Lois Greiman - [Hope Springs 02] (16 page)

His lips twitched. His brows lowered. “Well, that ain’t right, Soph. But lots of animal ain’t treated no better. Pigs are confined all the time. Dairy—”

“These aren’t pigs!” The words left her lips in a rush, though she knew he had a valid point. “And they’re not cattle. These are horses.” Her eyes stung and her cheeks felt hot. “The species that’s been serving mankind since people drew pictures in caves. Don’t you think they deserve a little more from us than this?” She waved vaguely toward the farm.

Ty opened his mouth, but she hurried on, though she didn’t know why. It wasn’t as if she’d ever cared about his opinion.

“They don’t need that urine anyway. There are synthetic ways to make the same type of drug.”

“It sucks, Soph. I see that, but—”

“They constrict their water.”

She watched his lips twitch, saw the pain in his face, but she didn’t let that stop her.

“They’re mostly draft horses, big mares that’ll produce more pee, so being confined is going to be harder on their joints. And the tight spaces get even tighter as their fetuses grow and their bellies—”

“Soph!” He stopped her, sounding almost desperate. “There ain’t nothing we can do.”

“No,” she agreed, and drawing a deep breath, straightened her spine. “There’s nothing. Go home,” she said and turned away.

He caught her arm. She stopped in midstride and gazed down at his hand for a second. “Listen, Ty,” she said. “You can’t be here. I get that. Casie has enough legal trouble already.”

He flinched and even as she reveled in her ability to strike a direct blow, she cursed herself. What the hell was wrong with her? It wasn’t as if he didn’t have enough guilt without her piling on more, but she blew out a breath and continued on.

“You shouldn’t be here,” she repeated and pulled her arm from his grasp, “but I should.”

“What are you going to do?”

She turned resolutely away. “It’s not going to do anyone any good if I tell you that,” she said. Besides, her plan was sketchy at best.

“Soph!” He marched after her, strides long and noisy through the scraggly weeds of the pasture. “This is somebody else’s property. You can’t just go barging—”

“What about the foals?” she asked, and feeling herself buoyed by her belated revelation, faced him again.

“What?”

She pursed her lips. “There are tens of thousands of these mares,” she said. “Maybe hundreds of thousands. Each one of them has to give birth every single year.”

“Yeah?” He sounded tentative.

“What do you think happens to the babies?”

She could hear his teeth grind.

“The economy sucks.” She kept her voice quiet, letting him think. “And it’s not like these mares are anything special. They’re just cash on the hoof. They’re just bred . . .” She shrugged. “To be bred.” Her eyes stung. She took a deep breath and marshaled her anger. “So if the mare’s only value is in her urine, her foal has no worth at all.”

“Animals are slaughtered all the time,” he said, but his voice was oddly husky. “There ain’t nothing better than Em’s blue beef Stroganoff.”

“So you think this is okay?” Her voice sounded self-righteous even to her own ears, but in the darkest part of her mind, she hoped he would say yes. It was fine. This was none of her concern. He would drag her back to the Lazy where she could seethe and carry on and blame him for being weak and uncaring and barbaric.

But somewhere far away a horse nickered. The sound was low and hopeful. Ty glanced up. His jaw was set. Silence set in. “What’s our plan?” he asked. His voice was very quiet, barely heard above the night sounds.

Her stomach twisted. She tried to repeat that he wasn’t included in her plan. But the look on his face did something to her. It weakened her, softened her, made her irresistibly grateful that he was there. “I’m going to take photographs,” she said.

He stared at her.

“There were only pictures of the outside of the building. The news clip showed the interior of other barns. But nothing of this one. Maybe if I could get real footage of the horses’ conditions to the local media, we could get this place shut down.”

For a while she thought he would argue. For even longer she
hoped
he would, but finally he drew a deep breath and turned toward the farmstead in the distance. “Ain’t never going to be no time like now, I suppose,” he said and turned toward the light on the hill.

She swallowed, fear making her knees weak. “Maybe . . .”

