Part Two: Mission Control

"Thanks for the update. Yeah, I'll be sure they check in when they get here."

Mason Rowell disconnected his call and leaned back in his desk chair. Heaving a sigh, he rubbed his hands over the scruff on his chin. He hadn't bothered to shave that morning. He'd only that minute gotten back from rounding up the strays and leaving two of the hands to repair the cut fencing. This was getting to be a damn fucking habit, and he was sick and tired of ...