“Not necessary,” Lizzie said. “Everything’s done. They’re using on-site track horses this afternoon at Churchill, and only Splash is working tomorrow.”
“There must be something left.” Emily checked the rafters. She didn’t see a single cobweb, but her adrenaline was pumping. “Maybe I could wash the walls or scrub some buckets?”
“There’s nothing. Dan wants you to have time to practice your lines. I can read them with you, if necessary,” Lizzie added.
“But I’d prefer to help with wrangler stuff. What about cleaning tack?”
“Everything’s done.” Lizzie’s mouth clamped in a stubborn line. “Dan will have my head if I make you work.”
Emily wrung her hands, fighting a rush of panic. She didn’t need to be an actress to be happy. And she was dependable. That was all Dan needed to know. Two simple things but very difficult to prove. And while she wanted to be dependable, she wasn’t. Not really. She wasn’t much of anything.
She slumped down on a bale of hay, cradling her head in defeat.
“Look,” Lizzie said, her voice softening. “I just want to get along here. Sorry I was a little hard on you earlier. But Dan…spoke to me. He made it clear I can’t assign you any work.”
Emily glanced up. Lizzie actually sounded apologetic, and clearly she’d jump through hoops to please Dan.
“I’d really like to help with wrangling stuff though,” Emily said. “And you’re not assigning me anything. I’m offering, so it’s different. Actually, I’m begging.”
Lizzie heaved a sigh but seconds later she dropped two loaded buckets at Emily’s feet. “Okay then. It would be a big help if you’d deliver these bath props to the stud barn.”
“You’re awesome. Thanks, Lizzie.” Emily scrambled up, grinning. “Is that where they’re shooting the rest of the movie?”
“Only the bath scene and the part when you bang on the apartment door.” Lizzie gave a tentative smile. “Come back afterwards and I’ll show you everything a wrangler does. If that’s what you really want.”
“That’s what I want.” Emily nodded gratefully. “I’ll be right back.”
She scooped up the buckets brimming with soap, brushes and a sweat scraper, and hurried toward the door. Lizzie wasn’t so bad; in fact, she was rather nice. Emily shook her head. Maybe if she’d tried a little harder at the beginning, they would have made out just fine. It was clear she could learn a lot from the capable wrangler.
She cut though the woods to the stud barn, swinging the buckets, her natural optimism renewed. If every minute of her spare time was spent helping the wranglers, Dan would realize that was her main interest. Yes, this would all work out perfectly.
Barney nickered when she entered the barn, leaning against the stall door and stretching his neck. She dropped the buckets and paused to scratch his jaw. He was such an affectionate fellow, always eager to please. Dan was adamant about not shipping extra horses back to his ranch, but while Splash was a super performer, there was something special about Barney.
“No problem,” she said. “We’ll just have to try harder.”
He pressed his head against her chest and sighed, as if accepting he’d be returned to the contractor with the rest of the herd but bore no ill will. His tendon would require special care for at least another month, and she prayed he wouldn’t get lost in the shuffle. Under Dan’s care, he was kept under confinement, not fun for a horse but at least it gave his leg a chance to heal.
There wasn’t much time left to prove Barney was worth keeping. Heck, Dan didn’t even want to know his name…or her last one, for that matter. He had experience with so many horses and women, he’d become rather hardened.
She pressed a kiss against Barney’s velvety nose and scooped up the buckets. Dan cared. He was just cautious. There was no way someone could act like he did and not have feelings. It was obvious in his kiss, his touch, the way he listened. Like she was the most important person in his world. And for now, that was enough.
Humming, she placed the buckets on the side of the wash stall while Barney watched with curious eyes. Tomorrow this aisle would be much busier. People and equipment would be everywhere. And thanks to Dan, Jenna would see Emily speak on screen.
She already had memorized her script, and clearly Splash wouldn’t give any trouble. For Dan’s sake, she wanted the scene to go super smooth. Hopefully, the aisle wouldn’t flood.
Frowning, she kneeled and checked the drain. It looked clear but Anthony would understandably flip if a flooded aisle caused delays. Lizzie probably knew the procedure to have set construction check the plumbing. Fixing it today would save everyone time and trouble.
