by Tara Meyers
“Well, according to her, you claimed the horse was responsible, and you drugged him to prove a false point. Then, when the autopsy revealed you were wrong, you went back out to her place and caused a scene all while trying to charge more for your services. But Ember,” she rushed to add, her face a mask of concern, “while I want you to be aware of what people are saying, you also have to take it for what it is. Mrs. Jenkins is a known gossip, and I’m sure Bonnie wouldn’t say all that. I doubt anyone would even be speculating if it weren’t for you being the new vet. Especially with Doc Bernie’s … past.”
“The problem is that it really doesn’t matter if she did say it,” Ember replied, grimacing. “I know how rumors work. I grew up here, remember?” Taking a big bite of the doughnut, Ember tried to be reasonable and put it in perspective. “So long as this Mrs. Jenkins doesn’t go out of her way to spread it, I might be able to still do some damage control.”
“Umm,” Mel muttered.
“How many?”
“Just one other person,” Mel confessed. “Mrs. Jenkin’s husband’s boss’s wife. They play cards on Friday nights,” she added, as if it needed explanation.
Hanging her head, Ember took a deep breath. Welcome back to the dark side of small town life, she thought. “It’s okay,” she said firmly, looking back up at Mel. “Because one thing I’ve learned is that eventually the truth is revealed. The lab work and autopsy will be done in a few days, and hopefully Sheriff Walker will make some headway in finding whoever did this, if it is, in fact, a murder. I’ll just have to work a little harder to repair my reputation. But I’m not going to validate any of those lies by defending myself to anyone.”
Nodding in agreement, Mel glanced once more at the tourists and then lowered her voice further. “If it makes you feel any better, a whole lot more people are talking about the murder than they are about you and the horse,” she whispered. “This is first time someone’s been killed in Sanctuary in thirty years.”
“We still don’t know for sure how he died,” Ember corrected. “Even though it would likely mean I’d take the brunt of even more scrutiny, I hope I’m wrong about the wound. That it’s all just a tragic accident, and everyone can move on.”
A jingling announced another customer before Ember could ask what Mel had meant by the reference to Doctor Bernie’s past. Looking automatically toward the sound, Ember was greeted by another familiar face. One she hadn’t seen in ten years.
“Mrs. Gomez!” she called out to her old high school English teacher.
“That’s Mayor Gomez now,” Mel corrected.
Mayor Gomez stared at Ember for a full five seconds before she broke out in a smile. “Ember Burns?” she asked, although it was obvious she recognized her. “I don’t suppose you’ve changed much since I saw you last, but it has been quite some time!” Moving forward, the older woman reached out and grasped Ember’s hand in a warm handshake.
Ember had fond memories of her teacher. Her senior year had some trying moments, and Mrs. Elly Gomez was a big supporter. She’d helped Ember complete her scholarship application and had written a glowing letter of recommendation.
“It’s so good to see you!” Giving her hand an extra squeeze before letting go, Ember took in the changes the past years had made. While her dark hair was streaked with grey and the lines around her eyes were deeper, Mrs. Gomez had the same sparkling brown eyes and contagious smile. She was a small woman, barely coming past Ember’s chin, but her personality was huge. It was no surprise that she’d managed to become the mayor of Sanctuary.
“I heard that Bernie’s practice was finally purchased, but I didn’t realize it was you until I talked with the sheriff this morning,” Mayor Gomez explained, nodding at Mel to confirm she wanted her usual coffee. “I’m so sorry to hear of your mom’s passing.”
“Thank you,” Ember replied, still unsure how to respond to people about it. Changing the subject was her favorite approach. “I have to say that I’m glad to be home. Although things have sure started out a bit rough,” she added, figuring she’d get to the point first. It was obvious the mayor wanted to discuss it, since she already stated she’d talked to Walker about her.
“Poor Tom,” Mayor Gomez choked out. Covering her mouth with a hand, she turned away for a moment to gather herself.
Mel and Ember glanced at each other, and Mel shrugged, also at a loss over the emotional response. Ember felt guilty yet again. Perhaps she shouldn’t have brought it up.
