by Alison Hart
Hiding, Jas thought. Just like me.
Opening the door, she stepped inside. The horse turned his head to look at her. His ears drooped. His expression was listless. Like Pocomo Pete, he had given up.
“Hey.” Jas approached him with her hand outstretched. He didn’t move. She scratched his forehead and under his mane. On his face, he had a strip of white ending in a dot on his nose, as if someone had painted an exclamation point. She thought he was chestnut, though his coat was so dull it was hard to tell.
But his front legs were straight and strong with good bone, and his hooves were solid, even though he wasn’t shod. Bending, Jas saw old nail holes in both the front and hind hooves. It hadn’t been that long since he’d worn shoes.
Stepping back, she stared at him. What was his story? Had he once been someone’s treasured pet, like Goldie?
Stretching out his neck, the horse snuffled the front of Jas’s T-shirt. For just an instant, his eyes brightened, and Jas saw a trace of the elegant horse he had once been.
“Hey! What are you doing in that stall?” a voice barked.
Startled, Jas spun around. The cowboy stood in the doorway, his hands on his hips.
“I—I like your horse,” she stammered.
“Good.” Striding over, he slapped a number on the horse’s rump. “Then you can bid on him. ’Cause he’s going in next.”
Ten
“NEXT?” JAS YELLED. REACHING UP, SHE LACED her fingers into the horse’s coarse mane. “You can’t let him go to the killers.”
“Why not?” the cowboy said as he spat in the dirt. “At a dollar a pound, this big guy will bring me some real good money.”
“But I know what’s wrong with him,” Jas protested. “He can be cured.”
The cowboy snorted. “Cured? That’s a hoot. Like I’m going to pay some doctor big bucks to fix an old nag who’ll never amount to anything.”
Jas caught her breath when she heard his words. She couldn’t believe she had said the same thing to Chase.
“Besides, who cares what’s wrong with him? All I’m interested in is the quick money,” the cowboy said as he leaned forward. He wasn’t that old, Jas realized, probably in his early twenties. But his teeth were stained and his breath stunk. “So, little honey, I suggest if you want him, you better rustle up the money.”
She shrank away from him. “I don’t have any money.”
Throwing his head back, he let out a guffaw. “I get it, you’re one of them bleeding heart animal fanatics.” He eyed her up and down. “If you weren’t so cute, I’d kick you out pronto. But, maybe, if you really like this horse …” His voice trailed off and he winked.
Jas narrowed her eyes. She’d met a dozen jerks like him at the center. “I like your horse, not you. So, if you’ll excuse me.”
She started to push around him, but he stepped in her path and blocked her. Usually, when she confronted the big mouths at the center, they backed off. But this guy wasn’t a kid, and it scared her.
“Jas? What are you doing in there?” Jas had never been so relieved to hear a familiar voice—even if it was Chase’s.
“Excuse me,” she repeated through clenched teeth. “I have to leave.”
Grinning, the cowboy shrugged, then stepped aside. “Okay. But you don’t know what you’re missing.”
Eyes downcast, Jas rushed out the door, brushed past Chase, and headed down the aisle.
“Hey.” Chase fell into step beside her. “What were you doing in a stall with Reaves?”
“You know that creep? He’s one of your friends?” Jas demanded.
“Not even close.” He caught her arm and stopped her from walking away. “Reaves is a crook. You scared the pants off me when I saw you in there.”
Jas’s eyes brimmed with tears. “I’m sorry. He scared the pants off me, too,” she admitted as her tears spilled over. For a second, they stood in the middle of the aisle, Jas silently crying, Chase standing close with his hand on her arm as horses and people filed past.
“Oh, this is so stupid,” Jas finally mumbled, wiping her cheeks with her fingers. “It’s not like I haven’t met jerks before.”
Chase dropped his hand. “I hope you don’t mean me. Though I guess the way I’ve been acting lately, I probably qualify.” He sounded so glum that Jas choked out a laugh.
Chase frowned. “What’s so funny?”
“Nothing. Thanks for coming to my rescue,” she said lightly, as if she was joking. When she glanced at him, he was smiling at her. Embarrassed, she looked down at her tennis shoes. You can’t let yourself like this guy, she told herself. It’s too risky.
