Rescue Me: a horse mystery

by Toni Leland

  He glanced at the clock and groaned. If the casket truck didn’t hit one of the rest stops pretty soon, he’d be in trouble. Staying three or four vehicles behind, Dillon relaxed into the rhythm of the traffic and his thoughts wandered. By now, Ginger would be so pissed at him that she’d probably never speak to him again. He’d called the motel around eleven, but she’d either been sound asleep or not there. That had been worrisome. Surely she wouldn’t go back to the apartment alone. Though he’d tried to reassure himself, a nagging doubt kept at him, warning him of the possibility for real danger in her situation. Suppose the break-in hadn’t been random? What if her rich husband had hired someone good enough to find her? No, that didn’t make sense because a PI wouldn’t steal anything—he’d just wait to catch her. Weariness was making Dillon’s imagination overactive.

  A sign for the next rest stop appeared and he prayed Leon’s bladder was in the same shape as his. The casket truck pulled off on the ramp and Dillon heaved a huge sigh of relief. He’d wait until Leon finished in the men’s room, then make a dash for it himself. Once they were back on the road, he’d try phoning Ginger again.

  Julia found a couple of cardboard boxes in the dumpster behind the apartment building. They were only mildly damp and didn’t smell too awful. Again, as she unlocked her door, a ripple of apprehension ran through her chest. These fears were beginning to take over and she needed to get them under control. She stepped inside and gazed around at her meager belongings. Hard to believe she could exist with so little, when her life in Seattle had been a conglomerate of possessions, nic-nacs, artwork, and gadgets to make life easier. Interesting how quickly she’d adapted to that extravagant lifestyle after a family life of simplicity. Her heart stirred. It had been so long since she’d thought of her parents and the uncomplicated life they’d led. A life that became even simpler after her father died. An eight-year-old had only an inkling of the impact that death would have, but her mother had been devastated. Julia blinked, surprised at the emotion surfacing after so long. Then, she angrily shrugged off the feelings. If she could be strong enough to endure Stephen’s cruelty and try to change her life, why hadn’t her mother been able to deal with her own problems? A bottle of Scotch was not the answer, and Julia’s childhood had suffered mightily for that choice. How easy it had been to turn away and go to a man who offered her the world in return for her adoration.

  An hour later, Julia stowed the last of her things in the pickup. She locked the door and pocketed the key; she’d mail it from St. Louis to the landlord. She glanced around to see if any of the other tenants were around. All the curtains were closed and several porch lights were on. She shook her head. She had no idea who lived there, nor had she ever spoken to anyone, which at this point, was a good thing.

  Half-way back to the farm, her phone rang and she pulled over to retrieve it from her backpack. Dillon’s number glowed on the screen. She should be cautious, not too eager or happy to hear from him. After all, he’d bailed on their dinner plans, then never called her that morning. What the hell had he been doing all this time?

  Her caution evaporated as his voice curled through her ear.

  “Hey, I’m really sorry. I got hung up doing something and couldn’t call. You okay?”

  “I’m fine. Been out to Casey’s this morning, did some other stuff, saw Bud. Where are you?”

  “Actually, I’m at a warehouse south of Jefferson City. Had some business to take care of for the company. I probably won’t be back until sometime late tomorrow. You can stay at the motel and I’ll settle up when I get back.”

  “Ah, well, I’m going to stay with Casey for awhile until I decide where to look for an apartment.”

  Dillon’s tone sounded worried. “I’ve been thinking about your story…I don’t think you should stay in the area. I know I brushed off the idea of there being anything more to the robbery than chance, but if your husband is as tenacious and jealous as you say, it wouldn’t hurt to be overly cautious.”

  “I’ve been thinking the same thing. That’s why I’m going to the farm for a few days. I think I’m going to have to quit working at Bud’s, too—that really bothers me.”

  “Ginger, you can’t let emotions or sentimentality jeopardize your safety. Believe me.” A peculiar noise came through the phone, then his tone turned brisk. “I have to go now. I’ll call you later. Be careful.”

