FURever Bound

by Patricia Fry

  “On the horseback ride?”

  Iris laughed. “No, to the séance, or not-a-séance, or whatever we’re calling it. You said yourself that cats can see spirits.”

  “No, Iris, I’m pretty sure you’re the one who came up with that.”

  “Well, you agreed that cats stare at things we can’t see,” Iris insisted.

  “Uh-huh. Dust particles, shards of light, tiny insects…”

  Iris waved her hand in front of her. “Never mind. Just bring him, okay? I want to observe his reaction to Ernie.”

  “Ronnie,” Savannah corrected.

  Iris pointed at her. “See, you do admit he’s real…um…I mean, a real spirit being—that he exists…er…or used to...”

  Savannah shook her head, edged out of the car, and waved. “See you Wednesday.”

  Chapter 2

  Iris arrived at the Iveys’ just before nine on Wednesday morning. “Hey there, cowgirl,” she called, joining Savannah at the hitching post. “Need help getting the fillies ready for our big day?”

  “Hi! You mean the mares?” She tossed Iris a grooming brush. “Here, brush Gypsy down. Are you ready for this?” Savannah asked, straightening a saddle pad and blanket over Peaches’s back.

  “Sure. Why wouldn’t I be?”

  Savannah lifted a saddle up onto Peaches and reached for the cinch. “It’s just that it’s been a while since you’ve ridden a horse.”

  “I rode with you a few months ago, remember?” Iris said. “And I wasn’t even sore—well, maybe just a little bit.” She used wide, sweeping motions with the brush over Gypsy’s body and sputtered. “She’s dusty.” She then said, “Yeah, I’m looking forward to this. I especially want to see that route you talked about that leads from your house to my house.”

  “Maybe it does. If it doesn’t, we’ll be treated to some new scenery, anyway.” Savannah smiled. “Should be fun.” After making sure her saddle was secure, she asked, “Do you want to ride Peaches or Gypsy?”

  Iris looked at the horses. “Which one’s nicer?”

  “Both,” Savannah said, running her hand over Gypsy’s back before placing the saddle pad on her. She added, “I think you’ll do just fine with Gypsy, but if she gives you any trouble, we can trade.”

  Iris grinned. “Good. Gypsy resonates with me. At least her name does.” She patted the mare and suggested, “I could probably open a riding stable at the inn, don’t you think so?”

  Savannah frowned when she returned from the tack room with another saddle. “Did I hear you right? You want to run a horse stable?”

  Iris stuttered, “Well I…um…I don’t know why I couldn’t. What does it take, having stalls built, ordering a load of hay, feeding once a day, and probably hiring a riding professional?”

  Savannah heaved the saddle onto Gypsy’s back and faced Iris. “It would be like taking on another full-time job—a whole new career. Sure you could do it, but you’d want that professional to manage the whole stable operation, including shopping for gentle horses, feeding them twice,” she emphasized, “not once a day, having hay brought in every few weeks or so, providing clean water, exercising them, keeping up with their health needs, such as…”

  “Okay, okay,” Iris complained. “So, you’re telling me it’s, like, a lot of work?”

  “Absolutely! And responsibility not only to the animals, but to the public.” She finished saddling Gypsy and faced Iris. “You’d probably need higher-priced liability insurance and…”

  “Got it,” Iris said, shaking her head. “Maybe I don’t want to offer a horse element at my bed-and-breakfast.” She kicked a rock with the toe of her boot. After a few moments, her face lit up. “Maybe I could make arrangements with your friends at their stables for my guests who want to ride.”

  “Bonnie and Barney?” Savannah asked. “Yes, now you’re thinking smart.” She motioned to Iris. “Get up there and let me check your stirrups.”

  ****

  The two women had been on the trail for about twenty minutes when Savannah reined Peaches in. “Looks like the trail ends here.” She stood up in her stirrups. “I’ll bet we can blaze a trail the rest of the way.”

  “Blaze a trail?” Iris repeated. “You mean with fire?”

