The Hunters Series Box Set

by Glenn Trust

  “That’s right. My ex-husband is a brave man…a hero. I don’t deny it.” She sighed and sat back in the chair wishing she had never heard the name George Mackey. “What he did…it changes nothing, and nothing about him has changed.”

  “Whatever else he is, he almost lost his life trying to help others. Doesn’t that make any difference to you?”

  “No.” Darlene looked into her husband’s eyes. “You don’t understand. George has always been that way dedicated…a hero. He would give up his life for strangers…save them with his blood if that’s what it took…but he would never give his life to me…his family.” She reached out and placed her hand on his on the table. “That’s why I love you Granger. You have given your life to us, dedicated yourself to us. As far as I am concerned, you are the father of my children…our children…not George Mackey.”

  “Still, we could drive to Jacksonville…visit him in the hospital. It might do him some good, and the girls could see their father...know him a little.” He shrugged. “It seems like the right thing to do…for the girls and for him. He has never intruded into our lives. The girls will ask questions one day…want to know about him. We should start giving them some answers now.”

  “No.” The shake of her head was definite.

  “I worry sometimes.” He leaned back in his chair regarding his wife.

  “About what?”

  “You…me…us.”

  “There is nothing to worry about.”

  “Maybe.” He shook his head. “It’s just that you have this desperate hate for the man who fathered your children. That seems a bit harsh. Maybe it’s time to heal the wounds. If you’re worried about me…don’t. You know I love you and I know that, in your own way, you love me, but this is not healthy for you, or the girls.”

  “I’ll be the judge of what’s healthy for my girls.”

  “I thought they were ours.” He smiled. “You just said so.”

  “Stop it.” She smirked. “You know very well what I mean. We decide things together, and on this issue…we are not together.”

  “Fine. Then my opinion in this together issue is that we should bring George back into their lives a little. Let them know him, at least…for their sake.”

  Darlene turned back to her coffee and the girls’ activity schedule, making notes in her calendar. “I’ll think about it.”

  *****

  They sat on the top porch step, shaded from the afternoon sun by an old oak in the front yard. Tentatively, she reached out, almost put her hand back in her lap, and then laid it carefully on top of his as if afraid he might push it away.

  Surprised at her touch, Clay looked down at her hand, resting lightly over his knuckles. Wrapping his fingers around it before she could pull away, he raised it to his lips and kissed it. Relieved that she had not been rejected, Lyn leaned into him, resting her head against his shoulder.

  He remained silent, relishing her touch and closeness, knowing the effort it took for her to demonstrate that much sentiment. He was accustomed to waiting, hoping, for her affection. He would wait longer if necessary.

  When she lifted her head from his shoulder, next to his, close enough for him to feel her breath on his cheek, he became a statue, afraid to move and lose the moment. Her chin lifted and the softness of her lips brushed his chin.

  Remaining motionless was no longer possible. Clay turned his face to her and their lips met in their first real kiss.

  Lips lingering together, Lyn’s kiss became more fervent. She lifted a hand to his shoulder and a soft sigh floated from her parted lips.

  “I do, you know…love you.”

  It came like that, the words he had waited all those years to hear. In their youth, they could not know it then, but those words…that moment…would be remembered by them for the rest of their lives. Warm summer evenings…autumn days when the leaves from the big oak covered the yard…Sunday mornings sleeping late…at random times when it was unexpected…the memory of that moment would come back and they would smile.

  For now, it was a beginning. It was enough.

  *****

  Ruby stood at the door, watching her daughter and the young man who had been waiting for this moment, so many years. She wondered what it was like to be loved by a man, the way Clay loved Lyn.

  Married to Carl Stinson, she had never known such love. She never would now, she knew, but her heart warmed at the sight of her daughter having such a love.

  She turned and went to the bedroom that Lyn was sharing with Danielle McMurtry. Ruby watched her from the doorway…like Lyn, but different too. She had nearly lost her daughter, now she felt that she might be gaining another.

  Danny looked up from the small beach bag she was packing. “I’m thankful you, been lettin’ me stay here with you.”

