Small Town Filly (Sandbar Stables Cozy Mystery Book 1)

by Bethanie Cushman

  "Okay," she mumbled, rubbing her hip.

  "Of course she's not okay!" cried Jeannie, making a great show of brushing the last of the dried sand from her offspring. "She got thrown off into the Gulf of Mexico!"

  "Mary, I'd like to make it up to you," said Alex quickly. "If you'd like to come out for a month of free lessons, I'll bet we can teach you how to not fall off again."

  "You think I'd bring her out here? This whole place should be shut down! Permanently!"

  Alex ignored Jeannie. "Just talk to your mother after you get home. If she'll let you come out, we'll start you out on Starfish."

  Mary's face lit up at that. "Oh! You mean that pony? The real little one?"

  Alex nodded.

  "I'd like that," said Mary, looking much happier.

  Jeannie only scowled. "Come on, Mary," she demanded. As they walked away, Mary turned and gave Alex a little wave.

  The three members of the Lowe family all thanked Alex and Lance for a fine time, and Mr. Ellis patted her arm as they left. "I certainly enjoyed that," he said. "Nice horse. And I still want to buy this place. Let me know."

  She grinned back at him. "I'll do that, Mr. Ellis." Then she noticed that Lisa Bell was walking around and feeding sugar cubes to all the horses, and sweet-talking and petting them.

  At least somebody was happy.

  "Alex?"

  The timid voice came from behind her, and she quickly turned around. "Oh, Sue! I hope you enjoyed the ride."

  "I did! I enjoyed it so much. And…and I thought about what you said. About maybe taking lessons on beautiful Pearl."

  "Well, we'd love to have you anytime. Just let me know."

  She nodded. "I'll…I'll talk to my husband and get back to you. Thank you again for today."

  Alex watched her go, hoping that her awful husband, Chuck Wood, would at least allow her to come over and have a little fun riding a horse once in a while. And if he didn't, Alex could only clench one fist and look over at the marina next door where Chuck and Sue lived, and hope he was not the one who'd turned her horses loose.

  Eventually, Lisa finished feeding all of the horses and saying good-bye to them, and she and Stuart Gray walked out together. "Did you all enjoy the ride?" Alex asked.

  "Oh, honey, that was wonderful!" said Lisa.

  "Very good time," added Gray.

  "So I guess you can both see why I want so much to keep this place open," Alex said.

  Both of them laughed. "But now we each want to buy it more than ever!" said Lisa. "Now that I've seen an entire mile of that gorgeous beach, I want more than ever to see a two-hundred-room hotel right here so that even more folks can enjoy it!"

  "That's right," said Gray. "But a first-class little boutique hotel will fit here even better." He turned to Alex. "Thank you so much for the ride. My buyers are going to be thrilled."

  "See you later!" said Lisa. "We're headed off for some sweet tea!"

  With that, the two of them started walking back to their cars. Alex could only watch them go and hope her little plan hadn't just backfired in a very big way.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  With their guests gone, Lance and Alex worked together to get all of the horses put back into their proper stalls. First they moved Violet and Snowflake out of the paddock and back into the barn, and then got all of the rest of them unsaddled and their backs rubbed dry and clean.

  Alex watched Lance working. She noticed again that some things seemed to be difficult for him to do, such as lifting anything too heavy or swinging up on a horse. Yet she had seen no one who was harder working, or better with horses, than Lance Donovan. She didn't know what she would have done here without him.

  She sat down on the hay bales outside the tack room, glad for a moment to relax now that the ride was over and had gone pretty well—for the most part.

  In a moment, Lance walked out of the tack room and closed the door. He gave her a brief smile. "Well, everyone survived," he said. "Sorry about the little girl falling off. I tried to help her, but she just wouldn't stopping hanging on by her heels."

  "Did Sunrise really 'throw her off,' like Jeannie said?"

  Lance snorted. "No. Of course not. As I said, the kid had her lower legs dug into the horse's sides the whole time, and when we turned around and were headed home Sunrise finally broke into a trot. That's all she did, but the girl bounced right off."

