By Cutieboy90
All they needed was for someone to hold the sign for the flower stall at the Sunday market.
But it’s never that simple, not with Master Skylar involved.
Mitch sniffed in mild discomfort as the cool morning air and flower pollen tickled his nose. He’d grab a tissue, and maybe some Claritin, but his hands were tied. Literally.
Locked in a bulky wooden yoke, Mitch couldn’t move his hands within two feet of his head. As if that wasn’t enough, his hands had also been locked into thickly padded leather mitts before being placed in the yoke. The mitts couldn’t even be accessed unless the yoke was removed, and of course the only person with the key to unlock the yoke was… Master Skylar.
“It’s for publicity,” Skylar had said. “Just stand on the corner for a few hours, get people’s attention, and they’ll come buy flowers.”
Fall was in the air this morning as Josh and Alex left their truck at the trailhead, gravel crunching under their boots. Early morning dewdrops still clung to the foliage and spider webs, and fog still obscured the treetops.
Sanchez pulled up in front of the Old McGriffith Farm, a dust cloud stirring up from the wheels of his F-250 as it bumped to a halt. Sanchez adjusted his tie and put on his big white hat and stepped out of the cab.
