Saddled With Trouble (3 page)

Kirsten’s place was a modest ranch-style home with a few acres of land. There were a couple of horses out in a small pasture. One whinnied at the sight of newcomers.

“
Shhh. Shut up,” Camden whispered.

Michaela pulled slightly on Macey, her mare’s, reins. The mare stopped, as did Booger. “Uh, Cam, they don’t understand shut up. Besides, horses whinny at times. They won’t think anything of it, even if they can hear what’s going on out here. Sounds to me like they’re having a party.”

“
Hmmm. I think you’re right. Well, good, because we
are
the party crashers. Still want to go though with it?”

Someone inside cranked the stereo up another notch. It was playing Faith Hill and Tim McGraw singing “It’s Your Love.” Michaela peered through the front window and saw what looked to be Brad and Kirsten dancing. He had
never
danced with her. Jerk. “Oh yeah, I am so ready.” Michaela dismounted and led Macey over to a hitching post next to the pasture. The other horses trotted over. The same noisemaker let out another “How do you do,” and Michaela realized that time could be of the essence if he didn’t pipe down. After enough whinnies someone would surely take a peek, and she wanted to be certain they were long gone before that happened. She wrapped Macey’s reins around the post, and walked over to Camden.
“Okay, you always want to get on and off on the left side, so bring your right foot out and back around, then kick your left foot out of the stirrup— kind of lean over the saddle with your body and basically step down and off.”

Camden did as instructed and landed on her butt. “Like that?” she asked, a smirk on her face.

“
Not quite. You’ll have a second shot at it later though, when we get back home. Now come on, get off your ass. We’ve got a treasure for Brad.”

Michaela retrieved the trash bag and the two of them, quietly and quickly, all the while trying not to giggle at their immature antics, snuck up on Brad’s brand-new red Ford F-350. She opened the driver’s side door, knowing the moron wouldn’t have locked it, sliced open the bag with her pocketknife, and shoved the contents under his seat. Boy, was it was going to be a real pain getting it cleaned out. “Nothing like the aroma of fresh manure to take away from that new car smell.”

She tossed the bag down and grabbed Camden’s hand as they ran back to their horses. She quickly boosted her friend up, who this time managed much better, and then she got back up on Macey. They rode off, cracking up the whole way home, making Camden loosen up, and actually enjoy riding Booger. Their laughter didn’t stop even after they’d put the horses away, got cleaned up, and wound up on the couch with a bag of popcorn in front of the boob tube. “What I wouldn’t give to see the look on his face.”

“
Oh God, I’d love to see him get in that truck and start smelling the smell and then he’ll have to get out and when he looks under the seat, he’s gonna die,” Camden said.

This put them into another fit of gut-wrenching laughter. Yes, as childish as it had been, it did feel really, really good. Facts were that Brad had left for the much younger Kirsten after Michaela had spent the last few years trying to get pregnant. With Brad’s support they’d sought out fertility specialists and Michaela had given herself shots daily in the abdomen in hopes of conceiving. She’d gone through the expensive in vitro process twice, and the day she was prepared to go through it again for the third time, Brad’s infidelities had been brought to light. Now, there were a stack of bills from doctors on her desk and every time she looked at them, she couldn’t help but be reminded of what Brad had done to her. Worse than sticking her with the bills, was his total deceit. But tonight was the first time she didn’t feel a ton of anger toward her ex. Funny how a stupid teenage-type prank made her feel a bit better.

Michaela finally made it off the couch and into the shower she hadn’t taken all evening. Then, finding Camden sound asleep on the sofa, Cocoa curled up on the floor next to her. Michaela decided to leave the two of them there, covering Camden with a blanket and patting her old dog on her head a good night. As she settled into bed, exhausted, her phone rang. She looked at the clock on her nightstand: a little after eleven. Her stomach sank. What if it was Brad or Kirsten and they’d seen her and Camden? No, caller ID said that it was her uncle.

“
Hi, Uncle Lou.”

“
Hi. I didn’t hear back from you tonight. Did you get my message? I thought I’d better check in and make sure you’re okay.”

“
I’m fine. I did get your message. Sorry. I was a little busy.”

“
No problem, sweet pea. I was only concerned because I know that you’ve had some rough times this past year.”