  The line went dead and Julia stared at the dark screen for a minute. What had she heard there at the end? It sounded like road noise, not the inside of a building. Maybe he was on the interstate. But why hadn’t he said so? She pulled back onto the road, her thoughts in overdrive. His “business” for A to Z seemed phony and contrived. He hadn’t elaborated at all, and that made her even more suspicious. Was he, indeed, working undercover for the Secret Service? Did it have anything to do with his sharp interest in those casket company trucks? Maybe later she’d take a little ride down that road to see exactly where they all went.

  The farm greeters barked their little heads off and raced up the driveway ahead of her. She’d never been a dog person, but had to admit the Jack Russells were awfully cute, and very smart. Casey appeared on the front porch and waved, sending a surge of pleasure through Julia’s chest. It felt good to have a friend and be welcome somewhere, accepted for just who she was, not who her husband was.

  Casey helped her unload the truck, then led her through the house to a stairway.

  “Extra bedroom’s up here. It’s not real big, but I think you’ll be comfortable.”

  Julia stepped into a medium-sized room paneled in knotty pine, the wood immediately reminding her of Dillon’s kitchen in Massachusetts. Casey patted the bedspread, then plumped a couple of throw pillows, her actions possessive and caring.

  “This was my son’s room. He didn’t keep it this neat, but I didn’t care.”

  Something in her voice set off an alarm in Julia’s head. She gazed around the room, seeing the normal trappings of a young man. Football banners, a high school diploma, a Dallas Cowboys cheerleader poster. On the desk, several photographs stared back at her. A rugged looking boy with dark curly hair, decked out in football gear, scowling like a linebacker. Another photo showed that same boy in uniform, his head shorn, the same scowl. Another photo of a military unit against a dusty tank.

  “Where is your son stationed?”

  A long silence sent an ice cold bolt down Julia’s spine. She turned to look at Casey, already knowing the answer.

  The woman’s face softened with grief. “He’s at Arlington. Been there for two years.”

  Julia crossed the room and slipped her arms around her friend. “Casey, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t stay here.”

  Casey stepped back and lifted her chin. “He’d be happy to know I have some company.” She reached for the doorknob. “I’ll be in the kitchen if you need anything.”

  She closed the door quietly and Julia listened to her footsteps on the old wooden stairs. Casey was another perfect example of someone who hadn’t fallen apart in the face of tragedy. Julia couldn’t imagine what it might be like to lose a child. Her throat tightened. Or even have one, for that matter. The familiar ache filled her heart and she crossed the room to gaze out the window. Brown fields spread as far as she could see. Sleeping corn fields, or maybe they were hayfields. An occasional tree broke the monotonous landscape and a leaden late afternoon sky pressed against the horizon. She couldn’t stay in this part of the country for much longer. Its effect on her mood was too profound, almost debilitating. The sameness emphasized her loneliness and feelings of hopelessness. She needed the stimulation of nature’s grandeur and wildness, mountains, rivers, streams. She smiled. Even snow drifts.

  Somewhere outside a car horn sounded and Julia turned away from her musings. She was here to help Casey and she’d better get on the job. With another appreciative glance around her new room, she closed the door and headed down the stairs.

  Chapter 30

  Casey was in the driveway, talk
ing to a young woman who was clearly distraught. Julia approached, catching the last few words of the woman’s sentence.

  “…she’ll die!”

  Casey patted the woman’s shoulder. “Let’s get her out and take a look.” She glanced at Julia. “We can use an extra pair of hands. You stand by.”

  Julia’s chest tightened. What horror was she about to witness? From the woman’s emotional state, it probably wasn’t going to be pretty.

  The woman dropped the loading ramp on the old beat-up one-horse trailer, a vehicle that had to be thirty years old, at best. She opened the door about a foot and stuck her head inside, murmuring softly. Casey moved up beside her and peered in, then turned to Julia.

  “You come hold the door. Be ready to close it if the horse tries to get out before we get a hold on her.”

  Julia hurried over and took the edge of the trailer door, waiting for further instructions. The woman climbed up and Casey followed her. The trailer rocked with the two women’s weight, then Julia heard the distinctive sound of hooves thudding on the wooden floor, followed by squealing.