Barney snorted, yanking back her attention. Mrs. Hamilton walked down the aisle, her high heels muted on the rubber in the aisle.
“Hello,” she called. “Have you seen my husband?”
Emily’s glance automatically shot to the apartment door. She scrambled to her feet and brushed at the knees of her jeans. “I haven’t seen him. But the lock is still on the apartment so I don’t think he’s up there.”
Mrs. Hamilton frowned and checked her watch. “If he does come by, could you remind him the theater luncheon starts at one?” She glanced at the buckets, her expression softening. “Do you need more shampoo?”
“No, thanks.” Emily smiled. “This isn’t for me. It’s for a horse.”
“Well, if you need any more product, I have some in the trunk.”
“I’m fine, thanks,” Emily said, realizing she’d stopped obsessing about hair or makeup—rather ironic since she’d always associated actresses with glamour. “We’re just stocking up for the scene here tomorrow.”
“I thought all stall scenes were shot in the main barn?”
“This is the extra one Anthony added, the bath scene when they introduce Billy.”
“Ah, yes.” Mrs. Hamilton gave a distressed sigh. “You’re one of the girls who knew our dear caretaker.” Her eyes narrowed on the wash stall. “But Reckless was always bathed outside. And he was moved to the other barn after he acted up.”
Emily nodded. Mrs. Hamilton was correct; some of these movie details weren’t totally accurate but perhaps Anthony was taking creative license. “I guess it’s easier if the apartment door is close to the wash stall,” she said, “since my role is to yell for Tracey.”
“So they want you by the apartment door.” Mrs. Hamilton raised an amused eyebrow. “And I imagine Anthony wants you in a wet T-shirt and that’s why he’s using a bath scene.”
“Probably,” Emily admitted. She’d been so excited to read the script, she hadn’t asked any questions. And Dan hadn’t said much. After Mrs. Hamilton left, she’d turn on her phone and text Judith. She probably knew what everyone in the scene was wearing, right down to the color of halter on the horse.
“Do you want a drive back to the set?” Mrs. Hamilton asked.
“No, thanks,” Emily said. “I need to make sure this drains properly before the scene tomorrow.”
Mrs. Hamilton gave a polite nod and turned away. Emily pulled out her phone. The battery was almost empty, but it wouldn’t take much juice to text Judith.
The indicator light blinked. Five messages. Obviously Judith was excited about her speaking role too. But three texts were from Wally. Her heart lurched as she scanned the terse messages. The first: Give me a call ASAP. Then: Peanut is very sick. And the last: Call me. Don’t think he’s going to make it.
She pressed Wally’s number, barely able to breathe.
“Finally,” Wally said, his voice thick with irritation.
“How’s Peanut?”
“Not good. High respiration, elevated temperature, stiff neck. He won’t stand, eat or drink.” Wally sighed. “I don’t know what to do. Jenna might fly home if I tell her. And she needs this vacation.”
Emily squeezed her eyes shut. No doubt about it, Jenna would jump on a plane, believing her presence would help Peanut. And maybe it would—if she made it on time. Peanut’s two fav
orite people were Jenna and Emily.
“Don’t tell her,” Emily said, already rushing down the aisle. “I can get home much quicker.”
“Aren’t you in the middle of a big job?”
“I’m coming, Wally. My phone is almost dead, but I’ll be there. If he can just hang on a few more hours—” Her voice broke.
“Okay.” Wally exhaled with relief. “He’ll be glad to see you. But don’t dally.”
Emily jammed her phone back into her pocket and bolted from the barn. Poor little Peanut. So many times, she’d cried into his shaggy mane, missing her mother and using him like a giant teddy bear.
She thought he’d live forever. Sure, he had some health issues, but he’d always pulled through. Ponies were tough. Sometimes they lived well into their thirties. One old Shetland down the road was supposed to be forty-four. They weren’t exactly sure how old Peanut was but he certainly wasn’t forty. Why couldn’t he live as long as the neighbor’s pony?
Tears filled her eyes but she waved frantically at the blurred silver car pulling away from the barn.
