She heaved the stable door open with a grunt and raced down the center of the long and dark dirt throughway, shouting out Jean-Pierre's name. As she neared the end, Mighty Boy whinnied. She pushed the horse's head to one side and went inside the stall, encountering only the animal. Did she really think he would be in here with her horse? No, he had to be outside somewhere. Her stomach tightened at the thought of missing their flight.
She turned and started to run back up the throughway, when suddenly she stopped dead in her tracks. There!
"Jean-Pierre," she cried, laughing now as she hurled herself toward the shadowy, darkly-clad figure looming just inside the stable.
She froze in her tracks when she realized her error.
"Oh!" she moaned.
Jennifer, the ranch's owner, pulled back the hood of her raincoat and approached her cautiously. A bewildered expression creased her face as she took in Greta's disheveled appearance.
"Mrs. Locke, my goodness," she said with a wary smile. "It's a bit wet for a ride today, don't you think?"
"Where is he?" Greta demanded, her chest heaving. "Where is
Jean-Pierre?"
"Jean-Pierre? Why, he's gone." Jennifer wiped her brow with the back of her hand. "Oh, it's getting ugly out there," she said, wincing at the sound of the building downpour rattling down on the metal roof.
Greta grabbed the older woman's raincoat sleeve and roughly spun her around, screaming: "What do you mean he's gone?"