  "That's what I thought. Sunrise seemed pretty steady to me. I'm just glad Fanny was able to help bring her back! That was some display. But how would she know to do that? Do you think she's been trained for it?"

  Lance shrugged. "She may have been. But remember, she's a border collie—some of the finest herding dogs in the world. She'll have a powerful instinct to keep a herd of creatures together. Some people say they'll even herd your kids in the back yard, if you let them."

  Alex grinned. "I'll tell you one thing, we're not going on any trail rides without her!" Then she looked up at Lance, and her voice became more serious.

  "Tell me something, if you don't mind…where did you learn what you know about horses? You're as good as any professional."

  He looked away. For a moment, Alex thought he was going to walk out of the barn. Then, to her relief, he sat down on the other end of the hay bale.

  "I had an uncle who was a trainer at a show barn in Texas," he said quietly. "Saddlebreds. That's how I recognized Pearl."

  She nodded, not wanting to interrupt him.

  "I did all right with it. Liked it. Thought I'd be a professional, like he was. I especially liked starting the young horses and driving them, then getting them going under saddle. I guess I've got the patience for it." He smiled a little, looking at something far away. "A few of them went to be pretty successful at a lot of shows.

  "Anyway, things happened. I ended up joining the service. Got hurt. Couldn't ride so good anymore—at least, not good enough to school a fast-moving, high-powered show horse or risk getting on a flighty colt."

  Alex nodded again. "It's very hard to have a part of your life taken away like that. I can see that a life with horses meant a lot to you."

  He shrugged. "Plenty of people have it rough. Things could be a lot worse. Besides," he said, looking around the barn, "I thought I might fit in here. Most of these horses have a few dings on them, too, but they manage all right."

  She smiled up at him. "We're all glad you're here. I am, and these horses are, too." She paused. “So you like riding bareback.”

  "Yes." He sighed. "It's more comfortable for me without a saddle. I can sit back and stretch out my legs. That's why I like to ride Jet. She's so big and round, with such a nice jog, that it's like sitting on a big ol' cushion."

  "Well, then," said Alex, getting to her feet, "I hereby declare that at Sandbar Stables, the mare known as Jet shall be reserved for Lance Donovan from now on."

  He turned and looked at her, blinking, as though he thought she might be making some kind of joke at his expense—but then he seemed to understand, and his expression softened. "Thanks," he said. "Thanks very much."

  Then he turned and walked away, leaving Alex feeling quite pleased that she'd been able to do something for him—even something as small as this.

  ***

  The morning after the beach ride, Alex felt more hopeful about the future of Sandbar Stables than ever. Everyone had enjoyed their time very much, the day had been beautiful, and the horses had been very well behaved.

  Three of the riders—Jonni Lowe, her cousin Bobbi Lowe, and Mary Turner—had signed up to begin riding lessons just as soon as Alex was ready to begin scheduling them. Besides getting the horses ready, she'd have to look into getting a qualified instructor out here to teach the lessons.

  Lance couldn't do everything. He couldn't train the horses, take care of this place and teach riding lessons all at the same time. She'd have to talk to him about where to find a riding teacher, and how to persuade them to move out here in the middle of what was not exactly classic American horse countr
y.

  As she walked through the barn that morning, she pictured Ginger, Pearl, Moonrise and Violet all working in the ring to teach the local people to ride. She especially liked the thought of them giving modern kids a chance to get away from their screens and cell phones for a little while and interact with the genuine magic and power of a real live horse.

  Out in the yard, Alex looked over towards the gulf, and listened to the rushing of the waves and the calling of the gulls. She could envision the other horses, like Tank, Truck, Seaweed and Sunrise, patiently carrying their riders on what would be, for many, the once-in-a-lifetime experience of riding a horse on a beautiful beach.

  She felt proud to be able to offer these things now in this modern, computerized age, just the way they'd first been offered right here close to a century ago.

  It made her feel like she had something to offer, like she belonged…and that made her feel very happy.