Mrs. Hamilton immediately stopped and lowered her driver’s window. “What’s wrong?”
“I have to get to the highway,” Emily said, wringing her hands. “Would you mind dropping me off wherever it is you’re going?”
“Hop in,” Mrs. Hamilton said.
Emily scrambled into the passenger’s seat and the car shot down the drive. She buckled her seatbelt, grateful Mrs. Hamilton understood her urgency. This property was so damn big.
“The interstate is only fourteen miles north,” Mrs. Hamilton said. “Would it help if I took you there?”
“Oh, yes.” Emily sagged with relief. Once she was on the highway, she could hitch a ride much faster.
“Okay. There’s an Exxon gas station just off the highway. Your ride can meet you there.”
Emily nodded, clutching her damp hands. Wally was great with sick animals. He’d keep Peanut alive. He had to. But her lip quivered and she turned her head, staring blankly out the side window.
“Perhaps you should call your drive and let them know we’ll be there in a few minutes,” Mrs. Hamilton said gently. She waved at the security guard manning the back gate to the estate, turned onto the secondary road and pressed the accelerator.
Emily nodded, appreciating Mrs. Hamilton’s concern but lacking the energy to explain she’d be hitchhiking. “I will. But can you tell Dan Barrett that I won’t be able to do the bath scene tomorrow? I’m very sorry but I have to go home.”
“Of course,” Mrs. Hamilton said. She pulled out to pass a slow-moving van and the car sped along the smooth pavement.
Emily twisted her fingers. Maybe Peanut had eaten something not intended for little ponies. He was always rather gluttonous. Once she’d hidden beer in the hay and he’d bit a hole in every can. She’d skipped the tailgate party that night, afraid he might colic but too scared to tell Jenna why she needed to stay home and sit with him.
A large Exxon sign loomed. She scanned the parking lot, relieved to see several transport trucks.
Mrs. Hamilton veered into the paved rest area and pulled to a stop. “Wait a moment,” she said, glancing at Emily. She slid out of the car and opened the spotless trunk.
“Take this.” She pressed a pink leather bag in Emily’s hands. “There’s a hairbrush, deodorant, makeup. And a few bills.”
Emily gave a shaky smile. The products were unimportant but the money would be a huge help. She could share gas expenses and possibly find a drive more quickly. “Once again you come to my rescue,” Emily said, her voice thick with emotion. “Thank you.”
“Will you be returning to the set?”
“Yes, but I’m not sure when.” Emily clutched the bag to her chest and inched away. She could hear a truck engine start. Maybe it was heading north. “I’ll repay you though, I promise.”
“Don’t worry.” Mrs. Hamilton waved a hand. “Just go. Call if I can help with anything. And good luck…meeting your ride.” Their eyes locked and it was clear she knew exactly how Emily intended to travel.
Emily nodded and bolted toward the paved rest area. A man carrying a thermos and a cell phone walked toward a gleaming black truck.
“Excuse me,” she said. “I have a family emergency and need a drive to East Virginia. Are you going that direction by chance? I can pay for some gas.”
The man barely slowed. “I can’t take passengers,” he mumbled. “Company rules.”
The next two drivers were friendlier but one was heading west and the other intended to grab a nap before leaving. “If you’re still here in an hour,” the man with the gray hair said, adjusting his Blue Jays cap, “I’d be glad to take you right to Toronto.”
Emily’s shoulder slumped. One hour felt like an eternity.
The man gave an encouraging smile. “We’d make better time then. The traffic will be good and I’m a safer driver when rested.”
“I appreciate it. But really, I can’t wait.”
“Oh? What’s your hurry?” Genuine interest flashed in his kind eyes.
“Our pony’s sick.” She swallowed. “And my sister will be heartbroken if he dies while she’s away.”
The man turned, pulled open his cab door and reached for his walkie. He glanced over his shoulder. “What’s your name?” he asked.
She told him then listened in grateful disbelief as he spoke on the radio about how his friend named Emily needed to get home to be with her sick pony.
“There.” He hung up his mike and rubbed his hands in satisfaction. “We have a lot of animal lovers out there. They know what it’s like to be away from home. It might take a few transfers but I expect you’ll be home with your little pony in less than five hours.”
