Once Avery was convinced Carlee wasn’t seriously injured, he’d seen the anger take over. In full view and hearing of every one of them crowded into her kitchen the night before, she’d pulled up Craig’s number on her cell phone. Her warning, more of a promise than a threat to Dirks’ mind, had been issued in clear, concise terms.
“I didn’t expect you to answer, Craig, not when you saw my name on your screen, and that’s fine, but I know you’ll listen to this message. You need to hear, know, and understand something. You’d better call off your dogs - Tarant and any others - and make them believe that nothing on this property belongs to you. If anything happens – if Carlee, if any of my team gets hurt or any of these horses are taken – you’re going to pay way more than any debt you owe them. In fact, you’d better pray that none of my horses even come down with a cough, because I’m going to blame you and I’m going to come looking for you. Bet on it.”
When she clicked off, she’d glared right at Dirks as if daring him to comment. He hadn’t. Nor had any of her team, though they probably wanted to applaud her as much as he did.
He watched her now as she methodically groomed a strong-looking horse that stood quietly under her attention. Dirks didn’t doubt she was aware of his presence, but she didn’t comment on the fact or so much as acknowledge him. She talked softly to the animal the whole while, resolutely ignoring the fact that Dirks was watching her every movement. When the light red coat gleamed to suit her, she went over the saddle touching every piece of it with meticulous care before swinging it up on that muscular back.
As she pulled the girth snug, an SUV pulled alongside the paddock in front of Barn Three. Dirks watched a sturdy, young woman in scrubs step out of the driver’s side and walk around to open the passenger door. A too-thin, young man eased his way out, leaning heavily upon a cane until he was upright, after which he used it to find his way forward. His eyes were open, but Dirks realized at once that they were sightless.
Avery left the horse ground-tied and met the young man at the paddock fence. She smiled at him warmly. “Sergeant Mallette. Good morning.”
“Good morning, ma’am. How are you?”
“Happy that the sun is shining and all my horses are healthy.”
“How is Applejack today?” Dirks could hear the eagerness and affection in the soldier’s voice. “Ready for a ride?”
“That one’s always ready. He’s tireless. And, yes, he’s ready for you. All saddled.”
“One day I want to be able to saddle him myself.” Though Dirks couldn’t hear even a hint of self-pity in the young man’s voice, his own throat tightened. Men like Sergeant Mallette had given way too much, way too young. What a small thing that would seem to most riders, the ability to saddle their own horse. Maybe even a burden rather than a blessing that they could do so.
“And you will,” Avery said evenly. “Think how far you’ve come in these few weeks. You can ride without me, unsaddle him and even finish cooling him without me. Just a bit longer and I promise you’ll saddle by yourself.”
But Dirks suspected that wouldn’t happen until Avery was sure the sabotage had ended and the saboteur was behind bars.
Avery moved to the center of the ring, standing tirelessly while the horse and rider circled her slowly. The soldier’s balance was steady and Dirks knew how difficult that balance astride a horse must have been to develop without sight. He’d seen others struggle just on their own two feet once they’d lost the ability to see. After fifteen or so minutes, Mallette lifted the reins which cued the horse to a slow jog. Dirks wouldn’t have called it a trot but definitely more than a walk. After another fifteen minutes, the soldier reined him back down to a walk and turned him in the opposite direction and started over again.
Dirks’ gaze stayed as much on Avery as the soldier. She talked encouragingly to him as often as she was silent. Dirks never heard the least hint of weariness or impatience at the slow pace of the session. Nor did her smile, genuine and pleased, once slip.
After a bit, he supposed curiosity got the better of the nurse as she moved to stand beside him. “I haven’t seen you here before. Are you a student?” Her glance was bright and friendly, her freckled face pleasing with a cheerful expression.
“No, I’m just visiting. Are you with the VA?”
She pulled a face at that. “No, thank the Lord. I work at the regional hospital. I bring Sergeant Mallette here on my own time between shifts.”
That caught Dirks’ attention. “That’s good of you.”
“Little enough. I lost my husband to an IED three years back. I do what I can for those who actually do make it home. A little bit like Ms. Avery, I guess. I don’t know how much money she could be making with the time she donates to the veterans. She’s trying to get in some government program that will pay her back for her time and maybe let her take on some more but last she mentioned it, the government was taking its usual slow crawl to get to her application. Even if it works out, I suspect she’ll always give time to some that might not be covered even by that.”
Dirks turned his attention back the woman in the center of the ring with way more to think about than he’d expected to be given. He tried not to read into Avery’s face what might not be there, but he couldn’t deny the joy shining in her eyes, the fiercely hopeful expression on her face as she watched the soldier. Dirks had fought the attraction he felt for her, knowing he had to be objective, knowing he had to see her clearly enough to know if she was capable of subterfuge, of pocketing money intended to help wounded veterans.
But now? No way, Dirks thought, no way in hell could he believe she’d risk everything she’d created here for a few fraudulent dollars. No way would she jeopardize her dream of helping the men and women who put their lives on the line every day they were away from their families. Whatever was happening, she was the victim and not the catalyst behind the events.