  “No need to be, Danielle. You are welcome here.”

  “Thank you.” Danny smiled. She liked it the way Ruby called her Danielle…like her grandma had.

  “You packing?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Danny nodded. “I been here long enough.” She nodded towards the front of the house where Lyn and Clay sat on the porch. “If I’m not mistaken, it might get a little crowded around here soon.”

  Ruby smiled. “I expect so.” She sat on the bed and patted it beside her. “Sit with me. Something I want to talk to you about.”

  Danny nodded and sat on the bed. As the old springs sagged underneath, Ruby’s arm went around her, holding her close. Without thinking, Danny lowered her head to the older woman’s shoulder and put her arms around her, tears dampening her cotton blouse.

  “Do you want to go, Danielle?”

  Danny shook her head, lifting an arm to wipe at her eyes and then wrapping it back around Ruby as if she might vanish if she let go.

  “Then don’t go. Stay with us, here.”

  Danny’s shoulder shook as she sobbed. Ruby held her closer, raising her hand and stroking the girl’s hair.

  “You’ve had a hard life, haven’t you?” Ruby hugged her tighter. “We know about that here.” She sighed, the memories a constant ache in her heart. “Sometimes I wish things could be different, but then I know in my heart things are just the way they are…wishing doesn’t change anything. Sometimes, though, I’d like to have a second chance at things…wouldn’t you?”

  Danny nodded, afraid to speak.

  “Maybe it doesn’t have to be like that anymore, not for you. Maybe we can make our second chance happen.” Sitting on the bed, they clung to each other as the words came out. “I’m not the best mother, and I know I’m not your real mother, but I’ll be good as I can to you…make sure you have a place that you can call home. When you want to leave, you go and know you can always come back…that there’s a place for you.” Ruby sobbed now. “I’m askin’ you to stay here with us…be my daughter…the sister Lyn never had. It would be a good thing…you doing that for us.”

  Danny nodded again, her arms tight around Ruby. “Yes,” she whispered through her tears.

  They sat on the bed, rocking each other. Both knew that second chances did not come along often... maybe never sometimes…but they had theirs.

  *****

  It was the place they loved the most. Evening fell over the old farm that Fel Tobin had left to them. They sat together, fingers entwined as the sun lowered and the stars rose. As they did most evenings, the whippoorwills sent their haunting calls out from the tree line.

  “Fel always liked the whippoorwills calling out in the dark,” Sharon said. She always said it. It was her way of remembering the old man, letting him know that he was not forgotten.

  George nodded. “I like them too.”

  “He used to say they were calling out letting the world know they were there, even in the dark.” She held tightly to George’s hand.

  “Yes.” A smile crossed his face at the memory.

  “Thank you.”

  He turned to look at her face. In the dark, it was a soft, pale moon gathering in the starlight and radiating
it back out into the night.

  “What for?”

  “For coming back to me, Mackey.” She squeezed his hand.

  She always said that, he knew. She always meant it, but it was different now. He had been lost, now he was back.

  “I’m back.”

  There was more. He wanted to say that he was sorry…for the pain…for not being with her…not being there for her. They weren’t the right words.

  He was quiet, thinking of the journey they had taken, sometimes shared, sometimes alone. Then he knew the right words. He needed to say them as much as she wanted to hear them.

  “I won’t leave again.”

  End

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  Contact Glenn Trust

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  About the Author and His Work

  This is the blah, blah, blah section. You know the author’s “glory page” where he gets to tell you grandiose things about himself and the deeper meaning of his work. Whatever.

  It’s also where you get to see the confident poised picture of the author, maybe smoking a pipe, or leaning back with an “I told you so,” disaffected, or slightly superior look on his face. I don’t have any of those pictures so I thought you might like to see a picture of Gunner the Dog. He’s better looking than me anyway.

  Here he is doing one of his favorite things on one of our camping trips. If you really want to know more about me (God knows why) keep reading.

  I write books. Seriously, that's what I get to do every day. It's great.