“
Thanks. But I’m fine. Really. In fact, I’m doing, uh, really well.” She loved the way he’d called her sweet pea ever since she could remember. Her father always called her pumpkin, and that made her feel good, too, but Daddy also knew how to spank and send her to her room, or ground her when she needed it. She loved him for his sense of fairness. But Uncle Lou was the spoiler. He’d never had any kids of his own, so spoiling Michaela was one of his favorite things. “You want to grab breakfast in the morning with me, right?”

“
I do. There are some things I need to talk about with you.” He cleared his throat.

“
Uncle Lou? Are you okay? You sound . . . I don’t know. Tired?”

“
I’m fine. Working a lot, that’s all. I’m having a hard time unwinding these days for some reason. I’m getting old, and riding the animals every day is starting to wear on me.”

“
You are not getting old,” she said. “Sixty-one is a spring chicken.”

They both laughed. “I don’t know about that. I’m feeling like a cooked goose. You get to bed now, and I’ll see you about seven-thirty over at The Dakota House.”

“
Ooh, sounds good.” Her stomach rumbled just thinking about the yummy breakfasts The Dakota House specialized in, especially considering that all she’d had tonight was a liquid diet. “I can’t wait. Sleep well.”

“
You too, sweet pea.”

Michaela hung up the phone. Something in Uncle Lou’s voice bothered her. What was it? The sound of exhaustion? At first she thought maybe that was it, but, no. Resignation? Maybe. Defeat? Yeah, it did sound like that, but about what? She yawned. Whatever was eating at Uncle Lou, she resolved to get to the bottom of it tomorrow over a ham and cheese omelet.

THREE

THE NEXT DAY MICHAELA ROSE EARLY AND HANDLED all of her morning chores before going to meet her uncle for breakfast. She suffered a bit of a headache from last night’s fun, but it didn’t take long to wear off as she went about feeding the horses and cleaning out the stalls.

Leo came up and nudged her while she changed his bedding, replacing the day-old shavings that had begun to smell like urine with fresh ones that made the air smell like sawdust. “Hi, you,” she said. “What’s wrong? You’re not hungry this morning? You want to play?” She rubbed him on top of his forelock— the piece of mane hanging between his ears and down onto his face. He was such a beautiful animal— bay in color, a dark reddish brown with jet-black stockings going up past his knees, and an almost black mane and tail. He had a smidge of a star, almost like a crescent moon on his face, and his large brown eyes reflected an intelligence Michaela knew was indicative of a winner.

Leo turned back toward his food. She finished up his stall, and went into the office to see what was on tap for the day, after breakfast with Uncle Lou. It looked as if the vet was scheduled to come out and do some routine checks. She wondered if it would be Ethan or his partner. Had Ethan returned from his rafting trip? He’d suddenly taken off over two weeks ago without telling her he was leaving, and she’d been angry with him for it since. Ethan had been staying at her uncle Lou’s place for a few months because his fiancé, Summer MacTavish, had broken off their engagement the night before their wedding. After Ethan left on his sudden trip, Michaela’s mother mentioned to her that she’d heard he and Lou had had an argument. Michaela asked her uncle about it, but he wouldn’t say much, just that they’d had a difference of opinion. It had bugged her since her mother had told her, and she planned to ask him about it if he was back today. She couldn’t help but wonder if the argument had been over Summer herself, because Summer was Uncle Lou’s accountant. And frankly, Michaela was a bit surprised that Lou had kept Summer working for him. Especially considering the way Summer left Ethan. Lou had been close with Ethan since Ethan was a kid, and Michaela figured that it probably hurt her friend that the man who really had been the closest thing to a father Ethan had ever known had kept Summer on.

After doing her chores she checked the clock: past seven. Time to go and meet her uncle. Camden wasn’t on the couch when she went back inside to change. She must have moved in the middle of the night and made her way to her bed. She decided not to bother her. Camden drank twice as much than Michaela had last night and would probably feel much more the worse for wear this morning.

She beat Uncle Lou to The Dakota House and ordered a cup of coffee. The place smelled so good— a mixture of cinnamon, coffee, and bacon filled the air. She melted back into the vinyl booth and watched people come and go from the restaurant, which was decorated with various Indian “artifacts.” Twenty minutes later she started to fidget as there was no sign of her uncle. It wasn’t like him to keep her, or anyone for that matter, waiting.