And somehow, he had to figure out the who and the why behind what was. Craig was the easy answer, almost too easy. And sometimes the easy answer was the correct one, but Dirks would dig and dig deep – deep enough to be certain the answer he found was the true one.
Chapter Ten
Things are heating up and not just between Ms. Gorgeous and Mr. Military. Dad talks about feeling things in his bones and the young whippersnapper that I confess to have been, believed he meant the aches and pains of old age – not that I’d ever been so unwise as to voice such a thought! As I’ve followed closely in his paw prints and matured into my profession, I’ve come to understand what he was truly describing was that knowledge of things deep inside. Bone deep.
The danger is increasing but so is the troubling suspicion that I am somehow missing a key factor. That is a failing I’ve come to associate with my well-meaning, but less brilliant, humanoid counterparts. Typically, my work is more to ensure they understand and act upon my dazzling deductions. With this case, I must now dig much deeper to unearth a truth that is proving frustratingly elusive.
I admit to the possibility that the weak-spined ex could be the culprit behind all of the catastrophes but I cannot overcome the fact that I’ve not once scented his recent presence around any of the barns or paddocks. It lingers in some places, most recently and most strongly in the guest quarters he purportedly used throughout the lengthy divorce proceedings and the main house as well, though fading there. I’ve even caught a whiff or two around the tack rooms, particularly where Carlee sat amidst the destruction of some expensive tack. With that taken into consideration, I must decide whether or not I can accept that the thus-described spineless ex could so influence the increasingly nasty turns of events or accept that he is a victim of his own stupidity with those events no more than the domino effect of that stupidity.
At the center of the danger is Ms. Gorgeous, around whom everyone seems to be hovering this morning. Mr. Military has yet to take his eyes from her though she seems oblivious to his stare as she watches the young soldier who, though sightless, remains determined to
learn new ways to enjoy his life. Tucker has edged over from his work once or twice to check on the woman who seems more friend and mentor than employer, as has Leanne. And here is Carlee, yet again, hovering and casting anxious glances toward Avery. If possible, Carlee seems even more agitated now than last night after her own brush with danger.
Hmmm, I wonder the reason for her frown as Carlee glances down at her ringing cell phone. I believe I’ll step a bit closer as I can’t hear what she’s saying from here. In true detective work, eavesdropping is less a character flaw than a necessity.
“I wouldn’t consider Avery’s voice message a threat, if I were you. More like a promise.” Carlee is quite definitely brassed off. Her voice sounds dire and her pacing, as she listens to whoever is at the other end of the line, brings her closer to Mr. Military.
“What did you expect her to do? Let you take everything she’s worked so hard to make here and squander it on your bad habits?”
Uh-oh, Carlee’s rising tone has drawn Mr. Military’s interest from Ms. Gorgeous.
“I have tried to help you, Dad. I don’t know what else to do. I can’t support myself and you and your gambling too. You’ve got to stop! Stay away from here, just stay away.”
Well, it would seem Carlee has realized belatedly that she holds Mr. Military’s complete attention. She turns away and lowers her voice, wiping at what I suspect are tears in her eyes. Fortunately, she seems oblivious to my own stealthy move to keep within hearing of her conversation.
“What do you mean you’re afraid? Of who?” Carlee pauses, no doubt listening to her father’s reply. “Jesus, Dad! Okay, yes. I’ll meet you but it won’t change anything. I can’t help you with this.”
There’s no mistaking Carlee’s agitation as she slides her phone into her pocket. This does not bode well for anyone.
I wish Mr. Military had heard more of that conversation but at least Ms. Gorgeous remains focused on her client. My lady doesn’t need anything further to distress her and it would appear Carlee plans to place herself in the line of fire with her worry for her father.
* * *
“What’s next on your agenda?”
Avery pulled her gaze from the young sergeant as he carefully unsaddled Applejack. She glanced briefly at Dirks, before returning her attention to her client. It alarmed as much as irritated her to realize that she found Dirks more appealing each day. “I’ve got a contractor coming out to talk with me later today.”
“Contractor? Are you starting another barn?”
“No. It’s a project I’ve had in mind for a long time. The problem is the work’s already started but this guy is dragging his heels about finishing. I’ve asked him to meet with me but I’ve got a few hours before he’ll be here. I’ll probably put that time into paperwork.”
“I’ve got a better idea. Let’s go into town for some lunch. It will do you good to get away from here for a couple of hours.”
For a moment, Avery just stared at him. Was he ... what? Asking her for a date? Wanting to grill her again? Rather than stand there and wonder, she asked bluntly, “Why?”
His smile was killer - at least for her - she admitted to herself.
“Just because,” he said, his tone light and easy. “We’ve got to eat. We both have time. You can tell me about this new project you’ve got going.”
Telling herself she was bat shit crazy for so much as considering it, she found herself nodding assent all the same. The idea appealed to her. Dirks appealed to her, damn it. “I’ll have to get things cleared away from this session and Applejack back in his stall. But ... okay.”
