* * * *
The next morning, Damon was saddling up his favorite gelding, a blaze-faced dun, when a whirlwind roared into the ranch yard. As the dust settled, he saw the motorcycle, a sleek black Harley. The rider dismounted and took off his helmet, revealing a head of sandy blond hair.
Eric rides a Harley? It took him a moment to absorb this surprising bit of information. He hadn’t pegged the young vet for a biker type, but then he’d been wrong in his judgment about the man once already. Maybe he’d better try for an open mind. I think I’m getting to be a sour old codger ahead of my time, stuck in my narrow rut out here. Time to snap out of it.