Saddled With Trouble

by A. K. Alexander

  “Yeah, she’s sure full of herself. Came in here the other day, bossing me around, needing a few things. Pain in the ass, that one. Brad deserves her.”

  “Listen, I don’t need you to do any smacking around, but I do need a favor.”

  “You name it.”

  “Did you hear about my uncle? Lou Bancroft?”

  “Yeah, my friend, sorry. Read about it in the paper. Was gonna send over some flowers and ring you when I got a chance. That’s rough.”

  “Yeah, thanks. This is kind of personal so I’d appreciate it if you’d keep it between us.”

  “Discretion is my middle name. Whaddya need?”

  “It’s my dad. He’s gambling big-time from what I’ve heard, and he’s in for quite a bit of money. He’s got to be working with a bookie. I need to know who the bookie is, and I need to know how much he owes.”

  Joe frowned. “That don’t sound too good to me. You may want to let your pop handle his own problems.”

  “Joe, he’s my father. Just get me a name, and . . .” She looked out the store window.

  “And, what?”

  “You don’t think my uncle’s murder could have anything to do with my dad’s gambling?”

  Joe waved his hands animatedly. He really could’ve landed an acting job on The Sopranos. He had the drama thing down. “Come on, you know that would not be a likely scenario. It wasn’t your uncle dealing with the cash. Look, from what I know about the families— and I’m not saying I know anything, because I only know this stuff from the TV and movies— but, uh, you know the families, they don’t do that kind of thing. You piss them off, they take care of you. Retaliation on a loved one, well, that’s not what they do.”

  Michaela nodded. “Right.” She touched Joe’s shoulder. “Could you just ask a few questions, see if I can’t help get my dad out of trouble and see if anyone knows anything about my uncle Lou?”

  “I got some cousins who might be able to help me out. I’ll do what I can. Give me a day. C’mon, let’s go ring up your hammer. You still hanging out with that friend of your’s, Camden?”

  “She’s living with me, believe it or not.”

  “She’s a firecracker, that one. I remember meeting her with you, what was that ’bout a year ago at The Dakota House?”

  “I think so.” The mention of The Dakota House saddened her. She should’ve had breakfast with Uncle Lou there the day before.

  “Hey, if she’s not hooked up with anyone, I got a cousin who could use a date. He’s a nut like she is. Think they’d have a good time together.”

  “I’ll mention it to her. I better run.” She thanked him, but before she could get out the door he stopped her, his large hand grabbing her by the arm. “You be careful, Michaela. You need someone to watch your back, you let me know. You know, old crushes die hard.” He smiled and winked at her.

  She stood on her tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek. His face turned the color of the red paint he’d been mixing.

  She’d try to find her dad later, but for now she was thankful that Joe Pellegrino had never lost the ache in his heart for her.

  FIFTEEN

  MICHAELA TOOK LEO A HANDFUL OF SLICED APPLES. The other horses down the breezeway gave her a curious look, and she was sure if they could speak they’d be saying, Um, excuse me, what about the rest of us?

  She knew she spoiled Leo, but she couldn’t help it. He was her baby, and— if her gut was right— a future champion reining horse, a horse that would make her a household name in the industry. She planned to show him as a three-year-old in the National Reining Horse Association Futurity in Oklahoma City. Leo came from the perfect bloodlines suited for reining . . . an event designed to show the athletic ability of a ranch-type horse with a little added elegance and finesse. Michaela had not ridden in the futurity before and although she had a little over two years to go, she felt certain that Leo was destined to be a winner.

  Training him, in and of itself, was a challenge she would relish. She would have to teach him to move in very unnatural ways and perform extremely challenging and controlled maneuvers with grace. They included small slow circles, large fast circles, and flying lead changes— meaning that as he galloped, he’d have to switch the leg leading with each stride— while maintaining the same speed. He’d also have to learn how to do rollbacks, or a 180-direction change turning around on the hind end and continuing motion in the opposite direction, 360-degree spins done by pivoting his body around one hind leg that stays in place and doing it at a high rate of speed, and finally very long, smooth, sliding stops. She patted his forehead. Dream big. That was always Uncle Lou’s motto. Dad’s was, “Be cautious.” Funny how he hadn’t listened to his own advice. At least right now it didn’t appear so. Gambling, and owing the kind of money Dwayne suggested, was anything but cautious.

