?"

"Medium ees goot," she said, pulling the robe tight across her bosom, which did nothing to make the situation easier for Billy Bob.

He put the steak on a plate with a couple of slices of bread, grabbed utensils and placed it in front of her, making sure to maintain a respectable distance. Turning to the fridge, he pulled out a jug of tea and poured a glass for her as she tucked in.

"Vot ees dees?" she asked, more curious than suspicious.

"Swait tay," Billy Bob said. "It's what we drank ’round here. Better for ya than too much soda pop. I don't have any beer or I'd offer ya one. I was gonna get a case when I went into town."

"Ees goot," Katya said after taking a sip.

As she devoured the steak, Billy Bob went to check on her clothes. It just felt safer to not get too close to her.

The buzzer finally went off and he carried the clothes to her in the kitchen. He just knew his mom would chastise him for not folding them first.

"I gotta run back over to the Anderson," Billy Bob said. "I need to check on thangs."

"I go, too," Katya said. "May find vere Vasily ees."

Billy Bob didn't argue. The sooner she went hunting for Vasily, the safer he'd be. But he wouldn't mind admiring those curves until she left. She seemed to enjoy playing look-but-don't-touch. He could handle that. For a little while, anyway.

Katya put the last bite in her mouth and took her clothes back to the bathroom to dress.

Billy Bob texted Jimmy Jack that he was on his way to the Anderson. It would take the trucker about an hour to get there.

Katya came out dressed, thinking Billy Bob could have at least used some fabric softener. But, she told herself, she should at least be thankful he hadn't tried to join her in the shower. Actually, he'd behaved like a gentleman, something she wasn't exactly used to. He'd even cooked for her!

They arrived back at the Anderson with Jimmy Jack still a half hour out. Katya opened the trailer door to confirm Billy Bob's suspicions as to its contents. There were 40 pallets of cash, each containing 640 bundles. Each bundle consisted of 10 straps of 100 bills. She began pulling out bundles, several hundred thousand dollars as far as he could tell. The total amount was staggering, something around $2.5 BILLION!!!

Then she whipped the tarp off to reveal a classic Mercedes-Benz with gullwing doors. It was when she opened the trunk that her day got very much better. A duffel bag filled the space, the partially opened zipper showing a cache of guns.

Uzis! Glocks! And enough ammo to take care of dozens of Vasilys!

"Ve don't need gun shop," she said with a feral smile.

Billy Bob found a problem when he popped the hood. The sparkplugs had been removed. Fortunately, there was a box on the dash. He could fix that. He had a socket set in his toolbox. Even had metric sizes, which he'd need for a German car.

He finished hooking things up as Jimmy Jack pulled up in his rig. Katya had the car running, the engine rumbling throatily, as the trucker backed up to hitch on.

"Take it to my place and drop it by the barn," Billy Bob said.

"Do not touch trailer door," Katya commanded. "Ees booby-trapped. Thees for your trouble."

With that, she held up a bundle of cash, $100,000 if Billy Bob had things figured correctly. That was a helluva lot more than he intended to pay! Becky Lynn wouldn't be eatin' at Dairy Queen again unless she just wanted to.

"Ees also for your silence," Katya said, maintaining a solid hold on the cash as Jimmy Jack reached for it. "You know nothink. Never saw me, yes?"

"Whatever you say, ma'am!" the trucker grinned madly, seizing the package. "I been home watchin' football an' drankin' beer all day! Jus' lemme know if there's anythang else I can help y'all with."

"Goot boyee," Katya grinned coyly. "Maybe ve haf more vork for you someday."

Billy Bob in his pickup and Katya in the Mercedes followed Jimmy Jack back to the house. After helping park the trailer and unhitch, they watched the trucker drive away with a farewell blast of his airhorn.

Once he was out of sight, Katya opened the door and pulled out more bundles, a couple million dollars by Billy Bob's count. With guns and money loaded in the Mercedes, she tossed him the key.

"You drive," she commanded. "I sleep. Vake me ven get Oklahoma Ceety."

Oklahoma City?!?!?! That was five hours away! He'd better call another one of his buddies to come check on the stock the next couple of days. He hoped she'd let him come home before Wednesday. Dad would surely have something to say about him just taking off like this.

EPILOGUE: Four days later, Billy Bob and Katya arrived on an island somewhere in the South Pacific. He thought they might be in French Polynesia based on the signage.

Vasily and the Russians had been dealt with. Dad forgave Billy Bob for desertion once he saw what was in the trailer. Katya had taken even more from Russian bank accounts during her revenge tour, stashing it in tax havens around the world. They weren't going to go hungry in their retirement.

The couple spent their days in seclusion, enjoying the tropical climate. Billy Bob developed an all-over tan. Except for the two Katya-sized handprints on his ass.