Helluva Dad Season 1

Vol. 13: Howdy (Prequel) Pt. 3

Striker had the feeling that Joe and Lynn were up to something ever since Mildred and company arrived. From that first day, they tried to get him alone with their daughter at every chance they could. It wasn't until the incident the next evening that his suspicions were confirmed. 

"Hey, Striker! I need ya to fetch some fertilizer from the basement." 

Striker placed the bale of hay on the ground, huffing. "On it, sir."

He had to go all the way to the other side of the house where the door to the basement was. He checked on Jake on the way there; his son was watching tv with Sallie May and Blitz, eating a small bag of popcorn. He seemed far more comfortable around the latter. 

For an underground room, the basement was surprisingly clean and somewhat organized. Joe kept some of the older tools and supplies amongst other things, including some animal traps, barrels, and boxes. Still, Striker always made sure to keep Jake away from here. The last thing he wanted was the impling losing a leg in a bear trap. 

Alright, where had they put the fertilizer...? Maybe in the lower shelves...

"Oh! Hi, Striker." Mildred's cheery voice made him turn around. She was standing in the entrance to the basement. 

Striker tipped his hat. "Good evenin', Mildred. What brings ya down here?" 

"Mama asked me to look for some tools down here..." Mildred sheepishly rubbed the back of her head. "Think you could lend me a hand? It's been a while since I last came here." 

"Ye don't need to ask, lil' lady. Just watch yer step, there are some bear traps 'round the floor. What tools are ye lookin' for?"

"Some old pots for stew. Mama said they put them down here 'cause there was no more space in the kitchen shelves." 

Strike paused in his search for the fertilizer. Pots? He's been down here countless times and he's never seen any kitchenware. It'd be an inappropriate place to keep such things, anyway. Perhaps it's a different type of pot he doesn't know about? Guess he'd have to ask later; for the time being, he just helped Mildred look for anything resembling a pot.

"So, how long have you been working here?" Mildred inquired curiously. "Mama and daddy speak fondly of you, so I guess you've known them for a while." 

"I first came when my boy was still in diapers, so I'd say five years."

"Wow, that is a long while! Daddy speaks wonders of your work as a farmhand."

Striker rubbed the back of his head. "What can I say? I do what I do best. Sides, Jake loves comin' here." he chuckled.

"So I saw. He's so adorable!"

SLAM!

Striker jumped at the sudden, loud echo of the door slamming shut. The basement was momentarily plunged into darkness. It took him two seconds to realize what had happened. Shit, not again!

Striker looked down as he noticed a small weight on his waist. Mildred had been startled into wrapping her arms around him, but it didn't look like she had noticed yet. The cowboy awkwardly cleared his throat.

"Um, Mildred..." he whispered, his face red.

His voice snapped her out of it. Mildred looked up at Striker and then down at his waist. She blushed fiercely as she realized what she was doing. "Oh my Satan!" she yelped and stepped back. "I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to–! ARGH!"