Counterfeit Cowboy

by Gail MacMillan

  “You said it yourself. Out of the way. No one would expect to find Jordan Brooks on a little horse farm in northern New Brunswick. I neglected to tell you the contract comes with a caveat. His presence at your farm is to be a secret. If you tell anyone or allow his identity to be discovered, the entire deal will be moot.”

  “But why the secrecy? Why can’t he take riding lessons like everyone else?”

  “Think about it. Jordan is the number-one country-western singer. He sings like a cowboy, dresses like a cowboy, looks like a cowboy. But he can’t ride a carousel. He’s currently starring in a movie that requires him to handle a horse like a rodeo champion. We can’t let his fans know he’s…”

  “A counterfeit cowboy?” Shelby’s sarcastic reply filled the void.

  “You could say that.” Ann Wise replaced her glass on the table. “Jordan will arrive at your farm next Monday. I trust you can have suitable accommodation ready?”

  “Now just a minute, Ms. Wise. I haven’t agreed to accept your client. Furthermore, I don’t intend to.”

  “You can’t refuse a commission this size!” Ann Wise’s business cool snapped. “I’ve checked your finances. You’re barely getting by.”

  “I was.” Shelby relaxed back into her chair and let a slow grin slide over her face. “Until this weekend that was true. Over the past two days, our horses put in stellar performances and now we have more clients than we can handle.”

  “Horse training can’t pay that well.”

  “No, but stud fees do. Our stallion, Midnight Black, will be one busy boy, thanks to my brother’s handling of him this weekend.”

  “I know all about how stud fees work at your farm.” Ann Wise leaned back and looked over at Shelby, swirling the wine in her glass. “No matter how many mares your stallion covers this summer, you won’t see a penny until next year when foals are actually born, and then only if they survive to stand on four hooves. I overheard some of your future clients discussing it today as a no-lose proposition. Apparently your uncle made his farm well-known for that deal. I assume, from what they said, that you plan to carry on this type of financial suicide.”

  “I don’t see that the way I choose to conduct my business is any of yours.” Shelby faced her squarely, hoping the shaky feeling the woman’s words had brought on didn’t show. She knew all about the problems inherent to Ebony M’s contracts for stud fees and her uncle’s not-so-financially-prudent condition for what he saw as dealing fairly with mare owners. Until now she’d tried to enjoy the day and push it aside. “And I definitely don’t need six weeks of frustration trying to keep some pretty-boy singer incognito while I attempt to teach him how to stay on a horse. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m exhausted. I thank you for the offer, but you made it two days too late. Good night, Ms. Wise.”

  Suffused with the feeling that she’d just sidestepped one very large pile of manure, Shelby strode out of the bar.

  In her room, she stripped off her clothes, showered, pulled on her flannel pajamas, and tumbled into bed. Exhausted, she didn’t waste effort mulling over Ann Wise’s offer and barely noticed the oncoming thunderstorm.

  I hope Fancy doesn’t freak. She hates thunderstorms almost as much as her mother.

  That was her last conscious thought before she dropped into a deep sleep.

  ****

  “Shelby!” She came back to consciousness with her brother’s pounding on her door. “Shelby, wake up! Black’s gone!”

  “What?” Stumbling, she scrambled out of bed. “What are you talking about?”

  She yanked the chain from the door and pulled it open to face her wide-eyed brother.

  “Black’s gone! I went down to the barn to feed the horses, and he was gone. The security guard claims he never heard a thing.”

  “No wonder!” Shelby was grabbing up her clothes. “He was dead drunk. Wait for me in the lobby. I’ll be down in a minute.”

  “Sure.” He started to turn away, then paused. “Shel, should I call the cops?”

  “Not just yet. Wait until we have a look around. We don’t want to cry wolf.”

  “Okay.” He turned and headed for the stairs.

  Struggling into her underwear, Shelby silently cursed Michelle Latton. The woman never had taken no for an answer.

  ****

  Ten minutes later, Shelby strode down to the lobby to find Travis pacing. He paused when he saw her, his expression grim.

  “Damn, Shel!” he muttered. “Why did this have to happen—now when it finally looked as if it was all starting to come together?”

