Chapter 2: John

Chapter 2 – John

As I cross the gravel drive and head for the barn, my pulse is still racing. Normally, I’m a pretty calm and measured guy. Not much riles me up. But honestly, being around Gabrielle Hunter threw me for a loop. Yeah, Hannah told me to look for the prettiest redhead at the airport, but she was mistaken. I mean, yes, Gabrielle was most definitely the prettiest redhead at the airport, but what Hannah failed to mention is that Gabrielle is the type of woman who makes a man go weak in the knees.

Once I’m inside the barn, I take a moment to collect myself. I’m too old to be feelin’ this way. I’m also too old for Ms. Hunter. She’s probably in her late twenties, and I’m at least a decade older than she is, if not more.

Besides, an ugly monster like me would have no chance in hell with a goddess like her. I can just imagine how the single men will be hovering around her, like moths to a flame.

My thoughts are interrupted by a sharp whinny coming from the last stall on the right. “Yeah, I hear ya, buddy.” I head down the center aisle. When I reach Zeus’s stall, I reach over the gate to scratch his neck. “Hold your horses, will ya?” And then I smile at my own joke.

I grab Zeus’s halter off the hook beside his nameplate with my left hand and unlatch his stall gate with my right. My gaze goes unerringly to the tight, puckered skin covering the back of my left hand. I should be used to seeing it by now. These burn scars are a decade old. Surely that’s plenty of time for me to come to grips with them. I’d planned for the Army to be a life-long career, but fate had other plans for me—namely an IED, improvised explosive device, in Afghanistan. I ended up with facial burns, a burned left hand, and shrapnel embedded in my left leg. After receiving a medical discharge, I came back home to heal my wounds, and eventually I ended up here.

As I lead him out of his stall, Zeus nudges me with his big black head.

“Yeah, I know, pal. It’s good to see you, too. Now let’s get you saddled. We’re takin’ some folks out for a morning trail ride.”

Zeus’s whinny reverberates through the barn.

Nora Ellison, my earnest young assistant, comes up behind me and pets Zeus’s forelock. “Hey, boss. The other horses are saddled and ready to go. I left Zeus for you ’cause I know you prefer to saddle him yourself.”

Nora’s a local girl, just twenty-two years old, who works here at the stables. She grew up on a horse ranch, and she’s been riding since she was five. She’s a natural around horses.

“Thanks, Nora.”

I lead Zeus down the aisle. I see Nora’s got Zeus’s blanket and saddle waiting for me.

About the time all five horses are saddled and ready, Killian leads two middle-aged couples out to the barn. The four of them are friends, up here from San Diego.

“This is John Burke, your trail guide,” Killian says as he introduces us. “This is Terry and Cindy Johnson, and Steve and JoAnn Pritchard.”

Nora already has four horses lined up and tied to hitching posts. After I assign each of the guests to a horse and go over the ground rules, Nora and I help them mount, and then I mount Zeus and lead us off.

My trail horses are well trained and good natured. I don’t need eyes in the back of my head to know they’re following the trail and keeping up with me. It’s rare that a guest acts up and causes problems, but it happens occasionally. But these folks are adults and seem a decent sort. They’re also experienced riders.

This morning, we’re going on a short, two-hour trail ride through the valley, across a slow-flowing stream, then up the other side. We’ll be back in time for the tail end of the lunch period.

Speaking of lunch—I usually eat alone in my cabin, which is located on the other side of the barn, but for half a second, I contemplate showing up at the restaurant. It’s not because I’m anxious to see Gabrielle again. I’m just curious to find out what she thinks of the place. From what I’ve seen of the kitchen—which dates back fifty years if a day—it’s an outdated mess. And if I happen to get a glimpse of the pretty redhead again, well, that’s just a lucky bonus, isn’t it?

You’re kiddin’ yourself, Burke, if you think Gabrielle Hunter gives a rat’s ass about you showing up. Don’t waste your time.