by Sandra Brown
“Was anybody hurt?” It was a horrendous scene. She was unable to draw sufficient air into her lungs.
“One of the gallop boys.” Alex turned toward him for elaboration. “He heard the racket, rushed outside the bunkhouse, stumbled, fell and broke his arm.”
Barn number two was the one with the smoldering roof. Reede braked the Blazer in front and left her sitting in the truck when he went inside. Alex, feeling like each limb weighed a thousand pounds, shoved open the door and followed him through the wide doors, shouldering her way through the scurrying firemen.
“What’s the matter?” she heard Reede demand as he jogged down the center aisle of the stable.
A horse was screaming, obviously in pain. It was the most hideous sound Alex had ever heard. Reede picked up speed.
The Mintons were gathered in a somber, pajama-clad huddle outside one of the stalls. Sarah Jo was weeping copiously. Angus was fervently, but ineffectually, patting her back. Junior was holding her hand and using his other to cover a yawn. Reede pushed them aside, but drew up short at the entrance to the stall.
“Jesus Christ.” He cursed a stream of blue words, then let out a tortured roar that caused Alex to shrink back into the shadows.
A pot-bellied, bespectacled man stepped into Alex’s line of vision. By all appearances, he’d come straight from his bed. His corduroy jacket had been pulled on over a pair of pajamas. Laying a hand on Reede’s arm, he shook his balding head gravely. “There’s nothing I can do for him, Reede. We’ll have to put him down.”
Reede stared at the man blankly, wordlessly. His chest rose and fell as though he were about to heave up his supper.
Sarah Jo’s sobs increased. She covered her face with her hands. “Mother, please let me take you back to the house.” Junior placed his arm around her waist and turned her away. Angus’s arm dropped to his side. Mother and son moved slowly down the center aisle.
They were almost even with Alex before they noticed her. The instant Sarah Jo saw her, she released a high, keening sound and pointed an accusing finger. “You. You did this to us.”
Alex recoiled. “I—”
“It’s your fault, you meddlesome, spiteful little bitch!”
“Mother,” Junior said, not in chastisement, but commiseration. Spent by her outburst, Sarah Jo collapsed against him. He gave Alex a penetrating look, but it seemed more puzzled than accusatory. Without speaking again, he moved on with Sarah Jo, whose head was now bent in misery against her son’s chest.
“What happened, Ely?” Reede asked, seemingly unaware of the other drama.
“A falling beam must’ve landed square on him. He went down hard and broke his shoulder,” the man called Ely said quietly. Apparently, he was a veterinarian.
“Give him some painkiller, for crissake.”
“I already have. It’s strong, but it can’t anesthetize this.” He gazed down at the suffering animal. “His femur’s busted, too. I can only guess at his internal injuries. Even if I could patch him up, he’d likely be sickly from now on, and no use to you as a stud.”
They stood silent a moment, listening to the pitiful sounds coming from the animal. At last Angus said, “Thank you, Ely. We know you’ve done all you could.”
“I’m sorry, Angus, Reede,” the vet said, meaning it. “Y’all go on outta here. I need to make a quick trip to the office and get the drug, then I’ll come back and give him the injection.”
“No.” The word came hoarsely from Reede’s lips. “I’ll do it.”
“You oughtn’t to do that, Reede. The injection is—”
“I can’t let him wait that long.”
“It won’t take me ten minutes.”
“I said, I’ll do it,” Reede shouted impatiently.
Angus intervened, clapping the well-meaning vet hard on the shoulder to stem any further arguments. “Go on home, Ely. Sorry to have dragged you out for this.”
“I’m damned sorry. I’ve been treating Double Time since he was foaled.”
Alex’s hand flew up to cover her mouth. Double Time was Reede’s adored racehorse. The vet left by another door. He didn’t see Alex.
