“Isn’t this fun, Mary?” Aunt Zoe asked as she stabbed her hot dog with a long, two-pronged fork and held it over the open fire.
I had just bitten down on my hotdog bun and was more concerned about ketchup dribbling down the front of my shirt than any question my aunt might have pertaining to the stupid cookout, but I complied. “Oh, yeah. A real dilly. I wouldn’t have missed it for the world. Right up there with jumping in a Minnesota lake on a cool summer day.”
My last comment zipped right past my aunt and disappeared into oblivion. “I’m so glad Reed included us. All we’d be doing at home is watching some dumb summer reruns on TV,” now she backpedaled a few paces from the fire.
I nodded. “What about the big bowl of chocolate fudge ice cream we’d be pigging out on too?” My eyes momentarily jumped to my wrist. No watch. “Any idea how much longer before it gets dark?”
“Nope. I thought you were wearing a watch when we left home.”
A yawn slipped out. “I was. I must’ve left it in the glove compartment with my license when we climbed out of the car this morning.”
“Well, let’s hope so. You sure don’t want to put out money for something else if you don’t have to. She was obviously referring to Fiona. Her eyes quickly bounced to her right side where one’s wrist and arm connect. “If you can wait, I’ll check when my hotdog’s ready. Otherwise, just pull my sleeve back.”
“I’ll wait. So, where did Reed hightail it off to?”
“Don’t know. Didn’t say.”
“Got a phone call,” Terry swiftly interjected real casual-like as he poked his fork into the fire pit flames too. “I’m betting it was his wife. After he heard the voice on the other end, he got as snarly as a snake.”
“His wife?” In nothing flat, Aunt Zoe went from a happy-go-lucky gal swinging on a star to someone who had just had her favorite toy yanked from her hand. Her sometimes exasperating smiley face smashed to smithereens, replaced now by a sour-lemon one. Shoot. If that’s what heartbreak’s all about, I don’t need a man that bad, Lord.
I cupped my mouth with my hands and whispered condolences to my companion.
Unfortunately for my aunt, Terry wasn’t through. “Yeah, yeah. A real piece of work that wife of his.” The way he said it I felt the distaste in his mouth. “She lives in Georgia now. Dumped Griffin about two years ago.”
Since there was nothing more I could say to make my aunt feel better, I decided to make wise use of my time before darkness descended upon us all. Mix it up with the boarders while my tush still hung half-off this crappy canvas seat. I threw my attention to the guy across from me now. “So, Jim, which horse is it you own again?”
Forty-year-old, thin-as-a-rail Jim Savage, hotshot loans and acquisitions banker with a supposedly eleventh-floor IDS Tower panoramic view of downtown Minneapolis, immediately stopped shoveling food in his mouth. “Silver, the only Arabian in the stable right now.” His chest puffed up like a rooster’s. “Pretty proud of him. He’s won several competitions around town. Got another serious one coming up soon.”
Terry barged in. “That’s out of town, right?”
“Yup. South Dakota.”
“Ah, yes. Silver’s the chestnut rabicano. I groomed him this afternoon. Pleasant fella. Likes attention.” Jim smiled proudly upon hearing my comment. “What types of competitions do you enter him in?” The man’s smile was instantly replaced with a questioning frown.
“Mary’s new here, Jim,” Terry shared as he yanked his fork out of the fire and displayed his hotdogs. They looked like soft tar. Hope he eats them, I thought, because nobody else will. “Haven’t had a chance to fill her in on anything other than caring for the horses so far.”
Jim took a slow sip of beer from his can and then set it down on the ground. “Ah, that explains it. Arabian Hunter. Have you ever attended one of those shows, Mary?”
I shook my head. “Afraid not.”
“You should. You’d enjoy it.”
No, I wouldn’t. No, I wouldn’t. I swiftly rewound events that had occurred previous to today until I found the part where I examined Reed’s fence and noticed its height. “I understand a horse in an Arabian Hunter show would be expected to jump around three feet?”