“So what were you doing in the stall with Reaves?” he asked.
“I wasn’t in the stall with him. I was with his horse.” Straightening, she looked back at the stall. The door was shut, as if the cowboy had left. Did he take the horse into the arena? “Oh, no, I hope he’s not being auctioned off already.” Without a second’s thought, Jas ran back to the stall. The big horse stood in the corner, his head still hidden in the shadows.
Jas hooked her fingers through the wire. Beside her, Chase tipped back his cap and squinted into the stall. “Okay, it’s a horse,” he acknowledged.
“A sick horse,” Jas corrected.
Chase looked down at her. “Lots of horses at the auction are sick.”
“But this horse can be fixed!”
Shaking his head in disbelief, Chase leaned one shoulder against the stall wall. “Most of them can be fixed, unless they’re really old or so far gone that the only humane thing is to put them to sleep. That one in there’s no different.”
“But he is different!” Jas protested. “He’s probably a Warmblood or Thoroughbred, and he’s got great bone and conformation. With some TLC, he’d make somebody a hunter or dressage—”
Jerking upright, Chase smacked the wooden wall with his palm. “There you go again, talking about stuff that doesn’t mean a thing. Every horse at this auction is worth saving even if it will never win a ribbon.”
Jas propped her hands on her hips. “That’s so narrow-minded! You could save that horse in there, fix him up, resell him for big bucks, and then use the money to save ten Goldies.”
“We don’t sell the horses for profit!” he argued right back. “We adopt them out and make sure they go to homes where the people love them for what they are and not because they can jump a fence or run around a barrel.”
He jerked his thumb toward the horse in the stall. “That horse is in there because someone decided that since he couldn’t perform some award-winning feat, he wasn’t valuable anymore. He’s being sold for meat because some stuck-up horse snob like you owned him!”
Blue eyes flashing, Chase yanked his cap brim low, then spun around and stormed down the aisle.
Openmouthed, Jas stared after him. You’re wrong! she wanted to shout. Only suddenly, horribly, she realized he wasn’t. Even though every inch of her loved horses, after living at High Meadows Farm for five years, where only the perfect horses were raised and kept, she had turned into another Hugh Robicheaux.
With a groan, Jas sank back against the stall wall. Chase was right. She was a horse snob.
“Jas? What’s going on?” Miss Hahn came up, a concerned look on her face. “Chase just barreled past me without saying a word.”
Jas exhaled loudly. “Nothing.”
Miss Hahn cocked one brow. “I thought you were waiting outside for us?”
“I was. But I followed this horse inside.” Turning slowly, Jas looked back into the stall. The big horse hadn’t moved. Not a switch of his tail, not a flicker of his ear.
Miss Hahn turned and looked in, too. “Nice,” she commented.
Jas twisted to face her. “You think so?”
She nodded. “I watched Reaves bring him in. Long stride, balanced. Handsome despite his condition. I often see horses like this when I come here. Lots of perfectly healthy Thoroughbreds off the track are sold to the killers simply because they weren’t fast
enough.”
“But why don’t their owners sell them to someone who will turn them into a hunter or pleasure horse?” Jas asked.
“Too much trouble. And with prices for horse meat so high, they can get just as much money here, and faster.”
“That doesn’t make sense.”
“It does if all you’re interested in is money.” Suddenly, Jas remembered conversations she’d overheard between Hugh and other horse owners.
“The mare’s a producer of quality foals. She’s a daughter of a Grand Prix winner whose offspring is selling for $250,000. Buy her, and you’re making an investment for life.”
He was exactly the kind of owner Miss Hahn was talking about. And maybe that’s why he’d killed Whirlwind. Because she was no longer valuable for some reason.
Frowning, Jas studied Miss Hahn out of the corner of her eye. The woman didn’t make sense to her. If Miss Hahn was telling the truth, she was the total opposite of horse owners like Hugh. But how could someone so different from Hugh be working with him?