She blinked. “That’s so kind of you.”
A truck blared from half a mile down the highway.
The driver gestured with his thumb. “That’s your first ride coming now. Hope it works out.”
“What’s your name?” she asked, scanning the door of his truck. He had a bit of an accent that she couldn’t place.
“Big Mike,” he said. “I live in Toronto now but come from Newfoundland.”
“Thank you very much, Big Mike.” She stared at him for another moment. She’d never see this man again, never be able to return the favor. He knew that. Yet his simple act of kindness would make a huge difference. Already her tension eased, knowing she was going to make it back to Three Brooks as quickly as if she had her car.
She raised her hand in heartfelt salute then stepped forward and gave him an impulsive hug.
A blue rig with flames painted on the door rumbled up beside them. Emily pulled open the passenger door and climbed into the seat. The driver was a lady with arms as ripped as any jockey’s and a smile that made her feel instantly welcome. There were three pictures on the dash: two of smiling children and one of a black Lab holding a red ball in her mouth.
“My name’s Shirley,” the driver said. “Headed to Charleston. Help yourself to coffee. I like mine black. Your job is to listen and pour. Can you handle that?”
Emily nodded and reached for the red thermos lying between the seats. “With pleasure,” she said.
CHAPTER FORTY
Emily tilted forward on the seat, jagged from caffeine and adrenaline. “You don’t need to drive all the way up to the Center,” she said, glancing at the driver. Lester had the coolest sleeve tattoos including a colorful Phoenix that extended to his thick wrists.
“No problem,” he said. “We made good time. Besides, Allie likes you.”
Emily adjusted the purring cat, reluctantly moving Allie off her lap and back onto the blanket. The kindness of utter strangers amazed her. Four trucks, five hours later, and it was impossible to say which ride she’d enjoyed most: coffee-swigging Shirley from Kentucky, Pooper who donated all his gas miles to handicapped children, Eugene who loved to garden, or Lester and Allie who spent their spare time helping out in a tattoo parlor. None were captains
of industry like Burke, but they definitely enriched the lives of people around them. Including hers.
The truck rumbled up the cobblestone drive where mercury vapor lamps illuminated pristine flower beds. Lester blew out an admiring whistle. “This Three Brooks is a fancy place. Is your pony a racehorse?”
“No, he’s just a pet. But Three Brooks is a rehab center and my sister knows the owner.” Jenna was actually married to the owner but Emily was reluctant to admit it, which seemed a little twisted. Before, it had been a major bragging point.
“I grew up in a little trailer just over that hill,” she added. “Peanut always had the run of this place. He’s a very cool guy and like a member of our family. But I’m not sure how this is going to go…”
Air brakes hissed as Lester eased the rig to a stop in front of the main entrance with the clearly marked doors. He turned toward Emily.
“Sometimes when animals are sick, there’s not much you can do. Just be there to hold them. Although I guess it’s hard to hold a pony. They’re not like a cat.” He gave an encouraging smile. “You’re here and that’s what’s important. Good luck.”
“Thanks, Lester.” Emily swung open the heavy truck door. She didn’t know what she could do for Peanut that Wally couldn’t. Three Brooks had the most advanced equipment as well as access to the best vets. She only knew that nobody loved Peanut more than her and Jenna. And one of them should be there. “I hope your aunt’s operation goes well,” she added. “I really appreciate the drive.”
She gave Allie a last pat and slid down from the cab. She waved, but once the truck pulled from the curb, she bolted toward the front door. Peanut was probably in one of the stalls close to the hyperbaric chamber. He’d always responded well to oxygen treatment.
She yanked at the door, not surprised to find the entrance locked. It was already close to midnight. Lights glowed from the windows of Wally’s apartment above the Center and she turned and jogged toward the end door.
“I’m here, Emily. I heard the engine.”
Wally’s quiet voice came from behind her. She wheeled, straining to see his face through the gloom. “Where’s Peanut?” she asked. “How’s he doing?”
STUDS AND STILETTOS (Romantic Mystery) Page 27