Firemen shouted back and forth to each other outside. Other horses snorted fearfully, and restlessly tramped the floors of their stalls. Those sounds seemed distant and detached from the tense silence in that one single stall.
“Reede, you gonna be all right, boy?”
“Yes. Go see to Sarah Jo. I’ll take care of this.”
The older man looked ready to argue, but finally turned away. He gave Alex a hard, pointed look as he passed her, but said nothing before stamping out.
She wanted to cry as she watched Reede kneel in the hay. He rubbed the injured horse’s muzzle. “You were good—the best,” he whispered softly. “You gave it all you had, and then some.” The animal nickered in what sounded like a plea.
Reede slowly came to his feet and reached for the pistol in his holster. He took it out, checked the chamber, and pointed it down at the racehorse.
“No!” Alex rushed out of the shadows and grabbed his arm. “Reede, no, don’t. Let someone else.”
She had seen hardened criminals, after being sentenced to death, turn on their prosecutors, the judge, the jury, and vituperatively swear vengeance, even if from beyond the grave.
But she had never seen such deadly intent on a face as when Reede looked down at her. His eyes were glazed with tears and hatred. With uncanny speed, he encircled her waist and drew her backward against his chest. She struggled. He cursed and increased the pressure of his arm across her midriff.
He took her right hand in his left and forcibly wrapped her reluctant fingers around the pistol, so that she was actually holding it when he aimed the barrel between the horse’s eyes and pulled the trigger.
“No!”
She screamed the instant the pistol went off in her hand. The deadly sound seemed to ricochet off the stone walls of the stable and reverberate forever. Horses whinnied and tramped in fear. Someone outside shouted, and several of the firemen scrambled through the door to see what the shot meant.
Reede shoved Alex away from him. His voice crackling with rage, he said, “You should have done it clean like that in the first place, and spared him the agony.”
“The fire’s completely put out, Mr. Minton,” the fire chief reported. “We checked all the wiring, insulation, everything in the roof. All the damage was superficial.” He clicked his lips against his gums. “Damn shame about Reede Lambert’s Thoroughbred, though.”
“Thank you for all you’ve done. I’ve always said our fire department is the finest in West Texas.”
Some of Angus’s heartiness had been restored, though his features were heavy with fatigue. He was putting up a good front, as though he was determined not to let this be a setback. Alex could only admire his stamina and optimism.
He was sitting at the kitchen table with Junior, looking like he might have been wrapping up an all-night poker game instead of holding a wake for a destroyed racehorse and his vandalized property.
“Guess we’ll be taking off, then.” The fireman picked up his hard hat and moved toward the back door. “Someone will be out tomorrow to look for clues. It’s a definite arson.”
“We’ll cooperate any way we can. I’m just glad you responded so quickly and kept the fire from spreading.”
“So long.” As the fireman went through the back door, he met Reede coming in. Reede ignored Alex, who was standing self-consciously against the wall, and poured himself a cup of coffee from the pot Lupe had brewed.
“The troughs are pure again. The horses won’t be poisoned by their own excrement,” he said emotionlessly. “We got all the windows boarded up so you won’t freeze tonight. There’s still a lot of cleanup to do.”
“Well,” Angus sighed, coming to his feet, “we can’t start on that till daylight, so I’m going up to bed. Thanks, Reede. You went above and beyond your duties as sheriff.”
Reede bobbed his head in quick
acknowledgment. “How’s Sarah Jo?”
“Junior made her take a tranquilizer.”
“She’s sleeping now.” Junior stood up also. “Would you like me to drive you back to town now, Alex? You’ve got no business being out here at this time of night.”
“I wanted her to see her handiwork,” Reede said.
“I had nothing to do with it!” she cried.
“Maybe not directly,” Angus said sternly, “but this damn fool investigation of yours put things in motion. We’ve been fighting that loud-mouthed hellfire-and-damnation preacher for years. He was just looking for an excuse to pull a malicious stunt like this. You handed him a golden opportunity.”
