by Leigh Hearon
Annie felt marginally better, knowing that Marcus’s attorney, slimeball that he was, harbored the same doubts that she had. Her mind was made up.
“How about the staff?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“I mean, how about the ranch workers? Mr. Fenton, I believe Marcus is totally innocent, and I just hope he isn’t the third victim in this tragedy. If there’s anything I can do to help out until Marcus is . . . is . . . found, then I will. I don’t care about the money. I just want to do what’s right. But I do need to know how to deal with the staffing issues.”
“You mean, is Todos still in charge?” Fenton sounded drily amused.
“Precisely.”
“Yes, Todos is still in charge, and his job now includes trying to keep workers on the ranch who don’t believe in ghosts and curses. It isn’t easy. He’s also got a salary that’s going unpaid for the time being. He’s my next call. I don’t know if he’ll be as magnanimous as you seem to be.”
The way Fenton had dragged out magnanimous made Annie’s temper, never far from the surface, rise. She swallowed hard.
“Well, let me know. I need to know if I have to insert feeding eighteen thoroughbreds into my morning and evening schedule.”
“Well, it’s actually not as bleak as all that. I’m petitioning the court next week for release of funds to take care of the immediate needs of Hilda’s animals. I’m not sure the judge will authorize the entire 50K Marcus wanted you to have, but I’m sure it’ll be enough to keep the ranch adequately staffed.”
In the air-space that followed, Annie heard what Fenton hadn’t said. “But there’s no way I can expect to get compensated anytime soon.”
“Good luck with that.” Suddenly, Annie was tired of James Fenton and everyone allegedly concerned with the well-being of Marcus Colbert. Dan would be content to find a body—or a plane ticket to Switzerland. Fenton would be content with a check. And what would she be content with?
That Marcus was all right.
Fenton coughed discreetly again.
“There’s one more thing, Ms. Carson.”
“Oh? What’s that?”
“Marcus also deeded you full ownership of that horse you rescued. Of course, it’s not yours, yet—not until Marcus is officially not a suspect, or is officially declared dead, and Hilda’s estate is sorted out. But I thought you’d want to know at least Marcus’s intent.”
He’d given her Trooping the Colour. Marcus might not have known a lot about horses, but apparently he knew a lot about Annie Carson.
* * *
All of the snow had vanished by early afternoon, There was still no sign of Lavender, but Annie continued to not let her sister’s absence bother her. She spent a relatively enjoyable rest of the day with her animals. She’d decided to put Geronimo under saddle for the first time. She had no intention of riding him today. She just wanted him to feel comfortable with fourteen pounds of leather on his back.
Getting Geronimo into the round pen in the middle of the day was easy since Trotter insisted on following them back. In fact, so did the rest of the horses. They probably assumed they were going to get an afternoon snack, Annie thought with amusement. When they realized they weren’t being led into their stalls, the horses gathered around the corral fence, noses peering in. Apparently, they were willing to settle for a little live entertainment.
Once in the corral, Geronimo stood obediently as Annie left and returned with one of her working saddles. She walked up to him slowly and let him sniff it. Geronimo inquisitively switched his nose around the leather and licked the felt seat. Annie put the saddle on the ground and let the horse examine it to his heart’s content. When she was sure Geronimo had thoroughly decided the object was not a predator or something to be feared, she picked it up and began to rub his back with it.
From long experience, Annie knew that getting a horse under saddle involved a huge act of trust between horse and rider. As a prey animal, an equine always was fearful of a predator landing on its back or ripping open its stomach. To willingly accept a saddle on its back meant that the horse trusted that its human companion had its best interests in mind.
Within a half hour, Annie had successfully placed a saddle blanket on Geronimo’s back and now was feeding him baby carrots out of her hand. This was the easy part. She walked slowly away from the horse, who followed her with the bright expectation of more treats.
