Obviously, though, it wasn’t what Deborah had in mind, and Stevie was glad about that. Because of Deborah’s polite but firm insistence on doing things her way, the article would turn out a lot better. That meant more people would learn about Mrs. Monroe’s farm, and more good horses would be helped in the long run. That was worth upsetting an old woman a little bit, wasn’t it?
Inside the barn, Stevie couldn’t help noticing that every one of the first few stalls they passed was swept clean. She was impressed—the dirt floors and cement walls were as spotless as if a horse hadn’t set foot in them in ages. She guessed they had caught the woman on a day when she’d decided to air out the stalls, changing all the old bedding for fresh rather than simply replacing the soiled portions. Even so, Stevie was glad that Max wasn’t there to see it. He was always complaining about her stall-cleaning technique, which very rarely involved scrubbing down the walls or sweeping up every last scrap of straw before bringing in the new bedding, even on an airing-out day.
“Wow,” she said as she caught up with Mrs. Monroe, who was chattering to Deborah about the approaching Thanksgiving holiday. “This place is so clean. Do you do all the mucking out yourself?”
Mrs. Monroe looked startled. “Why, no, dear, of course not.” She laughed. “I’m just an old woman; how could I possibly do all that? There’s a neighbor boy who helps out after school. He’s a dear—so good with the horses, and he really appreciates the pocket money.”
Before long the three of them were standing in front of a roomy box stall near the entrance. Inside, a swaybacked gray gelding blinked sleepily at them through eyes partly clouded with cataracts; he moved forward slowly and accepted their pats impassively.
“This is Edison,” Mrs. Monroe said. “He’s thirty-three years young.”
“Wow.” Stevie scratched the old horse beneath his mane. “And I thought Nero was ancient when he died last year at twenty-nine.”
Deborah stroked Edison’s nose and smiled at Mrs. Monroe. “Nero was one of the horses at my husband’s riding stable,” she explained. “I’m impressed that your charges can live to such a grand old age.”
“Oh, yes,” Mrs. Monroe said complacently. “The horses just love living here. And I love having them around. Why, Edison here is quite a character. Just the other day he was romping in the pasture with the others and jabbed his foot with a stone. That’s why he’s resting in his stall this week.”
Stevie nodded. “The vet recommended keeping him in?”
Mrs. Monroe smiled vaguely. “Hmmm? Well, you know what they say—no foot, no horse. Now, would you like to hear a bit more of old Edison’s history? He’s one of my favorites, you know—used to be a lead pony at a racetrack in Florida until he got too old to keep up. He was such an old dear that his owners knew he would be just perfect for a riding center for disabled children. So that was his next job—did it for nigh on eight years after retiring from the track. Then the cataracts started, and they knew he couldn’t do that anymore, but they couldn’t bear to put him down. So the parents of one of the children—wealthy people who appreciated all Edison had done for their boy—agreed to pay to ship him here, send a check every six months for his room and board. And no wonder. Why, the stories they tell of how Edison helped their child, I believe his name is Bruce, could just bring a tear to your eye—”
“Yes, I see,” Deborah interrupted. “That’s very interesting. Now, perhaps you could fill me in on a few of your other—”
“Oh! I almost forgot!” Mrs. Monroe laughed and clapped her hands. “I haven’t told you how Edison got his name. You see, there was this one racehorse who was afraid of the dark, and—”
“I’m sorry to interrupt,” Deborah said, her voice a little louder. “But I’m afraid Stevie and I are on a tight schedule today. Maybe you could tell us more about Edison another time. Right now, I think we’d really better move on to some of the others.”
Mrs. Monroe looked taken aback. “Oh, I see,” she said. “Well, if you like, I could phone you later when you have more time and give you the rest of the information.”
“No, no, we do have a few more minutes right now.” Deborah smiled appeasingly and put one hand on the woman’s arm. “And while Edison is just wonderful, I’d really like to meet a few of the other horses. For the story, you know.”