“Yup. And Silver does a darn good job of it.” I bet. “Terry works with him whenever he can during the week and then on weekends I take him over to the nearby riding arena.”
Interesting tidbit. Reed had neglected to fill me in on Terry’s horse training background. I turned now to the young woman, mid-twenties with dishwater-blonde hair bound in a ponytail and a bod about the size of mine, stationed on the other side of Aunt Zoe. She was stirring her food around and around on her paper plate. Her body was there, but her mind wasn’t. What was racing through her mind, I wondered? “Hey, there, Sally.”
“What? Oh, hi.” She stopped playing with her food.
“Nice evening for a cookout, huh?”
“Yeah. I haven’t been able to make many of these events Mr. Griffin holds for us. Too busy with home life and caring for Cinnamon.”
Aunt Zoe finally got some spunk back in her, albeit a flicker. “Cinnamon? Is that the name of your horse?”
“Yes.”
That’s why she’s so distracted, I thought. “She’s the Tennessee Walker with the hoof problem, isn’t she?”
“Ah huh.”
“I haven’t worked with her yet.”
Sally Sullivan tossed her long ponytail over her broad shoulder so it was behind her. “We’re hoping it’s not laminitis.”
Aunt Zoe nudged my elbow. “What’s laminitis, Mary?”
“Some kind of inflammation of the hoof, I think.”
“Oh, dear. What brings it on?”
I shrugged my sore shoulders.
The young woman quickly filled us in. “Overeating of grain usually.”
My aunt remained silent for a second and then said, “Is that type of inflammation pretty serious, Sally?”
The woman being questioned drew her hand along the length of her neck. “Yup. The progression of the disease can actually cause perforation of the sole.”
“From what I’ve heard,” I offered in a caring tone, “the inflammation’s just in one of Cinnamon’s hooves so far, isn’t it?”
Sally shuffled her booted feet back and forth in the dirt. “That’s right. Terry’s been real good about keeping me abreast of Cinnamon’s problem. I would’ve been a basket case without him.”
I dropped my eyes to the ground. “Good thing Terry’s working for Reed then, huh?”
“Yeah. I heard he was offered a better paying job with a neighbor bordering Reed’s property but turned it down.”
Since Terry had moved on after my discussion with Jim, I figured it was safe to ask who made the offer. Could’ve been Clint. “Do you know which neighbor?”
“Nope, Terry never said.”
“Is Cinnamon the first horse you have ever owned?” Aunt Zoe inquired.
“No. I kept a quarter horse at my uncle’s ranch in Wyoming when I worked there summers. You know, that’s what so strange.”
“What is?” I queried.
“All the years my uncle’s boarded horses not one of them ever got laminitis.”
My aunt placed another raw hotdog on the cooking fork now. “His workers must be very vigilant about what the horses eat.”
“Extremely.”
“Well, we wish you all the best,” I said.
“Yes,” Aunt Zoe added, “You’re much too young to worry about such dreadful things.”
Sally leaned closer to us now as if she was going to reveal a deep dark secret. “That’s just the half of it. My mother requires around-the-clock help too. She’s dying of cancer.”
At that unexpected disclosure, my roommate immediatel
y set a hand on Sally’s shoulder. “Oh, I’m so sorry.”
“Thanks.”
With a few crumbs of new info safely stashed in my brain, I left Aunt Zoe with Sally and strolled over to the trash can to toss my paper plate and napkin. Two other boarders were conversing near there. It sounded like they were discussing the latest news regarding another horse.
“It freaked me out George,” the older woman said as she ground her cigarette into the earth with the heel of her boot. I hadn’t been introduced to her or her companion yet. “Shooting a three-year-old horse and leaving him for dead. Who could be so cruel?”
The man in his mid-twenties was still puffing on his cigarette. “Happened in Stillwater, right?”
The woman threw her arms up in the air, which made her slender torso even more slender. “Yes. Less than thirty minutes from here. Poor family. The news reporter said they were on vacation at the time. I just hope they catch whoever it is and string ’em up from the rafters.”
