Hanging Falls

by Margaret Mizushima

  The sudden quiet inside the truck came as a big relief. Sometimes spending quality time with a teenager could be a tough job. “Maybe we’ll find out.”

  “What do you have to do here?”

  “Look at a cracked hoof on a horse.” As Cole pulled into the area in front of the barn, he spotted the rig that belonged to the farrier Quinn Randolph.

  “Oh no, it’s that Quinn guy,” Angie said. “After he was making fun of these people, they’ve got him out here working for them? Don’t they know?”

  Cole liked that his daughter had grown indignant about the situation. “I doubt if they do. But maybe this is the best way to change his attitude. You know, once he gets to know the Vaughns are nice people, he’ll stop poking fun at them.”

  Angie sent him doubtful look. “Maybe …”

  Ruth Vaughn and a tall man with an eye patch came from the barn, and Cole stepped out of the truck to greet them. After saying hello to Ruth, he extended his hand toward the man. “And you must be Solomon?”

  “No,” Ruth hurried to interject. “This is Isaac King. He’s in charge of the horse training.”

  “Glad to meet you, Isaac.” Cole shook hands with the man, who responded by voicing his gratitude to Cole for making the trip out to help on a Saturday.

  Angie rounded the truck from the passenger’s side, and as Cole introduced her, he noticed a faint look of disapproval cross Isaac’s face. The man greeted her politely, though, before turning his attention back to Cole. He decided Isaac’s disapproval might be because Angie was wearing jeans and a T-shirt, so different from the dresses that Ruth and Hannah wore.

  Cole thought Angie’s choice of clothing very appropriate, considering the more revealing tank tops and shorts he knew she and her friends favored during the summer. Isaac didn’t know about the many times Cole had gone round and round with his daughter to get her to dress this way when she worked with him.

  Different strokes for different folks, Cole thought as he shifted his attention back to the job at hand. “Ruth said you have a horse with a cracked hoof,” he said to Isaac as he walked to the back of his truck to gather supplies.

  “That’s right,” Isaac said, following Cole. “This gelding’s hooves were in need of a trim, and we had the farrier scheduled to come out today anyway. But this morning the horse came up three-legged lame, and I appreciate you taking a look to see if we should do anything special to reinforce the hoof. I had Quinn start on one of the other horses.”

  Cole heard Angie say hi and turned to see Hannah approaching from the row of trailers, her eyes on Angie and a big smile on her face. The dog, Sassy, left Hannah’s side to deliver a tail-wagging greeting to his daughter. Cole waved to the girl before gathering hoof testers and a hoof pick and then turned to follow Isaac to the barn, leaving Angie as she walked over to join Hannah.

  The barn was a well-constructed prefab with rows of box stalls on each side of a concrete alleyway. Down at the far end, it looked like Quinn Randolph had set up shop and was holding the raised front hoof of a brown mare between his knees while he trimmed curved clippings from the hoof with a pair of nippers.

  “The gelding we need you to look at is in here,” Isaac said, leading the way to a box stall where another tall man with a dark beard and round-brimmed hat was cleaning out the bedding around a sorrel gelding, who stood supporting most of his weight on three legs. The horse held his right hind leg cocked, guarding the hoof. The way he stood with his gaze turned inward told Cole all he needed to know about the pain the poor guy suffered.

  Isaac introduced the man inside the box stall as Solomon Vaughn. Cole paused a moment to exchange a handshake, while Isaac stepped up and clipped a lead rope onto the gelding’s halter.

  “I’ll take a look here in the stall,” Cole said, knowing he didn’t need to watch the horse’s gait. “You don’t need to lead him outside.”

  Cole trailed his hand along the gelding’s back and bent to examine the crack. It ran a couple of inches along the coronary band at the top of the hoof and looked long and deep enough to be painful. Cole slid his hand to the hock, hoping the gelding had been trained to let someone work on his feet, and was rewarded when the big horse complied by lifting his sore foot and allowing Cole to hold it over his thigh.

