by Lauren Carr
Keeping his promise to Cameron, Joshua ordered Izzy to feed the chickens, cats, and dogs in the barn yard while he tended to the horses. Joshua recalled that several years earlier, before Suellen’s parents had passed away in a horrible traffic accident, practically every stall in the equestrian barn had been the home of a champion quarter horse. Only a small fraction of the twenty-four stalls were in use.
In his corral located at the far side of the barn, Captain Blackbeard snorted, pawed, and whinnied as if to tell Joshua to hurry up with his breakfast. The stallion’s ruckus set off the mares in their pasture.
Apart from the rest of the herd, the palomino paced back and forth while keeping her eye on Izzy who was tending to the dogs in the barn yard.
The night before, J.J. had explained the neglect that the palomino mare had suffered in her past.
“She has no name?” Izzy had asked, finding the news unbelievable. “Everyone has a name. Why doesn’t she have a name?”
“They never cared enough to give her one,” J.J. had said.
“Well, that’s just wrong on so many levels.” There was a glare in Izzy’s eyes.
Watching the mare pacing back and forth, Joshua shuddered when she stopped and turned in his direction. Her ears were pinned back in a warning for him to stay away from her.
“Be careful,” a young man said from the barn door leading out into the barn yard. “She doesn’t like strangers.”
Between the palomino and the lack of coffee, Joshua felt like he was about to jump out of his skin. “Who are you, and where did you come from?”
“I’m Noah.” The young man strolled forward. “I work up at the orchards over the hill and like to come see the horses before I go to work. I clean the stalls and feed them.”
As Noah moved in closer, Joshua could see that he was exceedingly slender with long, shaggy dark hair that spilled into his dark eyes. He brushed it back off of his face so frequently that Joshua quickly realized that it was a nervous gesture. Noah was dressed in worn farm overalls that were at least two sizes too big for him. He looked barely old enough to shave, though there was some stubble on his chin and face.
Noah crossed the barn and opened the door to allow the mares and their colts inside. He patted each one as they trotted by him on their way to their stall.
Once they were inside, Noah stepped into the pasture. The palomino’s ears were no longer pinned back. Her nose twitched. Noah took an apple out of his pocket and held it out so that she could see it. Speaking softly to her, he waited motionless while she approached. She lowered her head to take the apple from his hand. While she munched away, he stroked her head. Once she had finished, he led her inside to her stall.
“It took us weeks to get to that point,” Noah said before moving on to the paddock to let Captain Blackbeard in to his stall. The stallion had calmed down and was simply pawing and snorting in anticipation of the apple that Noah had taken out of his pocket. “Is Clyde sick?”
“Suellen’s in the hospital,” Joshua said. “My son is staying with her, and he asked me to come make sure the horses were taken care of.”
“I hope Suellen is okay. She’s a real nice lady.”
Noah gestured for Joshua to step back as he opened the door and held out the apple to Captain Blackbeard, who snatched it out of his hand and then turned his head. He snorted with pleasure. Juices flowed from his mouth while Noah stroked his neck.
“That’s what you wanted, isn’t it, Captain?”
While Captain Blackbeard ate his apple, Noah clipped a lead to his halter and led him to his stall.
“Suellen must have forgotten to tell J.J. about your working here in the morning,” Joshua said as he went to close the paddock door that Noah had left open in order to bring in Captain Blackbeard.
“Probably because she doesn’t know,” Noah said. “I’m working up at the orchards by the time she’s up.”
“What about Clyde Brady?”
Noah shrugged his shoulders. “I think he’s sick. It’s been at least a couple weeks since I’ve seen him here in the morning to feed the horses.” He flashed Joshua a wide grin. “The Captain gets real cranky when he’s hungry. So I make sure he gets his breakfast.”
Joshua wondered if the elderly man was lying dead at his home from a heart attack or stroke. “Has anyone seen Clyde?”
“He was giving the orchard foreman hell yesterday ‘bout something.”
“Then why isn’t he caring for the horses?” Joshua muttered to himself.