  “No! Not with fire,” Savannah insisted, “with the horses. It appears that the right-of-way used to go beyond this point; it’s just become overgrown.” She set her jaw and said, “I’m determined to see what’s on the other side of this brush. It’s one of my curiosities.”

  “Curiosity is one of your curiosities?” Iris repeated, laughing.

  “Yes, like you and your interest in spirit beings. Only, you want to know what’s beyond what you can’t see and I want to know what’s beyond what I can see.” When Iris looked confused, Savannah explained, “When I’m hiking or riding and I come to a hill, I just must find out what’s on the other side of it. If it’s another hill, I want to climb that one too.”

  “Maybe you were an explorer in a past life?” Iris suggested.

  Savannah frowned. “Oh, so you’re going to woo-woo that up, are you? Do you believe in reincarnation now?” She pulled a water bottle from her saddlebag and took a drink.

  Iris winced. “Oh, I’m not at all sure reincarnation’s real. I’m just making conversation.” She winked. “That’s one of my curiosities—figuring out what makes people tick.” Before Savannah could respond, Iris asked, “Why do you think you have such a desire to conquer hills, mountains, and…” she waved toward the overgrowth, “weed patches? Why would you be so curious about what’s beyond what you can see? Reincarnation is a handy explanation for things like that.”

  Savannah nudged her mare forward and motioned to Iris. “Come on. Let’s satisfy my curiosity, shall we?”

  Another twenty minutes had gone by when Iris said, “Well, I’ll be. You were right. My house is right over there, around the corner. It’s neat that we have a sort of direct line between our two homes.” She laughed. “It reminds me of when a neighbor kid and I made walkie-talkies out of tin cans and string so we could talk to each other from our houses. Did you ever do that, Savannah?”

  “No,” she admitted, “but my dad once helped Bri and me make a fort out of large cardboard boxes.” She smiled at the thought. “We painted pictures on the walls and curtains around the windows, and he even rigged a bell for our front door.”

  “Those were the days, weren’t they?” Iris said. “Of course, my days were longer ago than your days.”

  “True,” Savannah said. She giggled. “You were a kid in the dark ages. When I came along, the light was starting to shine.”

  “Well, aren’t you poetic,” Iris carped. “Humph. Dark ages, indeed.”

  Savannah grinned as she changed the subject, “So I guess walking over here with the kids is out of the question, unless we can get the county to clear out all that brush. Come on, let’s see if we can crash through the rest of it without getting chiggers or ticks.”

  “What?” Iris shrieked. “Ticks? What’s a chigger?”

  “Too late to worry about them now,” Savannah said, gazing back at the overgrowth of brush they’d already ridden through. We’ll wash the horses down with soap and water when we get back.”

  “What about us?” Iris asked, vigorously swatting around her head and face and brushing her hands over her arms and legs.

  Savannah laughed. “You can get into the horse trough if you’d like.”

  “Not funny,” Iris griped. “I work hard to keep my skin nice, and I seriously do not want a bunch of bugs making me itch and break out all over the place.” When Savannah didn’t respond, Iris looked back at the brush. “This would make a rather nice walk. Yes, see if you can get the county to clean that stuff up. The way it is, it can’t be healthy or safe—you know, for kids to play in or for a woman to go walking alone.”

  “I’ll see what I can do.” Savannah pointed. “Want to ride over to your house?”

  Iris shook her head. “Not really. Why don’t w
e go back to the café and get a sandwich or a salad or something.”

  Savannah reined her mare around. “Okay, Peaches, ready to go through the jungle again?”

  Iris pointed. “Or we could maybe go through that tract and miss all the ticks and chiggers and…” She shuddered.

  “Sure. Why not?” Savannah said. “I always enjoy touring neighborhoods and getting ideas for our yard.”

  Iris urged Gypsy to catch up with Peaches and the two women rode next to each other down a quiet street. “I like to look at the architecture,” Iris revealed.

  “Do you miss your work?” Savannah asked.

  Iris frowned. “At the diner?”

  “No, I mean your home-decorating work. Do you miss that, now that you’re running the nicest hostel in the area?”

