Chapter Six
Scrape. Whoosh. Thud.
The sound of the metal tines hitting the dirt over and over again was surprisingly soothing to Linc. The scent of manure in the air wasn't that much of a bother. The clunking sound the heaps made when sent the heaps into the trash can was oddly satisfying.
"I'm sure this isn't what the General had in mind when he told us to check on his daughters," Carter grumbled.
Scrape. Whoosh. Splat.
Carter dropped his shovel to the ground with a yelp. He lifted the toe of his designer cowboy boots for inspection. "Man, I got horse droppings on my boot."
Linc turned from the male and continued his work. For a man who had crawled through a field of bloodied bodies slogged through the harsh jungle, and even waded bobbing refuse, Carter was extremely fastidious when
