“But, Mom, you’ve always said an extra pair of eyes or hands or whatever makes for light work. In this case, the more of us to watch out for Trish the better. If I miss a few classes, it’s no big deal.”
“It is a big deal, but you don’t have to worry about it, because you’ll be there.” Marge planted her hands on her hips and the set of her chin warned everyone not to argue with her.
“Mother, be reasonable. You and Trish could be in real danger—at least Trish is. They keyed her car and shot at her, remember?”
“Oh, I remember all right. I was there. But you can’t guard your sister and neither can I. Amy is doing her best, and the rest we have to trust to God.”
“He didn’t seem to do so well last time,” David muttered under his breath.
Trish leaned her hips against the counter, sipping a cup of hot chocolate. One eyebrow raised at David’s comment. But she kept her mouth shut—with difficulty. Let them battle it out for a change, she thought. They don’t pay much attention to what I say anyway.
Amy entered the kitchen and joined Trish against the counter. “Would you like the latest bulletin?” she asked when a silence lasted more than a second or two. When the two turned to face her, she included Trish in her smile.
“Parks says Highstreet has a solid alibi, so that, at least temporarily, leaves him out of the picture. Parks wondered if there was anyone you might have offended at the track, Trish, that could do a copycat crime? Since this was so well publicized, thanks to our esteemed press corps, things like that happen more than you know.”
Trish looked to both Marge and David and then shook her head. “I’ve been gone so much, and then helping to solve the problem out at the track, that I’ve hardly even seen anyone, let alone ticked them off.”
“Could anyone be jealous?”
“Course, she won the Triple Crown, didn’t she?” David crossed both his arms over his chest and his ankles as he leaned back against the counter. “And she drives a flashy red convertible, travels around the country, gets her name in all the papers, has the money to buy what she wants. I’m sure there’s no one the least bit jealous.”
“David.”
“Gets shot at, becomes a heroine…”
“We know all those things, David.” Amy’s quiet voice stopped his tirade like his mother’s hadn’t been able.
“Then why don’t you do something about it?”
“We are.”
“They are.” Marge added.
“I’ll get it.” Trish pushed herself upright and crossed to the ringing phone. “Runnin’ On Farm. Trish speaking.”
“I can tell.”
“Who is this?”
“Don’t you wish you knew.”
Chapter
05
Trish’s hand shook so hard she dropped the phone.
“Dial tone,” Amy said after grabbing the receiver. “What did he say?”
“I—I didn’t hear all of it.” Trish wrapped her arms around her middle to keep from shattering into small pieces. “To—to watch out.”
David slammed his hand down on the counter. “And you think I’m leaving here? No way!”
“Okay, let’s all calm down.” Amy raised her hands for silence. “From now on, Trish, you don’t answer the phone. I will. We’ll put a tap on it so maybe we can get him that way. David, I know you mean well and I appreciate what you’re trying to do. But right now, we’re going to try to go on with life as usual. Please, let your mother take you to your plane as you planned.”
“The best thing you can do is pray for all of us.” Marge placed her hands on her son’s shoulders and stared deep into his eyes.
“Doesn’t seem to do much good. Look at all that has happened.”
“But, David, no one’s been hurt.”
“What about Trish’s car?”
“As I said, no one’s been hurt. God is doing His job; now let’s all of us do ours.”
“And mine is going back to school.” David sighed and shook his head. “This is against my better judgment.”
“I know. And I appreciate that.”
Trish watched the interchange between the two people she loved most on this earth and marveled at the way they understood each other. Dad and I were like that, she thought. I miss that. Dad, I miss you. What would you do with all this stuff that is going on?
David gathered his things as his mother requested and brought his bags to the door. “You be careful, Tee. Whoever this guy is, you can’t count on him to make sense.”
“I know, and you take care of yourself.” Trish fought back the burning behind her eyes, and she wrapped both arms around her brother. “I miss you when you’re gone. Now that you’ve been home again, I figured out how much.”