She picked up the saddle and moved slowly toward Geronimo’s back, continuing to let him sniff the leather. As she lifted it toward his back, she heard a horse wheeze.
The sound didn’t bother Geronimo, but it discombobulated his trainer. She walked over to the fence line to see which of her horses had made the unexpected sound. Bess, Baby, and Sam all looked fine. Rover had abandoned watching some minutes ago to forage for pasture grass—one had to have priorities, after all, and a once-starved horse knew exactly what those were. Trooper, however, was definitely off. Mucus was dribbling from both eyes, and his watery eyes drooped. To someone who didn’t know horses, one would have thought Trooper was weeping over some unknown tragedy in his life.
Hell’s bells. Had Trooper somehow gotten a cold? Horses weren’t prone to getting them, being used to living in the outdoors and all—but Trooper wasn’t an ordinary horse. He’d been used to blankets and heated stables and regulated temperatures all of his short life. A few days ago, Trooper had joined the rest of the herd and everyone seemed to be getting along just fine. Had Annie inadvertently precipitated an illness, simply by letting him be one of the gang?
She quickly turned out Geronimo, praising him for his good work with a few more carrots. After swinging the saddle and blanket back onto its appointed space in the tack room, she called Jessica.
An hour later, Jessica came roaring onto the farm, her compact vet van screeching to a halt in front of the stables.
Annie stood up and instinctively placed a hand on Trooper’s shoulder. He’d jerked up his head as soon as he heard the furious crunch of tires outside. Both he and Trotter were in the stable, awaiting Jessica’s arrival. Annie had been trying to fasten very rusty leg straps attached to a very old horse blanket, which she’d finally located in her tack room attic. It wasn’t working very well.
“Where is he?”
Jessica rushed in, looking more concerned and, yes, frightened, than Annie had ever seen her.
“He’s right here,” Annie said more calmly than she felt. “What’s going on?”
Jessica sat down on a hay bale to catch her breath.
“Sorry, Annie. But I’ve been living in fear for the past two months that EHV would make its way to our rural community.”
Annie stared blankly at Jessica.
“Equine herpesvirus, Annie.”
Oh, that. Annie knew all about that. It had started on the East Coast a few years ago and made its way to the West Coast through an infected horse at a Utah horse show. The virus spread quickly among horses and could be fatal. And it often started with coldlike symptoms. Annie felt an unnamed dread steal through her body.
“Wouldn’t the horse have been tested for that before leaving Tennessee?” she asked.
“Not necessarily,” Jessica said. “The epidemic was too new for regulated testing of horses being transported across state lines. We’re asking horse owners to keep their animals at home and to avoid transporting them to areas where the virus has cropped up. But how and when the virus spreads or is contained is based solely on goodwill and common sense.”
Annie digested this before asking, “So how will we know?”
“I’ll have to test him. What are you calling him, anyway? And how did he end up with you? I know Hilda is dead, but why isn’t her star manager taking care of the horse?”
Annie blushed, something she didn’t often do.
“It’s a long story. But the short answer is I’m calling him Trooper, which is short for his real name, Trooping the Colour.”
Jessica shot Annie a hard, questioning stare
.
“Didn’t Hilda’s husband come to your place about a week ago to look at the bay? Wasn’t he a suspect or something?”
Trust Jessica to have only a modicum of the so-called facts that had been displayed on national television. She was the only other person in Annie’s circle who knew as little about the outside world as she did. They were just too busy to keep up.
“Yes, and no. Could we stick to the subject at hand, Jessica? I mean, I’d love to fill you in on everything that People magazine left out, but at the moment I’d like to know if my entire herd is contaminated with an incurable virus.”
She sounded a little sharper than she felt. Jessica’s questions were perfectly legitimate, considering all that had transpired in the ten days since Trooper had had his tooth pulled.
Jessica drew up herself with dignity and a degree of elegance that Annie secretly envied.
“I’m sorry, Jessica.”