“I’m sorry if you see it that way, Angus.”
The air was thick with tension. No one moved. Even the housekeeper stopped washing empty coffee cups. Finally, Junior stepped forward and took her arm. “Come on. It’s getting late.”
“I’ll take her back,” Reede said curtly.
“I don’t mind.”
“I’m going anyway.”
“You’ll just harp on what happened here.”
“What the hell do you care what I say to her?”
“All right then, you take her home,” Junior said testily. “You’re the one who brought her, aren’t you?” With that, he turned and left the room.
“ ’Night, Reede, Alex.” An unsmiling Angus followed his son out.
Reede tossed the dregs of his coffee into the sink. “Come on,” her ordered her.
Retrieving her coat, she went outside with him and dejectedly climbed into his truck. She wanted to say something to break the dreadful silence, but couldn’t bring herself to utter a single word. Reede seemed disinclined to converse. His eyes remained resolutely on the center stripe of the highway.
Finally, the growing knot of anxiety in her chest got to be too much and she blurted out, “I had nothing to do with what happened tonight.”
He merely turned his head and looked at her, his expression one of patent disbelief.
“I think Junior believes me,” she cried defensively.
“What the hell does he know? You’ve dazzled him. He took one look into those baby blues of yours and sank like a rock. He’s up to his ass in sentimental bullshit about you being Celina’s daughter. He remembers how he used to dote on you and wants to do it again—only in an entirely different way. The toy he wants to give you to play with now doesn’t rattle.”
“You’re disgusting.”
“It must have given you a thrill to see us coming close to blows over you.”
She ground her teeth. “Think what you want to about my designs on Junior and his on me, but I won’t have you thinking I was responsible for the damage done to his ranch tonight.”
“You were responsible. You incited Plummet.”
“Not intentionally. Plummet got it into his head that I was an answer to his prayers—that God sent me to purge Purcell of sinners, the Mintons, anyone connected to or a proponent of pari-mutuel gambling.”
“He’s crazier than I thought.”
She rubbed her upper arms as though recollections of Plummet gave her chills. “You don’t know the half of it. He says God is angry because I haven’t locked all of you away. He accused me of fraternizing with the devil, meaning you.” She refrained from telling him the sexual parallels Plummet had drawn.
Reede parked in front of her motel room. The door was still in shambles and standing ajar. “I thought you said you’d take care of that.”
“Prop a chair under the doorknob till morning. You’ll be all right.”
He didn’t turn off the Blazer’s engine, but let it idle. The police radio crackled with its monotonous static, but there were no transmissions now. The noise was grating on her nerves.
“I’m sorry about Double Time, Reede. I know how attached to him you were.”
His leather jacket made a squeaking sound against the upholstery when he shrugged indifferently. “He was insured.”
Alex uttered a small cry of anguish and anger. He wouldn’t let her apologize. He wouldn’t let her feel sad or sorry because he wouldn’t allow himself those emotions. She had witnessed the heartache he had suffered seconds before he put a bullet through the horse’s brain. She had heard it when he talked about his father’s pathetic funeral.
And that’s what Reede couldn’t forgive. More than once he had let down his guard and revealed to her that he was a feeling human being after all.
She balled her fists, pressed her wrists together, and thrust them across the console toward him. He looked at her with a dark, questioning frown. “What does that signify?”
“Handcuff me,” she said. “Haul me in. Arrest me. Charge me with the crime. You said I was responsible.”
“You are,” he ground out, his previous rage returning. “Angus was right. If you hadn’t come here and started snooping around, none of this would have happened.”
“I refuse to take the blame for what happened tonight, Reede. It was the act of an unbalanced man and his misled followers. If my investigation hadn’t been their catalyst, something else would have been. I’ve apologized for the horse. What more do you want from me?”
He gave her a sharp look. She withdrew her hands, snatching them back as though they’d been placed too close to the maws of some terrible beast, and she had realized it in the nick of time.