He paused to glance over his shoulder at her. She could see little more than the outline of his face, the high jut of his cheekbones, the sharp cast of his jaw, but that was enough. There was something about his silhouette that looked absolutely resolute, not like her, not scared out of her wits even though she’d never suffered a real hardship in her entire life.

She nodded once and stepped up beside him. Their footsteps seemed ungodly loud in the stillness. The yard light vaguely illuminated five buildings.

“That must be the horse barn,” he said. It was a long, low building sided with galvanized steel.

She nodded, unable to speak. Anger had worn off completely now, leaving her with nothing but the ashy taste of fear. Beyond the barn, the house stood tall and gray in the darkness. A light shone from one of the far windows. She swallowed, hating herself. “Maybe we should wait until they fall asleep.”

He watched her in the darkness. It was not until that moment that she saw her own fear reflected in his eyes. But he spoke nevertheless. “We’re already all saddled up, Soph.”

“But we shouldn’t have to wait long.” She said the words too quickly, too eagerly. She slowed her pace, took a deep breath. “REM’s the deepest shortly after people fall asleep and—”

“You think Case won’t come looking for you?”

She had no idea why she hadn’t considered that possibility. She blinked. “She doesn’t know where I am.”

“She ain’t stupid, Soph. She’ll talk to Em, know you seen that clip on TV, and put two and two together.”

She felt herself wince. Felt herself nod.

“Okay,” she said and ground her hands into fists. “Let’s go.”

They crept forward in tandem. The overhead light became brighter. It felt as hot and revealing as a spotlight against her face. She froze when they reached the next fence, unable to go on.

He looked at her, paused. Maybe there was something in her eyes, because he nodded once and said, “I ain’t the best photographer in the world, but I can get the job done.”

She couldn’t speak. She wasn’t sure why, but she hoped to hell it wasn’t due to gratitude. Still, she remained silent, staring at him.

“Listen . . .” His voice was very low. He glanced at the farmstead again, just yards away now. “I think you should go back, get Puke outta here.”

She blinked at him, barely able to do that much.

“I mean, what if someone sees it there? It ain’t like it’s inconspicuous. And I don’t want to get Casie in no more trouble.”

“Are you saying . . .” She swallowed. Even that was difficult. “You want me to leave you here alone?”

“Better I walk home unnoticed than I go in a squad car.”

She felt herself pale. “We’re not going to get arrested. We’re just taking pictures,” she said, but her voice was barely audible.

“We’re trespassing, Soph.” He leaned close when he said the words. “Some of these old farmers take that real personal. ’Specially if they got things to hide.” He turned toward the barn. There was something about the place that felt wrong. Maybe it was her own fear that made her think so, but he narrowed his eyes, seeming to feel the same.

“We’re not going to get arrested,” she repeated, but her voice shook.

“Then you better get that rig outta here,” he said.

He was right. He was so right. He would be better at sneaking around anyway. He’d probably spent half his life trying to be invisible. And if there were two of them it would make it twice as likely that they’d be seen. And . . .

And when had she become such a coward?

She stared at him, locked her knees, and straightened her spine. “You want the truck moved,
you
do it,” she said.

They faced off in utter silence.

“Could be you’re the stubbornest girl ever was born,” he said finally, but his eyes spoke of something other than loathing. It might have been admiration. Dear God, it might have been
affection
. “Come on, then,” he said, and curling his fingers around a smooth expanse of wire, pressed the other strand down with his foot before reaching for her with his free hand. Their fingers touched. Something sparked warm and hopeful between them. Their gazes brushed. Feelings rushed through her, but she reined them in and ducked through the fence, feet barely touching the ground.

She held her breath as they tiptoed through the darkness toward the barn. Every snap of a twig, every sigh of the breeze made her heart leap, but in a moment they were at the door. They shared one furtive glance before he twisted the latch. The door groaned as he pulled it open.

The odor was the first thing that assaulted her senses. Not the comforting scents of horse sweat and hay, but the rancid smell of rotting manure and despair.

Ty said something she had never heard pass his lips, something Casie would disapprove of. Maybe it was the sound of his suppressed anger that brought up her nerve, or maybe it was the smell of the place, the acrid odor of hopelessness, that strengthened her resolve.

