My aunt tapped her red-booted foot. “It doesn’t make sense, does it? Remember the day you and I worked here, and how Terry just about bored us to death when he stuffed Reed’s head with all that ranch info during lunch?”
I released a laugh. “How can I forget? You were so looking forward to having a nice, relaxing luncheon with Reed, and then, pow, Terry took over the show. I can still see your eyes rolling back in their sockets.”
“I was so disgusted with the man. Well, I think I’d better go check on Reed. Where are you going next?”
“I thought I’d go in the house first and take the recorder off my vest. No reason to wear that extra weight if I don’t have to, and then I’m going to take another look at Cinnamon and Angel’s stalls just in case I missed anything.”
“Mary,” Aunt Zoe said as she reached out and grasped my arm for a second, “please promise me you’ll be careful.”
“I swear, Auntie.”
Once I made sure the recorder was safely tucked away in my purse and Aunt Zoe knew where it was stashed, I meandered towards the barn which was a good thirty feet from the house. Too bad I didn’t know I’d hit a bump in the road even before I entered the barn.
At approximately two feet from my destination, Terry, one of the few people I had hoped to avoid, quietly approached from behind, catching me totally off guard. “Hey, where are you headed, cowgirl?”
I stopped dead in my tracks. “Terry, you scared me. I had no idea anyone was behind me.”
“Sorry. The garbage bags were full, and I thought I should drop them in the dumpster.”
“No need to apologize. With all the people wandering around here today, I should’ve expected someone to surprise me. Now, what were you trying to ask me?”
“Where are you going?”
“Oh? To spend time with Cinnamon before she gets sold.”
We reached the dumpster now, and Terry tossed his two bags in. “You know, Missy, you sure have gotten a lot braver around here since you filled in for Jackson.”
I took his comment as a compliment and thanked him. Then without thought to my client’s wanting to personally rake this man over the coals, I went for the jugular. “Why did you tell Sally Cinnamon had laminitis, but you never shared that fact with the vet or Reed?”
“What? They didn’t know?” He balled his hands into fists. I stepped back thinking he might take a swing at me. “Darn it. I have to do everything around here. Jackson was supposed to tell them. He told me he would right after he shared the news with me.”
The fear I had of this man a moment ago was rapidly swept under the rug. “Are you saying Jackson’s the one who discovered Cinnamon had laminitis?”
“That’s right. Look, I’ve worked around horses here and there, but there’s no way my experiences will ever match Jackson’s. He has farrier experience. I don’t. So, when he tells me one of the horses has health issues, I’m not about to question him.”
The roads kept winding back to Jackson, but my gut told me there was still someone working behind the scenes. Who was it? Nat? Clint? Reed’s wife? I hadn’t heard back yet from the University of Minnesota Equine Center regarding the picture I faxed them of the metal object, but what the heck, as long as Terry was right here and no one else was around I might as well ask him what he thought it is. I whipped the piece of metal out of my jeans side pocket.
“Terry, have you used this before?”
His scruffy jaw dropped. “Where did you get that?”
Whew. I certainly didn’t expect that kind of reaction from him. Aunt Zoe’s warning flashed through my head again. Hopefully, I’m not going to regret the can of worms I just opened. You’re okay, Mary. You’re out in the open, and there are still plenty of people milling around. “I found it. I don’t remember where,” I lied.
“Oh, God, don’t tell Reed.” He took his cheap straw cowboy hat off now and twisted it in his hands. “The man’s got enough on his plate with Sally’s and Angel’s death and his ex-wife bullying him.”
Just then my cell phone binged. Someone had texted me. I pulled the phone from my other front pocket and began to read the message from the U of M as it floated across the screen. The timing couldn’t have been more perfect. According to the message, the foreign object I held in my hand had been used five years ago on Run Great, a thoroughbred, owned by a rich Polish gent. The horse was disqualified at the Grand National in England after it was discovered that a hidden charging device had been inserted in one of his hindquarters. Since then, the illegal device had been pulled from the market.