In the midst of closing the barn door, he paused to admire the beauty of the lush green farmland bathed in the warmth of the new day. At the top of the hill, there was an outdoor riding arena in which they trained the horses. Then, his gaze fell on a peculiar sight on the rise beyond the fence.
He wondered why he had never noticed it before. Possibly because the night before, he’d been more focused on keeping Izzy from sneaking some of the farm animals home with her.
The sun cast a golden glow on a giant mound of boulders. The structure was reminiscent of a rocky tepee.
“Noah, what’s that?” Joshua asked the young man, who was passing by with a wheelbarrow filled with horse manure. Seeing that he had cleaned out the stalls before they had arrived, Joshua wanted to hug him.
“What’s what?” Noah asked.
“That giant mound of rocks on the other side of the fence.”
“Oh, that’s a pile of rocks.”
Noah’s laughter made Joshua feel like the butt of a joke. He must have sensed Joshua’s displeasure, because he set the wheelbarrow down to explain the rocks to him. “Tom said the same thing to me when I asked about them. Back when Russell Farm was first established—like, over a hundred years ago—those boulders were, like, all over the place. They needed to clear the land for the pastures and gardens and orchards, so they moved them and put them all together into big piles like that.”
“That makes sense.” Satisfied with the answer, Joshua went back toward the stall area.
After dumping the horse manure out in the pasture, Noah picked up the conversation where they had left off when he returned with the empty wheelbarrow. “Sometimes coyotes and other animals make dens in those rocks.”
“The piles are hollow inside?”
Noah was nodding his head. “This past spring, Clyde shot a coyote that was going after one of the colts. I saw it come out of that mound of rocks right up there on top of the hill. We looked inside, and there was enough room for a coyote to make itself at home.” He wheeled the wheelbarrow to one corner of the barn and set it down.
When Joshua opened the barn door to let Izzy inside, Charley, the rooster, was sitting on her shoulder and taking feed out of her hand.
“Are you kidding me?” he asked. “That rooster hates everyone.”
“All he wants is some respect,” she said. “You respect him, and he’ll respect you.” Gently, she picked up the large bird from her shoulder, set him at her feet, and scattered the food on the ground. “Let’s go, Charley.” Then she skipped into the barn. Flapping his wings to race ahead of the pack of dogs that was following Izzy, Charley followed her not unlike a dog would have.
Upon seeing Noah, she stopped. Her eyes grew wide. “Where’d you find him?”
“That’s Noah,” Joshua said. “Noah, this is my daughter Izzy.”
“Hi, Izzy. I see Charley likes you. You should feel honored. He’s very picky about who he likes.”
Izzy responded by breaking down into loud, girlish giggles.
“Did you see the litter of new born kittens?” Noah asked her.
Izzy’s eyes grew wide and a smile crossed her face. She was practically jumping up and down at the mention of kittens.
“Born last night.” Noah led her to a stall at the far end of the barn. “I found them this morning. There’s six of them. I’m going to feed Mother
. Do you want to help?”
“Do I!”
Shaking his head, Joshua went to check the clipboard hanging from the door that led into the feed room. Like his uncle’s dairy farm, the Russell Ridge Farm kept a record of what kind of food, how much food, and what vitamin supplements should be given to each animal.
There was a row of plastic bins, and each had a label on its lid identifying the type of feed that it contained. A shelf above the feed contained tubs of the various vitamins that were to be mixed in with the feed for those horses who needed extra vitamin supplements.
Joshua went through the horses’ names and checked the bins and the tubs of vitamins to make sure that he had everything he needed. Everything appeared to be in order until he came to the palomino’s special vitamins. Due to the years of neglect, the palomino was getting a special mixture from the vet of several vitamins and nutrients that would put weight on her and build up her muscles. He found that the tub was empty.
“Hey, Noah, do you know if they’ve got another tub of supplements for the palomino?” Joshua called out into the stall area.
There was silence.
“Noah?” Joshua stepped out of the feed room and found Noah coaching the black and white mother cat to eat from a metal pie dish while Izzy petted her babies.
“Sir?”