  I have been fortunate to author some that have achieved bestseller status, including The Hunters Series of mystery suspense thrillers. It took me a lot of years to get to that point, but I wouldn't trade any of them for a minute. I love writing books for you and the journey that brought me here.

  I am a native of the south, Georgia specifically. I spent much of my life there, but I have lived in many other places as well. We moved a lot when I was young. Eventually, we ended up back in Georgia in my teens where I finished school and went to work.

  I wanted to write from an early age. A really long time ago, when I was still a young police officer in Georgia, I was writing short stories in my spare time and sending them off to magazines. One day I received one back in the mail.

  Life Happened

  Attached to it was a nice handwritten letter from an editor (this was long before the days of email and texts). The story manuscript was folded and smudged, and there were coffee cup rings on the edges of a couple of pages, which told me they had actually read it, maybe discussed it around an editorial table, or just used it to sop up the coffee.

  In her letter, the editor said a lot of things that I don't remember, but it was not the usual form letter that I was accustomed to receiving. It was original and personal.

  She said they liked my story, had strongly considered it for publication, but that it wasn't quite believable. Disappointed as I was, I was struck by her last words to me... "Don't stop writing. You're good at this. We almost bought this one."

  I remember staring at that a long time. Then I folded it up and tucked it in a file and ... stopped writing.

  I wish I could tell you a different story, but I can't. I stopped writing for many years.

  There were lots of reasons. Yes, I was disappointed, but the letter that should have encouraged me not to give up was forgotten. Life happened. Dreams of writing were pushed aside by other things... important things.

  Mostly I needed money for my young family. In the 1970s, police officers in Georgia were not paid a lot even by the standards of the day. I worked part-time jobs whenever I wasn't working at the police department. Many weeks I had no days off at all.

  I'm not unhappy that I did my best to take care of my family. It was the right thing to do and working for them was the joy of my life. Children grew up; then grandchildren came along. More life happened.

  Then... The Internet Appeared

  Then out of the blue, this thing called the internet appeared and guess what. I was at a point in life when I didn't need to work part-time jobs every spare minute of the day. I could write again.

  It's different these days. I can publish a book whether I convince an agent or editor to read it or not. I am an independent writer/publisher, an “Indie.”

  Being an Indie is not easy. There are no big marketing budgets and TV appearances to spark book sales. There is only you and me.

  I like it that way. I get to write what I want and you get to read what you want with no middle-person between us. No agents or publishers dictating what the storyline will be or what sells.

  It’s a partnership between us, writer and reader, and it's a marvelous thing. The old closed publishing world that required almost a miracle to have the right person read your work is changing thanks to the digital age. I am grateful to still be around to experience it and enjoy it.

  As of this writing, I am eleven novels and a collection of short stories into my writing adventure. It hasn't been easy, but it has been worth it.

  Some years back, I left Georgia, working for a large corporation. Then I moved west and became the city manager of a small mining community in the mountains of northern Nevada. Now my wife and I live in the deserts of the far west. You got it... more life happened.

  Don't be a Follower -- Make Your Dream Real

  It took many years to get here. Life is like that, with lots of twists and turns and surprises. I like it that way.

  Now, I write every day. I wouldn't change a thing. One
thing though... I wish sometimes I had been able to find a way to keep writing while life was happening. It's not a regret, just an assessment, and it brings me to a bit of advice if you have read this far.

  Don’t follow your dreams. Followers get nowhere except up the backside of the person in front.

  Work your dream. Life will happen and then happen some more. That's as it should be, but you are the one who will make your dream a reality.

  Best- Glenn

  More Books By Glenn Trust

  Click Here > Glenn Trust Books to find all of his work, including:

  The Hunters Series:

  Eyes of the Predator

  Sanctioned Murder

  Black Water Murder

  Blood Reckoning

  Redemption

  The Killing Ground

  Walk into Darkness (November 2018)

  Blue Eyes Series:

  An Eye for Death

  A Desert View

  Blue Water Horizon

  Nowhere Land

  Fruits of Evil

  Other Novels:

  Dying Embers

  Mojave Sun

  Lightning in the Clouds - A collection of Short Stories