Armed with extremely important information now, I slipped my phone back where it had been and focused my attention once again on the man with the rusty hair. “Why did you use this metal device on those three horses retrieved from Clint Russell’s yard? Are you and Russell running a scam, or were you just trying to prove something to someone? Come on, Terry, which is it?”
“Just tell me this,” he grunted. “Are you a private eye?”
“Do I look like a PI?”
“Not really.”
“I’m just an unemployed teacher,” I hurriedly explained, “but Reed’s been good to me, and I don’t want to see him get screwed.”
Terry glanced over his shoulder now. “Well, you don’t have to worry. I’m not screwing anybody, not even his wife.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Stay here awhile longer, and you’ll figure it out.”
“You still didn’t answer my question concerning the horses.”
“All right. All right. Here’s the scoop, Miss Goodie Two Shoes. I don’t know how you got ahold of that charging device, but I swear I never sent any horses over Clint’s fence with it. I only use it when training horses to jump. That’s it.” He glanced at his watch now. “I gotta get going. Somebody might want another hotdog or hamburger.”
“Terry, how hard would it be for someone to obtain this device?”
He crossed his arms and thought for a moment. “I purchased mine before it was pulled off the market, but I suppose anyone with a police record wouldn’t have trouble getting one.” Now he spun on his heels and started back towards the grills.
“Wait! There’s something more you need to know. Reed’s out for blood, and I’d hate to see you get fired. I suggest you go up to the house first and tell him what you told me about Cinnamon’s condition and your thoughts on the metal device I found. He needs to hear it from your lips as soon as possible.”
“If you’re not a PI, why are you getting so involved in ranch matters?” he quizzed, “and don’t feed me that crap it’s because he gave you a job, again.”
I placed my hand on my hip like a teacher or a mother does when being confronted by a little one. “Please, just do as I ask. I’ll explain later.”
Chapter 47
If Terry wasn’t the one using the metal device on the horses Clint complained about, it had to be Jackson. Of course, Doc Taylor had easy access to the horses too, and his excuse about dropping the metal device, I first handed him the other day, did seem a wee bit lame. Then again, what did he have to gain from messing with the horses, unless he’s got a thing going with my client’s soon-to-be ex-wife? That would put a different spin on the picture. Come to think of it, Doc did say he saw Reed’s wife last year. Maybe she’s been using him to help her squeeze every last penny out of Reed and cause chaos to boot. Men have been known to do some pretty crazy things for the fairer sex. The only thing is I had a feeling Doc doesn’t kill for love. Could it be he was Jackson’s partner in crime?
My mind switched back to the guy I filled in for now as I thought of another scenario. If Jackson was hooked up with Reed’s wife, there might be a reason he’d intentionally lie about a horse having laminitis.
Finding no answers to any of my questions, I pulled back the barn door now and
went inside. Nothing had changed. Strong smells still permeated the air. I hesitated a moment. Did I really want to check out two horse stalls tonight? There wasn’t that much light in here. Stop being such a chicken. Everyone’s busy visiting. No one’s going to come in here, especially Jackson. He’s long gone. Angel’s stall gate was open, so I started there.
The stall floor was bare. Obviously, it made sense not to throw down any sawdust until another horse occupied the twelve-by-twelve-foot area, but it still seemed strange to see where I was walking. “Why would a healthy horse die so suddenly?” I muttered to myself. “What could have happened?” I slowly walked from one section of the stall to the next looking for an answer.
