For the Love of Wild Things
Monopolizing transport for all the ranches on the island was difficult, but not impossible, and well worth the hard work. Vaughn had his share of shortcomings-- far more than he would ever admit-- but was an incontestably sharp businessman, tempered in the early years of his career when a bad deal had meant a missed meal, or worse, that still dogged his subconscious. If scheduled effectively, there were often weeks where he had more free time than he knew what to do with, and was forced to find ways to fill it, lest he be left alone with his thoughts and a bottle of something strong instead.
It was during one such week that he wandered into Barley’s Animal Shop for the first time, the front through which Sunset Ranch did most of their business. He knew that Georgia dealt with more than just farm animals, and several of the pets for sale raised an eyebrow, or two-- but when he came upon a pen of what he was positive were wolf pups, the trader’s idle curiosity turned stone cold.
Storming out of the building, he stalked across the property, face flushed from the biting winter wind and fury both by the time he found the owner of the establishment. Despite being a man of few words by nature, he had a mouthful of choice ones for her.
“The hell kinda business’re you running here, selling wild animals out of a damn pet shop?!” He demanded, jabbing an accusatory finger at the woman. Content as they appeared, clambering over each other and romping about their enclosure, wolves of any age had no business being kept by humans, least of all treated no differently than dogs.
Their partnership be damned. He wasn’t about to compromise his morals, no matter how much money he made through her ranch.
“I oughta turn your ass in to the PWRC.”