“It’s okay, Annie. I’d feel the same way myself if it were my herd. Let’s get it over with.”
* * *
In the end, Jessica had taken more blood from Trooper than just for the EHV test. She’d also given him a thorough physical examination, taken nose and throat swabs, fecal samples, and drawn enough blood to test for a variety of possible illnesses, including parasites, allergies, and rare forms of equine cancers.
Annie could see her entire bank account vanishing with another vet bill but said nothing as Jessica continued her thorough work. As usual, Trooper was . . . well, a trooper about being poked and prodded. Apparently, about the only thing that he reacted badly to was almost being turned over in a locked horse trailer traveling at a high speed. This seemed reasonable to Annie.
By now, the sun was waning, the air was chilly even inside the stable, and Annie wearily realized that it was just about feeding time. She helped Jessica load her equipment into the van and stood by the vet van while Jessica typed up her notes on her small laptop.
“I know you can’t really give me a prognosis, but tell me anyway what you think.”
Jessica finished an entry and turned to her friend.
“I’m cautiously optimistic, Annie. Trooper doesn’t show every classic textbook symptom of EHV, but then, we’re just starting to really learn about the disease, thanks to the new epidemic. In truth, it could be anything—worms, parasites, allergies, or yes, EHV. The one thing it isn’t is a cold.”
Annie visibly relaxed as Jessica said this.
“It’s not your fault, Annie. There’s definitely something going on with Trooper that we need to fix, but it’s nothing that was caused by your care. Trust me on that.”
“Should I segregate Trooper from the rest of the herd?”
“How long have they been sharing the same pasture and living area?”
“More than a week in the stables. Ever since I picked up the bay, in fact. He’s never spent the night anywhere since. And he’s been out to pasture with the herd since Monday.”
“Well, if it is EHV, it’s probably too late now. I’ll rush this sample to the lab, and we should get the results back by tomorrow. If it’s positive, of course, then I’ll have to test all the other animals and report my findings to the state.”
“Of course.” Annie’s throat felt tight.
“But please try not to worry about that until you have to. I mean, unless you have to, Annie. Meanwhile, I’d just wash out Trooper’s eyes and make sure he’s comfortable. And don’t worry about blanketing him. A week in the rugged Northwest has already started to pull up a new coat on him. He’s plenty tough enough to stand our climate.”
* * *
Everyone got hot mashes that night. It seemed the least Annie could do, considering that her most beloved companions were now waiting to hear their fate. She knew she should call Samantha and let her know that Geronimo was at risk, but she just couldn’t face it right now. She’d know the truth soon enough, anyhow.
As she made her way up to her farmhouse, she noticed a light on in the kitchen and the shadow of someone moving around in it. Lavender. She’d returned. Funny—Annie didn’t feel the same resentment that she’d felt almost every day her half sister had been with her. She didn’t exactly welcome seeing Lavender again, but she didn’t really mind that much, either. It was strange.
Opening up the back door, Annie did find one thing to welcome her: a fifth of Glenlivet, along with one of Dan Stetson’s business cards. On the back, he’d scrawled, “To your good health and to good friends.” Aw. That was nice of Dan. He hadn’t had to do that. Well, yes, he had, but Annie gave him points for making the gesture.
She set the bottle on the kitchen table as Lavender turned from the oven with a mitted hand. She had on an apron and her pink hair stuck out in bunches. Her face was hot and sweaty. She looked ebullient.
“Sister! I hope you don’t mind, but I’ve made dinner. And all from local products, too!”
She brought out a casserole that looked suspiciously healthful but gave off an aroma that was not entirely displeasing, especially considering Annie hadn’t eaten in eight hours.
Well, one healthy thing was enough. Annie got out two small glasses and unscrewed the cap on the single malt.
“Care to join me in a predinner drink, Lavender?”