When she turned back, the mayor dabbed at her eyes and tried to smile. “I’m sorry, it’s just that I had both Tom and his wife, Vanessa, as students. I’ve kept in contact with them over the years, and recently Tom helped me out with my horse. It was such a shock to find out about his … passing, and I only just found out this morning that it might have been a homicide.”
Ember was relieved to hear her say “might,” and that she was speaking from information the sheriff gave her rather than rumors. “There’s no need to apologize,” she replied, placing a consoling hand on her shoulder. “We’ll have more answers in a few days. It may still have been nothing more than an accident.”
“I do hope you’re right,” Mayor Gomez answered while taking her finished drink from Mel. “There is, of course, never a good time for a tragedy such as this, but with the rodeo, centennial, and Fourth of July coming up, our town can’t afford any bad publicity. I know that must sound horrible,” she rushed to add when she saw the look on Ember’s face, “but as the mayor, I also have to take these things into consideration. I’ll be working damage control this week,” she explained, glancing at the tourists now trying on sweatshirts, even though it would be over eighty that day. “The businesses of Sanctuary rely on the revenue from these events to carry them through the winter. It’s part of my job to ensure the success of our summer season. Part of the appeal of our area is the lack of any violent crime, so I pray we can put poor Tom to rest without any fanfare, for all of our sakes.”
Ember wasn’t sure if the mayor meant it that way, but she looked pointedly at her when she said the last bit, giving the impression that Ember was a special part of the group needing a break. Shifting uncomfortably, she didn’t know how to respond.
“Do you know what would be perfect?” the mayor chimed.
Surprised at her change in demeanor, Ember looked expectantly at Mayor Gomez. “No. What?”
“The parade committee is still in need of an Alumni Rodeo Queen!”
A deep flush spread rapidly across Ember’s face. That was the last thing she expected to hear. Acutely aware of Mel’s inquiring gaze, she avoided looking at her. “Oh, Mrs.—I mean, Mayor Gomez, I couldn’t,” Ember stuttered.
“But you have to!” she insisted, going so far as to take Ember’s hand back in her own. “Our Rodeo Queen 2010 ended up moving this Spring, so we’ve been attempting to find a replacement ever since. You were 2008, right?”
Finally risking a glance at Mel, Ember was rewarded with a wide, mocking grin. “You were Miss Rodeo Queen 2008?”
Shaking her head miserably in response, Ember tried to think of a way—any way—to get out of it. “No. It was 2007.”
The summer before her senior year, Ember competed in her last-ever barrel racing event at the famous Sanctuary Rodeo. She did well to place third in her class, considering the level of competitors the meet drew. The rodeo queen was selected by votes gathered locally in advance of the final Fourth-of-July parade. To be eligible, you had to be in a certain age range, a resident of Sanctuary, and entered in a qualifying event.
Ember didn’t win the votes that year. Melissa Smart did. However, Melissa broke her leg during her race and was unable to ride in the parade, so the honors were transferred to the runner-up: Abigail Johnson. The night of the parade, Abigail must have eaten some bad fair food because she was found bent over a toilet fifteen-minutes before parade start time.
That was how the title of Miss Sanctuary Rodeo Queen 2007 was bestowed upon Ember Burns. By default. Ther
e simply weren’t any other eligible girls left. She thought of the whole thing as a joke and never wore the iconic sash again after the embarrassing ride in the parade, but it was still hanging in her old room where her mother had kept it proudly displayed.
“Oh, that’s right!” Mayor Gomez retorted, waving a hand. “2007. You must say yes, Ember! You can even ride my paint, if you’d like. She’s a gentle horse.”
“It’d be a great way to advertise the new clinic,” Mel added. “You could have a banner made to drape on the horse.”
Ember hung her head even further. It was a brilliant idea, and she didn’t see any way out of it now. She felt a certain level of obligation to help, even though none of the mess with Tom and Butterscotch was actually her fault.
“Okay. Sure. I’d be happy to be your alumni in the parade,” Ember muttered, unable to say the words “rodeo queen” out loud.
NINE
Ember nearly ran from the coffee shop, eager to retreat to her clinic and get lost in the manual labor of cleaning and sorting. She was still determined to keep a positive attitude.
