by Leigh Hearon
“Get going!” she yelled back to the others. “I can’t do this alone!”
It was all Annie could do to keep upright as the Palomino ran down the hill. Lindquist was right where he should have been, holding the paddock door open with the door leading into the next paddock wide open as well. Annie ran to the second gate and released her hold.
“Shut the gate until the next one gets here!”
That was thirty seconds later, as Dan, slipping and sliding down the hill, frantically tried to keep his arms around the wildly twisting neck of the black stallion, the one Annie had seen off by himself in a nine-foot high gate. She glanced at the rest of the fencing. Six feet high at the most. Most of the horses were capable of jumping that high, especially in their current frenzied state. She prayed that they wouldn’t, opting to stay with the rest of the herd than risk individual flight.
She passed Kim and Tony leading the next two horses. Predictably, Tony exercised the most control over any of the horses so far moved, although Kim’s handling of the seventeen-hand Warmblood was impressive.
That woman doesn’t know the meaning of fear, Annie thought. And she’s passing that onto the horse, whether or not she knows it.
“Why can’t we just let them all loose?” Dan panted as he reached the arena, his hands resting on his knees as he regained his breath.
“Half of ’em would just head back to the stables,” was Tony’s terse answer. “Let’s go. Four down, fourteen to go.”
“Why?” Kim whispered loudly to Annie as she accepted another lead rope.
“Home territory. Place where they always felt safe. Hanging out in one big paddock is a brand-new experience for them. But unless one of them jumps a fence, they should be safe.”
Going into a stable with a crazed horse was sheer madness, Annie knew, but she knew of no other way to save them. There was no time to trailer them, and she had no idea if they would trailer easily or not in the midst of the pandemonium going on around them. The paddocks were not ideal—they, too, might be consumed by the fire, but there was no alternative space. By now, the sprinkler system was on full throttle, making the arena slushy, but it was reassuring to Annie.
“Spray the hay!” she screamed at a firefighter who was dousing the trees lining the northern-most door, the closest to Hilda’s home. “And where’s Juan?”
Juan, she was relieved to see, was now by the stables.
“I turn on the agua, Señora. Also in the cabaña.”
“Bueno, Juan! Very good! Can you help us move the horses?”
Juan may not have understood her English, but he got the message. And Juan could not only move one, but two horses at once.
The horses trust Juan better than they probably trusted Hilda, Annie thought.
A minute later, an ominous crack thundered behind them, coming from the top of the arena, and Dan and Annie, both striding up the hill from their second transport, looked at each other. It had to be the sound of Hilda’s roof beams collapsing. That meant cinders and flames were flying everywhere. It wouldn’t be long before the arena, was also engulfed.
“How many more?” Dan yelled.
“Eight. Juan’s handling two at once,” Annie called back.
“Good man.”
“Yup, and Todos is nowhere in sight. Any ideas?”
“Not a clue.” He jerked open the stall door holding a massive Belgium, whose hooves looked as if they could knock off even Dan’s immense head in one blow. He grimly swung the sopping lead rope around the Belgium’s head and began the jerky run with the horse toward the open barn doors.
Annie looked after him, amazed at his ability to shed his initial fear so quickly. Crisis had a way of curtailing negative thoughts, she figured. But time was running out. Smoke was now surging into the arena at a rapid rate and she dared not look overhead to gauge the safety of the roof, even if she could have seen anything. The horse she now had to bring down was highly agitated and panicky. And who wouldn’t be? She could barely see. She could barely breathe. Neither could the horse, and he didn’t have the slightest idea why his safe environment had erupted into this nightmarish blend of heat, intense human activity, and worst of all, captivity.
This horse was much smaller, but no less out of control, rearing at the sight of her savior. Annie waited until the quarter horse’s hooves hit the ground, then quickly slung the rope around his neck and started moving.
“Six more,” she gasped to Juan, who was trudging up the hill. “Then we’re done.”
