Propping open the barn doors, I eyed the horse paddock. Over the years, I’d slowly replaced the entire fence when I’d visit Aunt Kate, and it seemed to be holding up. I walked back to the horse stalls, setting Samson and Goliath loose into the paddock. Both were getting up in age, but they were still in good shape. Samson was the color of butterscotch, with an almost-white mane and tail – a purebred Palomino. Goliath, on the other hand, was as black as pitch, a mix of different breeds. Next, I let Mary and Ruth, who were much younger and smaller, out of their stalls. They were auburn-colored quarter horses, with white stripes down their faces.
Once the barn was empty, I set to work on the stall gates. All of them needed replacing. Their hinges and locks were rusty and old, and I was pretty sure Goliath knew that, simply because he was capable of opening his own.
I snorted, shaking my head at that thought, but got to work. Lock and Load found a comfy pile of hay in an empty open stall and watched me with sharp blue eyes. I needed to stay busy, to keep my mind occupied on something other than the waiting game. The twelve-hour difference between Alaska and Moscow was driving me fucking crazy. It was early morning where I was, which meant, my father and Esme were about to go to bed, and I didn’t expect to hear from them for at least another eight hours or so. Even worse, it would be midnight before they’d be boarding the plane. That made for a long damn day ahead of me.