Lois Greiman - [Hope Springs 02] (20 page)

“Fairly new. Say,” he said. He stared at her a second too long, lips curling up a little. “I’m looking for a horse.”

Why she laughed she would never be sure. But the sound was ridiculously convincing, at least to her own ears. She nodded toward the pasture where her own wild bunch grazed. “Well, you’re in luck,” she said. “We’ve got a good half dozen for sale. Most of them aren’t broke yet, but if you’re looking for a yearling or a 4-H project for your kids or something—”

“I ain’t looking to buy,” he said and grinned. The expression was kind of oily. Still, Pete Whitesel was a relatively attractive man . . . considering he was the scum of the earth.

“Oh.” She made a confused face. It wasn’t half hard. “Well, I—”

“One of mine was stolen.”

“Stolen!” She was not meant for the stage, but anger had begun a slow boil in her soul. Why now, she wasn’t sure. Maybe she had imagined the owner of a PMU farm differently. Maybe she thought he would have some horrible disfigurement that would make it impossible for him to make a living in a manner that didn’t make her want to spit in his eye. “You’re kidding! That’s terrible. How did it happen?”

He shook his head, but watched her out of the corner of his eye while he did it. “Some damn kids come up and took her right out of my barn.”

“No!” It took every bit of discipline she had to keep her gaze off the window from which those same damn kids were surely watching. Neither did she cut her eyes toward the arena behind the barn where Freedom was being kept.

“You sure they were kids?” Emily’s voice broke into the conversation like a steak knife through suet.

Casie refrained from closing her eyes in misery. The last thing she needed was Emily’s radical opinion at this point, but she turned, feigning nonchalance. The girl was dressed in a pair of oversized overalls. Her hair, the whole untamed mass of it, was shoved up under a cap that would have made Elmer Fudd proud. There was a red-checkered handkerchief hanging from one pocket, and her feet were bare.

Pete eyed her up and down, brows low, lips lifting into a lazy grin. She didn’t even blink.

“I mean, kids these days . . .” she continued. “They’re too busy with their ’pods and ’pads and whatnot to barely take a step outside. Why would they steal your horses?”

“They only got away with the one.”

“Well, that’s lucky anyway,” Emily said. “How many do you have?”

He shrugged, still watching her, eyes alight as they rested on her protruding belly. “Forty head maybe.”

She whistled, sounding impressed. “You must be an exceptional horse trainer.”

“Trainer!” he scoffed. “I don’t have no time for that sort of thing.”

“Then . . .” she began but stopped suddenly. “Hey, you don’t have one of those pee lines, do you?”

His eyes narrowed. “What’s that?” he asked, brows lowered.

“Those pregnant mares,” she said. “I heard their pee is worth its weight in gold. Listen, my aunt Carol just went through her change and I’ll tell you what, it was a lifesaver.”

He shook his head vaguely, but she was already expounding. You could always count on Emily to expound. At least if there was a lie involved.

“You know,” she said. “Women’s problems. I guess some people think the synthetic brands are just as effective, but I don’t believe it. And why shouldn’t we have access to the real deal? I mean, God put animals on this earth for us to use, right?” She shook her head. “Damn tree huggers.”

He looked confused. It wasn’t an uncommon expression around Emily.

“Damn animal rights activists,” she said. “Pardon my French, but I mean . . . Shoot! How do they expect us to make a living? Not that they care.”

“You think it was animal rights activists?” he asked.

“Who else?” She shrugged. “I mean, unless there’s something special about that particular animal?”

“Special? No. We just picked her up at an auction to replace a mare that was wore out. I should have known better, but . . .” He shrugged, not caring. “She’s got the right organs. Wouldn’t do that again, though. She tore up the barn first night we brought her home. Pawing, rearing . . .” He shook his head. “She was nothing but trouble.”

“Still, she’s
your
trouble, right?”

“I paid good money for her. Had trouble foaling her out last time, too. ’Bout took my head off when we took her colt.”

Something flared in Emily’s eyes. Casie tensed and jumped into the fire.

“So she’s pregnant now?”