“I’d love to buy every one of them,” Miss Hahn continued wistfully. “With a couple of months’ retraining, most of them could turn into a great mount for some kid who can’t afford the sky-high prices that decent horses are going for these days. Only the farm doesn’t have the facilities or someone who’s a good enough rider.”
“Why can’t you work with them? You’re a good rider,” Jas said, quickly adding, “Uh, I sort of saw those pictures on your dresser.”
“That was a long time and several injuries ago,” Miss Hahn explained, with a wry glance at her leg.
Jas bit a fingernail, the spark of an idea forming in her brain. Miss Hahn definitely had a different perspective than the high and mighty Chase. Just maybe Jas could convince her to buy …
Jas caught herself. What was she doing? She didn’t want to have anything to do with a woman who was a friend of Hugh’s. But if she didn’t do something right now, the horse in the shadows would be sold for meat.
“Well, that’s too bad you don’t have the facilities,” Jas said with an exaggerated sigh. “That big guy in there would be perfect for retraining. Especially since I know what’s wrong with him.”
“You do?”
“Yeah, I used to know this horse called Pocomo Pete. His condition was caused by a problem in the thyroid gland. The vet that treated him explained to me that the thyroid controls the cells in the body. I didn’t understand exactly, but in horses, when it doesn’t work right, it causes weight loss, depression, an orange-colored coat, and stiffness—just like that horse in there’s got.”
Miss Hahn was studying her thoughtfully. “You really do know a lot about horses, don’t you?”
“And the thing is, the condition can easily be cured,” Jas rushed on. “With a special supplement, there’s no reason that horse can’t be perfectly healthy again in a few weeks!”
For a second, Miss Hahn didn’t say anything. Jas crossed her fingers as the woman turned and examined the horse.
“Reaves will expect about nine hundred dollars for this one,” Miss Hahn said. “And we don’t have that much. But, the number on the horse’s rump shows he won’t be auctioned off until the end of the day, which gives us an advantage.”
“How?”
“By the end of the sale, the killers’ tractor-trailers are pretty full. And this horse is a big one. He’ll be hard to cram into a packed trailer.”
Miss Hahn tapped her lip as if thinking hard. “And Reaves knows that, which means if someone offered him cash now …”
“You mean you’re going to try and buy the horse?” Jas asked excitedly.
“Only on one condition.” Miss Hahn looked at Jas with a very serious expression.
“What?” asked Jas warily. She should have known. This was where Miss Hahn was going to show her true colors. This was where she was going to demand that Jas forget all about Whirlwind and leave Hugh alone.
“He’s your project. You take care of him. You retrain him.”
Jas stared at her, totally taken aback. “Sure,” she blurted.
“Then come on,” Miss Hahn said, sounding like a kid about to get into trouble. “Let’s go buy a horse.”
Eleven
SUNDAY MORNING, THE DAY AFTER THE AUCTION, Jas finally got to see her grandfather. He was sitting in a wheelchair in front of the dayroom window, his back toward her. Jas would have recognized him anywhere, even though he was thinner and shorter.
“Grandfather!” Rushing over, Jas sank to her knees and buried her face in his stomach so he wouldn’t see her tears.
His right hand pressed against her head, and she could feel his fingers tremble. “Jas-s.” He slurred her name.
Looking up, Jas could see that his mouth was crooked. One side of it was tilting up in a smile, while the other was frozen in a straight line. “I’m so glad to see you, Grandfather. I missed you so much.”
He nodded, tears filling his own eyes. “Me too.”
“How have you been?” Sitting back on her heels, Jas studied him. “Are they taking good care of you?”
He nodded, drool trickling from the side of his mouth. His hair was sticking up in gray wisps, and his eyes were cloudy. Jas wanted to cry out loud at the change in him. A month ago, even at the age of sixty-eight, he’d been strong enough to lift two bales of hay.
“I’m etter every ay,” he said, patting her shoulder with his right hand. His other hand lay by his side, the fingers curled loosely. Ducking his head, he gestured toward a straight-backed chair under the picture window. “Sit.”