“I’ll see you in Kentucky in less than two weeks, then it’ll be Christmas before you know it.”
“Thanks. With all I have to do, that doesn’t sound too comforting.”
As soon as Marge and David left, Amy got on the phone to order a tap and bring Parks up-to-date on the latest development.
Trish wandered back to her bedroom to change clothes and head for the barn. She whistled for Caesar and pounded down the cedar deck stairs fully expecting the collie to bound into view. She whistled again. No yipping, cavorting bundle of energy danced around her legs and tried to lick her nose.
Fear niggled at her mind.
Must be a female in heat somewhere around here. She forced herself to think of reasons for his absence. Or he’s off chasing rabbits or…She couldn’t keep the thoughts going. Caesar never left the farm when they weren’t home. He took his guard-dog duties as seriously as did the Secret Service around the president.
Trish whistled again. “Caesar! Hey, fella! Caesar!”
The horses whinnied from down in the paddocks. A crow cawed from up in a fir tree. But no sable collie with a snowy white ruff whimpered an apology for being late.
Trish debated. Should she tell Amy that Caesar was missing? Or should she just get the chores done so she could go look for him? God, help me. She shot her arrow prayer heavenward and trotted down to the barns. Tonight she would put all the horses in their stalls and feed them there.
“You guys seen Caesar?” she asked the nickering babies. Miss Tee and Double Diamond greeted her with tossing heads and quivering nostrils. They lipped their carrots and nuzzled her shoulder as if she were a long-lost friend. “Don’t care for the yucky weather, huh?” Trish snapped the lead shanks onto their halters and trotted the young horses up to the barn.
Where was Caesar? Fear dried her mouth so her whistles lost their soar.
Old gray Dan’l, the gelding who’d helped train her in the fine arts of Thoroughbred racing, whinnied repeatedly, as if afraid she might forget him. Trish trotted back down the lane and stopped at his paddock. “Hey, easy on the fence.” She pushed him back while hugging his gray neck at the same time. “Come on, let’s get you up to the barn. You seen Caesar?”
Dan’l munched his carrot without answering her.
By the time she’d fed everybody, dusk faded into darkness. The drifting mist caught rainbows in the area lit by the mercury yard lamp. She trotted up the front walk and entered through the front door.
Amy was still on the phone.
“Caesar’s missing.” Trish grabbed the truck keys off the pegboard by the phone and headed for the door again.
“Hang on, Trish. I’ll come with you.” Amy finished her conversation and hung up. “Is this unusual?”
“He never leaves, especially when we’re not home.” Trish waited by the door for Amy to get her coat.
Car lights from Patrick’s new half-ton pickup met them back in the drive. He stopped at Trish’s wave.
“Caesar’s missing. Thought I’d check the road just in case.” The thought of her beloved collie lying in a ditch made her want to heave.
“You looked through the barns?”
“Not really. Fed the horses though and everyone’s in.”
�
�I’ll search down there.”
Half an hour later, Trish turned the truck back into the lane at Runnin’ On Farm. She’d call Rhonda and Brad to ask for their help too.
“This would be so much easier in the daylight.” She banged her fist against the steering wheel. “Where could he be?”
“Wish I knew.” Amy opened her door. “Wish I knew.”
“No one would hurt a dog, would they?” Trish finally voiced the thought that had been flitting around in her head.
“I hope not.”
The answer didn’t sound convincing.
Trish spent the next half hour calling some of the neighbors to ask if they’d seen the dog. The phone rang and rang at Rhonda’s. Brad answered on the second ring.
“Sure I’ll help call,” he said. “Want me to go out with you again?”
“Not right now. How about asking if anyone has a dog in heat? That’s the only thing I can think of that would get him to leave.”
“Sure will. Have you walked down by the creek and way out in the pastures?”
“Not really. He just never answered, so I figured he wasn’t there.”
“I’ll be over after I make these calls. You got a good flashlight?”
