by Merry Farmer
“Someone hammered a nail into her hoof.” There was enough fury in his voice over the cruelty that Sam and Jesse stepped back.
“Poor baby,” Valerie cried, pressing her hand to her heart.
“Ryan, do you have anything to pull this out?” Doc asked.
“Yep.”
They worked as fast as they could to get the nail out. It took both Doc and Ryan to keep Roxie calm while Doc extracted it. Whoever had hammered the nasty thing in must have done it quickly, but they knew exactly where to stick it to cause the most pain. Poor Roxie thrashed and whinnied through the whole operation. She calmed a bit once the nail was out and Doc was able to treat the wound. He had to remove the shoe in order to disinfect the area.
“She’s not going to be able to race,” he told Jesse and Valerie when he was done.
“Yeah, I figured,” Jesse answered, equally as concerned for his wife as for his horse.
“As long as she’s going to be all right, I don’t care if she never races again.”
“We were going to win this thing too,” Sam sighed.
Doc pivoted to him with a frown. “You were sure of that?” It wasn’t that he doubted the jockey. No, in fact, if Roxie was a shoe-in to win, it explained why she would be a target.
Sam shrugged. “We’ve been training hard. I know a lot of people in the area see this race as something fun, but we were hoping to use it to boost Roxie’s standings for future races.”
That sounded familiar. A little too familiar.
Doc stepped away from Roxie’s stall and searched the large, open warehouse. “Where’s Stu?” he asked, as ominous as a storm on the horizon.
“Donald Studebaker?” Ryan stepped up to his side and looked around as well. “I don’t see him.”
Doc wasn’t ready to be satisfied with the answer. He marched away from Roxie’s stall, looking through every stall in the warehouse. Stu’s horse was there, but the man was nowhere in sight. It didn’t sit well. No one from Culpepper would ever dream of harming a horse the way Roxie had been harmed, but Doc had already seen that Stu didn’t care two bits about humans, so he probably didn’t care much about horses either.
“I know he did it,” he told Ryan when he’d made a full circuit of the building. “I don’t think it could have been anyone other than Stu.”
“I agree.” Ryan let out a breath and rubbed the back of his neck. “We just have to find a way to prove it.”
They started searching for anything that would indicate Stu was to blame, but before they could do more than sift through the straw and supplies in Roxie’s stall, Karlan Culpepper appeared in the doorway of the warehouse.
“All right, folks. Time to mount up for the parade,” he called out.
Doc cursed under his breath. The last thing he wanted to do right then was ride in a parade. But Nancy had said she would be looking out for him. It seemed like such a silly reason to abandon the search for something that would implicate a bona fide jerk in the wounding of a horse, but after all he and Nancy had been through to get to the point that they’d only just barely reached, he didn’t want to jeopardize anything.
“Go,” Ryan told him, evidently catching the consternation on Doc’s face. “I’ll continue searching.”
“Are you sure?” Doc asked.
“As sure as I can be,” Ryan answered with a shrug.
Grinding his teeth, Doc turned and headed down the row of stalls to where Booyah stood munching on some oats.
“Tell me there’s nothing wrong with you, boy,” Doc said as he checked Boo’s saddle. He checked his trusted friend’s hooves as well, just to be sure, then mounted. Nothing seemed to be wrong with Boo. It was a good sign, but it still wasn’t comforting. Stu was up to no good, but he was nowhere in sight.
7
“Here you go, Mrs. Bonneville.” Nancy handed the last of her interview fliers to the elderly woman she’d crossed paths with several times in the last few days. “I saved the last one for you.”
“Thanks, sweetheart.” Mrs. Bonneville patted her hand, her smile as sweet as a peppermint candy.
“We saved you a seat with us,” Mrs. Bonneville’s friend, Birdie, called from her lawn chair on the curb.
“Best view of the entire parade,” Mrs. B.’s other friend, Mary Lou, agreed.