“Who are you running from? And I can’t tell if you’re on the verge of laughter or tears.”
Skidding to a stop, Ember discovered her Aunt Becky leaning against the front of her SUV. She hadn’t even noticed the vehicle. Laughing, Ember balanced the doughnut on top of her coffee cup while digging the keys out of her back pocket.
“Both.”
Following her inside without asking for an explanation, Becky knelt to give Daenerys a hug. “She’s already graduated to free-reign of the place?” she asked, looking up at Ember.
“On a trial basis,” Ember confirmed. “She’s obviously a well-trained and behaved dog. Well, other than chasing horses and lending an interesting chapter to the story of my demise as a vet in the town of Sanctuary.”
Standing, the grin faded from Becky’s face. “So, you’ve heard.”
“What Mrs. so-and-so said to someone else about what Bonnie said? Yeah. I heard.” Grinning in spite of her tone, Ember set her things down and started opening a large box that contained a new file cabinet. “I plan on doing my best to give Butterscotch a clean bill of health, whether Bonnie wants my help or not. That’s about all I can do, other than work to establish myself as a credible veterinarian. Which reminds me. Two people have now made reference to some sort of ‘scandal’ involving Doctor Bernie. Care to fill me in?”
Becky hesitated, looking down at her hands in a very uncharacteristic manner.
“Becky?” Ember pushed, her mild curiosity growing to one bordering on concern.
“Just before Christmas last year,” Becky began without preamble, “Doc made a house call out at the Ellsworth Stables. You ever been out there?”
“No,” Ember stated. “Mr. Ellsworth’s daughter was a few years older than me and in a different ‘class’ of the elite. I may have competed against her once in barrel racing, but I never got an invite out to the ranch. Is it still a big deal around here?”
Nodding, Becky broke off a section of the forgotten doughnut and took a bite before continuing. “They’ve always been one of the wealthiest families in the county for as long as I can remember. Old blood, ya know? The roots run deep with the Ellsworths. High-class horse boarding, training, breeding, and stud service. Not to mention the largest herd of Angus in this part of the state.”
“Stud service?” Ember questioned, frowning as she picked up her coffee. “Way out here in the middle of nowhere?”
Becky tossed a crumb to Daenerys, who was already sniffing around at her feet. “A few years back, the stables acquired a high-profile thoroughbred. I think he competed in the Kentucky Derby or something. Some of the big guns can bring in as much as two to three hundred thousand per ‘service.’”
Choking on her coffee, Ember stared wide-eyed at her aunt. “You’ve got to be kidding!”
“Nope. Morton Ellsworth’s horse wasn’t nearly that valuable, but it was rumored that he charged a twenty thousand stud fee. So, when Doctor Bernie accidently killed him, it was a big deal.”
“What?” Ember gave up on the coffee and set it aside again. As with any medical professional, causing the death of a patient was any doctor’s worst nightmare. But causing the death of such a valuable horse would be a career-ender. “Wait a minute,” she said slowly. “I thought that Doctor Bernie Chambers retired.” She realized her tone was nearing accusatory, but the thought that her aunt may have misled her was shocking.
“He did, Ember!” Becky snapped back. “I would never lie to you. I have no idea what happened with any sort of malpractice suit that may or may not have been brought against him. That’s all civil stuff, I believe. He had to have been insured, so I imagine Mr. Ellsworth walked away from it okay. But it was the one blemish on an otherwise wonderful forty-year-career, and I didn’t think it had anything to do with you purchasing the building from him. I was going to tell you, of course, but it really didn’t seem worth bringing up. I’ll admit to not wanting to discourage you from moving back, but I could have never fathomed anything like this would happen.”
“I’m sorry,” Ember immediately offered. Her aunt was an honest woman, and it was obvious she only had Ember’s best interest at heart. “I’m just a bit stressed about all of this.”