But Juan wasn’t listening to Annie, and not just because he didn’t understand her English. His gaze was on the top of the arena, the roof now undulating with fire passed on by the burning trees. He took off at a breakneck speed while Annie continued her slip-and-slide run down the hill.
When she’d safely passed the quarter horse to Deputy Lindquist, Annie took inventory of what the saved horses were doing. Most were racing along the fence line, still searching for a way out. Once more, Annie hoped that none would make a break for it. She could see a cascade of disappearing horses flying down the road and massive destruction ahead.
Back at the arena entrance, Kim, Tony, and Dan were donning smoke masks, handed out by Harrison County firefighters. The horses had no such luxury, but she knew they’d need them if they were to survive without injury to their lungs and eyes. And that wasn’t all. The havoc inside the arena was increasing. The remaining horses would be skittering their way around hoses emitting water at a pressure that would knock any one of them on its side.
She thankfully accepted a smoke mask, then, as her colleagues looked on in astonishment, ripped off her sweatshirt, plunged it into a water bucket, and entered the next stall. This horse was an Andalusian, a magnificent Spanish breed that usually was grace and beauty, but now appeared every bit as crazed as the bay had been the night of his rescue. She stood poised by the door, ready to exit if the hooves came close to striking her. The horse paused for one second, just enough time for Annie to wrap her wet sweatshirt around the horse’s neck, covering the sides of its face to act as blinders. She gave the horse’s muzzle a quick stroke before lightly flinging the lead rope around him. Their exit from the arena was far removed from the ground manners Annie normally demanded, but this was no normal day—which, she noticed once outside, was fast approaching. It had seemed hours ago that she’d been awakened by Tony’s call. Now dawn was breaking.
Annie ran with the Andalusian down the hill and into Deputy Lindquist’s now-experienced hands. He deftly directed the horse toward the next open paddock and then quickly shut the gate.
Her team had taken the hint. The next three horses down the hill all were swathed in wet outerwear, their eyes diverted from the havoc inside the arena.
“Should have thought of this before,” Dan panted as he came down the hill.
“Oh, bite me.” Annie slowly trudged up the hill. Sixteen down, two to go. The last two were in Juan’s hands.
She saw him, holding two jittery horses that were testing even his considerable handling skills. Annie took her sopping sweatshirt and wrapped it over one of the horses’ head and eyes. She gestured to Juan to give her the lead ropes. He did, immediately ripped off his own shirt, immersed it in the nearest bucket, and did the same. Each holding a lead rope, they skirted their way past the firefighters and ran down to the pasture. Annie’s lead rope slipped off her horse moments before reaching the paddock but the horse’s momentum was so great that there was nowhere else to go but in. Juan’s horse followed by a nose.
Deputy Lindquist heaved the paddock gate shut and with trembling hands secured the bolt. The nightmare was over.
Only, it wasn’t. It was just beginning, Annie realized, as she watched firefighters run from the arena and stand fifty yards back, still spraying their hoses at clearly a lost cause. Annie took one last look inside. Hilda’s medals and photos had melted on the walls. All the accolades that had been bestowed on her had turned into grotesque art.
The arena rumbled as if
it were part of an impending earthquake, followed by the sound of a colossal crack. Annie watched in horror as the green tin roof twisted and buckled. Within a half minute, the entire structure had collapsed in a heap of flames, smoke, and ash.
It was then that Annie remembered Wolf. She hadn’t seen him since she’d fled from her truck. Where was he?
She ran around the arena and past the hay room that predictably had turned into a mass of white heat, flames shooting up twice the height of the original room. Hilda’s perfectly planned, perfectly manicured empire had literally gone up in smoke. In a few hours, all that would remain would be a mound of smoldering ashes. The only assets left were her horses—which would need extensive PTSD therapy for years to come.
Annie turned from the heat and ran toward Hilda’s shell of a home. Averting her glance from the pile of smoking wood on her left, she veered toward the right, past the bin in which she’d discovered the starving Belgian puppies, and toward the pathway in the back of the house. Perhaps Wolf had run up here to get away from the more immediate fire. She flung open the rusted gate leading to the path she and Marcus had taken weeks ago, which now seemed years. Again, there was no sound. Why not? Annie wondered for the tenth time. There was nothing back here.
