Andy sat in his truck, gazing out the window at the acres of pasture, the corral, the barn, just staring into the miles of forest that backed onto their land. A tap on the window had him sitting up, turning the key so he could roll down the window.
“Everything okay, boss?” asked Ben, the young stable hand, with auburn curly hair.
Andy opened his door and stepped out. He could feel Ben watching him as he stared at the back door. Ben cleared his throat, and Andy said, “Fine, Ben. Did you get those stalls cleaned out?”
“Almost done, sir,” he said eagerly.
“Well, get to it,” he snapped, heading toward the back door and dreading each step the closer he got. He listened to the gravel crunching under his booted feet. He rubbed his hand over his face.
He stepped inside and wiped his feet on t