  ***

  But Alex's happiness turned to complete shock the next morning. She walked inside the barn, looking forward to another day of working with the horses in the ring to prepare them for the riding lessons, when she saw Lance walk out of one of the end stalls leading Sunrise.

  "Good morning, Lance! Good morning, Sunrise. I take it you want to ride her first this morning? Or maybe I could—she's the perfect size for me, since she's not much more than a big pony herself."

  Lance turned the mare around so that Alex could see the other side. Alex stopped, frozen in horror.

  Sunrise's chestnut-and-white pinto coat was streaked and splattered with bright blue spray paint. Even her mostly white tail had a long blue stripe in it. As she managed to step closer, Alex saw that there was actually a word painted across the horse's rump: KNACKER'S, it said in scrawled letters.

  Alex was speechless. She looked at the horse, and then at Lance, and then back to the horse again. "What–”

  "I found her like this about an hour ago," said Lance. "I did the feeding and let her eat."

  "But—don't we have to get that stuff off of her?" cried Alex, her voice shaking. "It's got to be toxic. It might even leave a burn!"

  "I think it's mostly on the hair," Lance said with deliberate calmness. "And in any case, we have to show it to the cops before we wash it off."

  "Maybe I should call a vet," Alex said, still hardly able to believe her eyes.

  "You can, but I don't think it's necessary. Sometimes people do spray-paint horses deliberately, like to mark them with a phone number if there's a big storm coming and the horses get loose."

  She nodded, letting his quiet voice calm her down.

  "And I've seen some folks spray-paint the word horse in bright orange on them if the animals have to be turned out in fields where there might be hunters."

  Alex took a deep breath. "Okay. I'll call the cops right now. And then I'll do a search on the best way to get spray paint off of a horse."

  She reached out to stroke Sunrise's defaced red-and-white coat. "We'll get you taken care of," she murmured, running her fingers over the stiff lines of paint stuck to the soft hair. "And whoever did this to you is going to pay a price."

  The small mare moved around a little nervously, but seemed well enough otherwise. Alex looked up at Lance. "Thank you for taking care of her," she said. "I'll be back very soon."

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  In about an hour, an Argentina Shores policeman came out to the stables. Lance led the mare outside for him, and the officer used his phone to take several photographs of poor Sunrise and her awful paint job.

  "It's only on the one side?" asked Officer Pitts.

  "Yes," said Lance. "I'm betting she was pretty spooked by the noise of the spray can and the feel of the paint, and kept running around the stall."

  "But they managed to get an actual word painted on her."

  "Yeah, they did. That meant they must have gotten a halter on her head to hold her still—at least, long enough to get the word." He ran his fingers over Sunrise's green nylon halter. "Look at this. There's a little spray of blue paint right here."

  "Yeah, I can see it." Pitts took a picture of that, too, and then walked towards the mare's tail. "This word, here, written across her rump—what's it say? It looks like knacker."

  "Yes. Knacker's, to be exact," said Alex.

  "What's that?"

  Alex paused. "It means a slaughterhouse," she said quietly.

  "It does," said Lance. "A slaughterhouse where the horses aren't even fit for meat, but just for rendering down."

  "Oh," said Pitts. "Like a glue factory."

  "Yeah."

  "Okay. So, would somebody be mad at this particular horse? Or just at you, in general?"

  Lance and Alex looked at each other. "Mary Turner fell off of Sunrise on the beach ride," said Lance.

  "She sure did," whispered Alex, and turned to Pitts. "And her mother was furious and threatened to have us shut down."

  "Okay. We'll go have a talk with the mother and see if we can get anything." He started to walk away, and then glanced back at them. "And good luck scrubbing that off."

  Alex sighed. "Yeah. Apparently the best thing to do is rub in a lot of vegetable oil to loosen up the paint, and then give her a bath in some kind of grease-cutting dish soap. Sometimes you have to do all that more than once." She shook her head. "Looks like I'm going to be pretty busy this afternoon."