“You and me both, Nat,” the man responded.
Nat produced a pack of cigarettes from her shirt pocket and jiggled one loose. “Dammit. Why are so many horses being purposely injured?”
That’s what I’d like to know too, I thought. Perhaps there’s more to Reed’s horses showing up on Clint’s property than one would suspect.
“This makes the fifth incident.”
“I know.” She flipped her waist-length salt-and-peppered hair over her shoulders. “My mind still becomes numb when I think of the last two.”
George shook his thick, caramel-colored head. “Horrible deaths. One doesn’t forget that. The show horse from Hastings had his throat slashed . . .”
“Yes. And the two-year-old filly from Bloomington had been given penicillin even though she wasn’t ill. Tell me if I’m being silly, George, but should I be the least bit concerned about how secure our horses are out here?”
He took the woman’s free hand in his. “You’re not being silly. As a matter of fact, as soon as the first horse incident occurred, I called Reed and spoke with him regarding the security system he has. He assured me that every precaution has been taken to protect our horses.”
The woman referred to as Nat pulled her hand free of George’s grip now. “Well, let’s hope so. Horse insurance is sky high.”
*****
The evening sky fully cloaked us in its royal mantle of darkness a little after ten. With it came Minnesota’s most beloved summer insect, the mosquito. If you want to make an early night of it, just drop a parachute of those blood sucking varmints on an unsuspecting crowd. The exodus of guests from Reed Griffin’s cookout was swift to say the least. I was ecstatic. It was time to do what I wanted to do all day.
Since Aunt Zoe’s and my names weren’t included on the roster for cleanup duties, we strolled back to the parking lot with the rest of the departing guests and said our good nights. Once we were seated in the Topaz, I revved up the engine, set the air conditioning on high and positioned my hands on the steering wheel, making our fake departure as realistic as possible for all those concerned.
“Mary, did you ever get a chance to ask Reed if he thought any of the horses he’s got on his property were smart enough to open and close gates?”
“Nope. The one and only time I had to question him was when we were looking at the kittens, and I completely forgot.”
Aunt Zoe yawned. “That’s too bad. Maybe if you had, we wouldn’t be pulling an all-nighter.”
“Perhaps. Who knows.”
“So, how long do you plan to have us wait before we hit the back forty?”
Even though my aunt expected a reply from me, I didn’t turn towards the sound of her voice to give it. My eyes remained glued to the rear window where I could see the procession of cars as they slowly took their leave of the grounds. “You’re not going anywhere. You’re staying put.”
“What?”
“I said you’re staying in the car.”
“But . . . but I thought I was a part of this sleuthing team.”
Frustrated, I finally gave up on the cars and turned to my aunt. “You are,” now I leaned across her, dug in the glove compartment and pulled out a pair of walkie-talkies. They were cheap ones I had absconded from a naughty second-grader who never claimed them at the end of the school year. His parents probably replaced them long ago. I thought I’d pass them on to one of my siblings’ kids, but I hadn’t seen any of them yet. I shoved one set into my aunt’s hands and demonstrated how to use it. The process was fairly simple. “Now, remember, if either of us is in trouble, we’re to say ‘Yankee Doodle.’ Got that?”
My aunt nodded her noodle. “Got it. Yankee Doodle.”
By the time the walkie-talkie situation was squared away, all the cars had vanished from the parking lot. There was nothing else to do now but open the windows and turn the engine off. “Pretty quiet out there.”
“Dark and spooky too. Reminds me of the many evening hunting safaris Edward and I went on in South Africa. All you could hear were the creatures of the night.”
I slid out the door as quietly as possible now, taking only a walkie-talkie and the billy club I discovered under Matt’s seat just the other day. “Well, let’s hope the only creature I’ll be hearing is an owl.”
“Me too,” Aunt Zoe said.
