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  Letting it Stand Chapter Eight   Scott hefted the last sack of feed onto a packed wagon bed, the third wagon of the morning, thumping it a few times to wedge it in before throwing his weight against the tailgate to bolt it shut. Yelling to Manny that the last one was ready to go, he walked into the barn, tossing his gloves on the chest of drawers by the door. Hard work could sure bring up a sweat, even when the sky was gunmetal grey and the breeze made the loose hay dance in circles around the entrance. Picking up a towel, he mopped his face and the back of his neck, refusing to glance again at the palomino’s empty stall at the back of the barn, a stall that had been empty since before he and Murdoch woke up.   Johnny had no plans to leave—that was what he said last night. So, where the devil had he gone before dawn?   “I know it might not be hot today, but I brought you some lemonade.”   Teresa stopped at the barn entrance, holding a glass in one hand while a...