Nancy laughed and scooted through the growing crowd to give each of the older women a hug. “I should probably catch up with Faith and see if she has any more fliers to hand out.”
“Nonsense.” Birdie gave Nancy’s hands a few quick taps. “You work too hard.”
Nancy fixed her new friend with a firm look. “Mrs. Carpenter, how can you say I work too hard when you hardly know me?”
“Because I hardly know you, and all I’ve seen you do is work,” Birdie replied with a feisty, old lady wink.
Nancy gave her an extra hug for that. It blew her mind, but already, after only a few weeks in Culpepper, split between early spring and now, she felt as though she had more friends than she’d ever made in Louisville. Maybe it was time to make a move. All the stars seemed to be aligning. Sly kept hinting—strongly—at starting a newspaper in Culpepper and hiring her to be editor. She’d cleared up her misunderstanding with Doc, and was pretty sure they were dating now. Everything felt just right. She straightened and took in a deep breath of clean, Wyoming air.
“Would you look at that,” Mary Lou blurted, just above a whisper. She pointed across the street.
“Oh, my! I never would have thought,” Mrs. Bonneville exclaimed.
Nancy shaded her eyes to look. Several people were milling around in the street, looking for places to sit for the parade. A couple of smiling policemen gestured for them to get up on the sidewalks. Further down the street, a band struck up a patriotic tune. The parade was about to begin.
But that wasn’t what had Mrs. B., Birdie, and Mary Lou’s attention.
“I bet you there’s something going on there.” Mary Lou shared a conspiratorial whisper with the others.
“What? What’s going on?” Nancy asked.
Two seconds later, she saw it. On the other side of the road, under the awning in front of Moe’s Hardware, Linda Culpepper was standing, talking to a smiling, older man. Standing close. Smiling a lot. Whatever Linda was saying, the older man didn’t look like it was the words he was interested in. He lifted a hand and brushed something off of her cheek, and Linda blushed.
“Why, that old hound dog,” Birdie exclaimed.
“Who is it?” Nancy bent so that her head was level with the two seated women.
“That’s Roy, the electrician,” Mary Lou whispered. “There used to be something between those two back in the day.”
“Really?” Nancy’s brow lifted. Her heart filled with warmth. Town gossip. Having an opinion on the lives of neighbors. This was what being part of a community was all about.
“Looks like there’s something between them again now,” Mrs. Bonneville observed.
Birdie opened her mouth to make another comment, but one of the policemen blew a whistle. Nancy wasn’t expecting it, and it nearly jolted her out of her skin. She stood straight. The remaining people in the street rushed to find places along the parade route. A round of cheers raised up from the spectators, and the marching band launched into loud, brassy strains of “Stars and Stripes Forever.”
Nancy found herself clapping and cheering along with the rest of the Culpepper residents as the high school marching band came into view. Her heart had never felt so light. This was what she wanted. This was what her misguided family had tried to create all those years ago with their strict, stuffy ideas. This was what community and extended family was all about.
She glanced away from the approaching band and searched for Faith and the other Culpeppers among the crowd. They were her friends. True, deep friends like she’d never had before. She caught sight of tall, handsome Sly O’Donnell as she scanned the crowd. Another tall, handsome man with lighter coloring and a slighter build stood beside him. That
had to be the third brother, Arch. Nancy caught herself wondering what Doc had talked about at breakfast with his brothers, how he felt about having most of his family around him.
That thought dragged her back to the parade, and she twisted to peer down the street at the marchers. The band was just level with her, and beyond that was a gaggle of children riding bikes decorated with tinsel, red, white, and blue crepe paper streamers, and flags. They were adorable, but it was what came next that made Nancy’s heart beat faster.
The horses and riders who would be competing in the race rode at a slow pace, the riders waving to the crowd. It took about three seconds for Nancy to spot Doc, riding proud on Booyah’s back. He wore a dark frown, though. Concern gripped Nancy’s throat.