  “Maybe it’s not as bad as it seems.” She took his arm and guided him toward the door. “I have an idea where Black went and with whom. Come on. I’ll drive.”

  ****

  Minutes later she braked to a stop in the parking lot behind the stables. Striding toward the barns with Travis close behind her, she struggled to control her outrage. Behaving like an idiot wouldn’t advance her cause.

  “Hey, Shel, our stalls are over this way.” Her brother waved a hand in the opposite direction when she swung to the right.

  “We’re here to find Black, aren’t we?” She continued in the direction she’d chosen. “We’re not going to have any luck staring into his empty space.”

  She entered a row of stalls and paused. Halfway down she spotted the Star Power banner that marked Michelle Latton’s section.

  “Hey, Star Power!” She headed toward it, her strides long and determined. “I want to talk to you.”

  “Well, if it isn’t Shelby Masters…Dr. Shelby Masters, I believe is the correct sobriquet these days, is it not?” Michelle Latton emerged from a stall, yawning and tossing long black hair over her shoulder. In her right hand she carried a riding quirt. She smiled coyly, insolently. “If you’re looking for my agent, he’s not up yet. He had a…” She paused and winked at Travis. “Strenuous night.”

  Beside her, Travis shuffled his boots. Shelby silently cursed the woman. Michelle loved to catch people off guard and embarrass them.

  “Was that how you paid him for stealing our stallion?” Shelby snapped out the accusation.

  “Paid him?” Curvaceous hips encased in designer jeans, leather jacket thrown casually over sheer white blouse, Michelle struck a pose and batted long eyelashes innocently. She looked every inch the sexy soap opera diva. “Sweetie, if he’d gotten that little gift for me, I wouldn’t be up either. And,” her tone sharpened, “How dare you accuse me of stealing your horse! I’m tempted to sue you for slander!”

  “Where’s Midnight Black?” Shelby narrowed her eyes. “I’ll give you five minutes to produce him. Then I’m calling the RCMP.”

  “My darling little doctor, I might look like pure magic, but I’m no conjurer. I can’t produce a stallion out of thin air.”

  “Then you won’t mind if I take a look through your stalls and trailer?”

  “Yes, as a matter of fact, I do. You’re trespassing in my area and I want you to get out…now.”

  “Not before I have a look around. You don’t own these stables. I have as much right here as you do.”

  Shelby made a move to step past her. As she did, Michelle took a swing at her with the riding quirt. Expecting resistance, Shelby dodged. A camera flashed, a rapid succession of flashes.

  Both women whirled to see a teenage stable hand holding something small and rectangular.

  “You give me that camera, you little rat!” Michelle lunged at him.

  “No way.” He danced away from her backwards and snapped another picture. “This is pure gold!” He whirled and raced out of the building.

  “There! Now, are you satisfied?” She rounded on Shelby. “That little toad will be peddling those pictures to the highest bidder within the hour! If you wanted to smear me, you couldn’t have done a better job.”

  “I have absolutely no interest in ruining your alleged career.” Cold anger filled Shelby. “And I don’t believe Danny Morgan is clever enough to think of selling them. The best he’s
probably capable of is putting them on Facebook, or, if he was taking video, on YouTube.”

  “You’d better hope he does nothing!” Michelle was inches from Shelby’s face, her own contorted with so much outrage Shelby wondered how anyone watching her on television could possibly see her as the beautiful temptress she played. “I have lawyers, and I can…”

  “Chill out, Michelle.” Travis stepped forward. “All we want to do is look around. If you’ve got nothing to hide, why not let us?”

  She drew a deep breath, looked up at Travis, and then let a slow, dangerous smile curl her lips.

  “Sure, sweetie, go right ahead.” The words were an ominous purr. “Do you know, I was about to suggest Tom listen to you and your little band on the slight chance he might be able to get you an audition with a recording company. Now you can forget it.”

  A mocking smile tilting her lips, she tapped him lightly on the shoulder with her whip before striding out of the stable.

  “She didn’t mean it.” The sudden pain in her brother’s expression cut Shelby to the bone. Bitch! Michelle Latton had an ugly gift for stabbing right into the heart. “She wasn’t about to get her agent to listen to you. She’s nasty through and through.”