  The sole of the hoof was already cleaned, so Cole clamped his hoof tester down on various spots to see how the gelding would react. No flinching or withdrawal, which told him the bottom of the hoof was sound and an abscess unlikely. The pain was coming from the crack in the coronary band and would probably respond well to treatment. He released the hoof and let the gelding touch it down gently on the ground.

  He was explaining his opinion to Solomon and Isaac when Quinn and another man came to the stall door. Cole went on to describe his recommended treatment. “I’ll clean out the crack, cover it with some antibiotic cream, and wrap it in a sweat. We’ll give him some oral antibiotics and some phenylbutazone paste to help him feel better, and I think this will heal up in a few weeks. He shouldn’t have any problems.”

  “I have an Easyboot in the truck,” Quinn interjected, looking at Isaac.

  “An Easyboot won’t do him any good,” Cole said. “The sole of the hoof is sound. It’s the crack that hurts, and an Easyboot won’t make any difference for that.”

  Quinn clenched his jaw and gave Cole a look but didn’t argue. Cole figured he’d just interfered with a sale, but the farrier would lick his wounds in private.

  “I’ll need a bucket of warm water and some meds and vet wrap from the truck.” Cole left the box stall with Isaac trailing behind.

  “Should I hold off on having his hooves trimmed today?” he asked Cole.

  Quinn evidently thought he’d been asked the question, because he was the one who answered. “He’ll do fine if we do it today. I can give him something so he won’t feel a thing.”

  Cole paused and turned back. “What would that be?”

  Quinn’s eyes shifted away as he answered. “I have some tranquilizers I keep on hand when I need them.”

  “Who dispenses them to you?” Cole asked, curious as to which vet distributed the drugs.

  “I have a friend that prescribes it,” Quinn said, before turning away and speaking to the man who’d been helping him. “Do you have another horse for me to do while the doc works on this one?”

  Cole interrupted before the man could reply. “I’ll paint some lidocaine into the crack, and that should take care of the pain well enough for you to trim his hooves. You don’t need to dose him with a sedative.”

  “All right.” Quinn squinted a look at him before following the older man down the alleyway, making Cole believe the farrier would do whatever he wanted to. After observing Quinn here and at the Perrys’ place, he was certain he wouldn’t be recommending this guy’s farrier service to any of his other clients.

  Out at the truck, Cole noticed that Angie and Hannah were nowhere in sight, but a whole bunch of younger children and about six women had materialized from somewhere and were playing a game of Wiffle ball out beyond the trailer homes. A few of the women had tied up their skirts to knee height and were playing with the children.

  Ruth joined him from a clothesline where she’d been hanging clothing to dry, identical blue-and-white garments in a row. “Hannah took Angela inside our home to show her the kittens.”

  “Oh no,” Cole said, smiling at her as they walked back to the barn together. “You’ve got a litter?”

  “Siamese kittens. Eight weeks old.”

  “Uh-oh, I know what Angie’s going to be talking about on our way home.”

  Ruth gave him a soft smile. “Don’t worry, I’ve got this litter sold. But I have another cat that’s due anytime now, if you’re interested.”

  “So you’re not only going to be in the puppy business, but you’re also raising Siamese cats?”

  “That’s right. I try to help out with our income where I can.”

  They’d reentered the barn and ended their conversati
on, but Cole found it interesting that Ruth had found a cottage industry to help with expenses. During his years of experience, those of his clients who were backyard breeders took special care with their animals and raised well-socialized pets for others, although he was well aware that wasn’t always the case. He didn’t know Ruth well yet, but her treatment of Sassy placed her in the responsible-breeder category.

  “Do you mind telling Angie that we’ll be leaving in about ten minutes?” he asked Ruth, before turning to the task at hand.

  * * *

  When they got back in the truck and were headed home, Angie was all smiles. “There were seven, four boys and three girls. And they were all so sweet. One of them fell asleep in my lap.”

  Cole’s heart lifted, glad that Angie had had such a good time. “Nothing cozier than a sleeping kitten. But when they play, those little claws are like needles.”