Not wanting to be seen by Terry or any other worker who may still be hanging around, I hugged the property line as best I could while making my way to the exact spot where the horses had previously disappeared. When Reed first showed me the lay of his land by truck, I had set no timetable to begin sleuthing, but at least I was wise enough to leave a marker of sorts for myself. Now, I was thankful I had done so. I was also thankful for the dark clothes I was wearing. The moon was far enough into its waning mode that I shouldn’t have to worry about the white-washed fence giving me away.
After a bit of stumbling here and there on rocks that had recently made their way to the surface, I finally reached my destination and let Aunt Zoe know the coast was clear. “Okey, dokey. Ten-four.”
“This is Big Bad Mama. Ten-four back at you.”
Big Bad Mama? Aunt Zoe must’ve had one too many beers, or did she even have any? I shook my head to clear the cobwebs. Darned if I could recall. It had been too long a day. I left the security of the fence now and moved behind a clump of aged oak trees I thought offered the best hideout possible and hunkered down for the duration. Hopefully, the wait wouldn’t be too long.
After squatting among the oaks for roughly an hour, I began to feel like I had been resting on my haunches for several days. My legs were cramping up on me, and my ankles burned like crazy. I thought about standing to relieve my lower extremities of their undo stress, but just as I did so, the stillness of the night was shattered by the not too distant barking of dogs. Some neighboring property must’ve let them out for the night. Since I was only familiar with one mixed-mutt’s bark, Gracie’s, I wasn’t able to discern whether the dogs were part of the attack-and-ask-questions-later variety or simply the teeny Chihuahua-type. I guess it didn’t matter as long as they weren’t sent to hunt me down.
A few minutes later, the dog barking ceased and was replaced by human voices. Unfortunately, they weren’t floating towards me from a distance. Holy cow. “Big Mama, do you read me?” No response. “Big Mama, come in.” Nothing. I gave it one more shot. “Big Mama, if you’re out there, reply.” Zoned out apparently. So much for letting Aunt Zoe know something’s amiss. Probably dreaming about her last safari adventure.
“We’re almost there,” a young adolescent voice said. Later, if someone were to ask me to recall whether the voice belonged to a boy or girl, I’d have to say it most definitely belonged to a boy going through puberty.
“I know that,” the hard toned mature male voice said. “It doesn’t look like anyone’s been this way since we
were last here.”
“That’s a good thing, right?”
“Right. Come on, Big Fella. Only a couple more steps. That’s it. You’re almost there. Whoa!”
“I still don’t understand why we need the darn horse,” the younger voice said.
“Cuz he’s perfect for what we need done. Now, stop talking and just direct the flashlight at the fence like you did the last time.”
The last time. Yippy. I’ve got those horsenappers right where I want ’em. Poor Aunt Zoe. She’s missing all the action. The flashlight popped on, and I swiftly twisted my head in the direction of the light, but before I could make anything out, I was whacked on the head with something extremely hard. As I fell to the ground, I sputtered, “Yankee Doodle.”
Chapter 20
At the Crack of Dawn
Mary, are you all right?” Aunt Zoe asked with serious concern.
I could barely manage to lift my head off the pillow, let alone answer her. My poor head ached so bad it felt like a five-ton truck had just run over it. “Just give me a 2 Ginger Whiskey straight up, and I’ll tell you in a couple hours,” I said, trying to make a joke.
“Always the silly one even when you’re hurting.” My aunt leaned over, brushed my bangs aside and kissed me on the forehead. “I’m so glad we found you. When the sun popped up and you still hadn’t come back yet, I thought the worst.” Her voice grew shriller. “I just don’t understand. Why didn’t you say ‘Yankee Doodle’? I waited all night to hear those two little words.”
My speech was slurred as was my thought process. “I . . . I tried to contact you.”
“You did?”
“Ah huh. But you didn’t respond.”
“Oh, dear. I must’ve dozed off.”
I clutched her hand. “It’s okay. I don’t blame you. I was pretty tired too.”
Death at the Bar X Ranch Page 14