CHAPTER 1

The woman's eyes were wide with horror, disbelief. She looked into his own, pleading with him to not let this man hurt her, not let her die, not like this, to not leave her. All without saying a word, all with only her eyes, which were beautiful: large, dark-gray ovals framed with thick, ebony lashes. Eyes that would never leave him for the rest of his life. He reached out to her, was within inches of pulling her from harm, when his face was spattered with pieces of her flesh, tissue, brain; drenched with hot blood. Feeling all this before hearing the fatal shot.

Garth awakened with a start, seeing those eyes dying, the light fading; catching at that final moment the accusation in the woman's eyes as she looked into his. Knowing the last thought she had on earth was that this man had let her down, had not saved her as she had so desperately needed, wanted him to do.

Garth groaned, forced himself to sit up, and waited for the shaking to subside. He wiped the sweat from his brow as he willed the images away. Rising, he glanced out the window, noticed darkness had descended, and cursed himself for thinking once again that maybe he would be lucky this time and he would not see those eyes when his own were closed in sleep.

At the kitchen door, he paused, swaying slightly, still sweating. He barely registered the softly whining dog nudging at his hand with its nose. He yanked his jacket off the coat-rack, threw the door open, and stomped to the stables, murmuring, "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," never realizing these words were his mantra each time he awakened.

Close to the barn, the dog stopped, raised his nose, sniffed, and began to throw his head this way and that as he trotted ahead.

Entering the stables, Garth instinctively felt that something was amiss but dismissed it as his reaction to the dog's behavior. He began to check the stalls one by one, ascertaining the horses had entered on their own and were patiently awaiting the corn and rolled-oats combination he fed them each evening.

The dog had gone to the farthest stall and was now emitting bursts of frustrated whines, darting looks inside the enclosure and then back to Garth, as if to urge him to come see.

Garth ignored the animal, thinking one of the cats or maybe a field mouse or rat had caught his attention. He murmured soothing words to the horses, stroking muzzles reaching out to him. He closed the lower halves of the stall doors as he moved toward the one at the end occupied by his favored horse.

Garth became alarmed when he didn't see the Tennessee Walker waiting on him, which was unusual. Peering further into the stall, he grew puzzled at the sight of the young horse reclining on his side in the far corner. Garth had never known him to lie down at mealtime.

The dog darted toward the large animal, then away, emitting short barks, as if to say, hurry up, why don't you. He would not go too close to the horse, having a healthy respect for the damage his hooves could inflict.

Garth shooed the dog away so that he wouldn't be hurt if the gelding got feisty. "Anything wrong, boy?" he asked, entering the stall, wondering if the animal had gotten tangled in barbwire again. The horse raised his head and snickered at him but did not rise.

Garth approached carefully, aware of the strength of this animal, knowing he could be killed from one kick, knowing if the horse was in pain, he would strike out at anyone or anything.

Garth murmured reassuringly as he knelt close to the horse's head. He stroked the gelding as he looked him over. His eyes stopped at what lay behind.

Something wrapped in a horse blanket was bundled up against the back of the stall. Garth could see tufts of dark hair but nothing else. He reached out, drew the blanket back, and felt his body jolt at the sight of those same eyes he had just witnessed in his dream. "Jesus," he grunted, shifting his weight, losing his balance, and landing on his rear.

Christy Tillery French P.O. Box 297 Heiskell TN 37754 E-mail: readermail@ChristyFrench.Com