The clues were coming fast and furious, but she had no time to assemble them. She had to find Wolf. She had to.
Instead, what she saw was a Jeep Cherokee bouncing up the road toward the back of Hilda’s property. Who the hell was that?
Whoever it was, he or she was in an inordinate hurry. She saw a blur of black and gray fur racing alongside the Jeep. It was Wolf, and he was growling in his most aggressive manner.
Annie raced up the hill, picking up a rock. She heaved it at the Jeep. It cracked the front window, doing no harm to anyone, but it did stop the driver’s flight. Annie ran forward, and with the Jeep’s cessation of speed, she now recognized the driver. It was Todos, who turned and looked at her. Of all the humans on the Colbert property, he was the only one who was not covered in soot, white ash, and totally exhausted. In fact, Todos looked as if he was ready to take off on an enjoyable trip. His jeans were clean and creased and his cowboy shirt was the kind guys wore when they want to impress babes at the corner bar. A cowboy hat was set jauntily on his head.
Wolf continued to emit a low growl at the back of the Jeep. Still smiling at her, Todos put the car in reverse and shot backward a few feet. There was a sharp, sudden yelp.
He had run over her dog.
Annie rushed forward, ready to kill. Todos leisurely stepped out of the Jeep and waited for her arrival. When she raised her arm to smash his face in, Todos grabbed it with surprising strength. He immediately twisted it behind her back until Annie thought her arm was going to come out of her shoulder socket.
“You have been in my way far too long, Señora Carson,” he hissed. A hoof pick appeared in his right hand and scraped across her neck. Annie twisted her neck as far as she could but the edge of the hoof pick was still firmly pressed against her jugular. She felt as if she was going to collapse, then rage took over and she continued to twist and turn and tried to scream. But all that came out were hoarse cries no one could possibly hear. Two hours immersed in an arson she was sure Todos had set had stripped her of her vocal cords. And now she was certain he was about to strip them, literally. She needed time. And help.
“Is this how you killed Hilda?” she managed to rasp.
“Of course. A pick is a most effective tool.”
“Why?”
But Annie never heard his reply. Another large crack rang out into the open air—not another structure falling, Annie thought wildly—and Todos suddenly slumped, loosening his grip as he did so. As he slid to the ground, Annie saw Wolf leap onto her would-be killer, his jaws open and teeth barred. But the bullet that had struck Todos had done its work. Wolf pinned his paws on Todos’s lifeless chest, lifted his muzzle, and uttered a deep, atavistic howl.
The last thing Annie remembered as her knees buckled beneath her was seeing Dan Stetson’s meaty hands gently lowering her to the ground.
CHAPTER 24
MONDAY AFTERNOON, MARCH 14TH
If you tell anyone, I will have to kill you.”
“What, me, the keeper of secrets? Perish the thought.”
“Well, it’s just that I’ve never fainted before.”
“No one’s ever tried to kill you before. To my knowledge, anyway.”
Annie and Dan were standing by the electronic gate, watching a convoy of horse trailers rumble up the road and onto what was left of Hilda’s property. It was late afternoon, and it had been an exhausting one. Wisps of smoke and ash still floated throughout the ranch and the smell in the air was positively acrid, but the fire was definitely out. The wreckage was overwhelming.
Wolf had a bruised paw from Todos’s efforts to run him over, but nothing more. Annie was bone-weary. In fact, she couldn’t remember ever being this tired. She, Juan, and Dan had spent the rest of the day helping Jessica and other local large-animal vets check out the horses. Thankfully, everyone seemed okay. One horse was on the verge of colicking, but now appeared to be past the danger zone. Jessica, after tubing the horse and giving him massive doses of probiotics, had trailered the pinto back to her clinic to make sure its recovery was complete by overnight.