  “Okay, we got ’er. Open the door and hold on to it.”

  The old hinges complained loudly as Julia swung the door back as far as it would go. A second later, the two women emerged from the dark, arm-wrestling a diminutive foal. Tiny as she was, the filly had the strength of instinct, the flight or fight gene that kept wild horses alive. Casey swore under her breath as she lost her grip on the filly’s sparse mane. The other woman had her arms around the foal’s neck. Casey grabbed an ear, then looped a lead rope around the filly’s neck, which sent the animal into another struggle to escape. She lunged forward and, without hesitating, Julia reached out, grabbed the filly’s tail, and pulled it to the side, which prevented the animal from backing out of her captors’ grasp.

  Casey grinned. “Thanks. You’re a natural.”

  She looped another lead rope around the filly’s butt and pulled it tight.

  “Ginger, you go find an empty stall and open the door. We’re gonna be moving pretty fast when we get in there.”

  Julia raced into the barn. King let out a long whinny and she waved at him as she passed. “Sorry, I’ll talk to you later.”

  A stall at the end of the row was empty, but only had sparse bedding. She glanced back at the barn door as the silhouettes appeared. The filly was again struggling with all her strength, and the women were losing the battle. If the horse got loose outside, they’d never catch her. Making a gut decision, Julia raced toward them. She grabbed the big handle on the heavy sliding door and pushed with all her strength. It wasn’t the finely-balanced door of her own barn, and the old wood felt like it weighed a ton. She got her weight behind the handle and pushed harder. Finally, the door began to move, grinding and grating over the debris in the track. Julia continued shoving and the opening narrowed to about two feet.

  Casey shouted, “Look out! She’s loose!”

  Julia turned and gasped. The filly was streaking toward the open door. Julia let go of the handle and leaped in front of the opening, waving her arms. The filly skidded to a stop, her tiny hooves scrambling on the concrete. She stood still, blowing through great nostrils, her eyes huge, her sides heaving with exertion and fright. She began to tremble, then dropped her head and nosed through some scraps of hay on the floor. Julia’s thundering heart began to slow and she gazed at the animal. She was covered with fuzzy reddish-brown fur and had a large white spot on her forehead. Her wispy mane and short, bushy tail were a little darker than her coat. She was beautifully conformed with a nice shoulder, long straight legs, and a flat back. Julia nodded at the two women cautiously approaching the filly from behind. Casey held a flake of hay and the other woman still had the lead rope.

  Julia began to croon to the baby, keeping her voice soft and low, almost sing-song. The filly’s ears flicked forward and back while she listened to the women behind her, but she watched Julia with less fear and more curiosity. She nickered, the squeaky infantile sound of a baby wanting its mama. Casey stepped up beside the filly and offered the hay. The tiny muzzle investigated, then pulled a couple strands out and dropped them.

  Julia tilted her head, puzzled. “Why doesn’t she eat it?”

  “Too young. She’s still on mare’s milk, or was.” Casey glanced at the woman. “How long did you say it’s been?”

  “Twenty-four hours. I just don’t know what to do, and I can’t take care of her by myself.”

  Casey’s voice came out on a growl. “Why’d you wait so long to get help? Well, let’s see if we can get her into the stall, then we’ll talk about it.”

  The filly’s initial struggles and flight had depleted whatever energy she had, and she allowed the two women to guide her where they wanted her. Julia finished closing the barn door and headed for the equipment room to find some bedding. Casey called out from the feed room.

  “Ginger, you give this formula to the foal while I talk to the owner.”

  Julia took the large bottle with a huge nipple. The milk inside was warm and frothy. “You have mare’s milk on hand?”

  “No, we use goat’s milk. In fact, I keep a couple of nannies just to have a supply on hand for emergencies. I’ve supplied it to farms as far away as forty miles.” She headed toward the door. “Be sure to hold the bottle straight so she doesn’t aspirate any of the milk. All we need is pneumonia or colic.”