Inside her mouth was the taste of his kiss—whiskey- and tobacco-flavored. As though it were happening again, she felt the swirling search of his tongue, the possessive pressure of his fingers on her scalp, the solid presence of his thighs against hers.
“You’d better go inside, Counselor.” His voice was quiet and husky.
He dropped the truck’s transmission into reverse. Alex took his advice and got out.
Chapter 24
Alex groped for the ringing telephone. She answered it on the fifth ring and said groggily, “Hello?”
“Miss Gaither? I didn’t wake you, did I? If so, I’m terribly sorry.”
Alex shoved hair out of her eyes, licked her dry lips, blinked puffy eyes into focus, and struggled into a sitting position. “No, I was just, uh, doing some, uh, stuff.” The nightstand clock said ten o’clock. She’d had no idea she was sleeping that late, but then, it had been almost dawn before she’d gone to bed. “I’m sorry, I’m not sure—”
“Sarah Jo Minton.”
She couldn’t hold back her exclamation of surprise. She could name at least a hundred people who might call her before Sarah Jo Minton would. “Are you… is everything all right?”
“I’m feeling well, but terribly ashamed for the horrible things I said to you last night.”
The confession, spoken so contritely, shocked Alex. “You were understandably upset.”
“Would you care to have tea with me this afternoon?”
Maybe she was still asleep, after all, and this was a dream. Nowadays, people said, “Let’s do lunch,” or “How ’bout a beer?” or “Let’s get together for a drink.” No one ever said, “Would you care to have tea?”
“That… that sounds nice.”
“Good. Three o’clock.”
“Where?”
“Why, here at the ranch, of course. I’ll look forward to seeing you then, Miss Gaither. Good-bye.”
Alex stared at the receiver for several seconds before slowly hanging it up. What in the world had prompted Sarah Jo Minton to invite her to tea?
Dr. Ely Collins’s office was probably the most cluttered room Alex had ever been in. It was clean but disorganized, and as unpretentious as the veterinarian.
“Thank you for agreeing to see me, Dr. Collins.”
“No trouble. I was free this afternoon. Come on in. Sit down.” He removed a stack of trade journals from the seat of the straight, wooden chair, making it available for Alex. He sat behind a desk cluttered with mountains of paperwork. “I wasn’t all that surprised to hear from you,” he remarked candidly.
“Why?”
“Pat Chastain called and said you’d probably get around to asking me some questions.”
“I thought he was out of town.”
“This was a couple of weeks ago, right after you got here.”
“I see.”
Alex had decided to utilize the hours before her appointment with Sarah Jo by questioning the veterinarian. When she’d phoned, he had readily agreed to see her.
“Are you familiar with the murder of Celina Gaither?” she began, intentionally playing down her personal involvement.
“Sure am. She was a sweet girl. Everybody was sick about it.”
“Thank you. It was your father who attended the foaling at the Minton ranch earlier that day, wasn’t it?”
“That’s right. I took over his practice after he died.”
“I’d like some background information. Do you work exclusively for the Mintons?”
“No, I’m not a resident vet. I have a practice. However, I must be honest and tell you that the Mintons give me so much business I could almost work for them exclusively. I’m out there nearly every day.”
“It was the same with your father?”
“Yes, but if you’re suggesting that I wouldn’t rat on the Mintons at the risk of cutting off my meal ticket, you’re wrong.”
“I didn’t mean to imply that.”
“This is horse and cattle country. I have to turn down more business than I can accept. I’m an honest man. So was my daddy.”
Alex apologized to him a second time, although it had crossed her mind that he might be reluctant to divulge information that would tend to incriminate his well-paying clients.
“Did your father talk to you about Celina’s murder?”
“He cried like a baby when he heard that she’d been killed with one of his instruments.”
“Dr. Collins positively identified the murder weapon as his scalpel?”
