Turning point

AN: Greetings, Long time no see. I had wanted to find a beta before I inflected y\'all with any more of this story but alas I have had no luck finding such a person. So I ask you dear readers to please over look the miss spellings, run on sentences,poor punctuation and lousy grammar in this story. And if you could please point out any of these glaring flaws so that I might fix them.



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The sun beating down made me wish I had worn sunglasses even though they drive me crazy with my eye lashes rubbing them every time I blink and the distortion of the glass itself.

I could see the shaded dimness of the the stock building ahead and the promise of if not cool at least relief from the sun. I could also smell it even at this distance. The cloying musky almost sweat smell of buck goats coupled with hay straw and doe piss. I don\'t mind the smell of buck goat. Stale goat piss on the other hand makes me have the urge to muck stalls.

I tilted my head down in hope my cowgirl hat would block a bit of the sun but the glare was so bad I felt like I was setting on the sun looking in a mirror. Part of this was from the shinny new roof on the stock building I was walking toward. I could make out shadows of people moving in the dim interior of the building as I got closer. By time time I made it to the building I felt half blind and that only got worse as I stepped into the cooler dark inside the building. It took my eyes what felt like longer than normal to adjust to the dimmer light.



As my eyes finally got used to the lower light I looked around. The large building had pens made from stock panels set up in a two row grid., with walk ways down each side and the center. There were also walk ways across at every second pen. You could walk all the way around each square block of four pens. And all the pens were full of goats. Brood stock, high end animals. No "Billy" or "Nanny" goats here. Many many years before when I was very young I had asked a friend that my grand father was buying some new blood stock from what was the difference between a Billy and a buck when he corrected my word usage. His answer was the difference between a Billy and a Buck is about $500.00 and he smiled at my grandfather.

Yep, not a Billy in sight. What there were though were goats ranging in size from small just weaned kids to large majestic herd sires. And lots of horns. Having raised mostly milking dairy stock and polled Hereford cattle I was shocked at all the horns. People that raised meat goats didn\'t really dis-bud kids so I could picture injuries waiting to happen all over the building.

I had done rather a lot of homework on this breed and many of the breeders at this event. It pays to know everything you can when dealing with livestock and that goes double when you are looking to buy high end blood stock.

Though I did not know any of the breeders here by face I knew many by name or at the very least farm or herd name. I was ready to get started looking for my new stock. I had entered in the middle of the building and so there were goats on each side of me. To my left was a pen of mostly white goats, the predominate color in this breed. And the goats there were some of the few that had been disbuded. So of course I turned and started my tour of the stock there.

My boots made a soothing jangle and clomp on the concrete floor. I love my golden retrievers, black boots with a little bit of heel and dependable lug soles. The jingle was from my little vanity. A heavy set of silver boot bracelets with spread wing eagles stretched across the top of my boot with a chain under the arch and around the back. They were as flashy as I got. The tight black jeans I wore and the plain black leather belt might have been eye catching in some places but I not did think they would be in a barn full of jeans. I had worn a light weight plain white V neck cotton Tshirt that was not really helping with the heat but it was better than something pretty and girly. My black cowboy hat sat back on my head and supported only a thin silver bad. Eight tiny stud gemstone earrings and a silver necklace were the only concessions I made to being girly. That and the ridicules chest, hips and ass I was cursed with. Oh and the long dark hair in a heavy braid down to said over curved ass. And the two tiny braids made from my "bangs" that crossed on my forehead and tucked behind my ears.

I will admit to maybe over compensating my femaleness with a rather sharp no nonsense approach to business. I have been told it comes off a bit overwhelming to some people. Strange to me since this comes from men that tower over my little 4 foot ten inch self. I am told I am intimidating and I project taller. But what ever on with the story.

The first pen of goats I stop to look over are not too bad looking, as it should be with this gathering of cream of the crop breeders. As I look them over I note the signs that list farm herd and breeder. This group is from a breeder I have heard about. He is a retired military man and I look around to see if I can tell what one of the people standing around he might be. The building on the end I am looking at is full of lots of big men in flannel shirts standing around chatting. Some with ball caps and some with cowboy hats and a few bare headed. There are overalls and blue jeans and boots, short copped hair and red necks knee deep. Oh wait did I just use a somewhat derogatory thought. Yes I believe I did. Check back later for the reason.

There were also a few fluttery girly women hanging around the edges of the males conversations and a few standing around talking to each other about what looked to be a new baby. But it was a baby they were cooing over new or not. I saw no females engaged in talk over the livestock . Pity. But I also saw that even though I was showing interest in someones stock no one was paying me the least bit of mind. I snort, stupid red neck hicks. They were also ignoring the grunt male labor that was with me. This I could also figure out, with his long braid down his back and full beard, mustache, boots, jeans, chain drive wallet he was the very picture of a stereotypical biker, I grinned at the thought. There were some good ole boys in for some shocks today.

I pass the pen of Sgt red necks goats and move on. Most of the goats were much of a muchness. There were I few I would have sent to the slaughter market rather than the breeding barn but at the prices this breed commanded I could see why greed might get in the way of breeder ethics.

There were a few animals I made a mental note to try to add to my herd. Prices are not always hard though in this market there would likely be very little leeway. I noted more herd and farm signs with names I recognized but still not a single person asking me if I had any questions about their stock. The salesman ship here seemed to be very poor.

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Again I am sorry this is so short, it is related to not having a beta.