“You’re sorry; I’m sorry. Everybody is sorry,” Becky replied without any heat behind the words. “The only reason it’s a factor is because Bonnie opened her big mouth and made an issue about the tranquilizer you gave Butterscotch. Which is total BS, but I suppose in her distress over this, she’s looking for a scapegoat. Since Doc Bernie admitted to dosing Ellsworth’s horse incorrectly with a sedative, she’s focusing on that parallel.”
Ignoring the comment about Bonnie, Ember focused on her original question. “How did Doctor Bernie accomplish that?”
“Well, the horse had maimed itself by getting caught up in some barbed fencing. It was old stuff a farmhand left out instead of hauling off, and he was immediately fired over it. But the stud had a nice gash that became infected. Doctor Bernie was out there to administer some first aid and antibiotics, but that horse was having none of it. Apparently, when he drew the two medications, he mixed up the bottles and gave the poor thing a massive dose of sedatives in place of the antibiotic.”
“That’s horrible,” Ember breathed. Knowing the history, Bonnie’s behavior made more sense, but it didn’t make her feel any better about it.
“The man is in his late seventies,” Becky continued. “He should have retired some time ago, so it’s not all that surprising it happened. It’s just too bad it was something that led to the death of an animal in his care. Which reminds me…” Pulling an envelope out of her purse, she held it out to Ember.
“What’s this?” Ember asked, unsure of the look her aunt was giving her.
“Payment for your services yesterday. And you don’t have to worry about Bonnie letting you continue to care for Butterscotch, because I get to make that call now.”
Taking the envelope, Ember tried to feel some sense of accomplishment about receiving her first official payment as a business owner. “Do I want to know how that came about?”
“The media showed up at the Hathaways last night, asking all sorts of questions, wanting to take pictures of their farm and the horse. It was the last straw for Carl. At this point, he doesn’t care if the horse killed Tom or someone murdered him. He wants to distance himself from it all as much as possible. Since Butterscotch was still under the agreed-upon quarantine time, per our fostering contract, he can be returned. So, looks like I get my way in the end. He seems perfectly normal right now, but if you could swing by my place this afternoon and give him a checkup, I’d appreciate it.”
Ember couldn’t tell if Becky was happy with the arrangement or not. She knew it would be a source of stress between her and Paul, her husband. “Thanks, Becky. Of course, I’ll go see him. Butterscotch is a sweet horse.”
With a curt nod of her head, apparently si
gnaling a change of subject, Becky joined Ember in pulling more furniture out of the boxes. “So, what had you running out of Nature’s Brew like you’d kicked a beehive?”
“I ran into my old English-teacher-turned-mayor, Mrs. Gomez.”
“Ah,” Becky murmured. “Did she corner you into doing something in the parade?”
Ember grimaced and avoided eye contact. “Maybe.”
“Oh, no, Ember. What in the world did you agree to?”
“It might possibly have to do with royalty.” Placing her face in her hands, Ember waited for her aunt to put it together. It didn’t take long.
Breaking out in loud laughter, Becky held her sides. “Shall I refer to you as ‘My Queen’ from now on?”
Daenerys picked up on the change in the atmosphere and began dancing around their feet, barking once to add her opinion.
Ember first gave Becky a crooked smile and then pointed a finger at the labradoodle. “You will be far away from that parade, my dear dog. It will be full of horses, and I don’t feel like being in the middle of a stampede. And you,” she continued, pointing at Becky, “only get to laugh at me once. Mel had the idea to carry a banner advertising the clinic, and it’s actually a good plan. Plus, I don’t think Mayor Gomez was going to take no for an answer.”
“Well, you’re definitely right about that,” Becky agreed. Wiping at her eyes, she then surprised Ember by wrapping her in a big hug. “It’s sure good to have you home, Em.”
Stepping back, she clapped her hands together once. “Now! Put on a fresh pot of coffee. We’ve got some furniture to put together.”
TEN
“Here, let me get that for you.”
Ember hesitated behind the chair, unsure if Sean was serious. Sure enough, he walked around the small table in the back corner of the restaurant and pulled the wooden seat out for her. The Rusty Wagon Wheel was known for its killer barbeque ribs and steaks, not ambience. Failing to stifle a laugh, she sat and picked up the somewhat-sticky menu, watching him as he sat across from her.