  She walked to the other end of the barn, took out her seven-year-old stallion Rocky and groomed him. He was a big, beautiful sorrel. She’d taken him to a few events as a four-year-old and he’d shown great promise, earning out a decent amount for his first year on the circuit, but she’d been trying to get pregnant at the time and that’s where her focus was. Then her world went to pot with the discovery of Brad’s infidelity. Rocky was past his prime now as far as the show scene went. Since she hadn’t shown him much over the years, it wasn’t likely he could bring a lot of money in stud fees. However, like Loco and Leo, Rocky was from good lines— his full name was Rocky Chex, with his great-grandsire being Bueno Chex. Now her options were to geld him and make a pleasure riding horse out of him, or turn him out to stud and see if he could still help supplement her income. She had to decide soon what to do with him. But for now, Rocky needed his exercise. She threw the saddle on him; the animal shifted his weight and turned his head toward her with a look in his eye that said, Can’t I just go back and eat?

  “No. You can’t, but if you’re a good boy today, maybe there will be a treat in it for you.”

  She retrieved his bridle from its post in the tack room and brought it back, sliding the halter off and slipping the bit into his mouth and the headstall over his ears. She led him out of the breezeway, stepped up into the left stirrup, grabbed the saddle horn and reins with her left hand, and swung her right leg over and sat comfortably in the saddle. She adjusted her seat and slightly squeezed her calves into his rib area, cueing him to go forward. He responded accordingly, and headed toward the arena.

  Rocky side-passed around to the gate. Michaela reached over and unlocked it, maneuvered him inside, backed him around and shut it. Moments later they were working on conditioning techniques to better their patterns— flying lead changes, circles, and spins. She then pushed him into a full canter with a strong squeeze of her legs, shifted her weight slightly forward and loosened up on the reins. Reining horses, which were typically of the Quarter horse breed, shorter and stockier than most of the other breeds— had good heads about them and maintained calm demeanors. But like the thoroughbred on the track, the quarter horse trained for reining was a fierce competitor inside the ring. There were no other horses in the ring at the same time as the reiner— only horse and rider. But it was as if the animal had a complete understanding of what he was bred for and what was at stake— for him— a bucket of grain and a lot of praise from his rider. For the rider, a wad of cash and some major recognition. For Michaela as a woman, that recognition meant more to her than most of the riders on the circuit, who were men. She wanted to be at the top of her game. She wanted to be the trainer that everyone looked up to: horseman— or in her case, horsewoman— of the year.

  The training that went into teaching the horse to turn on his haunches by coming to a sliding stop from a full run, and doing a 180 turnaround immediately taking off the opposite direction, more like an elegant dancer than a thousand-pound animal, made Michaela’s adrenaline run at a rapid clip. There was no other high that could compare. To be able to control an amazing beast while at a high rate of speed and while doing such complicated maneuv
ers, with just slight touches of her legs, balancing shifts of her seat and soft movements from her hand, gave her the same kind of power that she often imagined was what it felt like for CEOs of huge corporations who went in and achieved the kill.

  “Wow! Nice riding.”

  Michaela slid Rocky to a stop and turned to see Detective Jude Davis standing at the side of the arena. She wiped the back of her right arm across her forehead, the reins still in her left hand. Heat rose to her face. She worked almost as hard as the horses she rode, and today she’d been so focused on what she was doing that the sweat matted the strands of her blonde hair to the sides of her face.

  “Hey, Detective.” Rocky stomped his foot, impatient to get back to work. “Relax, boy.” She patted his neck. “Surprised to see you again so soon. How long have you been there?”

  “Long enough to be impressed.”

  Now she was definitely more than flushed. “Thanks. What can I do for you? Did you learn anything more about my uncle’s murder?”

  He crossed his arms across his dark sports coat, which he wore over a crisp white oxford that wouldn’t stay too white if he hung around much longer. “No, sorry. We’re still checking into several leads.”