His fingers tightened on hers, but not as if he was trying to tell her something. More like he couldn’t help himself. As if the conditions reminded him of something too painful to be borne alone. She squeezed back and in that moment they were comrades. He was the first one to speak.

“That camera have flash?” he whispered and nodded toward the Canon that hung from her neck.

“It’s Emily’s.”

She could feel his immediate disapproval. “You took Em’s camera?”

She felt jealousy rise beneath the surface. What did Em have that she didn’t? Sophie was richer, probably smarter, definitely bitchier. She contained her wince at the thought and felt her anger bubble down to a soft boil. “I’m just borrowing it,” she said. Her tone was a little more caustic than she had intended, but he didn’t drop her hand. The point of contact was as warm as sunlight on her skin.

“Well . . .” He was scowling. “I guess if anybody’ll be for saving babies, it’ll be Em,” he said.

She felt her gut twist at the affection in his tone, but managed to keep her mouth shut.

“Anyway, her camera’s got a flash. I’m sure of that, but I don’t know if things’ll show up good without there being a light on. And how we going to know what we’re taking pictures of in the dark?”

Sophie swallowed, fear sloshing over her other emotions. “They’ll see us for sure from the house if we turn on the lights.”

“Maybe we can find something that’s out of the way some. A room in back that’ll be harder to notice. I’ll go look,” he whispered, but it was practically impossible to let go of his hand so she tagged along.

They stumbled over a threshold and into a larger area. The smell was stronger here. A horse nickered. There was the sound of heavy hooves shuffling.

Then something exploded.

Ty jumped. Sophie ducked. But nothing else happened. No shots were fired. No one screamed for them to leave. Neither did the noise cease. Instead, it became louder, more insistent.

“Pawing,” Ty said, voice strained. “Just a horse pawing.”

She nodded. They skimmed the wall to their left. A horse snorted and jumped, making them stop in their tracks, hearts racing.

“Easy. It’s all right,” Sophie soothed, but her hands were unsteady. They had no way of knowing how far they were from the horses. Nor did they know if these particular animals would kick. If she was as mistreated as these animals surely were, she might be a little mean. Hell, she was mean anyway.

Ty tightened his fingers and tugged her along.

He stumbled suddenly, making her gasp. But in a moment he straightened. “Watch your step,” he said. “I think we’ve found what we’re looking for.”

She swallowed, not sure if that was good news or bad.

Feeling their way along a wall, they stepped into what felt like a smaller room. She shut the door behind them, then felt around in search of a light switch. She found one at last and pushed it up. Light blasted on above them, seeming hideously bright. Sophie blinked and shielded her eyes, but in a moment her pupils had adjusted. They stood in what had once been a milking parlor. Barely a hundred feet square, it had only one small window facing the road.

“You okay?” Ty’s eyes were dark and earnest, his voice very soft.

“Yes.” Her own was barely audible.

“You sure?”

“Of course.” She cleared her throat and searched for strength. It was being pretty furtive. “Why?”

“No reason. I just . . . I think I might be losing circulation in my fingers.”

She dropped his hand like a hot poker and waited for him to laugh at her, but his expression remained unchanged.

“It ain’t too late to get that truck outta here,” he said.

She stared at him, grateful to the core of her being, lost in his eyes, drowning in his kindness.

“Soph?” he said, and she jerked.

“
You
can leave if you’re scared,” she said and hated herself for the words.

He watched her for a moment in silence, then said, “I’m going to open the door a ways. You tell me when you think there’s enough light to take your pictures.”

She nodded. Unable to look at him, she turned toward the interior of the barn as he pushed the door open.

Dozens of horses stood in two long, ragged lines. Their shaggy heads were turned toward her. A harness was strapped to each mare. Even in the dim light, the chafing around the animals’ flanks was apparent. A narrow rope was tied around each tail and rubber tubing ran from under their docks and away. The stalls were too narrow for them to lie down even if their harnesses would have allowed it. Their bellies were distended with unborn foals.