by Leigh Hearon
She expertly swiped open the screen and put the phone to her ear.
“Hello, darling,” she heard Marcus say.
“Hello, darling back,” she replied, as easily as if she’d been saying it all her life.
CHAPTER 4
WEDNESDAY AFTERNOON, AUGUST 3–THURSDAY, AUGUST 4
On the heels of Marcus’s call came one from Annie’s friend Sarah, which she took on her landline.
“I can come over now, Annie, but I’ll only have time to pick up Layla and write you a check. If you can wait until tomorrow, I’ll have more time for a visit, and besides bringing my checkbook, I can corral Samantha Higgins, who’s offered to bring a thermos of her famous dirty martinis.”
“Come tomorrow,” Annie promptly replied. “It’s always great to see Sam, and it’ll give me one more chance to work with Layla. And I never refuse one of Sam’s exotic concoctions.”
It also would give her a chance to review the packet that Tony had given her. A little advance preparation couldn’t hurt, if she still had time. It was now 2:00 P.M., and she expected his call at any moment.
She settled on her back porch with a glass of iced tea in one hand and Tony’s packet in the other. After a long swallow, she ripped open the manila envelope and pulled out a stapled set of papers. The first sheet held the ominous heading, Kill Pen Horses. Below and on the following pages were photos and descriptions of all the horses currently in line for the slaughterhouse unless they were adopted out. Annie began to read.
Twenty minutes later, she was practically in tears. How could anyone willingly give over these animals to a kill pen, knowing their eventual destination and fate? Every horse she read about deserved a second chance at life. She glanced down at the page flipped open on her knee. So many were so young! It seemed impossible that any owner would truncate a horse’s life when it hadn’t even begun to live it. And the older ones seemed to have been discarded for the slightest of reasons—a racehorse too old now for the track, a trail horse for a closed-down summer camp, a broodmare who didn’t produce enough foals—the reasons went on and on, and Annie did not understand a single one. She was looking at horses that had done their best for their owners and now were not going to enjoy a pleasant retirement but instead be loaded onto a trailer and delivered to a frightening, turbulent house of death. What was wrong with people? What was wrong with the world?
She thought back to her own horses. All of them, with the exception of Trooper, had been rescued as well. If she had not stepped in when she had, what would have happened to them? She shuddered and refused to think about it anymore.
As if on cue, Tony’s number appeared on the screen of her old cell phone, now carelessly cast aside. Blowing her nose thoroughly, Annie answered his call.
“Annie, you there?”
“I am indeed,” she replied, trying to sound perky and normal. “What’s the news from eastern Washington?”
“Let me tell you, Annie, this has not been a fun trip.”
She swallowed hard.
“I’ve just finished reading the descriptions of the horses up for sale. You do realize, of course, that we have to buy them all.” Annie said this in a half-joking manner, but Tony knew that she meant every word.
“I wish we could. The feedlot conditions here are pretty grim. The couple who run it are a couple of snakes. The horses you’re looking at represent the cream of the crop. Here, I’m seeing the lame and crippled ones, the horses with injuries, the ones that no one will ever buy and are doomed already. Nicest thing for them would be to put them out of their misery in a humane way. It’s just criminal what’s going to happen to these poor beasts.”
“Stop it, Tony. I’ve already used up one box of Kleenex. I’m sorry you’ve had to witness all this. I’m the lucky one. All I have to do is look at pretty pictures and descriptions. Where do you stand now, as far as selection?”
It sounded coldhearted even to talk about the feedlot horses this way, but it was exactly what she and Tony were doing—deciding the fate of a herd of horses, nearly all of whom should live.
Tony sighed. “Here’s my best wisdom. There’s a yearling, a liver chestnut quarter horse that’s halter broke and has a terrific personality, really people-oriented, which is what we want. He’s still a stallion, so Jessica would have to fix that. He’s on page two, third one down, on the list I gave you.”
