Firelight at Mustang Ridge by Jesse Hayworth Read Free Book Online Page A

looked cheerful and benign yesterday, now he watched Danny with big plastic eyes that seemed to say,
Aren’t you forgetting something?
    And, yeah, maybe she was. Or not forgetting so much as avoiding.
    â€œI know, I know. I’m sorry. I’ve been . . .” She couldn’t bring herself to say “too busy,” even when her audience consisted of a couple of squirrels and a stuffed butterfly, because it wasn’t like taking walks and picking salad greens needed to be a full-time occupation, even on vacation. And this wasn’t entirely a vacation, either. She was supposed to be making some decisions.
    Sighing, she said, “Okay, fine. I’ve been avoiding the tests. The whole idea makes me feel silly.” Which was ironic, considering that she was talking to rodents and a toy. But there was something inherently goofy about using a bunch of online personality tests—
What’s Your Spirit Animal? What’s Your Superpower? What Martini Are You
?—to decide what she wanted to do with her life, or even just the next couple of years.
    Then again, it wasn’t like she had made any real progress on her own. It was one thing to announce that she didn’t want to work in the family business anymore, that she needed to branch out, find herself. It was another thing to figure out what, exactly, that meant.
    Thus, the tests, courtesy of her physical-therapist-turned-friend, whose whole therapeutic approach involved taking grueling, painful exercises—whether physical or mental—and turning them into games.
    â€œThe goofier the better,” Farah had said firmly when she gave Danny a list of the Web sites she wanted her to use. “Download the quizzes and answers onto your computer and do one a day. And promise me you won’t just laugh at the answers but really think about them, too!” Fiftysomething and borderline frumpy, Farah wasa whiz with everything from homeopathy to the newest gadgets, and had serious mother hen tendencies. She had appointed herself Danny’s new best friend for the duration of her rehab, and they had kept in touch after, with Farah dispensing liberal doses of “Live your own life” and “Go someplace new and maybe you’ll find yourself.” And, when Danny had settled on Wyoming, Farah had added the silly quizzes to the mix.
    So Danny had promised. She had downloaded. But until yesterday, she hadn’t actually unpacked her laptop. Now it sat on the front seat of the RV, sucking up its solar charge and waiting for her to get to work.
    â€œFine.” She squared her shoulders. “I’ll do it. Happy?”
    The squirrels had gotten bored and wandered off. The butterfly looked unimpressed. But a minute later, with the laptop open on the table in front of her and a whole lot of files to choose from, Danny closed her eyes, twirled her finger, and pointed to a random spot on the screen. She opened her eyes and said, “Hm.”
    What Kind of Sandwich Are You?
    Deciding that finding her inner sandwich definitely counted as goofy, she opened the multiple-choice questionnaire.
    The first question was “Who do you admire most?” which wouldn’t have been bad, except that the answers consisted of “Mother Teresa,” “the president,” and three entertainers she couldn’t have picked out of a lineup if her life depended on it.
Okay, Mother Teresa it is
.
    The next couple were easy—favorite animal, eagle; favorite color, green—but then she got to “What’s your favorite day-off activity?” and found herself wrestling with the choices. She could cross “getting a manicure”and “getting wasted” off the list, but that left her with “spending time with family,” “being alone,” and “doing something I’ve never done before.” All of which fit, depending on whether she was answering as her old self, her current self,