“The palomino,” Joshua said. “Do you know where there might be any more supplements for her?” He held up the empty bright-yellow tub.
His eyes wide, Noah stared at the tub that Joshua was holding in his hand before going into the feed room and studying the tubs on the shelf. Finally, he took down a tub of prescription magnesium, which had a label similar to that of the bright-yellow tub and was from the same veterinarian.
After spotting the special supplement directly behind where the magnesium was kept, Joshua grabbed the tub. “Good job. Thanks, Noah.”
A look of confusion crossed Noah’s face when Joshua turned to the workbench. After peering at the tub in his hand and then comparing it to the tub that Joshua had taken, he finally set the tub of magnesium on the workbench next to the special supplement and returned to feeding the mother cat.
By the time they had finished putting out the feed, and making sure the mother cat and her kittens were well taken care of, Joshua was more than ready to go home, shower, and put on fresh clothes. Slipping forty dollars into Noah’s palm, which was a great surprise to the young man, Joshua profusely thanked Noah for his help. With a wide grin, the young man jogged up the trail behind the barn to go to his regular job up at the orchards.
With a sigh of exhaustion, Joshua went back into the barn and found Izzy carrying a box of horse brushes out of the tackle room.
“What are you doing?” Joshua asked.
“We’re going to brush the horses,” she said. “They’re all dirty. They’ll feel much better after we clean them up.”
“You’re not going near—”
Even in the middle of his sentence, Joshua recognized the distinctive click of a shotgun being cocked. Izzy was standing in front of him, and her eyes grew wide, and her mouth dropped open. Charley screeched and flapped his wings. The dogs scattered. Joshua held up his hands so that whoever was aiming the shotgun at his back could see that he was not armed.
“What do you people think you’re doing?” an elderly man asked.
“Clyde,” Joshua said in a loud and clear voice, “it’s me, Josh Thornton. Tad MacMillan’s cousin. This is my daughter Izzy. We came to take care of the horses because Suellen is in the hospital.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Why would we break into a barn to shovel manure?”
“More than likely, you broke in to—” Abruptly, the old man ordered, “Turn off that radio!”
“What radio?” Joshua asked. “There’s no radio.”
“He’s telling you the truth,” Izzy said. “J.J. asked us to come take care of the horses ’cause Suellen had a seizure last night and went to the hospital.”
“J.J.?”
“My son,” Joshua said. “Joshua Thornton Jr. He moved in with Suellen yesterday. They were going to talk to you about it today. He’s going to help you out by taking care of the horses, which will allow you to devote more time to the dairy farm.”
“No! That’s my job. I’m the farm manager. I’ve been taking care of these horses for fifty years!”
“Clyde,” Joshua said in a gentle tone. “I’m going to turn around so that we can talk face to face. I want you to put the shotgun down before someone gets hurt.”
With a jerk of his head and a flick of his eyes, Joshua gestured for Izzy to ease backward into the tack room, where she wouldn’t be hit if Clyde fired the gun. Without seeing Clyde Brady, he could sense by his tone of voice that the old man was agitated and most likely unpredictable—a bad state of mind to be in when armed.
“First, I want you to turn off that damn music!” Clyde ordered.
“Izzy will turn off the radio in the tack room,” Joshua said in a calm tone. “Won’t you, Izzy?”
“There’s no radio in the tack room,” Izzy said in a low voice.
“I’m turning around, Clyde, so that we can talk about this face to face.” Moving as slowly as possible, Joshua turned around inch by inch with his hands held up high.
With deep breaths, Clyde Brady watched him.
Seeing that his attention was focused on her father, Izzy hurried back into the tack room. Charley jumped down off of the feed bin to strut back and forth in front of the open doorway.
Clyde Brady, who was in his late sixties, was stooped over. He was wearing discolored blue-jean overalls and a yellowed T-shirt. The farmer was tall and exceedingly slender. For as long as Joshua had known him, he’d worn his long white hair, which fell straight to the middle of his back, tied back in a low ponytail. Joshua had concluded that it was a holdover from his hippie days back in the sixties. Tad had told him that Clyde and Monica Brady had gotten into farming because of their desire to live off of the land and to grow all of their food, which they had basically done.