  “That’s for sure.” Angie raised her hand and showed him the tiny red scratches on the back of it. “They’ve got the bluest eyes.”

  Cole smiled, thinking the cat’s eyes were probably about the same shade as Angie’s.

  “Hannah showed me the different color patterns. The mother cat is a seal point. Do you know what that means?”

  Cole nodded. “Dark-brown face and ears, cream-colored body.”

  “Do they teach you that stuff in vet school?”

  “I must have picked it up somewhere. Ruth said they have another female that’s pregnant.”

  “Lily. She’s a chocolate point.”

  “Milk-chocolate color, which is a dilute of the seal point,” Cole interjected.

  “If you say so.” Angie grinned. “You’re right about the milk-chocolate color. And the father is a blue point. Do you know that one?”

  Cole did but decided to let Angie describe it. “What does that one look like?”

  “It’s a real pretty color. Hannah calls it slate gray. His name is Smokey, and I think I like his color the best.” Angie gazed out the window for a minute before turning back to look at him. “When Lily has her kittens, do you think we could get one, Dad?”

  He’d known that was coming. “They’re selling the kittens, you know. It wouldn’t be free. And there’s plenty of free kittens that need homes that we could adopt.”

  Angie nodded, her face falling into a look of disappointment that made Cole wish he’d given her a different answer.

  “Why don’t we think about it?” he said. “We also need to talk it over with Mrs. Gibbs. Adding another pet inside the house affects her too.”

  “And Sophie, but she would say yes.”

  Cole grinned. “That’s a sure bet.”

  Angie was silent for a moment before changing the subject. “Hannah has seven brothers and sisters, four boys and three girls, just like the kittens.”

  “That’s a big family.”

  Angie nodded. “She shares her bedroom with the girls, and the boys sleep out in the living room.”

  Cole was surprised. “Don’t they have another bedroom for the boys?”

  “Her mom’s sisters have the other bedroom, and then her parents have their own room, of course. That’s three—all the bedrooms the trailer has.”

  “I see.”

  “They’re going to build a house as soon as they can.”

  “That’ll give them more room.”

  Silence again, and Cole was happy that Angie didn’t want to fill it with music.

  “Dad, can I take Riley out to see the kittens before they go to their new homes?”

  Cole had bought Angie a used Toyota Corolla after she obtained her driver’s license, and she was enjoying the freedom that her own wheels had given her this summer. “Sure, but make sure Hannah clears it with her mom first. Did you get her phone number?” And then he felt silly for asking, because of course she would.

  “She doesn’t have her own cell phone. Her parents won’t allow it. But she gave me the number for her house phone.” A quick glance told him that a concerned expression had taken over Angie’s face. “I gave her my phone number, but she said she’s not allowed to make calls. If I call her, though, her mom would probably let her talk to me.” After another short pause, during which Angie seemed to be thinking, she continued. “They don’t have a television or a computer. And Dad, she won’t be going to high school. One of the other moms home- schools all the kids.”

  That didn’t surprise him much after observing what he had so far. “Well …”

  “Yeah, I know.” It seemed as if his daughter had read his mind. “Thanks, Dad, for giving us the life we have. I know you work hard to provide things for us, and some of the time it must seem like we don’t appreciate it. But just to let you know … I do.”

  Cole was touched, and he reached out to give her hand a quick squeeze. “Thanks for saying that, Angel. It means a lot.”

  They rode together in companionable silence the rest of the way home, during which he decided that it was a good thing to let kids see alternative ways of living in the world. Only with a variety of experiences could they make their own choices about what they did and didn’t want in their lives. What a fine line parents walked when trying to protect their children while at the same time trying to offer them choices. No wonder the job grew exhausting at times.

  ELEVEN

  The investigative team met in the briefing room to discuss Tracy Lee Brown and decide what they were going to do with him. Impatient to go search the area above Hanging Falls, Mattie stood near the table where the others had gathered, Robo sitting at her left heel. He raised his eyes to check her face, evidently catching her mood and expecting her to leave the room at any moment. When she did, she knew, he would be right beside her.