  “Thank you,” Iris said, smiling. She giggled. “It is nice, isn’t it? To answer your question, I actually miss the diner sometimes. I genuinely enjoyed that place—the people and all. And, yes, I miss the creativity aspect of my decorating business. But I do love the inn.” She chuckled. “I guess I just like working.”

  Savannah smiled. “I think it’s more about the work you do that you like. What about your cleaning business; remember when you used to clean offices at night, including our clinic?”

  “I sure do. Yeah, I enjoyed that too, believe it or not. I like it when things are as they should be—organized logically in the right place, and tidy and pretty.”

  Savannah nodded. “I do too, but tidiness and cleanliness just aren’t important to some people. I dated a guy once who had no clue about the necessity to clean your place once in a while. I guess no one had ever taught him to use a broom or a dust cloth. How he could live there without seeing the dirt or how he could see it and not care was beyond me. I visited his place twice and that was enough for me.”

  “Not a keeper, huh?” Iris asked.

  “Not even!” Savannah asserted. “After that, my dating criteria included a visit to the guy’s dorm or apartment or his room in his parents’ home…”

  “You gave his place the old white-glove test, did you?” Iris asked.

  “White glove?” Savannah questioned.

  “I guess that’s an old-fashioned term. If you really want to see if someone keeps a clean house, you put on white gloves before striking your finger across the tabletop or the door frame to test for dust and grime.”

  “Yes, the white-glove test; that’s pretty much what I did after that.”

  “And Michael passed the test, huh?”

  “Oh, Michael,” Savannah said dreamily. “I fell so hard for him I don’t remember ever checking his place for grime.” She laughed. “Fortunately, we share a fairly common level of dirt tolerance or intolerance. Neither of us is fastidious, but we aren’t oinkers either—you know we don’t live in a pig sty.”

  “No you don’t,” Iris agreed. “I think doctors and veterinarians have to be cognizant of cleanliness because it’s so important in their work environment.”

  “Maybe so,” Savannah said. “Yeah, I don’t think I’ve ever met a veterinary slob.” She pointed. “There’s the café. Let’s go around to the back. I think they have a hitching post out behind the parking lot. We should be able to see the horses from the patio.”

  Once the women were seated and had started eating, Savannah asked, “What do you know about that old run-down house on the other side of the tract behind us?” When Iris looked confused, she added, “We went past it a while ago. It’s kind of off the beaten path, in a stand of trees and overgrown shrubs. I’ve always thought it must have been abandoned. Now the windows are all boarded up and it looks worse than ever, so I guess it must be. I wonder why someone doesn’t move in there—you know, buy it and fix it up. Is it hexed or something?”

  “Hexed?” Iris repeated, laughing.

  “Someone must own it. Why are they just sitting on it and letting it weather away? Wouldn’t you sell a house if you weren’t going to use it or rent it out?”

  Iris nodded while she washed down a bite of her salad with a sip of iced tea. “You’d think so. Now where is this house?”

  “Probably two-and-a-half or three blocks from our place. Like I said, we passed it earlier. I’ll show you on the way home.”

  Minutes later, the riders were back on the trail. They were about three blocks from the Iveys’ home when Savannah stopped Peaches and pointed. “There’s that house I was telling you about. See, it looks abandoned and it’s in horrible repair. Don’t the neighbors care? It’s so close to that tract. I wonder why the county hasn’t done something; hasn’t anyone complained? Is this even legal?”

  “Oh, yes, I have noticed that place.” Iris squinted into the distance. “It actually backs up to an empty lot next to where one of my former classmates lives. I’ve always wondered how a neat, ornate, old house could end up all ratty like that. I mean, it must have been beautiful at one time.”

  “Probably,” Savannah agreed, “…and happy with children’s laughter. I wonder what happened.”

  “It’s as if the family just walked away from it. Like you said, if they don’t want to live there, why don’t they sell it?” Iris suddenly thought of something. “Hey, I remember now; my former classmate told me that the owners do not want to sell it and they don’t have any interest in fixing it up, either. I guess there’s nothing anyone can do.”

