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Posted On 04/30/2015 04:02:27 by JBMorrisAuthor

April 30





Knowing Dusty’s love of horses and her dream to be a veterinarian, Pamela knew the secret for securing Dusty’s approval to move. Horses—and more horses. “I received a phone call today from a realtor in Asheville. There is a horse farm estate for sale. The farm is on 95 acres and includes horse boarding and training, riding lessons and breeding. It will be ours if I say yes. You could ride every day and help train the horses. I told her I didn’t think my daughter wanted to move from living in New York City and riding subways.”

Eyes wide-opened, Dusty yelled, “Mother.” She was already riding a Hanoverian horse in a dressage competition at the Olympics.


More than the fiercest drill sergeant, the most terrifying experience was an angry former United States Marine Corps Gunnery Sergeant. Or one, such as Moses Remington, who pretended to be angry.

In front of the other departing airline passengers, Moses roared, “I tried for three days to call you. Three bloody days I tried.”

Stunned, Seth stopped short exiting the jet bridge. A fat man with orange sneakers and thick glasses swore when he ran into Seth’s back.

“Give it a rest, Gunny” Seth yelled, stepping aside for the other passengers to enter the gate. Pointing the way, Seth led Moses to an adjacent empty gate. “What’s your problem?” he said.

Moses relished his performance. Rising to the Tony award level of acting, he hollered, “I tried to call you for three days after you radioed success the hostages were freed. Did you call me back, kiss my foot? No! You blew me off. You were probably lounging by a pool.” Moses knew he had missed his calling to be a Broadway actor.

Seth’s anger rose up to equal Moses’ shouting. For your information,” Seth yelled, “I had two wounded hostages and the bad guys wanted to play hide and seek. It got a little interesting before we escaped.”

“You’re fired!”

“I’m fired?” Seth said incredulously. “You can’t fire me. I’m your partner.”

“Are you having trouble hearing, son?” Moses’s performance was expanding exponentially with the volume of his voice. “I said you’re fired.”

“Fine,” Seth snapped. “I quit.”

“Good.” Moses exploded in a roar of laughter. “Now, do you want a new job?” Revelation of Moses’ charade danced in his eyes.

Shaking his head, eyes narrowed, Seth said suspiciously, “You’re playing with me.”

“Seth,” Moses said. The actor’s face had disappeared, replaced with a mask of concern. “I was worried sick when you went dark for three days. I don’t wanta ever go through that again. From now on, I want you safe in the office. You can coordinate the teams that are out in the field.”

“You know, I can do hostage rescue,” Seth said.

“I know you can, in spades. The problem is I don’t want you to. And don’t forget, I’m bigger than you.”

Seth dropped his carry-on bag, smiled, reached out with his arms. “Come here you ugly ol’ bear.” They hugged tight and hard, exchanging “I love you, bro.” in a tone of profound respect.


It was a special day for Dusty. She had traveled with her mother to Asheville to tour the horse farm estate. She had insisted her mother sign the purchase contract before lunch rather than the planned meeting later with the realtor.

Having given notice at work, Pamela spent most of her days meeting with consultants regarding her management of the estate and horses. She had selected the internationally acclaimed Rockcastle Equine Consultants from Louisville to head up her plans to become a major player in equine circles. Pamela was particularly interested in acquiring separate broodmare and stallion managers.

On summer vacation and finished with her list of chores, Dusty had spent the last hour online researching dressage competitions. Not wanting any interruptions during her meetings, Pamela had left her cell phone with Dusty. Spellbound, reading the clinics offered by Priory Dressage in West Sussex in the south of England, Dusty jumped when her mother’s phone rang.

A man with a deep baritone voice said, “Hello, I’m calling for Pamela Brighton. Is she available?”

“Who are you?” Dusty said, guarded.

“Excuse me. I should have introduced myself. I am a friend of your mother. My name is Moses Remington.” Moses chuckled. “You must be Dusty. Your mother has told me a lot of nice things about you.”

“I’ve heard your name. Seth said he worked for you.”

“Well, Dusty. I like to think that Seth and I are more like partners.”

“Have you seen him?”

“I saw him about an hour ago. Dusty, I know what happened between your mother and Seth. It upsets me. I think the world of your mother, and Seth is like a brother to me.”

“My mom is very sad.”

“So is Seth.”

“Why are grownups so stupid?”

“Oh, I wish I had an answer for you on that one, but I don’t. Since I have you on the line, could I ask you a personal question? You don’t have to answer it”

“Ah. . .I don’t know. . .I guess so.”

“How do you feel about Seth?”

“I don’t know. I guess he is okay.”

“How is your mom doing?”

“She cries a lot at night when she thinks I’m asleep. Dusty refreshed the computer screen. “I don’t like to see my mother so sad.”

“Would you like to see Seth? I can arrange it.”

“Really! Ah. . . I think so. . .where?”

“Here at my office.” Moses closed his door. He heard Seth’s voice in the outer office.

“I’d have to ask my mother.”

“Tell you what, maybe you and I could make this a secret between the two of us. If your mother says no, then you won’t get to see him.”

“Yeah.” Dusty’s cell phone beeped, Cyndi. She let the call go to voice mail.

“You could meet with Seth and then tell your mother what happened. If your mother needs to get mad at someone, she could get mad at me. Are you interested?”

“What do I have to do?

“Tomorrow is Friday. That means you mother will be working. And—”

“She goes to a lot of meetings about the horse ranch.”

“Horse ranch?”

“Yeah. Mom bought a horse ranch in North Carolina.”

“That sounds exciting. You must love horses?”

“I do.”

“When are you moving?”

“I don’t know. Soon”

“Well, that makes it all the more important for you to see Seth. I’m assuming your mother will be gone for the day and you’ll be home. Right?”


“I can have a cab pick you up at, say, two o’clock tomorrow. Tell the driver you want to go to the Bank of America building at 44 Wall Street. When you go inside, give your name to the concierge. He will personally escort you to my office. We’ll surprise Seth.”

“What if he hates me?”

“Trust me, Dusty. He does not hate you or your mother.”

“Do you really think I should do this?”

“Yes.” Moses said.

Silence. Dusty walked to the window, looked at Central Park. She surprised herself. She wanted to see Seth again. And she wanted her mother to stop crying at night.


“I’ll do it.”



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