“You gotta keep ’em pregnant,” he said. “Otherwise their pee ain’t worth piss.” He laughed and glanced down at them through his lashes, wet lips canted up.

Casie laughed with him.

Emily did not. “What do you do with the babies?” Her voice was low. Maybe she was trying to smile. Definitely she was failing.

He glanced at her. “What’s that?”

Casie drilled Emily with her eyes, willing her to be silent. But the girl just shrugged. “We’ve got some extra space. I’m thinking maybe we could get into the business.”

He was shaking his head. “I don’t know. I’m starting to think it ain’t worth the trouble.”

“Yeah, I suppose foaling out mares year-round can be a pain in the rear, huh?”

“Well, naw,” he said. “We just run ’em with the stallion for three weeks or so. If they don’t settle in that time we send them off to auction.”

“You get decent money for them?” Emily said.

Casie ground her teeth.

“Sixty cents a pound is all. Less for the colts. They don’t want no ponies or nothing.”

“So you sell the bab . . .” Her voice broke. “The colts, too?”

“Sure. I mean, I’m a businessman. I don’t have no time to mess with training them. And anyway . . .” He brightened as the thought hit him. “It wouldn’t be right to sell them to some poor kid somewhere. I don’t want to get anybody hurt.”

“Except the horses,” Emily said.

“What’s that?”

Casie cleared her throat and took a step closer, half blocking Emily from his view. “I heard they’re opening the slaughterhouses for horses again,” Casie said.

“Can’t happen soon enough. Problem is, the meat is almost always shipped off to Europe or Asia.” He shook his head.

“Tree huggers,” Emily scoffed again, but her eyes looked dangerous.

“Well,” Casie said and edged toward him a little, shooing him gently toward his vehicle. “We’ll sure keep our eyes open for any suspicious behavior.”

Suspicious behavior?
she thought, but he didn’t seem to notice any weird CSI phraseology.

“ ’Preciate it,” he said and kept his gaze on Emily for an extended period of time.

Casie felt a shiver whisper over her skin, but if the girl was creeped out, she didn’t show it.

“Just so we know . . .” Emily began, “when’s that colt due? I mean, if I’m driving around and happen to see a pregnant mare, it might be helpful to know what I’m looking for.”

He shrugged, still focused on her. “I dunno. Couple of weeks, I suppose.”

“Soon,” Emily said. Empathy had crept back into her voice. It didn’t take a genius to realize that she and the mare were on the same maternal course. “What does that make her, nine months along?”

“Near eleven,” he said. “That’s what makes this business work good as it does. They’re pregnant a long time.” His gaze swept down and rested on her belly for too long a time. “But you don’t want to leave them in the stalls past ten, ten and a half months. They drop those colts while they’re tied up, they’ll about tear the barn down to get at ’em.”

“They’re still tied up when they foal?” Her face was pale except for two flames of color on her cheeks.

He shrugged and pulled his gaze almost regretfully back to her face. “It happens.”

“And they can’t lie down?”

“They go down, it messes up the catheters.”

“You f—” Emily began, but Casie reached out to grip her arm in silent warning.

“Well . . .” she said, her tone as cheerful as she could possibly make it. “We’ll sure do what we can to help, won’t we, Em?”

“Count on it,” Emily said.

“W
ho do you suppose that is?” Linette Hartman sat very upright on Maddy as the mare plodded patiently around the arena.

“I wouldn’t know,” Colt said. He tried to sound bored, but his mind was racing. Who
was
the guy in the muddy pickup truck? Why the hell was he there?

Linette gave him a glance out of the corner of her eye. He had told her during their first lesson to focus on the direction she wanted her mount to go. He didn’t have to tell her twice. Still, he had the feeling she could have picked the stranger out of a lineup without half trying.

“You telling me you don’t know your neighbors?” she asked.

“He’s
not
my neighbor.”

“What do you suppose he wants, then?”

“That’s none of my business.”

She shrugged. “Maybe he’s looking for something.”

Colt jerked his attention to her face, wondering what she suspected, but her expression was bland. He concentrated on keeping his the same.

“Keep your heels down. You want to come off that horse headfirst?”