Mrs. Monroe shook her head. “Oh, dear. You see, the others are all outside,” she said. “Horses love to graze, you know. I’m afraid we’d never catch up to them all.”
“We don’t need to see them all,” Deborah conceded. “Perhaps just one?”
“How about that big bay?” Stevie put in. “Leo. He looks like a nice old guy. I’m sure I could catch him and lead him in—all I need is a halter.” Spotting several well-worn halters hanging on a hook nearby, she hurried toward them and grabbed one and a lead. “Here, this one looks like it’s big enough.”
“Oh dear.” Mrs. Monroe looked worried. “I’m not sure this is a good idea. What if he hurts you? Or—”
“You don’t have to worry,” Deborah interrupted. “Stevie’s very experienced. And Leo looked like a calm old fellow.”
“Well …” Mrs. Monroe still looked reluctant, though Stevie couldn’t imagine why.
It’s not as if she has to do anything, she thought. Then she smiled, suddenly remembering that her grandmother could be the same way whenever someone else dared to take charge of the day’s plans. I guess Mrs. M’s just like Grandma Jean, Stevie added to herself. She never thinks anything’s a good idea unless she thinks of it herself.
“Back in a minute,” Stevie sang out, hurrying toward the door with the halter before Mrs. Monroe could protest further. She only hoped Deborah would forgive her for leaving her alone with the woman’s stories.
Outside, Stevie vaulted easily over the wire-backed paddock fence and hurried toward the pasture fence. Leo was still grazing just a few yards beyond the fence line, and he lifted his head to watch as Stevie ducked between the boards of the fence and straightened up.
“Hey there, big boy,” she called in a friendly voice. “How’s it going?”
She walked slowly toward Leo with the halter tucked behind her back, admiring the huge horse’s long, clean legs and muscular hindquarters. His back was slightly swayed, as she’d noticed earlier, and now that she was closer she could see that he wasn’t quite as fit and full-bodied as he appeared from a distance. Still, he looked awfully good for a horse his age, and it was easy to see the athlete that he once was.
Stevie continued to approach Leo slowly, speaking softly to him the whole time. The old horse pricked his ears toward her curiously and let out a gentle snort.
“That’s it, Leo baby,” Stevie murmured. “I just want to take you for a little walk, okay?”
As she reached the horse’s side and put out her hand to pat him, Stevie noticed that a bit of partly chewed food was dribbling out of one side of his mouth. At first she thought nothing of it—when Belle was distracted, she often dropped bits of whatever she was chewing at the time.
But then Leo tossed his head and flicked out his tongue, releasing another wad of greenish goo. Stevie frowned as something tugged at the back of her mind. Why did the sight of that slimy bit of half-chewed grass make her feel strangely anxious?
Just then the horse nickered, and Stevie’s attention snapped back to him. “It’s all right, old boy,” she crooned. “We just want to say hello. What do you say?”
The horse lowered his huge head, his nostrils working as he snuffled at her face and hair. A moment later Stevie was patting his neck with one hand and reaching up to slip the halter onto his big head with the other. Leo stood calmly until she clucked to him and stepped forward; then he followed along placidly.
“That’s a good boy,” Stevie said. “Come on, we’re just going right over here.” She aimed for Deborah and Mrs. Monroe, who were standing just inside the pasture fence near the gate.
As she headed toward them, Stevie felt something wet plop onto her shoulder, ooze over the
collar of her jacket, and drip on her bare neck. She frowned again as she reached up to wipe it away. Her fingers came back green. Raising them to get a better look, she saw partly smashed blades of grass and bits of clover.
“Hmmm,” she said. “Looks like you’re having a little trouble chewing.”
Suddenly it came to her: Judy Barker’s voice saying, Problems can be worse in older horses whose teeth are in poor shape. And her own voice, reciting what Max had always taught her: If there’s a wad of grass or hay that isn’t chewed up all the way, it sort of moves down the horse’s throat in a wad. If it gets stuck in the esophagus, it’s called choke. And if it makes it farther down and can’t be digested right, it means impaction colic, which can require surgery.