  Michaela urged Rocky over to the side of the ring and dismounted. “Leads? What type of leads?”

  He shook his head and his golden hair waved in the wind. “I can’t divulge that information; it’s an investigation.”

  She patted Rocky on the neck. He was soaked in sweat. “Then why are you here?” She didn’t have time for small talk, and the way her stomach churned while watching Detective Davis’s lips move when he spoke made her uneasy. Men should not have sexy lips, at least not the one investigating her uncle’s murder. How could she even watch him speak, and then look into his blue eyes? Worse yet, how could she continue this way? Had grief driven her insane? It simply was not appropriate for her to think like this about Davis. Plus, she needed to keep in mind that his nice guy act, was just that—an act.

  “Actually I wanted to stop by and see how you were doing.”

  Sure. “Oh? I just saw you this morning at my mom’s, so not a lot has changed since then.” She looked down at the ground. “I’m doing okay, I suppose. I figured I better work my horses and try to maintain some semblance of normalcy around here.”

  “I think that’s good. I mean, trying to get back to daily life.”

  Michaela didn’t respond, confused as to why he was there. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other. What did he want?

  “Are you sure you’re all right?” he asked.

  “I’m sure.” She wondered if she should mention anything about her dad and his gambling problem, and that maybe his problem had gotten so out of hand that someone sought retaliation by killing his brother. But almost instantly she had second thoughts. That was something she would trust Joe to follow up on, and she needed to see her father and ask him about it herself. “Well, I’ve got some more work to do.”

  He nodded and seemed uncomfortable. “You were close with your uncle.”

  “I told you that. Yes. He was like another father to me.”

  “He never gave you a reason to be upset with him?”

  Where was this going? Her uneasiness about him being there grew. “Of course not.”

  “You didn’t have any recent arguments with him or discussions that might have caused tension?”

  Her grip on Rocky’s reins tightened. “No. Why are you asking me this? You questioned me yesterday. I told you everything I could. Is there a problem?”

  He shrugged. “Only doing my job. I . . . received some information that maybe you were upset with your uncle.”

  “What?” she gasped. “Absolutely not. Who told you this?”

  “I can’t divulge that. This is an ongoing investigation. I’ve explained that already.”

  She shook her head. “Wait a minute. You’re asking me questions that don’t make a whole lot of sense, based on what I can only speculate is some type of twisted gossip. I’d like to know what it is exactly that you were told.”

  “You told me yourself that your uncle had your ex-husband followed and that was how you found out about his affair.”

  “That’s true.”

  “Were you happy in your marriage?”

  “What? No! How could I have been happy? My husband was screwing around. And, I know my mom told you the same thing this morning. Why all the questions about my marriage all of a sudden?”

  “I have to investigate all possibilities. Prior to discovering his infidelity, were you happy?”

  “Again, I have to ask you, what is this all about?”

  “I’m trying to establish if ignorance was bliss in your situation. Maybe you had what you thought was the perfect life, and it was suddenly shattered when your uncle exposed the truth.”

  She groaned. Oh, yeah, his nice-guy façade had definitely crumbled right in front of her. “You have got to be kidding me. Now I get it. You’ve concocted some type of theory, or someone has put it into your head that I was so distraught over Brad’s infidelity, that after I had time to let it all settle, I realized how much happier I was with the loser when I didn’t know he was getting it on with the rodeo queen. No, Detective, I was not happy in my marriage and I was not disillusioned, and I did not seek a vendetta against my uncle.”

  He nodded, and she heard him sigh loudly. “This is rather a sensitive topic, but I have to ask.”

  “Of course it’s sensitive.”

  “No. Um, see, I understand that you and your husband were trying to have a baby.”

  Whoa! She felt like the air had been sucked out of her. It took her a second to register where he might be going with this. She closed her eyes and shook her head. Narrowing her eyes at him, she said, “What does that have to do with who might have killed my uncle?”

  “I have to look at every scenario, Ms. Bancroft.”