“Not particularly,” she said, then returned doggedly to their previous discussion. “So you don’t recognize the truck? I thought everyone knew everyone around here.”

“Well, you were wrong.”

“You think he’s a suitor?”

“What!” He sputtered the word and she grinned.

Maddy plodded along, slow and steady in a circle around him.

“Suitor . . .” she said. “It’s an antiquated but quaint term for boyfriend.”

“I know what it means,” he said. The words sounded a little irritable to his own ears.

“So, do you?”

“Keep her moving,” he said and nodded to the mare.

“I’m trying.”

“Squeeze her up with your legs.”

She did so. “If he’s not a suitor, he must be Freedom’s former owner.”

“What?” He snapped his attention back toward her.

She shrugged. “He’s got kind of a malevolent look about him. I’d bet you my Social Security check there’s something in his past. Battery, maybe.” She narrowed her eyes in thought. “Or arson.”

“Holy hell, Lin, imagine much?”

“You dig deep enough you can find something on anyone.” Her voice was low and thoughtful.

“This job you used to have . . . did it involve handcuffs and a nightstick?”

She stared at him a second, then laughed out loud. “Now who’s imagining things? Listen, if you don’t want me inventing an entire criminal record for that man, you better keep me challenged. Are you really going to let me lope or were you just yanking Casie’s chain?”

He studied her with a frown. She was the approximate size of an eight-year-old. Then again, he knew some eight-year-olds who rode like seasoned jockeys.

“You just sat on a horse for the first time a few days ago.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t have a lot of time to waste. When’s it going to happen?”

“When I know you’re not going to kill yourself up there.”

She smiled. The expression was a little wistful, a little mischievous. “We’ve all got to die sometime.”

“Well, it would be best if it didn’t happen when you were on the Lazy,” he said and glanced toward the muddy pickup truck. Emily had joined them there. But Sophie and Ty were noticeably absent. Why?

“I don’t think you have to worry about her so much,” she said.

“What?”

“Casie,” she said. “She’s tougher than she seems. Although maybe abetting felons isn’t the best idea she’s ever had.”

Abetting felons? He felt his heart gallop in his chest, but tried to keep a stoic expression. “Sit back on your jeans pockets.”

“What?”

“You want to lope or not?”

“Well . . .” She looked nervous suddenly, but her tone was jaunty when she next spoke. “I didn’t travel a thousand miles to learn how to knit.”

But he’d feel better if she was safely ensconced on a couch somewhere. Purl one, knit two. Maybe Casie could join her. They could sip coffee and talk about whatever the hell women talked about. Holy crap! Who was that guy? “All right then,” he said, forcing himself to focus on the business at hand. “Her head’s going to come up a little when she transitions.”

“What?”

“Maddy,” he said, trying like hell to ignore the conversation by the truck. “She’s going to raise her head when she speeds up. What are you going to do to maintain control?”

“Shorten my reins?”

“Shorten your reins,” he said, “but not your legs.”

“My legs can’t get any shorter.”

“Just keep your heels down,” he said. “It lengthens your muscles.”

She nodded. “What else?”

“What lead do you want her in?”

“We’re tracking left. So the left lead.”

“How do you cue for that?” She hadn’t been wasting her riding time. She questioned everything and remembered just about as much.

“Body weight on my right sitting bone. Left leg off the horse, right heel behind the cinch, tilt her head inside.”

Emily was doing most of the talking. He could tell that much from the corner of his eye. Where on earth had she gotten those ridiculous overalls?

“What do you do with your hands?” he asked.

“Keep them low and steady.”

“Upper body?”

“A little more forward, maintaining it over the center of gravity.”

“Motion,” he said. “Over the center of motion.”

“Right,” she said and licked her lips.

“You nervous?”

“Never been an idiot,” she said. Her gaze was now firmly set on Maddy’s slowly bobbing head.

“Look up. Between her ears,” he said, and losing his battle with himself, glanced at the trio by the truck again.

“I’d like to console you with tales of second chances and happily-ever-afters,” she said, “but right now I’m a little bit scared of dying.”

“You’re not going to die.”

“You hope.”

“I hope. Don’t drop your chin.”