The rest of the horses were about to be housed at the local fairgrounds in Port Chester, which had plenty of unused stalls kept for fairs and 4-H shows. The temporary accommodations were far less luxurious than Hilda’s, but Annie doubted the horses would notice much, and the air at the fairgrounds certainly was cleaner. Several neighbors had come by, each offering to take a few of the horses in for the time being, but Annie had insisted that the herd remain together.
“They’ve had enough trauma for one day,” she explained to the well-meaning Good Samaritans. “It’s better that they can all still see, hear, and smell each other. They need reassurance that one thing hasn’t changed in their lives today.”
Juan already was at the fairgrounds, cleaning the stalls and setting up water and feed. It was a massive job, and Annie had politely suggested to the people who’d offered to house the horses that their efforts would be better served right now by helping the one surviving worker on Hilda’s ranch.
Juan, she and Dan had learned, had merely been hiding out at a relative’s home about ten miles away. He’d been scared away by Todos—that much Annie could gather from her pigeon Spanish—but beyond that, she was clueless.
“Let the guy go and get some rest,” Dan told Annie as she struggled to understand the stream of Spanish pouring out of Juan, who, now that his enemy was dead, was eager to talk. “We know where to find him, and there’s plenty of time to fill in the gaps.”
Juan had offered to spend the night in one of the stalls, himself, to keep an eye on the caballos. Annie had given him a sleeping bag she always kept in her truck. As soon as the “all-clear” had sounded, Esther had driven in with a platter of homemade cookies. Hester Thompson arrived an hour later with a massive pot of homemade stew. Juan had left with copious amounts of both in his possession.
Just as the last horse was loaded, and to no one’s surprise, the Harrison County fire inspector showed up. He now was peering and prodding around Hilda’s home and appeared to have no intention of leaving anytime soon. Fortunately, Dan was spared much interaction with him.
“Might as well let him do his job,” he’d grumbled to the core group that remained at Hilda’s decimated ranch. “It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out what happened here.”
Kim and Tony had both solemnly nodded their heads at Dan’s acute sense for the obvious. Annie had not.
“But why, Dan? Why did Todos set the fire? And why try to kill me?”
“I don’t know. But we know that he did. And you heard his confession about Hilda.”
Yes, but she’d never heard his answer of why he’d committed the deed. While she and Dan had tended to the horses, Tony and Kim had im
mediately gone into investigation mode. Their efforts apparently had paid off. As she held the horses for the vets, she watched both Tony and Kim haul out several dozen sealed and taped evidence bags, and, she noticed, had rather smug looks on their faces. She could hardly stand not to know what they evidently did.
Now that the horses were safe and her job was done, Annie tried to wheedle it out of Dan. He was walking her to her truck, mercifully unscathed by the fire. Wolf was sleeping in the backseat. He was exhausted, and in his sleep mode no longer looked like the man-eating beast he’d been a few hours earlier.
“So why do you think it took Todos so long to skedaddle?”
Dan stopped and leaned on the side of Annie’s truck, which was covered with ash. He could hardly get any dirtier, Annie thought. Fortunately, he didn’t have the urge to race home and take a bath, as Annie did. Instead, he just felt like talking.
“My guess is that Todos planned to make his exit just at the crucial moment, when every hand was on deck, so to speak. Less likely that he’d be seen leaving the property. Besides, most arsonists like to hang around to see their handiwork. Todos probably was a quarter mile up the tree line from the house, watching us all work like crazy for nothing. We’ll find out later tonight when the second team comes in to gather evidence.”
Annie sighed. Her buddy was going to have a long night, and she was going home to a bath and Glenlivet. The horses had been fed—Luann Schmidt, her closest neighbor, had filled in when she realized she wasn’t leaving Hilda’s anytime soon. Jessica had already reported that Luann would again be on the job tonight. Thank heaven for her few but steadfast friends.
She realized Dan was still talking.
“. . . even though his exit route was pretty well shielded. The security system—”
“What exit route?”
“There’s a back road to the ranch that ends at the rear of Hilda’s house. Todos was pulling out to get on it when you walked up. Perfect timing.”