  “Yeah, I guess.” Travis turned away, defeat echoed in his words. “Let’s get on with looking for Black.”

  ****

  Damn Michelle Latton…again!

  Moving from stall to stall, Shelby cursed the woman. She’d hung a carrot of hope in front of Travis and then, in the space of a few seconds, snatched it away. Like a dozen years ago when she’d ruined Shelby’s dream of joining Canada’s national equestrian team.

  Suffused with the anger the memory always evoked, Shelby checked the last stall of the Latton section. Michelle had four horses, none of which resembled Midnight Black, none of which could match her stallion.

  “Shel?” Travis joined her. “Any luck?”

  “None.” She shook her head. “I’m going to check the fire exit.” She headed for the marked door at the end of the barn. “Whoever took Black wouldn’t risk leading him past the guard, no matter how drunk he appeared to be. Horseshoes make too much clatter on cement.”

  She gave the bar a shove. When it didn’t yield, she threw her strength behind it and pushed. It flew open, accompanied by a male-voiced expletive.

  Stumbling out into a patch of mud, Shelby collided with the tall, broad-shouldered man she’d struck with the door. He staggered but managed to catch her by the shoulders and keep both of them on their feet.

  “Sorry.” She righted herself, boots slogging in a puddle left from the storm in the night.

  “No problem.” His hands still on her shoulders, he looked down at her from behind mirror sunglasses, a baseball cap pulled low on his forehead.

  “The door was stuck.” Shelby squinted up at him in the growing sunlight. One of the stable hands, from his outfit of baggy sweatshirt and faded jeans.

  “I guessed.” A grin quirked a corner of his mouth.

  “Yes, well.” Shelby shrugged free of his supporting hands. “Again, sorry.”

  “Again, no problem.” He touched the peak of his cap and continued on his way. “Beautiful morning after last night’s storm,” he called back over his shoulder.

  “Yes.” Shelby watched him as he headed around a corner of the building. Where had she heard that voice before?

  “Damn, Shel, do you know who that was?” Travis grabbed her by an arm, his eyes wide, his words a hiss of incredulity.

  “Some stable hand.” She struggled out of the sense of déjà vu the sound of his words had given her.

  “Hell, no! That was Jordan Brooks!”

  “Jordan Brooks behind a horse barn at seven a.m. dressed like a stable tramp? Travis, your hero worship has definitely run wild and crazy.”

  “Okay, then you tell me. When and where else could a celeb like him go for a stroll without being mobbed?”

  “Fine. Point conceded. Maybe it was Mr. Counterfeit Cowboy. Now can we get on with our investigation?” She looked down at the churned-up mud around her boots. “A trailer’s definitely been here, but last night’s storm erased any possibility of getting identifiable prints. Damn!” She grasped the door handle and pulled. “We’ll have to call the RCMP.”

  “Latches from the inside like most fire exits, I’ll bet,” Travis said when her efforts failed.

  “Damn, damn, damn.” She plodded around the corner of the building. “Nothing’s going right.” She paused to scrape her boots on the grass.

  “Oh, I wouldn’t say that.” Travis’s words held a teasing tone. “You had those magic moments with the stranger in the mud. The look on your face… Hell, even if he wasn’t Jordan Brooks, he sure had something that got your interest.”

  “Don’t talk nonsense, Travis.” She pulled out her cell. “We’ve got a lot more to think about than some clumsy stable hand. I’ll call the police while you take a look in Michelle’s trailer.” She jerked her head in the direction of the fancy vehicle. “I’ll meet you back at our truck.”

  “Shel?” He stopped her. “How’d anyone manage to get Black into a trailer? I’m the only one who can handle him. He must have put up one hell of a fight against a stranger.”

  “I’m guessing a mild tranquilizer. Anyone who knows horses would be able to administer just enough to keep him manageable until they loaded him. That kind of drugging can be dangerous and not something I’d recommend, but then, whoever took our boy had already thrown caution to the winds.”

  ****

  “Face it, Shel, Black’s not here.” Travis joined his sister at their pickup ten minutes later. “And we have no proof Michelle or any of her crowd took him. A refusal to sell doesn’t add up to a reason to rustle, you know.”