“I noticed him. Sounds perfect.” But then, they all do.
“Next is farther down that same page, a bay broodmare, trail experience, about fifteen years old, looks rock solid.”
Annie gave the description a cursory glance. “Let’s take her.”
“And then, on the next page, there’s a mustang mix. He’s gelded, probably three or four years old, behaves well with others. I just latched onto him, thought he’d be a good work project.”
“I’m sold.”
“And finally, on the last page, there’s a bay mare, probably a Morgan, who was used for hunting trips. She’s somewhere shy of twenty, looks in excellent condition. She’s only been here a day or two.”
“Then let’s spring her.”
“Total for all four horses is two thousand two hundred and twenty-six dollars.”
“A bargain.”
“It’s calculated by their total weight. It’s what the feedlot owners would get if they sold them for horse meat. At the moment, that’s sixty-five cents per pound.”
Annie’s throat closed up so tightly that she couldn’t speak.
* * *
Annie thought Samantha’s dirty martinis couldn’t arrive soon enough. The next day, she diligently worked one last time with Layla, and was hosing her down by the round pen when Sarah arrived with her horse trailer.
“Come look at your beauty while she’s still clean,” Annie called over to Sarah. “I definitely feel a roll coming on.”
“Oh, what the heck,” Sarah said. “It’ll save me from having to give her fly spray today.”
There were many reasons why horses like to get down on the ground and roll, and one of them was using dirt as a shield from pesky mites.
“You are such an indulgent parent. Don’t go spoiling her, now, just because she’s coming home.”
“I’ll try. But I don’t promise you I’ll succeed.”
As predicted, once Annie released her halter, Layla knelt on her front knees, rolled over twice thoroughly in each direction, stood up, and gave her body a massive shake that extended through her entire spine and scattered dust and dirt far and wide. Annie tossed her a flake of orchard grass and left her in the round pen. She fully intended to enjoy her time with her friend as they sipped Samantha’s signature drink. Sam swore her martinis didn’t depend on the brand of gin or vermouth—it was the olive brine she used, and so far, she refused to reveal the brand name.
It was hot, in the mid-eighties, rare for the Pacific Northwest, even in the thick of summer. Annie had a feeling a martini at four o’clock in the afternoon would go straight to her head. She didn’t care. Her meager education yesterday into the world of kill pens had unnerved her more than she’d thought. Annie had done her best to put it out of her mind. She’d fed her horses, then herself, and picked a mind-numbing movie to distract her. But just as the credits were rolling, Tony had called again, ostensibly to report that he’d met with the feedlot owners and completed the sale. But it had been clear other things were on his mind. He’d also sounded bone weary.
“I’m telling you, doing anything in this town takes a SEAL team,” he’d groused to Annie. “People don’t show up on time, no one knows where they are, when they’ll be back, no one wants to tell you anything. I’m just trying to make a simple business transaction, and it’s turned into a small nightmare.”
“Why, Tony? What happened?”
“Oh, at the eleventh hour, when I was about to put more than two thousand smackers into this cretin’s hands, he backed out.”
“WHAT ?”
Sasha had jumped from where she’d been sleeping
on Annie’s living room rug. Wolf, a few feet away, hadn’t moved. He was used to his mistress’s periodic outbursts.
“Don’t worry, he backed in again, but a little more cash had to exchange hands before he let it happen. And, by the way, the brains behind this operation is the wife. He’s the front person, but she’s the powerhouse. I’m sure this last-minute snafu was all her idea. Probably happens to every person who wants to save a horse. Anyway, I now have a receipt and their promise, for what it’s worth, that the horses will be sequestered in a separate paddock until our transport van comes for them. And by the way, Annie, it can’t come too fast. I don’t trust these people. We’ve got to get them out of here as soon as possible.”
“I’ll call Jessica tomorrow and see what we can arrange.”