When Jas went to get the chair, she looked around the dayroom. It was decorated in pastels. The sun streamed through the huge window. Games, magazines, and books were strewn on several tables. Only no one was reading or playing. One woman watched TV, her head flopped to the side, while several other patients shuffled randomly across the shiny tile floor.
“Your doctor’s going to talk to me after our visit,” Jas said, setting the chair in front of him. “Miss Hahn, my foster parent, brought me today. She’ll bring me back on Wednesday, too. I tried to see you before, but the visit had to be written into my schedule and I had to obey all these rules and …”
Raising a thin, blue-veined hand, Grandfather stroked Jas’s hair.
She caught his hand and held it to her cheek. “Oh, Grandfather, nothing is right.” Jas struggled with what to say.
“I know.” His eyes watered. “Il came to ee me.”
“What?” Jas asked, not sure what he was saying.
“Il arks.”
“Phil came to see you.”
“Ee told me everything.”
Jas pressed his palm hard against her cheek. “Did he tell you that I attacked Hugh and that I’m on probation? I can’t ever go to High Meadows again.”
“Good! I on’t ant you ever on at farm again.”
Twisting his hand, he grasped Jas’s fingers and squeezed them tightly, and she could feel the conviction of his words.
“Why don’t you want me on the farm again?”
“Ecause Hugh is …” He took a shuddering breath. “E-vil.” He pronounced the words with such effort that Jas could feel his arm shake. Grandfather knew.
“What else did Phil tell you?”
“Ee said ee thinks Hugh killed Irlwind.”
“Yes! I think he killed Whirlwind, too. But why, Grandfather? Does Phil know?”
He shook his head.
“Is he going to find out?”
He shook his head again. “Worried about is ob.”
“He doesn’t want to lose his job. I understand.” Phil had two teenage sons in college and a daughter ready to graduate from high school. Hugh paid him a good salary. If he was fired, he’d have to start all over.
“Well, I’m going to find out,” Jas stated. “I have nothing to lose. Except you.” Jas clamped both hands around his, suddenly afraid to let go.
Her grandfather swung his head violently. “Oo stay away from Hugh!”
“I won’t go near him. Promise. But if you help me, we can figure out why Hugh killed Whirlwind. You must have an idea, Grandfather.”
“Orget about Hugh. As oon as I am well, we’ll leave Stanford.” Struggling to lean forward, he drew in a ragged breath.
“All right,” Jas agreed quickly. “Now calm down. I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”
He slumped back in the wheelchair, his breathing ragged. Jas jumped up, searching anxiously for a nurse. Miss Hahn stood in the doorway.
Jas’s heart fell to her knees. How long had she been there? Had she heard what they were saying about Hugh?
“I’m not ready to go yet,” Jas said, her voice quivering with anger.
“That’s fine,” Miss Hahn said. “The doctor wants to see us both. I’ll tell her it will be a few more minutes.”
Arms rigid by her sides, Jas watched her leave. Her grandfather tugged on her hand. “Jas-s-s,” he said. “You eed to orget about Irlwind.”
“But I can’t,” Jas declared. “I can’t forget about Hugh, either. Too much has happened. I’m just now realizing what kind of person he is.”
Her grandfather made such a strange sound that Jas looked down at him. One side of his mouth was tilted almost wickedly, and she could see a trace of his crafty old self.
She grinned back at him. “I knew you’d understand. I knew you’d help. Especially since he accused you of putting the yew in the paddock. The snake.” For a second, the thought of what Hugh had done made her tremble with anger; then she turned her attention back to her grandfather. “Now we need to get you well. Is there anything I can do?”
He nodded. “Alk to Dr. Anvers.”
“Dr. Anvers? But I thought your doctor here was named Bindera?”
“It is. I ant you to alk to Anvers.”
“Dr. Danvers! You mean Hugh’s vet?” Jas’s eyes widened.
“Ee ad to ex-am-ine Irlwind after she died,” her grandfather continued, his voice insistent.
“Why would he examine Whirlwind if she was dead?” Jas asked, not understanding.
“Insurance.”
Jas’s mouth dropped open. Of course! Insurance! Why hadn’t she thought of that? Hugh insured all his horses against accidental death. “Do you think he killed her for the insurance money?”