When I reached the corner where the feed holder was mounted, I discovered whoever cleaned up had forgotten to empty the remaining remnants of Angel’s last meal. I wonder if anyone thought to have this food tested. The day I worked with Terry he told me there were many toxic plants and such that can invade a pasture causing horses to get brain disorders and liver damage: maple leaves, chokecherries, yews and acorns. And, recently I came across a newspaper clipping detailing the poisoning and death of fifteen bucking horses from gopher pellets. I tugged a plastic gallon baggie I’d thought to bring along out of my jean pocket. Aunt Zoe thought it was a silly idea at the time, even after I explained we’d need to bring leftovers home from the party. With bare cupboards at home, did she think tonight’s late snack would magically appear? I opened the gallon bag and quickly swept some of Angel’s remaining food into it with my free hand. When I was finished, I stuffed the half-filled baggie between my shirt and my jeans and then traipsed over to Cinnamon’s stall.
As soon as Cinnamon heard me coming she poked her head over her stall gate. “I brought you a treat,” I said in a melodic voice. The horse immediately dropped her head down and began sniffing the air. I stuck my hand in my shirt pocket now and pulled out a few carrots for her. “Here you go, girl.”
“Ain’t that sweet,” a rough baritone voice said at the other end of the barn.
I glanced in the direction the voice came from, but I couldn’t make out who it was. “Who’s there?” I asked as my knees knocked together.
The man laughed. “Oh, come on. Don’t tell me you don’t know who I am? You know everything that’s going on at this ranch. Reed hired you to spy on us.”
Oh, crap. It’s Jackson. Where did he come from? I pressed my back up against Cinnamon’s wood stall now, trying to figure out how I was going to get myself out of this jam. I had no mace or anything else I could defend myself with. “Look, Jackson. Reed never hired me to spy on anyone. Why don’t you stop hiding and we’ll talk.”
“Sure, sweet cakes, anything you say,” now he sauntered towards me. “You’ve been a busy little gal today, taking all those pictures and nosing around in Angel’s stall. Oh, yeah, and let’s not forget the sneaky way you tape-recorded all of us.”
Shoot! I thought I had been so careful. I shook my head. “I wasn’t tape-recording anyone.”
Jackson grabbed the back of my vest now and pulled it up, “Oh, no. What’s thi—?”
I was sweating bullets, but for once I was thankful I had done something smart. What are you looking for?”
“You know damn well what I’m looking for,” the man grunted. “Where did you stash it?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Jackson. Why are you so upset with me?”
He twisted my arm and then pinned me against Cinnamon’s stall. “Things were going fine until you showed up. Now, everything’s falling apart.” He ran a sweaty hand through my hair. “Why couldn’t you mind your own business? What are you? A cop? A PI?” I didn’t answer. “Never mind. I know how to take care of people like you.”
That’s what I was afraid of. When Jackson finally dropped his hand from my hair, I saw the scratch marks. They were identical to Sally’s. Fear crept through me now, but I spoke out anyway. “Are you feeling a bit under the weather, Jackson?”
“Why?”
“Well, when I saw you earlier, you looked like someone had just walked over your grave.”
“Is that so?”
“Yeah. Did you know it only takes seven days for cat scratch fever to make you feel really sick?”
Jackson growled. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“Sally’s hands and yours look the same. I’m thinking you tossed one of Mini’s kittens at Sally to distract her, making it easier to kill her.”
The man ran his hand across his forehead now. “I’ve never felt better.”
“Glad to hear it,” I said as I tried to squeeze out of his control, “but if cat scratch fever isn’t taken care of properly you could die.”
“Stop with your mumbo jumbo,” he shouted in my ear. “Your scare tactics aren’t working. You’re the one who should be shaking in your boots.”
I figured since I was already shaking internally, I might as well go full throttle. “Why, because you killed Sally and made it look like Cinnamon kicked her in the head?”
“That little mouse had to be stopped,” he blurted out. “She caught me inserting a device on Cinnamon and threatened to have me fired. I wasn’t harming her horse. I was just proving to my partner how well horses could jump if they were encouraged a bit.”
I twisted some more, but it didn’t help. “Your partner wouldn’t happen to be Reed’s soon-to-be ex-wife, would it?”
Jackson’s voice spiked. “I’m not filling in any blanks for you, Missy. Now, shut your trap.”