Bat shit crazy became a mantra said under her breath as she waited patiently for Sergeant Mallette to curry and brush Applejack, as she scheduled his next appointment and then said good-bye to him and the nurse who volunteered to drive him faithfully each week. She wondered sometimes if the young woman had feelings for the soldier, feelings that went beyond being a Good Samaritan. But it was none of her business and she had plenty on her plate without worrying whether or not two hurting souls might find real and lasting joy in each other.
She had to wonder if she truly had lost her mind as she returned to the house, not just to brush the dust from her clothes and grab her purse but to change into something a bit nicer, a bit more flattering. Bat shit crazy she thought again as she dusted some blush across her cheeks to take the pallor away and added just a bit of color to her lips.
When she was done, she just stood at the bathroom sink and stared at herself in the mirror. She didn’t look old, she acknowledged, but she felt old. Craig had made her feel unattractive, something brushed aside and far less appealing to him than his addiction. It might almost have been easier if he’d had some grand and passionate affair, left her to be with another woman. She wasn’t sure why that was so but it seemed to her that at least being set aside for a living, breathing creature was something she could understand. He hadn’t cared for his string of flirtations any more than he’d cared for her. They, like she, had been found less enticing than a game of blackjack.
And as she had that thought, she had another just as quickly. It no longer hurt. All that Craig had done or said in the past years had lost the power to hurt. She smiled at herself in the mirror and suddenly felt just a bit pretty again. Lord, it had been a long time since she’d felt attractive.
“Bat shit crazy,” she told the woman in the mirror but when she turned away she was still smiling.
* * *
It was nice to feel Dirks’ hand on her elbow as she stepped up into the passenger seat of his truck and she decided to let it feel good, at least for now, at least for a little while. He’d be gone soon but she could allow herself to enjoy this feeling, however fleeting it might be. Her reality, though, was that while her past life with Craig no longer had the power to hurt her emotionally, his misdeeds could hurt her in ways far worse. She’d have to focus on damage control just to survive, to ensure her dreams and Summer Valley Ranch survived.
“What are you worrying about?”
She glanced across at Dirks and realized that, while he had his seat belt on, he hadn’t yet started the truck. “Worrying?”
“That crease is back between your eyes.”
“That’s called age,” she said wryly.
To her surprise, Dirks reached over and smoothed the area between her brows with his thumb. The touch startled her and brought with it a warmth that was completely unexpected. “That,” he said firmly, “is called worry.”
Taking a deep breath, she exhaled slowly. “A little. Yes.”
Avery thought Dirks would question her more, but he simply started the engine and turned his attention to driving.
As they left her ranch and turned onto the main road, she forced her shoulders to relax. Even if this did turn out to be simply a further opportunity for him to grill her for information, she wouldn’t let herself be disappointed. She would just view it as another step forward in his decision making. She wanted desperately for that decision to be favorable. It wouldn’t stop her if that wasn’t the case. She’d find a way to help the patriots who needed it, who needed the solace and comfort and, yes, the healing that horses and riding could bring them.
“It’s back.” Dirks’ quick glance her way held amusement.
“What? What’s back?”
“That furrow.”
This time she chuckled and it surprised her that she could. “Busted. But at least I quit biting my nails.”
“You bit your nails?
“You sound surprised.”
“I am actually. I’ve always attributed that trait to insecurity. You’re one of the strongest, most secure women I’ve ever encountered.”
She didn’t know what to say to that so she skirted what sounded like a true compliment. “I started biting my nails a couple of years ago, when I was letting Craig make me feel crazy. I quit when I filed for a divorce.”
“Interesting choice of words - that you ‘let’ him make you feel crazy.”
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For a moment, she didn’t answer because she didn’t want to get deep into her marriage, into the things that Craig had done, and the despair to which she’d nearly succumbed. Choosing her words carefully to steer past those times and those feelings she didn’t want to ever experience again, she finally answered. “Some things, even some feelings, are a choice. It’s just that simple. I’ll never again let another person have that much influence over me. Emotions are one thing. I may get hurt again. I’ll surely have times I feel sad or disappointed, as well as happy and triumphant, but I’ll never doubt myself again. I’ll never let anyone do that to me. That’s a choice.”
“Good for you,” Dirks said softly.
* * *
At Avery’s request, they made a brief stop at the sheriff’s office. Dirks liked the man, liked what his initial investigation into the town had told him about the man. Honesty and integrity in law enforcement wasn’t a rarity but it was nothing to take for granted either.
Farley was clearly disappointed that he still couldn’t offer anything concrete. “I promise I won’t stop digging but I can’t say I expect to find who actually fired those shots, Avery. I’d be lying if I told you I did.”
Silently, Dirks agreed. There was about as much chance of that as finding the proverbial needle in a haystack.
“Did the garage get your SUV ready to go yet? I didn’t check with them this morning but Jeff told me they were close to being finished yesterday.”
“Unfortunately, no,” Avery told him, “they called earlier. The seat that was shipped to them from New Orleans came in just before closing yesterday evening and it wasn’t the right model. They’re waiting for the replacement. Once that’s delivered and installed, I can pick it up.”
The Trouble with Horses Page 11