“Yikes,” Stevie said softly, stopping and turning to stare at the old horse. Could he be having serious dental problems? How was that possible? Surely Mrs. Monroe or her vet would have made the diagnosis long before it reached a dangerous point.…
Leo swung his big head around to look at her. His mouth moved, and his tongue flicked out again, spattering bits of grass around him.
That was all the encouragement Stevie needed. Dropping the lead, she pried his mouth open. “It’s okay, boy,” she murmured. “I just want to take a look.”
“What are you doing, dear?” Mrs. Monroe’s voice floated toward her.
Stevie glanced up just long enough to see that the woman was hurrying in her direction with Deborah on her heels. Mrs. Monroe’s normally cheerful face wore a frown, and she was moving faster than Stevie had seen her move all day.
“I think he may be having a problem with his teeth,” Stevie explained as the two women reached her. “He’s quidding up a storm, and that can lead to serious health problems, like—”
“Nonsense!” Mrs. Monroe laughed. “It’s not his teeth. He just likes to play with his food, that’s all. Nothing serious at all.”
Stevie frowned. “I really don’t think—” she began worriedly.
“Listen, young lady,” Mrs. Monroe snapped testily. “I’ve been caring for horses for more years than you’ve been alive. Now, Leo is just fine. Why don’t we go inside and discuss it?”
“But he’s quidding,” Stevie said stubbornly. “You really should at least ask your vet to take a look. He may need to have his teeth floated more often.”
“Nonsense,” the woman replied. “I know my horses. They’re fine. They get the best care available.”
“Now, just a minute,” Deborah broke in, looking very interested. “We’re not accusing you of anything here, Mrs. Monroe. But Stevie seems quite concerned about this horse, and—”
“There’s no reason for concern,” Mrs. Monroe said quickly. “The horse is just fine.”
At that moment, Leo made a loud slurping sound and opened his mouth. A large wad of green gook dribbled out, and he tossed his head with a snort. Now Stevie was positive that something was wrong. “If you don’t call a vet, I will,” she said firmly. “This horse needs to be checked out, and the sooner the better.”
Mrs. Monroe looked outraged. “How dare you!” she huffed. “Just because a horse is a sloppy eater, it doesn’t mean there’s a problem.”
“Is that what you’re claiming the problem is here?” Deborah asked sharply. Stevie noticed that she had her notebook in her hand and was scribbling notes even as she spoke. “Because I’d be very interested in hearing the owner’s comments on such an interesting quirk. I’d also love to hear what your vet says about Leo’s teeth.”
Stevie stared at Leo as Deborah continued to shoot questions at Mrs. Monroe, asking about the medical and dental care given to her horses. She was in shock. How could a woman who seemed so nice and caring neglect something as important as a horse’s teeth? And if she was letting that slide, what other corners might she be cutting on her charges’ care?
“… and to convince me of that, I would want to see your medical and financial records for this place, proving that the care you promised the owners has been provided and properly paid for,” Deborah was saying when Stevie tuned back in to the conversation.
“Well, I never!” Mrs. Monroe’s face was bright crimson, and her fists were clenched at her sides. “The impudence! I want you both off my property—now!”
Stevie opened her mouth to protest. She didn’t want to leave until she was sure Leo—and the other horses—were okay. But Deborah clamped a hand firmly on her arm.
“Fine,” Deborah replied coolly, dragging Stevie toward the paddock gate. “But this isn’t the last you’ll be hearing of this. You can count on that.”
“But Deborah!” Stevie whispered as the reporter marched her toward the car. “Leo—”
“Don’t worry, he won’t be under that woman’s care for long,” Deborah replied in a low voice. She glanced over her shoulder as Stevie opened the passenger door and slid inside. Hurrying around to the driver’s side, Deborah hopped in and started the engine, barely pausing long enough to put on her seat belt. “Besides, I think there’s more than a few late dental appointments going on here. Didn’t you see the way she got all defensive back there when I started asking real questions?”