A second later, and Doc spotted her. His frown softened to a smile, but there was something tense behind that frown. Whatever he’d been called off to do before the parade must have upset him somehow. More than anything, Nancy wished she could stop time, run to him, and ask what it was. The best she could do was to smile reassuringly and wave.
Doc waved back, and as the horses and riders passed in front of where she was standing, he made a quick detour, riding closer to her.
“What’s wrong?” Nancy called out.
“One of the horses was hurt,” Doc answered.
Beside Nancy, the older ladies made sounds of distress and interest. Doc glanced to them, then back at Nancy, then over his shoulder to where the other horses and riders were continuing on.
“I’ll explain later,” he said quickly, then followed up with, “Have you seen your boss?”
Nancy blinked. She darted a look around. There was no time for a real search, though. Doc was already moving on. “No,” she called to him.
He was too far away for much of an answer, but he did manage to smile and blow her a kiss. In an instant, Nancy’s mood had turned around. She beamed, pretended to catch the kiss and hold it to her heart, then blew one back. Doc beamed and rode on.
“Well, well! It looks like Linda and Roy aren’t the only ones canoodling,” Birdie said.
“Dum-da-da-dum,” Mary Lou hummed out the first few notes of the wedding march.
Nancy hid her face and laughed in embarrassment. “Guys. We just started dating, well, today.”
“Oh, I think I know love when I see it,” Mrs. B. said with a wink.
Nancy would have said more, explained how it was too soon to know anything, but at that moment she happened to pick out a pair of furious eyes glaring at her from an alcove between two buildings on the other side of the street.
“Stu?” she whispered, then swallowed.
Whatever had him so angry, it had something to do with her. He pointed at her and mouthed the words, “You. Here. Now,” then pointed to the ground where he stood.
“I think I’m in trouble,” Nancy sighed.
“Why is that, dearie?” Mrs. Bonneville asked.
“My boss looks like he has something to say to me.”
She didn’t tell them more. The parade was still going, but she managed to break through the crush of people lining the street to watch and to hurry back along the parade route to where it had already passed. People were moving more freely across that part of the street. It was much closer to the field where the children’s games would be played and where the racetrack had been set up. Nancy crossed the street, searching for Stu the whole time.
“Why, you little, two-timing bitch,” Stu bit out, coming up behind her.
Nancy hadn’t heard him coming, and jumped when he grabbed her arm. “Stu. There you are.”
“Yeah, here I am, toots. And where have you been?” He was furious, though Nancy didn’t have a clue why.
“I was watching the parade with some new friends,” she explained, trying to make sense of Stu’s anger.
“Is that right?” His words were sarcastic. He let go of her arm, glanced around, then gestured for her to walk with him away from the crowd in the street.
“Why aren’t you riding in the parade with the other racers?” Nancy asked as they passed in back of a building and out into the field.
A row of port-a-potties had been set up in the shade behind the building. Bleachers stood at the edge of the field. Nancy assumed they were headed for the bleachers, but Stu stopped halfway there and rounded on her.
“Never mind me and the parade. Why aren’t you snatching up an interview with Jesse and Valerie Savoy?”
Is that what this was all about? Nancy shrugged. “I haven’t seen them.”
“You should be looking for him.”
“Shouldn’t they be allowed to enjoy their Fourth in pea—”
“And another thing.” He cut her off, making her flinch. “What was that stupid display between you and that idiot vet?”
Shocked that Stu would even think to have an opinion on her personal life, Nancy answered. “It’s none of your business, but we’re dating.”
Stu’s eyes flare with fury. “Really? That dope? You’d put out for him but not for me?”
Nancy’s jaw dropped. She recovered, planted her hands on her hips, and said, “For your information, I’m not that kind of girl. I don’t ‘put out’ for anybody. I’m going to wait until I’m married.”
Stu snorted. “Yeah, yeah. That’s what you all say. But as soon as a guy cops a feel, you all turn into sluts.”
“I beg your pardon?” she shouted.
“Every Tom, Dick, and Harry knows that ‘no’ means ‘yes.’”