  “No, but who else wanted him and is ruthless enough to take him?” She leaned against the dirt-streaked truck and shoved a stray chestnut curl back into her ponytail. “Damn!” She gave the front tire a kick. “Why did this have to happen just when things were looking up financially? Now we’re back where we were last week.”

  “Not exactly.” Travis put a work-calloused hand on the edge of the cargo space and shoved his baseball cap back from his forehead with the other. “We still have a bunch of horses to train.”

  “Training won’t bring in a quarter of what Midnight Black’s stud fees would have netted.” She drew a deep breath. “Even if we wouldn’t have collected them until next spring, the contracts would have given us viability with our creditors. After the way you made him perform these last two days, every horse person in the Maritimes will be interested. You’re pure magic with him, Travis.”

  “Ah, come on, Shel.” He looked down at his boots and shuffled them on the still-wet ground. “Black just likes me, is all. I’m no special talent. Not like Uncle Jack.”

  Shelby felt a stab at her heart at the mention of their uncle, who together with his wife Jane had raised her and her brother after their parents’ deaths. Jane had died when Shelby was in her first year at university; Jack had passed only days after her graduation from veterinary college. Keeping the farm he and Jane had cherished from falling into foreclosure had become an all-consuming crusade for Shelby.

  “Uncle Jack was an extraordinary horseman,” she agreed softly. “More than that, he was a truly amazing human being. We can’t lose the farm he loved. We’re in close quarters financially right now, Travis, and you know it. We have to get Black back.”

  “Yeah.” He pulled his hat down on his forehead, the word full of resignation. “So we’d better talk to the police.”

  ****

  Sergeant Ben MacKenzie checked Midnight Black’s stall, took a statement from Shelby and Travis, and sent his constable off to do interviews around the stables.

  “We’ll do our best, Dr. Masters,” he said tucking his notebook away. “But whoever took your horse probably has several hours’ head start. They might be in the States by now.”

  “Have you questioned the security gua
rd?” she asked. “I couldn’t get anything out of him, but maybe you…”

  “I did.” The sergeant drew a deep breath. “But he’s got a monumental hangover and can’t focus. I’m convinced he slept through the whole thing. I’m making a recommendation to the show committee that he be terminated. He botched the job royally.”

  “He certainly did.” Shelby rubbed her left forearm. “Much as I dislike seeing anyone lose a job, that man has proven he can’t be trusted.”

  “Have you any ideas as to who might want your stallion badly enough to rustle him?”

  Shelby paused. “Well…”

  “Come on, Doctor. If you have suspicions, please speak up. We need all the help we can get.”

  “Tom Hadly made an offer for Black last night. He and his client Michelle Latton are staying at her father’s place near my farm on Chaleur Bay. She’s an equestrian enthusiast.”

  “Michelle Latton, the star of The Wild and the Beautiful?”

  “Sergeant, you aren’t sufficiently naïve to believe a celebrity can’t be dishonest?” Her lips drawn tight, she looked up at him.

  “Definitely not, but people like that aren’t about to risk their reputation by stealing a horse.”

  “You don’t know Michelle Latton. Whatever Michelle wants, Michelle gets. And she wanted my horse.”

  “We’ll take that into consideration, but I have to tell you, investigating a celebrity can be tricky. They lawyer-up really fast. The legal support they can afford generally produces so much red tape it takes months for us to get around it.”

  “I understand,” Shelby sighed. “Anyhow, they’re my only suspects.”

  “I’ll be going. I hope we find your horse, Doctor. I know he means a great deal to you and your business. I must warn you, however, chances aren’t that good.”

  As Shelby watched him walk away, the truth sent a wave of defeat washing over her. The police had murders and other acts of violence to handle. A missing quarter horse would fall a long way down on their list of priorities.

  ****

  Two hours later when Shelby drove out of the exhibition park, Travis in the passenger seat, their remaining three horses in their trailer, her mind was on figures, figures, and more figures. She’d been paying their bills with smoke and mirrors this past month, her hopes pinned on this show and its outcome. Now all that had changed. As she struggled to eliminate every non-essential expense from the balance sheet in her head, she knew she had little wiggle room.