“Thanks. And while you’re at it, don’t forget that we need a safe place to board them for the next month or so. Preferably one that’s close to you, me, and Jessica.”
“I’ll put out all the feelers I can. I’m seeing a horse owner who lives on the other side of the water tomorrow. She may know of a place or two that I’ve never heard of. It wouldn’t be ideal, having to cross the Worden State Bridge every time we want to visit, but it would only be for a month or two.”
“I appreciate that, Annie. I’m getting out of this hellhole as fast as I can. Rick’s gone back already—he had some kind of family emergency. But he lined me up with a local flyer here who says he can take me back tomorrow afternoon. If it’s not too late, I’ll come by and show you more up-to-date photos of Travis’s new horses.”
“Great, Tony. Just give me a call on my new smartphone as soon as you know when you’re going to touch down.”
“A smartphone? You? You’re coming out of the dark ages at last?”
“If you must know, it was a gift. And I’m already taking photos with it.”
“Hah! This I have to see. I’m surprised you can turn it on.”
“Well, Hannah helped.”
“Ah, that explains it. Which reminds me—I met a couple of kids over here that would make even you think about embracing motherhood.”
“You’re delusional. Get some sleep.”
They’d clicked off at the same time, but at least, that time, the conversation had ended with laughter on both ends.
Now, at five o’clock the next day, Annie was still laughing, this time over Samantha’s impression of a particularly snotty parent of one of her young riders. Samantha’s stables catered to children, and for this brave act Annie held her in awe. She preferred clients who were adults, and dropped off their horses at her barn and returned when training was done.
Samantha continued her story. “So Lori comes right up to me, and says, ‘No child of mine is going to lug that big saddle back to the tack room. She could get permanent back problems from all that lifting!’ ” Samantha imitated the woman’s voice to roars of laughter from her appreciative audience.
“Speaking of lifting, have you seen her lately?” Sarah chimed in. “You notice how her eyes have that wide-open, surprised look? What do you want to bet she’s had some heavy lifting herself ?”
“Hmmm . . . I think you’re right,” Sam said. “She’s always so obnoxious that I try to avoid looking at her. It doesn’t help that she’s the kind of mother who insists on ‘fully participating’ in her child’s every activity. It drives me batty.”
“So what did you tell Lori?” Annie asked. She was curious to see how other people solved people problems. She knew how she would have handled it—she would have told the woman to take her attitude and never darken her doorway again.
“I told her that the saddle only weighed seven pounds, which probably is less than the knapsack Brandi lugs to school every day. I told her to weigh her daughter’s knapsack and if it weighed less than seven pounds, I’d haul the saddle myself.”
“Did the mother ever complain again?” Annie had to know.
“Nope. And Brandi is hauling around her little saddle just fine, with one big smile on her face.”
What a great response, Annie thought. Maybe she could learn a thing or two about how to get along with difficult people from her friends. Or, she could simply do what she’d been doing all her lifetime: hang out with horses.
She heard her smartphone ring and looked around for it, shading her eyes with her hand. She found it on the table, where the martini glasses had been deposited. Whatever liquid any of them still held was quickly evaporating in the hot sun. She scrambled to her feet and grabbed the phone when she recognized Dan Stetson’s number on the screen.
“Excuse me, ladies,” Annie said. “Official business that will only take a moment.” Sarah and Sam vaguely waved their arms in her direction and continued their conversation. She sprinted toward her home, where reception was best, passing Layla on the way. Layla was now contentedly eating grass under Annie’s biggest apple tree. The round pen was great for work but provided no shade.
She swiped the screen on Dan’s fourth ring.
“Is Tony back?” She assumed that was why the sheriff was calling her.
“Annie.” Dan’s voice was uncharacteristically low, and she sensed he wasn’t quite in control of his emotions.
“Yes, Dan?” she asked quietly.