Trish hung up and leaned against the counter, staring out into the night without really seeing it. Where could he be?
She walked over to the refrigerator and took out a Diet Coke. “You want something to drink or anything?” The guilties grabbed her. Some kind of hostess she was.
Amy looked up from the notes she was writing. “No thanks—and, Trish, you don’t have to play the good hostess with me. I’m a member of the family, remember? I can help myself.”
Trish nodded. Where could Caesar be? She sipped her drink and went to stand at the sliding glass door. When she flipped on the light switch, her mother’s baskets of pink and purple fuschias sparkled with droplets of mist. Soon they would be put to sleep for the winter before the frost killed them.
Trish shuddered at the thought of being put to sleep. She slid open the door and stepped out on the deck, staying under the overhang of the house to keep dry.
Country silence filled the crisp, damp air. Listening hard, she caught the tinkle of runoff in the downspouts. A breeze sent droplets cascading from the fir trees and plopping on the ground.
Trish held her breath. What had she heard?
“Caesar?” She waited again. Had it been a whine?
She whistled, three tones pleading for an answer. She held her breath, concentrating everything she had on listening.
The sound came again, weak, distant, sad.
Trish flung open the door and grabbed the high-powered battery light from its nest plugged into the wall. “Amy, I think I heard something.” Out the door, down the steps, and around the deck, quartering the ground with the intensive beam, Trish searched each shadow and cranny.
Down on her hands and knees she flashed the light underneath the deck. “Caesar? That you, fella?”
A faint whimper seemed to come from the back corner.
“You hear that?” Trish asked as Amy crouched down beside her. The sound came again.
“Yes. Can we get under there?” Amy leaped to her feet. “I’ve got another flashlight in the car. And a tarp to pull him out on.”
“Go tell Patrick. He might be able to help us.”
As soon as Amy left, Trish concentrated again on the sounds from under the deck. A whimper came in response to her gentle, “Caesar? You under there? What’s happened to you?”
She edged underneath, digging in with her elbows to pull herself forward. When she tried to use her knees, she bumped her butt on the cedar joist above her. “Ouch.” She flashed the light again but still couldn’t see her dog.
Laying her cheek flat on the cold, damp ground, she scanned the beam under the low-lying joists. One red eye reflected back at her. “Good dog, Caesar. I’m coming.” Caesar huddled three joists over.
Trish back-crawled as fast as she could, paying no attention to bumps and muddy spots.
“You found him?” Amy met her as Trish stood upright again.
“Yes, he’s back in the corner.” Trish dropped to her knees again at the right joist. “There’s no room for two to work under there. I’ll go back with the tarp, roll him onto it, and then pull it out, I guess.”
“We’ll use this rope to help pull. You think he’ll let you handle him?”
Trish paused for only a moment. “Of course. He’s my dog.”
“Ye found him then, lass?” Patrick joined them.
“Uh-huh. Pray for us, Patrick.” Trish shoved the tarp under the wooden frame and crawled after it. “I’m coming, old man. Hang on.”
“Here, I can help you from this side.” Amy elbowed into the adjoining crawl space, pushing her light ahead of her, just like Trish. Matching grunts marked their progress as they dug in their elbows and pulled themselves forward. “Ugh, I hate spider webs.”
The smell of wet earth filled Trish’s nostrils and clogged her throat. Her jerking light reflected off the beams above her and glistened on the wet slime covering the bare ground. No eyes reflected back from the dog she knew lay ahead.
“Caesar, fella, you okay?”
Only the panting of her partner broke the stillness. “Can you see him?” Amy’s voice seemed almost in her ear.
“Not yet. Never realized how big this deck really is.”
“Or how hard belly crawling under this decking would be.”
“There he is.” Trish dug and pulled faster, almost crawling over the tarp in her eagerness. The muddy form ahead of her never moved. “Caesar?”
She swallowed the bite of fear stinging her throat and causing tears to blur her vision. “Caesar, please fella, hang in there. We’re coming for you.” She shoved the tarp next to him and inched across it to lay her hand over his ribs.