“How dare you?”
She wasn’t entirely sure where the courage came from, but she slapped him across the face before it could go away.
Stu flinched, raising a hand to his face. “Why you little—”
He didn’t go on to call her any sort of name. Instead, he grabbed her wrist and yanked her forward. Nancy yelped, nearly losing her balance, and stumbling forward with him. “No!” she shouted, and he’d better understand that that no definitely meant no.
“You’re fired,” he barked at her, dragging her on toward the back of the buildings. “That much goes without saying. I’m sick of your teasing ways.”
“I never teased anybody.” She recovered enough of herself to attempt to plant her feet and yank out of Stu’s grip.
He might have been short, but Stu was surprisingly strong. He continued to drag her, mad as a hornet. “I’m gonna win this race, baby,” he growled. “And you’re gonna help me do it.”
The race? Was that what this was about? “How?”
Stu glanced to her with a sickening grin. “Your boyfriend can’t win if he’s too distracted to compete.”
“But—”
“He might decide not to race at all.”
“Doc would never—”
“He might be too busy looking for his missing girlfriend instead.”
“I’m not missing.”
“Wanna bet?”
Nancy blinked as they reached the back of the buildings. Or rather, as they reached the port-a-potties. Stu still had a tight grip on her wrist. He wrenched open the potty on the end, they shoved Nancy inside. She lost her balance in the process of trying not to spill face-first into the decidedly nasty toilet. Before she could recover and push her way out, Stu slammed the door. A sliding thump followed.
“Hey, stop!” Nancy whipped around, lunging for the door. She stopped before she touched it. “Eew,” she wailed. The door was caked with mold and she didn’t want to know what else. Gingerly, she tried the handle, but the door was stuck tight.
“Cool your jets in there, sweetheart,” Stu laughed on the other side of the door. “I’ll be back after I win the race, and I expect you to be in a mood to celebrate with me.”
He stomped off, still laughing.
Nancy moaned and winced. She wanted to lean her head against the door or beat on it in frustration, but touching it—touching anything around her—was not on her agenda. With a wince, she twisted to see how bad it was. She didn’t like the answer. Yes, port-a-potties had been b
rought in for the festivities, but a quick look told her this wasn’t one of them. It hadn’t been cleaned in a while. The sheer amount of dirt and debris on the floor told her that it lived behind the building where it was now. She didn’t even want to think about the toilet.
“It smells,” she whined, bringing a hand to her face. The urge to gag was growing by the second.
And she was trapped. She grimaced and tried the door again, but it wouldn’t budge. Panic began to well up underneath her complete gross-out.
“Help!” she cried. It was the best she could do. She still wasn’t going to bang on the walls of that thing, not for a million bucks. “Help! Help!” Someone had to come along eventually. She wasn’t that far from the field where events were taking place. “HELP!”
But no one came to help. Not for a long, long time. She cursed herself for leaving her phone in her purse at Sly’s office when she picked up the fliers. So much for the idea of having a gadget-free holiday. Minutes ticked by on her watch, ticked by into an hour. The sun moved overhead, catching a corner of the port-a-potty’s roof. She didn’t even want to think about what would happen if the nasty thing ended up in full sun.
“Help! Help!” She called out as much as she could, but every time she opened her mouth or took a breath, the stink settled in deeper. She forced herself to take shallow breaths, more and more afraid she might actually hurl. But that would only make things worse.
Another thirty minutes ticked by.
“Help,” she called out weakly. Not a thing. At this point she would die in this stinky box and people would find her body ages later, as decayed as whatever was on the floor. She couldn’t even sit, wouldn’t sit on the floor or the toilet. It was bad. Really, really bad.
Until a pair of mischievous giggles gave her hope.
“Over here,” a man said.
“Awesome. No one will find us here,” a woman answered.
“Unless they come looking for overflow bathrooms.” The man’s voice was hoarse…aroused.
“No one ever uses these things.” The woman was just as excited.