The agile way the man snaked around rocky outcroppings, trees and bushes confirmed he knew the land as most people know their home. On the trail ahead, twigs snapped under impatient hooves where the dapple-gray waited. At the sight of his owner, the Tennessee Walking Horse snorted and tossed his head. Stuart untied the reins looped around a sapling, gripped the horn and swung into the saddle. He flicked the reins, and the gelding picked its way up the rocky mountainside. At the crest, the horse began a sure-footed descent down the right trail without guidance from his master.
Stuart Grey’s thoughts whirled around the woman in a rundown cabin. Bathed in a halo of sunlight, combing her hair, she seemed a lovely apparition, just an imaginary…show more content… He hefted the saddle onto a stanchion and stored the bridle, then strode toward the two story, native limestone house he called home.
As Stuart opened the back door, a Redbone hound named Rambler who usually lounged in the stable, scrambled to his feet. When Stuart ignored the dog, Rambler tucked his tail and returned to his temporary spot near the kitchen stove.
Stuart ring-tossed his Stetson over the peak of a coat rack and placed the varmint rifle in a gun hook over the kitchen door. He shucked off his Sherpa-lined denim jacket, aimed it at the coat rack, missed, and didn’t care. He strode toward the study, leaving a trail of muddy boot prints across the kitchen linoleum and down the hallway.
In the study, he threw another log on the grate. The fireplace belched up sparks and flames whipped up the chimney. Stuart collected his pipe from the mantle and knocked spent tobacco dottle into the fireplace. He repacked the pipe with his favorite cut, lit it and took a deep draw. At the liquor cabinet, he poured himself a stiff shot of Jack Daniel’s finest. Drink in hand, he eased down in a leather chair by the fireplace and propped his feet on the matching