  Julia’s heart slammed against her chest, the memory of Coquette and that horrible morning so long ago ravaging her mind. She hurried down the aisle toward the heart-wrenching squeals. The filly had rallied a bit and was racing around the perimeter of the stall, whinnying frantically and shaking her head. Julia opened the door a crack and slipped through, latching it behind her. The filly stopped for a moment, then bucked and ran to the corner. Julia moved slowly toward her, crooning, and wondering how she would manage this. Once the filly tasted the milk, she’d be fine. But how to get the first gulp down her?

  The foal stood quietly, shivering a little. After a full day with nothing to eat, she had to be losing ground fast. Taking advantage of her weakened state, Julia managed to get close enough to slip her arm around the filly’s neck. Before she could react, Julia squeezed the bottle and dripped milk on the foal’s lower lip. She jerked in surprise, then grunted and nosed the bottle. Julia put the nipple against her lips and pushed, squirting a little of the milk into the filly’s mouth. In seconds, the baby got the idea and began to suckle, making little gurgling noises, milk dribbling out the sides of her mouth in her eagerness.

  The two women stood outside the stall door, watching in silence. Once the foal was drinking, Casey was all business.

  “You can pay me to board her here until she’s old enough to wean and eat regular feed. Or you can sign her over to me and I’ll take full responsibility. If you do that, you no longer own the horse. If she has registration papers, I’ll need those too.”

  The woman heaved a long sigh. “I hate to give her away, but I have no money to pay you. I don’t even have enough for the vet bills I already have for the mare.” A sob fractured her words. “And I lost her anyway. I’ll sign the filly over to you. I hadn’t registered her yet.” She grimaced. “Costs more money to do that. I was going to wait awhile.”

  Casey jerked her head toward the barn door. “Come up to the house, we’ll get the paperwork done.” She glanced at Julia. “You can add this one to your wish-list.”

  Thirty minutes later, Julia washed the baby bottle, thinking about everything that had happened in the past forty-eight hours. Her life was in turmoil and the last thing she wanted to do was start over again somewhere else. Granted, she wasn’t fond of this part of the country, but she had connected with people here in a way she’d never experienced. How could she leave Casey? And King? She chuckled. And the new baby? What a delight the experience had been. Tummy full, the orphan foal had turned her energies to checking out every inch of Julia’s body with her whiskery little muzzle. She’d nibbled and nipp
ed, pushed and snorted, finally tossing her head and moving to a corner of the stall to collapse in a sleepy heap. How, indeed, would Julia be able to walk away? She set the bottle and nipple on a rack to dry, and glanced out the window in time to see the truck and empty horse trailer turn out of the driveway. She smiled, feeling wonderfully useful. Another rescue completed.

  Casey met her by the foal’s stall. “You did good, Ginger,” Her eyes narrowed. “for someone who knows nothing about horses.”

  Julia laughed. “You must be right—I’m a natural. Seriously, whatever I did just seemed like the right thing to do at the time.” She shook her head. “That poor woman. It must have been awful to turn the baby over to someone else.”

  Casey snorted. “I’ve stopped feeling sorry for some of these folks. They get in over their heads with the animals, have no clue how expensive it is to keep one horse, never mind two or three. That girl knows nothing about raising a young horse. She bred the mare because she thought it’d be ‘fun’ to have a foal.” Casey’s voice softened. “Too bad about the mare—she was beautifully bred. At least this filly will be worth something.”

  Julia’s jaw dropped. “You’re going to sell her?”

  Casey frowned and jammed her fists on her hips. “You think I’m gonna foot the bill to take care of her so I can keep her as pet?” She relaxed and grinned. “Sorry, I get frustrated sometimes ’cause I can’t save them all. Helps to get a break once in a while.” She brightened. “Speaking of breaks, a feed company from somewhere over the river came by last week and delivered seven bags of grain. Said he’d bring some every week.” She shook her head. “I got a guardian angel somewhere, that’s for sure. The feed guy said some man told him about us and asked for a donation, but he didn’t know who he was. That’s okay, anonymous works for me.” She gazed at the sleeping filly and her smile faded. “I need to get some foal feed right away. That’ll set me back.”