  “Uh-huh. What scenario are you getting at, Detective?” Rocky pawed at the ground and stomped his foot again, feeling as agitated as she did. She would have liked to turn him around and allow him to kick the crap out of Davis at that moment. “Wait a minute.” She sat up straight on the horse. “You’re thinking that I wanted a child so badly that I would have put up with Brad’s bullshit. Aren’t you? And that my uncle took that away from me.” Davis didn’t say a word. “Sorry, Detective. I may have been a blind fool with my ex, but I am not a sucker, and another thing, I’m not desperate either. I may not be Miss Rodeo America.” She shook a finger at him. “But if I wanted a man to have a baby with, I think I could find one who wouldn’t cheat on me, thank you very much. Now, if you have nothing more to ask me, I’d appreciate it if you’d leave. In fact, even if you have anything else to ask, I don’t care. It’s time for you to go.”

  “As I said, I’m simply doing my job.”

  Wait a minute. Was he smiling at her? Was that a slight grin on his condescending, smug face? She could have sworn it was! “Right. Well, you’re not doing it too well, because I am the last person who would want to hurt my uncle. Goodbye, Detective.” Michaela turned away from him and got back up on Rocky. She trotted him over to the side of the arena, hot tears stinging her eyes. Asshole! When she turned Rocky back around, Davis was gone. She tried to regain focus and run Rocky back through his maneuvers, but found herself growing angrier. The horse sensed her tension, and responded in kind, tossing his head in the air and losing his direction. It was time to put him away, and get a grip.

  She dismounted Rocky and led him down to the cross ties, where she took his tack off. Then she guided him to the wash rack, where she rinsed him off and brushed him down. She was still reeling from the detective’s comments, which felt like accusations.

  She let Rocky dry off in the wash rack, while she went back into the tack room and retrieved his day sheet to keep the flies from bugging him and from getting himself too dirty if he rolled, which inevitably he would, like within five minutes or so of being back in his pen.
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  Michaela turned as she heard one of the mares whinny from her stall on the end, then the pounding of hooves from outside. She bolted out of the tack room to see Rocky loose and running free around the ranch. Dammit! He’d yanked himself free from his lead line on the wash rack. That wasn’t like him. What had gotten into him? But worse yet, he was taking off over the hill behind her place.

  She ran into her office and grabbed the keys to her quad. Normally she wouldn’t go chasing after a loose horse on a four-wheeler, but he’d taken off and where he was headed and as fast as he was going, there was no way she’d catch him on foot.

  She revved the engine, kicking up dust all around her as she raced over the embankment that separated her property from the dilapidated old dairy farm behind her ranch. She’d wanted to buy it few years back, in order to expand, but the money hadn’t been there. And now it was possible a developer was going to come in and build a mini-mall. Once Rocky made it past there, he’d hit the road and she couldn’t let that happen. Geesh! She’d had it up to there with chasing loose horses in the last day.

  As she came over the hill she caught a glimpse of him. He was still galloping, but he looked to be slowing down, and he also looked to have a destination. He was running into the old barn.

  Michaela slowed the quad down as she approached the building, not wanting to frighten him. She didn’t have anything to lure him with. She shut the quad off and slowly and as quietly as possible, entered the barn. Rafters lay strewn across the ground. It was difficult to see due to the haze of dust, kicked up by Rocky. Dust particles sparkled in the beams of light shining through the cracks of the old building, casting shadows around and causing Michaela to feel uneasy.

  Rocky whinnied down toward the end of the barn. She looked around to see if there was anything she could use to catch him with. Another whinny. Michaela stopped. That didn’t sound like Rocky. Wait a minute. There were two horses at the end of the barn, and as she came closer she could see Rocky standing outside a makeshift stall, and inside was a mare. They were nuzzling each other and getting awfully cozy. Holy smokes! The horse Rocky was snuggling up to was a mare and she was obviously in season. But who did she belong to? Something was not right here. At all. First thing she’d have to do was get Rocky out of the old barn. Since someone was apparently using the old place to house the mare, they did have a bucket of feed to the side and a halter. She got a scoop together in an old coffee can someone had left inside the bag of grain, and after a few minutes of working at it, she had Rocky haltered and was leading him out of the barn with neither the mare nor Rocky too pleased about it.