  “No warrants out for his arrest,” Brody muttered, as if disappointed. “He’s got a record, but only misdemeanors—vagrancy, loitering, trespassing, petty theft—homeless type of stuff. Apparently he receives disability income from the government and withdraws it from an ATM when he can—thus the three hundred and twenty-five dollars he had in his fanny pack.”

  “Why the disability checks?” Mattie asked.

  “He says it’s from a back injury he received on a construction job over two years ago,” Stella said, shaking her head slightly. “I wasn’t able to get any more out of him than you did, Mattie. He says he had a falling-out with his family and doesn’t stay in touch with them. I called the number he gave me for his parents’ home, but it’s been disconnected. Says they probably use cell phones now but he doesn’t have their numbers.”

  “The knife he carried is old and rusted around the handle,” McCoy said. “The lab found no sign of human blood on it. He swears he found the knife in the forest near the creek a couple months ago and he uses it to gut fish.”

  “So what’s his status? What do we do with him now?” Mattie asked, knowing full well what the answer would be.

  “We have to let him go,” McCoy said, meeting her gaze. “I know he’s the closest thing we have to a suspect, but we have absolutely no reason to hold him. He even had enough cash to pay his fine for marijuana possession.”

  Mattie nodded to let him know she understood, even though the situation frustrated her.

  “Cobb and I can take him up to his campsite and see if there’s anything there that warrants an arrest.” Brody’s chair screeched against the beige linoleum floor as he stood. “If there is, we’ll bring him back down with us.”

  “All right,” McCoy said. “Check in after you’ve searched his campsite.”

  Eager to leave so that she and Robo could do their work, Mattie turned, murmuring, “Robo, heel.” He moved with her as she strode from the room.

  * * *

  Mattie, Robo, and Brody followed Tracy Lee Brown through the forest. Although clouds were starting to build above the western mountains, clear weather had held all morning and the trail had been passable. The swollen river rolled downhill, crashing over boulders in the riverbed and spraying whitecaps into the air, and though it surged at its ba
nks, it spilled over and flooded in only a few spots. They’d left it behind to follow Tracy Lee across country for what Mattie estimated was about a half mile.

  “Here we are,” Tracy Lee said as they dropped into a small clearing with a stream running through it.

  She scanned the area and finally spotted an olive-green tent, like the kind found at an Army surplus store, sitting about fifty yards away, partly hidden by pine at the edge of the clearing. “No one else here?” she asked.

  “Nope. Just me.” He’d been uncommunicative throughout their hike, responding minimally when spoken to.

  Robo lifted his nose to the air and sniffed, but Mattie didn’t observe any changes in his attitude that would cause alarm. She went ahead and followed Tracy Lee into the campsite, which was set up around a fire ring filled with dead coals and ashes. A blackened grate, skillet, and coffeepot sat askew beside the rocks that encircled the fire pit. A fishing pole leaned against a nearby spruce.

  It took only a few minutes for Mattie and Robo to sweep the site, including inside the tent. Disappointed that this outing had led to a dead end, she went back to talk to Tracy Lee. “We’re going to ask you to stay put here for the next few weeks.”

  His deep-set eyes shifted away from her. “I move my campsite around every week or two.”

  “We just want to be able to reach you if we need to, Tracy Lee. You know, make sure you’re okay.”

  “I can stay as long as the fishing holds up. If I run out of food, I’ll have to move.”

  Brody spoke up. “Someone will be up to check on you within the next day or two. Be here then.”

  Tracy Lee toed the ground, his eyes downcast. “Okay.”

  Mattie hated to walk away, thinking the man would disappear as soon as their backs were turned, but she had hours of work to do.

  She and Brody struck a course across country that soon intersected the trail to Hanging Falls. Once on the trail they kept a fast pace and arrived at the lake within a half hour. Mattie was relieved to see that the falls had narrowed again and that the trail to the upper basin looked passable, though changed by the flowing water. Bushes had been washed out, more rocks exposed, and the footing looked muddy and slippery.