The Fifth Season by Julie Korzenko

business.”
    The pig grunted and continued rooting around the stall.
    “Can you believe I almost spilled my guts? Told her how I feel? What’s the matter with me?” His stomach churned. She’d seen right through him, right into his core, and he hadn’t liked it one bit.
    Another stack of manure tossed into the wheelbarrow. At this rate, he’d be done with barn duties half an hour ahead of schedule. Stopping, Stone braced himself against the pitchfork. He looked at the pig. She’d halted her nosing about and actually sat gazing at him in interest.
    “What?”
    Porky snorted, green slime covering her snout.
    “That’s just plain disgusting.” Stone stepped forward and wiped his sleeve against the offending gunk. “You’re much prettier without that stuff.”
    He swore she smiled. Shaking his head, he tossed the pitch fork on top of the wheelbarrow and exited the stall. All there was left to do was add more hay, fill the grain buckets and bring the horses in for the night. Not enough chores to avoid Emma for the rest of the evening.
    He didn’t want to face her. For the first time in over two years, Stone felt an inner pulse, felt a desire to breathe. She’d woken him from his self-imposed exodus. But for what purpose? Even if there could be a slight chance of her caring, he couldn’t look beyond her affection for his father.
    It’d never work.
    No. He’d stick to his game plan. Eliminate Seamus Adams, sell River Run, and get the hell outta Dodge.
    Away from his father, away from Emma, away from the lure of life.
    Dumping the contents of the wheelbarrow out back in the compost pile, Stone tried hard not to chuckle at the antics of Rhett and Scarlett. The pygmy goats were the silliest excuse for an animal he’d ever seen. Entertaining, but silly. He leaned against the paddock fence and whistled for the three retired Cutter horses Emma adopted.
    This place resembled a zoo rather than a resort. He led the first horse into the barn and froze as a shadow stretched from the opposite end.
    “Interesting choice of duties, Mr. Connor.” Stone immediately recognized the gravely voice.
    “Mr. Adams, can I help you?” He pushed the horse between himself and the Irishman, swearing silently at his lack of weapons.
    Opening the stall door, Stone released the Cutter. He turned and faced Seamus Adams. The man stood about five inches shorter than Stone and carried the paunch of a well-fed, pub-hopping father of three. Physically, he wasn’t a threat.
    “You don’t like me much, do you?”
    “I’m afraid I don’t really know you, Mr. Adams. However, if you feel we’ve been less than hospitable, I’ll speak with the staff.”
    Seamus waved his hand and shook his head. “I thought I might take the opportunity to explain that although I’m a politician, I’m an honest man.”
    “Your political views are no concern of mine.” Stone eyed Pocahontas. She crept from the back of the barn, her teeth barred, and a low growl rumbling in her massive chest. “However, it appears my pig’s got a different opinion. If you’ll excuse me while I put her away for the night.” He shuffled the round body down the barn and into her pen, placating her with soft words. Emma would skin him alive if anything happened to her best friend.
    “Dangerous animal,” Adams said, stepping back out of the barn.
    “No. But she’ll bite if you threaten her.” Stone followed the man outside and they walked together back to the house.
    “I’m not here to threaten,” Seamus said.
    “Well that’s a relief,” Stone said, not bothering to hide his sarcasm. “Because I tend to bite as well.”
    “I’ll keep that in mind.”
    The two men entered River Run. Stone nodded to Seamus, then proceeded into Emma’s rooms. The aroma of baked onions steeped in sherry indicated dinner was almost ready and hosting duties required.
    He stepped into the bedroom. The urge to kick himself slammed into his gut, and he swore savagely. He’d left the guns