She clamped her teeth on her bottom lip. God please. His matted fur lay still. She pressed harder. There under her fingers a faint heartbeat. “He’s alive—barely.”
“Okay, can you see any blood?”
Trish flashed the light over the inert dog. “No. Just dirt, like he’s crawled a long way.”
With trembling fingers she spread the tarp, accepting the help Amy provided from under the cedar joist. “Ouch.” She only acknowledged the bang on her head with the word while she slid her fingers under Caesar’s shoulders.
“I’ve got his hindquarters. Now on three, we’ll pull him onto the tarp.” Amy reached as far as her shoulders. “This would be a good time to have basketball-player arms.” She clenched the matted fur. “Okay—one, two, three.”
Together they heaved. Trish banged her head against the cedar boards above her and ended up with her nose buried in Caesar’s muddy shoulder. He didn’t move. She scrunched backward. “Okay, you ready? We’ll go again. One, two, three.”
Caesar lay on his side on the tarp. Trish laid her face against his muzzle while she caught her breath. A warm tongue flicked the side of her cheek.
“He’s alive. Come on, Patrick, pull.” Trish scrambled backward as fast as her knees and elbows permitted, trying to keep ahead of the sliding tarp.
“I’ve got your flashlight.” Once out Amy pushed herself into a kneeling position at the same moment as Trish. “How is he?”
“He can’t lift his head but he licked my cheek. We call him the fastest tongue in the West.” Trish grabbed the corners of the tarp. “Come on, let’s get him to the truck.”
“Marge has the van running. She already called the vet.” Patrick hefted along with the two women and together they lugged the heavy body around the house and up to the open back doors of the van.
“Dr. Bradshaw will meet us at the office.” Marge gave Trish a boost so she could follow the dog into the van. “Amy, you coming?”
“I’ll ride back here with Trish.” Amy clambered onto the carpet. Patrick slammed the doors at the same time Marge closed hers, and she immediately set the van in motion.
“Can you feel any broken bones or anything?” Amy joined Trish in probing the dog’s legs and spine.
“No. This doesn’t make sense. He was fine this morning, so unless he was hit on the road…”
Amy smoothed her fingers over the dog’s grimacing lips, revealing teeth in pale gums. “See the way his head is pulled back?”
“Then what could it be?” Trish wiped her drippy nose on her sleeve. “Come on, fella, hang in there.” She grabbed the carpeted wheel well for support as her mother swung around a corner.
“Trish, could he have eaten anything—anything that—”
“Like what? He got into a salmon years ago and nearly died from salmon poisoning—” Trish bit off her sentence. “Poisoning. Do you think he’s been poisoned? Who would poison a dog like Caesar?”
“Could he have gotten into something for coyotes or some such?”
“No one poisons coyotes around here.” She could feel the fear clamping off her wind, raising her voice to a shriek.
“We’re here, Tee. There’s Dr. Bradshaw.”
Trish had the back doors open even before the van came to a complete stop. She and Amy leaped to the ground at the same instant and turned to lift the muddy blue tarp, easing the dog over the bumper.
“Right through here.” Bradshaw held open the door to his surgery.
Trish blinked against the glare when they sidestepped through the doorway and down the hall, the heavy-laden tarp slung between them.
“Up on the table.” He took one corner of the tarp and Marge another. “On three—one, two, three.” Together they laid the limp form on the stainless steel examining table. The overhead light glared down, highlighting each clump of mud-clotted fur. Eyes closed, his breathing so shallow it failed to lift his ribs, Caesar lay unconscious.
Trish gently stroked his muzzle, whispering encouragement. She watched the vet apply the stethoscope to the once snowy chest. He moved it under the front leg.
“He’s still alive, but barely. From the looks of him, I’d say poison. Let’s get an IV started and then I’ll draw some blood. See if we can figure out what they used.”
Golden Filly Collection Two Page 42