She dialed his cell phone. It went straight to voice mail. She called the house phone. No answer, only a machine. She waited another fifteen minutes and tried again. Same thing. This was just plain screwy. She paid for her coffee and decided to drive over to her uncle’s place to see what was up. He couldn’t have forgotten. But maybe he’d simply slept in after his late night. It wasn’t like him, but
that
tone in his voice last night hadn’t sounded like him either. Had he been drinking? No. He hadn’t come off like that. Granted, he liked a drink in the evening, but he was not known to booze it up.

A few minutes later she pulled into the luxury-style Diamond Bar Z, Lou and Cynthia’s ranch. There wasn’t much activity. Usually Dwayne, their assistant trainer, or Dwayne’s cousin Sam, who also helped train, would be out working horses, and their ranch hand Bean— his nickname, because he was as skinny and lanky as a green bean— might be around. That was doubtful though, as Bean was notorious for being late. He was a bit slow. As a kid he’d fallen off a horse onto a rock and suffered a brain injury. Lou had taken him in years ago and given him a job.

Lou’s truck was there. Cynthia’s Mercedes wasn’t. Strange. The big truck and trailer were both gone. Then Michaela remembered that Dwayne and Sam were probably hauling horses out to Vegas for the National Finals Rodeo. If she remembered correctly Uncle Lou said they were planning on pulling out for the rodeo yesterday, around noon. Dwayne competed in calf roping. Her uncle used to be involved in team roping, but with age had slowed down and now busied himself with the training and his responsibilities as the breeding manager. Michaela had made plans to trek over and see the rodeo over the weekend. Dwayne had given her free tickets, which were hard to come by, and Camden, who was going with her, had some connections at The Bellagio, so they were set with a nice room at a great rate. Michaela liked to watch the events; her friend liked to watch the cowboys. It was sure to be an entertaining weekend.

She got out of the truck and was greeted by her uncle’s golden retriever, Barn Dog. “Hey, boy. Where is everyone?” She patted the dog, which licked her hand. “Some help you are.” She laughed. “What’s this? Paint?” She probed Barn Dog’s fur near his collar. Maybe creosote. Lou used it to keep some of the horses from chewing on the wood pasture fence.

She headed toward the barn expecting to find her uncle there. Maybe one of the horses was sick. “Uncle Lou?” Her voice echoed through the breezeway. No Lou, but she did get a few whinnies as horses popped their heads out. None of them were eating. She looked at her watch. After eight. They hadn’t been fed? Lou always fed them. Even though he had hired help, it was something he’d done for years. “Lou? It’s me, Mickey.”

She heard Loco pawing the ground in the last stall. Uncle Lou kept his multichampion cutting stallion a few stalls away from the other animals. Although a good stallion, he was still a stud, and he did have a mind of his own. A gorgeous blue roan in color, Loco came from great bloodlines and had earned almost almost three hundred thousand dollars in winnings. The horse was truly her uncle’s joy in life.

“
Hi, big guy,” she said as she approached the stall. He lifted his head and snorted, his eyes wild. “Hey. What’s wrong?” He was acting really off. His coat gleamed with sweat. And . . . what was that smell? Not horse sweat, but rather coppery. What the
hell
was that? She wrinkled up her nose. Was one of the mares in season? She doubted it. Lou knew better than to keep a mare in season in the same corridor as the stud. “Loco, what is . . .” Her voice faded as she peered into his stall. She stumbled back and grabbed hold of the stall’s bars to keep from falling. Bile burned her throat. She swallowed hard and blinked several times.
“No, no, no!”

The latch on Loco’s door was undone; she whipped it open. The stallion bolted past her and out of the breezeway. She ran over to her uncle, who lay facedown in the straw— impaled on a broken pitchfork sticking through his back. She lifted his hand— cold. Her own hands shook uncontrollably as she dropped his to the ground. A scream caught in the back of her throat. She gasped and fell into the straw, pushing herself away from Lou. She brought her hands to her face, her voice catching up with her anguish as her horrified scream echoed through the breezeway.