CHAPTER 13
FRIDAY, MARCH 4TH
The Northwest lived up to its reputation the next day. Rain streamed remorselessly from the sky, and the forecast was for more of the same all weekend. Annie wrapped herself into her full-length slicker before heading out to the barn to feed the horses. First stop was Trooper’s stall. He was standing, pooping, and interested in eating—all of which Jessica had assured her were good signs—but his eyes still ran, and he wheezed twice while she prepared the morning mashes.
She called Jessica’s cell phone from the stable, but only got the vet’s voice mail. Knowing Jessica, Annie assumed the hardworking large animal doctor had risen earlier than she and had been on the road since dawn. She decided not to leave a message. Her caller ID would tell what was on her mind. And, bless her friend, Jessica called Annie a scant twenty minutes later to let her know that the diagnostic lab had just received Trooper’s vials of blood and other draws and promised results by end of day.
“So try not to worry, okay, Annie?” were Jessica’s parting words.
Right.
She returned to the farmhouse to enjoy a solitary breakfast. Last night had been less hideous than she’d envisioned. It was a grudging admission. Lavender had been so proud of her casserole of quinoa, a grain Annie had never heard of, but apparently it was rich in protein and good for you, too. It certainly tasted that way. But Annie had been grateful for Lavender’s efforts and, to be honest, her company that night. It was easier to feign interest in her half sister’s prattling news of the day than think of her own equine issues.
Lavender, it turned out, had left under the cloak of darkness, but only an hour before Annie had arisen. She’d caught a bus into town and spent an enjoyable day acquainting herself with the locals. She’d gone to the community farmer’s market, under cover of a tent this time of year, introduced herself to all the neighborhood merchants who specialized in what Annie called “woo-woo stuff,” and even signed up for a library card. This last adventure floored Annie. Judging by the letter she’d received from her half sister, she wouldn’t have thought Lavender had any interest in literature. Her instinct proved correct when Lavender proudly displayed what she’d checked out: Northwest Native American Symbolism for Dummies. Annie choked back her response.
Instead, she asked, casually, she hoped, “Any luck hooking up with your Native American elder?” The quicker Lavender found employment, or at least a new hobby, the sooner she might vacate Annie’s home.
“I tried, Sister,” was the morose reply. “But no one’s seen Soaring Eagle for several months. We think he’s on a spiritual journey in Alaska someplace. When three crows circle overhead, we’ll know he’s coming back.”
Annie decided not to ask
who the “we” were. But she allowed herself a bit of secret hope. The sight of three crows circling in Suwana County was something you could pretty much bank on whenever roadkill surfaced. At that rate, Soaring Eagle could be back any day now.
* * *
Bolstered by several shots of Glenlivet the night before, Lavender miraculously had agreed with Annie’s suggestion to continue her exploration of the great Northwest the next day. Annie made sure the decision still held that morning. She handed Lavender a twenty-dollar bill, telling her she could buy whatever groceries she needed to make dinner that evening. Despite her half sister’s earnest promise to help out, the house remained as dirty and even more cluttered than ever. And Annie certainly didn’t see much evidence that any bad karma had dissipated.
Happy as she was to see Lavender depart, Annie had been loath to turn out the herd after feeding. Between the torrential rain and the horses’ questionable health status, it seemed wiser to keep them within eyesight. She gave them access to the paddock, but everyone seemed content to stay inside the stable and munch on Timothy without getting soaked.
Annie next headed into town, to the feed and farm supply shop just outside of Shelby, not far from the scene of Hilda’s murder. She eased out of the Cenex parking lot and onto the road that led to a switchback to the major highway. A few seconds later, she spotted the silent flashers of a patrol vehicle behind her. She obediently pulled over, thinking the deputy was on his way to an accident up ahead. God knows, this was the weather for cars to slip and slide into each other.
But instead, the patrol vehicle slid in behind her. Hell’s bells! What had she done wrong? Headlights were on. Safety belt fastened. She couldn’t be tagged simply because she hadn’t signaled her way out of the parking lot, could she?