  ***

  After a quick trip to the nearest grocery store, Alex spent the next few hours in the gravel driveway soaking Sunrise's side in vegetable oil, massaging it into the blue paint, scrubbing it all off with dish detergent and the garden hose from the house, and then doing it all again.

  After the second time, at least half the paint was off. She considered doing it again, but Sunrise had clearly had enough of being scrubbed and kept sidling away. Alex turned her out into the riding ring with the other horses, and had to smile when the first thing the little mare did was lie down and have a good roll in the sand.

  "That'll probably take it off of her as well as anything else," said Lance, walking over to the fence. "It'll just take a little time to wear off."

  "Yeah, I know," said Alex. "I just hate looking at it."

  Lance looked out towards the road. "Maybe they've got some news for us," he said.

  Alex turned to see an Argentina Shores police car pulling into the driveway. They walked over to meet Office Pitts.

  "It wasn't Mrs. Jeannie Turner who did this," he said, getting out of the car and walking towards them. "She works nights. Did you know that?"

  "No, I didn't," said Alex.

  "Well, she does. Third shift at a diner down in St. James Harbor. She was there last night. Her story checks out."

  "I guess I'm glad it wasn't her, since she lives right across the street," Alex said.

  "She said that sure, she was upset when her little girl fell off, but that was when it happened. She still wants to bring her kids over here for riding lessons once you start up."

  Alex looked over at Lance. "Okay, then," she said. "If it wasn't her, who was it?"

  Lance raised his head, and looked out past the barn. Alex and Officer Pitts followed his gaze, and she realized they were all looking at Wood Marina next door.

  Alex took a few steps forward so she could see past the barn. "Now, I didn't notice it before, with all the excitement around here this morning," said Alex, "but has he got a new sign over there?"

  "Sure looks like it," said Lance. "A nice, big white sign with huge red letters that say NO PARKING."

  "Wow," she said. "He really doesn't want to take a chance on any of our customers parking on his property."

  "Yes, but he's within his rights to do that," said Pitts. "Do you have any reason to think he's the one who harmed your horse?"

  "Well, he hates us," said Alex, "because he wants this property so he can expand and I won't sell. But other than that, I have no way of knowing whether it was him or not in any of these incidents with the horses."

  "All right."
Pitts headed back towards his car. "If we get anything else, we'll let you know. You call us at the first sign of any more trouble. I'm sorry, but that's really about all we can do right now."

  As he drove away, Lance and Alex walked back to the barn. "What can we do?" asked Alex. "Should I see about getting security cameras? Lots of people use them."

  Lance shrugged. "You could. But everybody's going to know where they are. I don't think you can very well cover all four acres of ground and every inch of every stall. Too many hiding places out here."

  "Maybe I should look into a couple more dogs. Whoever's doing all this is getting right past Fanny."

  "Again, you could, and it might help. But it's not that hard to make friends with a dog if you really want to—not if you feed it and throw it treats every time it sees you."

  "Especially if you live right next door," said Alex, looking again at Wood Marina just on the other side of the fence.

  They walked down the barn aisle, and Lance ran his fingers down the wire mesh on the empty stalls. "Maybe we should set a trap ourselves," he said. "Something no one would ever suspect. Something they'd never notice. And something that's sure to catch them."

  "Sounds good to me," said Alex with a grin. "What do you have in mind?"

  "Something very simple," he said. "We need to make a run to the hardware store. Then I'll show you."

  "Ready when you are," Alex said, and together they started towards the car.

  ***

  That night, just after dusk when all the horses were in their stalls and eating their evening hay, Alex and Lance moved silently from stall door to stall door in the darkness. With gloves on their hands, they carefully placed a nice big drop of instant glue on the metal door latch of each door.

  "Now, the good thing about this kind of glue," murmured Lance as he worked, "is that it'll sit in the open air for a good while without drying."

  "And if somebody tries to open the stall door without gloves, or without knowing it's there and maneuvering the door open without touching the latch–"

  "They're going to wind up stuck to that latch, right where we can catch them. Either that or lose some skin off their fingers. And even that would make them pretty easy to spot the next day."