“I have bad news. Very bad news. The private plane—” Dan’s voice broke. He waited a few moments and began again, in a steadier voice. “The airplane bringing Tony home went down this afternoon somewhere around the Snoqualmie Pass. Looks like a fire may have broken out in flight. We’re not sure. The plane crashed nose first in a forested area. If it wasn’t on fire before, it was as soon as it hit the ground.”
Annie had unconsciously put her hand over her mouth while Dan was talking. Now she took it away. She knew the answer to the question she was about to ask, but she had to ask, anyway.
“Any survivors?”
“None. Tony is gone, Annie. He’s dead.”
CHAPTER 5
THURSDAY, AUGUST 4–SATURDAY, AUGUST 6
It was impossible to absorb the enormity of Dan’s news. She slowly walked back to her friends, tears streaming down her face. Sarah and Sam jumped to their feet and embraced her. Annie wasn’t much of a touchy-feely kind of person, but today she allowed the two women to enfold her without question. Her brain still couldn’t quite believe that what Dan had said was true. It seemed too horrible to fit into any reality that Annie could fathom.
The next two days were a blur.
She took care of her horses and her sheep, in a numb, sleep-deprived state because sleep was often impossible. She was vaguely aware that Lisa and others were pitching in as well, and was grateful for their help, even if it often was only expressed with a tired smile. Most of the time, she camped out at the Suwana County Sheriff’s Office, which predictably had become the hub for information.
The news of Tony’s death quickly spread throughout Suwana County and beyond. The deputy had been a beloved member of the sheriff’s office for more than a decade, and Annie knew that Dan had always considered him heir apparent to his position as sheriff, when the time was right. And there was no doubt in Annie’s mind that Tony would have been easily elected. He was known for his cool, calm ability to defuse potentially explosive confrontations and for always being fair. Annie could remember a number of occasions where Tony had deftly resolved situations that could have erupted into real violence. Even habitual residents of the county jail would admit that Tony was one of the few deputies they could trust to keep his word.
The local newspaper dedicated the entire front section to the life and times of Tony Elizalde, small-town boy made good. Media from Seattle and other major cities rolled in to get sound bites from the residents who knew him, although no one from the immediate family agreed to make a statement.
Tony’s parents, predictably, were devastated by the news. Annie, Dan, and Deputy Kim Williams visited them, but there was nothing they could do or say that seemed to diminish their raw and all-consuming grief over the tragic loss of their eld
est son. Tony had been their pride and joy, the first of their six children to graduate from college, and his sudden death left a gaping chasm in their lives that could never be filled.
Tony’s siblings seemed similarly stunned by their brother’s death.
“Did you know he put me and my sisters through college?” Carlos was the next eldest son in the Elizalde clan, and now the unspoken head of the family. “Tony had this great job, see, but he never thought about buying a fancy car or a house or taking a big vacation. He put all his money back into his family. He said we were the best investment he could make. We couldn’t wait for him to marry and have children so we could start giving back to his new family all the love he’d given us.”
Annie realized she’d had no idea how pivotal Tony had been in so many people’s lives. It stunned her to see how much Tony’s kindness and thoughtful nature had touched others.
The funeral was planned for Sunday, August 7. It would be a closed-casket ceremony. The medical examiner who’d performed the autopsy had merely told the family that Tony unquestionably had died instantly, as soon as the airplane hit the ground. Dan and Annie got a much fuller and more gruesome picture of what had happened.
“We found soot in his airways,” Dr. Kate Mulligan announced to Dan and Annie, who were seated in Dan’s office and talking to the medical examiner on speakerphone. “That’s proof positive that Mr. Elizalde was alive and breathing when the fire started in the cockpit. The same goes for the pilot.”
Both Annie and Dan winced.
“But what I told the parents was the truth,” she continued. “Not many people survive a crash in a Cessna 180, especially when it nose-dives into the ground at a high rate of speed. Both men suffered substantial thermal burns while still alive. But in the end, there wasn’t much time left for either man to suffer—a minute or two at the most.”