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home. He tried to live there after returning from war.
Then his life splintered. His longtime girlfriend opted to find another man in
his absence. He couldn’t entirely blame her, but yet, she left his heart broken
and aching. He’d been too busy on the war front to grieve over his loss in a
short letter that took three months to find him. After he returned home, he
leaped back into the dating pool, eager to find a woman to spend his days with.
On the rebound, he found Rose. From their first meeting, he decided he wanted
to keep her, fell instantly head over heels in love at first sight. He should
have known better. Turns out, she specialized in manipulating men out of their
money then walked away leaving them high and dry. His stubbornness refused to
see the truth even after his oldest brother hired a PI who found plenty of
incriminating evidence. Hurt and still trying to adjust to life post-war, he
lashed out, first verbally, then threw a few punches at Archer, his oldest
brother who presented him with proof of his latest folly when choosing a woman.
He packed up and left that very night, striking out on his own with Ben at his
side.
    Traveling
for a couple of days, he finally decided to do what he always wanted to do—own
a stable and train horses. Lucking into a run-down business, he bought the land
for next to nothing, and spent the next month repairing fences, mending the
stable, and advertising his services. Slowly, but surely, people brought him
their horses. Some to stable and care for, others to break and train. Word of
mouth spread quickly, allowing him ample work and enough of a financial cushion
to feel comfortable.
    Now,
three years later, white hair coated the tan dog’s muzzle and Ben relied on
daily medication to control his arthritis pain. Dusty lived in the one bedroom
living area attached to the stable, and he cared for twenty horses at the
present time. The animals provided him with more than a source of income, they
offered him peace and an outlet for his restless, nightmares, and loneliness.
The only item the animals couldn’t fix was the breach with his family. He’d not
seen or spoken to any of his four brothers since the night he and Archer came
to blows. His parents called now and again, but he avoided the tense and
uncomfortable conversations whenever he could. While he said good riddance back
then, he’d come to realize his own lack of judgment in the fiasco. Pride
prevented him from calling, from doing more than occasionally thinking about
them and wondering what life had brought to each of them in the past several
months.
    Ben sat
up and jumped off the bed, his old joints popping in the process. Dusty threw
the sheet aside and pulled on a pair of old worn out jeans, complete with holes
in the knees. With no air conditioning and only a fan, the nights proved too
hot to wear anything to bed. Yet, he kept clothing close. On the farm you
didn’t know what kind of critter might wander in looking for food or something
else. He could deal with the occasional possum, but the human variety of thief
put him on alert the most. Only once did someone try to sneak in and steal from
him. Between Ben going berserk and Dusty cocking a gun in the man’s face, the
man wasn’t about to return anytime soon. Even if he got released from jail
early.
    “What
is it, Ben?” Grabbing his handgun, Dusty followed his dog, pausing to silently
turn the knob on the door that led to the stable. Cracking the door open, he
let Ben through first, then snuck out behind him. The dog didn’t make a mad
dash, bark, or growl. Instead, he wandered into the middle of the aisle and sat
down.
    Perplexed,
Dusty lowered his gun and flicked on another set of lights. “Well, I’ll be
damned.” He stared in disbelief as Mischief stood to one side, tugging at a
bale of hay. While he watched, the mini pulled out a mouthful and lifted his
head, chewing happily as he glanced up at Dusty.
    “How
did you get out?”
    Dusty
glanced