Once he was facing the old man, Joshua gave him a reassuring grin. “See, Clyde, it’s me. Josh Thornton.”
Slowly, Clyde shook his head. He tightened his grip on the shotgun, which was aimed at Joshua’s chest. “No, you’re not Josh Thornton. I don’t know who you are, mister, but you’re not him. I know Josh Thornton.”
Joshua squinted at him. “Of course I am, Clyde.” He took a step toward him. “Who else would I be?”
“Don’t know.” Clyde’s breath quickened. “Josh Thornton has short dark hair. And he doesn’t have a beard either.”
“My hair turned gray a few years ago, Clyde,” Joshua said while easing toward him. “Teenagers do that to you. I grew my beard after I got married—”
The barrel of the shotgun was inches from Joshua’s chest.
“Nah! Gotcha! Josh Thornton is a widower!”
“You’ve seen me since I got married and grew my beard, Clyde,” Joshua said. “At Monica’s funeral.”
“What funeral?” The old man’s face twisted with a grimace. “Turn off that damn music!”
Seeing that Clyde was not going to let him have any more time, Joshua swiped the barrel of the shotgun to the side with his left hand. As he grabbed the stock with his right hand, Joshua delivered a kick to the old man’s stomach, knocking him down onto his back. By the time the old man hit the ground, Joshua was aiming the shotgun down at him.
“What the hell is wrong with you, Clyde—pointing a loaded shotgun at my daughter and me? You’re lucky I don’t shoot you just for ticking me off!”
As if to add his two cents’ worth, Charley flew up from behind Joshua, landed on Clyde’s chest, and cawed down at him.
Chapter Five
“Tad, he didn’t recognize me,” Joshua said to the doctor after calling him
out to the farm to give Clyde Brady an unofficial examination.
Furious that the old man had aimed a shotgun at Izzy and him, Joshua had called Sheriff Sawyer to have the old man arrested. When Joshua had disconnected the call, Clyde Brady had been looking up at him from the farmhouse’s front-porch swing. “Josh? What are you doing here?”
To Joshua’s shock, Clyde had no memory of threatening them with a shotgun. That was when he had called Tad, who was giving the elderly man a cursory examination when Cameron arrived directly behind Sheriff Sawyer’s cruiser.
“Well,” Tad said with a drawl, “when was the last time he saw you?”
Unsure, Joshua said, “His wife’s funeral.”
“That was eight months ago, Josh.”
“He kept telling us to turn off the radio. He was hearing music that wasn’t there.”
While Tad went to talk to the elderly man, Sheriff Sawyer rubbed the back of his neck. “You don’t seriously want to press charges against Clyde, do you, Josh? He’s almost seventy years old. He’s never even gotten a speeding ticket. His wife was brutally murdered. Just because he had a senior moment and didn’t recog—”
“He aimed a shotgun at Izzy,” Joshua said. “Do you know what something like that can do to a kid?”
“I can see that she’s totally traumatized,” Cameron said with sarcasm.
Joshua and Cameron looked beyond the sheriff and to the barn, where Izzy was sitting on a bench chattering away at Charley, who was perched on her shoulder. Mesmerized by the girl petting the comb on top of his head, the rooster leaned against her head, and she giggled as if the two of them were sharing a secret. The dogs were sprawled out at her feet.
“Is that the same rooster that tried to kill me when I got out of my cruiser?” Sheriff Sawyer asked.
“Yup,” Cameron said.
“What if Clyde had shot us?” Joshua asked. “I’m not overreacting. I think this man is a danger to others, if not to himself.” He turned to Cameron. “Which could directly affect your investigation into Monica’s murder. Clyde is the only one who saw the killer. If he’s becoming senile, you may have a problem getting a conviction when you catch Monica’s murderer. If Clyde Brady can’t recognize someone he’s known for over four decades, how’s he going to pick a killer he saw for a matter of minutes out of a lineup?”