Too bad he didn’t know me very well. When someone tries to silence me, I keep plugging away. “You got rid of Angel to increase your odds of winning a horse race, didn’t you? Well, it’s not going to work. It’s illegal to use that metal device of yours. By the way, which of Reed’s horses were you planning on using?”
Jackson jerked me away from Cinnamon’s gate now and wrapped his arm tightly around my neck. “Shut up and move.” I did as he requested since I didn’t have any other options. Once I was stationed where he wanted me to be, he opened Cinnamon’s door.
I squirmed. “What are you doing?”
“Weren’t you listening?”
He hadn’t threatened me with a gun or a knife. Maybe if I had a chance, I could kick him in the you-know-where and tear out of here. Unfortunately, the moment never came. Jackson never left himself open for any fight on my part. He dragged me into the stall, tossed me on Cinnamon’s back and then forced me to put my hands behind myself so he could bind them together. I wanted to scream, but I remembered Terry’s warning of how that would drive the horses crazy, and I didn’t need that right now. “You don’t want to do this, Jackson. Please, I beg you take me off this horse.”
“No can do. You know too much.”
My stomach turned over and over. I was becoming nauseous. The one thing I was afraid of was finally coming true. I never wanted to be on another horse as long as I lived, and I was sitting on a saddle on the back of a sixteen-hand horse with no way to control her. “Don’t do this, Jackson. You’ll regret it.”
“I don’t think so.” Now, he led Cinnamon and me out of the stall, opened the barn door, swatted the horse on the butt with a crop and yelled, “Trot, Cinnamon.”
How was I going to stay on the horse with no hands? The only thing that came to mind was to squeeze my knees as fiercely against the horse’s sides as possible. Little did I know that was the signal for Cinnamon to fly off deep into the woods at forty miles per hour.
Chapter 48
Apparently, the metal charging device had been inserted in Cinnamon more than once because as soon as we reached the fenced area where the horses had been known to jump over, Cinnamon took one huge leap and landed in the fake Clint Russell’s pasture and kept on going. I, on the other hand, lay crumpled on the ground waiting for some hero from the Old West to come and
rescue this damsel in distress. But, who knew I was here?
As minutes seemed to rapidly tick by and the pain in my arms and legs began to kick in, I wondered if my hellish nightmare would ever end. Dear God, just send someone. I’m not fussy who it is.
Five minutes later I heard a lone horse galloping towards me. Could it be Cinnamon? I glanced over my shoulder. Nope. Cinnamon was reddish-brown. This horse was black and white, and someone was riding it. Maybe it was Clint’s caretaker. Oh, no! What if it was Clint? I don’t want him to see me this way. I was a mess. Save your complaining, Mary. You just asked for help, and you’re getting it.
“Whoa, Charley. Whoa.” The horse stopped, and the rider slid off. “I rounded up your horse and tied her to a tree,” Clint said as he drew near. “How’s your neck feel, Mary?”
“All right, I guess.”
“How about the other parts of your body?” he asked as he stooped down next to me now.
“I feel like crap. Maybe, if you untie my hands, I’d feel a little better.”
Clint whipped a jackknife out of his back pant pocket and quickly sawed through the rope. “You know, someone needs to show you the proper dismount technique. If you want to get off a horse, you just get it to stop and slide off.”
“Thanks. I’ll remember that,” I said as I accidently jerked my body and the knife grazed my skin. “Ouch. Be careful. I’m not a pin cushion.”
“Sorry.”
The rope finally fell away, and I rubbed my sore wrists. One ordeal over with, I thought as I said a silent prayer, but I was wrong. I tried to stand and failed miserably. Shoot!
“We’ve got to stop meeting like this,” Clint joked as he bent over and carefully scooped me off the ground.
“This is the third time you’ve rescued me. Thanks.” I put my arms around his neck. It felt good. “My legs feel so rubbery. There’s no way I could have gotten up on my own.”
Death at the Bar X Ranch Page 26