  “Really?” Savannah asserted. “It seems that it would be against some county policy or law to let your property deteriorate to this degree, I mean, especially when it’s near a well-kept housing tract. Not only is it an eyesore, it can attract rats and, you know, vagrants.” Savannah speculated, “It probably got caught up in an ugly divorce.”

  “What?”

  “Yeah, she gets half the money from the sale of the house, but he refuses to sell it in order to keep her from getting the money.”

  “So, while you’re making up stories, let me ask you this: why doesn’t he at least fix it up?” Iris asked.

  “Good question.” Savannah stared at the place for a few more moments. “Now that’s something I’d like to research.”

  Iris nudged her horse up closer to Peaches, asking, “What?”

  “The history behind this house and why it stands so ugly and unloved.”

  “Go for it, girl,” Iris quipped.

  “I just might,” Savannah said. She looked mischievously at Iris. “Want to snoop?”

  “You mean around that old house?” Iris asked.

  Savannah nodded.

  Iris thought about it before saying, “Naw. I’d better go back so I can get ready for tonight.” She grinned. “You’re coming tonight, aren’t you?”

  “I’m planning on it,” Savannah said as she reined her mare toward home. She looked at her watch. “So it took us about forty-five minutes, one way. It would probably be thirty or thirty-five if we didn’t have that brush to contend with and if we didn’t do so much gawking. How long does it take to drive from your house to mine—about ten minutes?”

  “Something like that,” Iris agreed, “with traffic and stop signals and all.” She chuckled. “Why? Are you considering using your horse to visit me from now on?”

  “I just might,” Savannah joked.

  “With the kids?” Iris questioned.

  “Yeah, I’ll put one in each saddlebag.”

  Both women laughed.

  Savannah stopped again and stared at the abandoned property. “I just can’t imagine why someone would leave a perfectly good house vacant and deteriorating like that.”

  “You may find out once you do the research.”

  “Heck, I don’t even know where to begin.” She looked at Iris. “Maybe with the owners. Do you know who owns that property?”

  Iris shook her head. “No, but I can probably find out.”

  “Good,” Savannah said. “That would be a great start.”

  ****

  “What time will Peter and Rochelle be here?” Savannah asked Michael later that afternoon.
“You’ve talked to Peter, right?”

  “Yes. I guess Rochelle’s spending the night with Iris.” He looked up her. “Are you going over there this evening?”

  “Yeah, I thought I might, if you don’t mind.”

  “So what does Iris have planned, do you know?”

  “Not really, except that she wants Rochelle to talk to her ghost.” When Michael waited for more—a look of skepticism on his handsome face—she added, “Iris thinks Rochelle can get his story.”

  “Then what will Iris do?” he asked. “I mean about her…um…ghost?”

  Savannah shrugged. “I don’t know. She seems to think he was murdered. She may want to help him avenge the killing.”

  “Hmmm,” Michael muttered. “And what’s your role this evening? You’re not really a believer in the supernatural, are you?”

  She hesitated. “Well, I think I believe in some aspects of it. I believe that Rochelle is genuine, and what she does is certainly supernatural—or unnatural.”

  “But her thing is to sense what’s about to happen, right?” Michael asked.

  “Yeah. I guess that would come under clairvoyance.”

  “Or mind reading,” he offered.

  “Uh-huh. She seems to be able to read people’s thoughts and tune in to their intentions.” She picked up a stuffed bear and handed it to Teddy. “We’ve also seen her talk to spirits or supposed spirits, and I don’t doubt that she’s tapping into something. But what is it, actually? It’s all rather foreign and freaky to me.”

  “So you don’t have a role in the program tonight?”

  “I hope not. I’d like to just be an innocent bystander. I don’t want to sense or see anything.” She grinned. “I don’t want to miss anything either, so I’ll try not to close my mind completely. I mean, what if there actually are ghosts living among us, watching us, listening to our conversations and all?” She thought for a moment before saying, “If the spirit of someone lingers at the site where he died, especially if he was killed, my uncle Jed could be here in our house with us right now, unless…”