“Wouldn’t think of it.”

“Thumbs up. Shoulders back. Look where you want her to go and throw her a kiss for the lope.”

“Now?” She shot him a glance.

“You’re not getting any younger,” he said, and she took the bait like a cutthroat trout.

Narrowing her eyes, she nodded once, squeezed her legs, and made a kissing sound.

Despite her advancing years, Maddy responded like a trooper. Picking up her left lead, she rocked into the lope.

Linette said something. Colt wasn’t sure what it was, but it sounded a little bit like a prayer. Even so, her lips were canted up in a childish grin.

“There you go,” he said, raising his voice a little so as to be heard. “You’re doing great. Just let your hips roll with the motion. Keep your hands in front of the saddle horn. Snug up your knees and don’t look—”

But suddenly everything went wrong. He would never be sure what it was. Maybe she lost a stirrup. Maybe she lost her nerve. Maybe Madeline stopped with no provocation at all. But suddenly her rider was falling, tumbling past the mare’s shoulder like an autumn apple.

“Linette!” He lunged forward, then dropped down to squat beside her. “Are you all right?”

She was lying facedown in the dirt, left leg half bent, right sprawled out to the side.

“Linette?” he said, and touched her arm. “You okay?”

She rolled slowly onto her back, eyes glazed, dirt smudged across her nose. “Well, my heels are down,” she said.

He skimmed her body. Nothing seemed to be drastically out of place. “A little lower than I had in mind.”

“Linny!” Casie said, and suddenly she was rushing across the arena. “What happened?”

His student stared at her with narrow eyes. Either she was analyzing the situation or she was concussed. He rather hoped for the former.

“Who was the guy with the pickup truck?” she asked.

“What?” Casie skimmed her crumpled form before skipping her worried gaze to Colt and then back to Linette.

“The guy in the truck.” Her voice was extremely patient. “Who was he?”

“Oh . . . Ah . . . just a neighbor.”

Linette stared at her for a second, then snorted. “I’ve heard better lies from priests,” she said and sat up, but Casie leaned in quickly, placing a hand on her shoulder.

“Just take it easy. No rush,” she said.

“I don’t have . . .”

“A lot of time, I know,” Casie said. “But just relax for a second.”

Linette did so for approximately that long, then pushed resolutely to her feet. Casie rose with her. “Can you make it to the house?”

“I imagine I could if I wanted to, but Mr. Dickenson promised to teach me to lope.”

“I’m sure he’d be willing to do that later.”

“Good to know,” she said, and shaking her head, creaked painfully past them. “But if I’ve learned one thing in the last millennium or so, it’s to keep punching. Hold Maddy for me, will you?” she asked and hobbled toward the mare.

“Linette . . .” Casie hurried after her. “Listen, you can ride after dinner or something. I really think you should—”

But Colt interrupted. He’d always gotten a kick out of doing so. “She’s right, Case,” he said. “It’s all about the number of times you get back up.”

She opened her mouth to argue, but Linette was already grasping the reins in one stubborn hand. She tilted her head once in each direction as if to get the kinks out, then turned to look over her shoulder at him.

“What did I do wrong?” she asked. Her expression was almost comical with that streak of dirt firmly set across her nose.

“You fell off,” he said.

Her face softened a little, her expression equal parts humor and exasperation. “Could you be a little more specific?”

“I’d really rather you came into the house for a few minutes,” Casie said, but Linette just smiled.

“I would think if there was anyone who understood getting back on the horse, it’d be you,” she said and nodded toward where all three teenagers had gathered on the front porch. “Don’t worry about me. Your kids need you.”

Casie glanced at the trio, brows beetled. “You know they’re not really
mine,
don’t you?”

The older woman narrowed her eyes. “Your first family maybe didn’t turn out exactly like you hoped. Maybe your folks were a little more . . .” She shrugged, seeming to feel her way along. “More tempestuous than you’re comfortable with. But nobody’s perfect, Casie, and I’ve got a good feeling about this family.”

“They’re not
my
—” she began again, but Linette had already moved on.

“How do I get back up there?” she asked, and Colt smiled as Casie turned thoughtfully toward the house.