It’s almost 11pm by the time Jack unsaddles Jezebel and gives her a rub down. He has his own quarters – a small cottage in a grove of trees. He’s been employed here since he was a boy, and has worked his way out of the bunkhouse.

He tosses his hat and looks at himself in his bathroom mirror. At 30 years of age, his face is weathered with lines currently caked with dust. He splashes a bit of water and washes the dust away. He will need to shave for tomorrow. His town clothes are laid out on his bed. There are a lot of men in Westmont and employed on the properties surrounding. There are not enough women to go around. He’s been charged with the intriguing task of picking up the lady boss’ little sister in the morning.

And you never know your luck.

He chuckles to himself at the notion of getting anywhere with the girl in the picture. He takes the piece of paper from the back pocket of his jeans and opens it. The picture is a scanned copy of a photograph. It’s a bit grainy.

Jack chuckles again.

Yep – never know your luck.