Stevie glanced at Deborah. The reporter’s face was shining, and her eyes were glittering as she steered the car back onto the road. “Wow,” Stevie commented, forgetting about Leo’s teeth for a second. “Look at you. You’re, like, glowing!”
Deborah laughed, sounding a little embarrassed. “I guess I am a little excited,” she confessed. “Here I thought this would be the dullest story I ever wrote, and what do you know? We stumble onto what could be a real scam!”
“We’re going to make sure Leo gets some help, right?” Stevie was feeling a twinge of excitement mixed with her concern. Deborah’s enthusiasm was infectious.
“Right. Leo and all the animals on that woman’s property.” Checking her rearview mirror, Deborah pulled off to the side of the quiet country road. Leaning over to Stevie’s side of the car, she yanked open the glove compartment and grabbed her cell phone. “But we’ve got to work fast, before she starts covering things up. I’m going to make a few quick calls right now.”
TEN
Lisa stared out the window of the minivan, wondering if a jury would really convict her for strangling two screaming kids. Especially when they were screaming in German.
Squeezing her eyes shut, she prayed they would reach the showgrounds soon, before she went completely insane. “Dieter! Hanni!” Greta exclaimed, turning around from her seat beside Peter, who was driving. “Hush, darlings. We will be there soon.” She glanced at Lisa with a slight frown. “Can you not keep them entertained for just a few minutes, Lisa?”
“Apparently not,” Lisa muttered. She glared at her sister-in-law, but Greta had already turned around again and was chattering at Peter in German. Lisa blew out a frustrated sigh, feeling very alone. Her father and Evelyn had both declined to come to the horse show—her father had claimed he needed to go into the office for a few hours, and Evelyn had decided it would be too long and tiring a trip for Lily.
“Lisa! Lisa!” Hanni bounced up and down in her seat. “Lisa! Sing us a song.”
“Hey! What happened to your seat belt?” Lisa leaned over to strap the little girl in again.
Meanwhile, Dieter poked her in the back. “Sing us a song,” he demanded. “Sing!”
Lisa scowled. The last thing she felt like doing was singing. She was seriously wishing she’d never agreed to go to the horse show. Still, there wasn’t much she could do about that at the moment. Taking a deep breath, she launched into her best rendition of “Tomorrow,” which she knew well from acting in a local production of Annie years earlier.
Within seconds, Hanni and Dieter were giggling loudly. They started shrieking to each other in some strange amalgamation of English, German, and French, finally getting so loud that Lisa broke off in midnote.
“What!” she demanded. “Or should I ask that question in French?” She promptly did so, dredging up everything
she’d learned in several years of studying the language in school and adding a few choice French words about the proper behavior of young children in an automobile.
“Mama! Mama!” Dieter shouted. “Lisa’s going crazy!”
Hanni giggled. “Oui, Mama!” she cried. “She’s speaking some strange language. We can’t understand her!”
Greta turned around again, smiling indulgently at her children. “Now, now, Liebling!” she exclaimed. “Do not make Lisa feel bad because her accent is not richtig, all right?”
Lisa frowned as the children giggled and shot her amused looks. She was starting to get the feeling that it was going to be a very long day.
“Forget it, baby.” Stevie yanked Belle’s head away from a patch of weeds near the back paddock. “You know what that stuff does to you. No way am I letting you fall off the wagon.”
Belle shook her head, looking disgruntled, as Stevie led her on past the temptation of the weed patch. The mare was allergic to several varieties of weeds, and while Max and the rest of the Pine Hollow staff did their best to keep the area clear and mowed, a few weeds invariably escaped their attention and flourished here and there. It was always a challenge for Stevie to keep her horse from sampling them as they passed, and that day was no exception. The two of them had just finished a nice long workout in the schooling ring, practicing with the cavalletti left there from Max’s last lesson with the intermediate riding class, and despite the strenuous exercise, Belle was still feisty as Stevie walked her around the stable building to cool her down.
“You know,” Stevie commented to the horse, giving her a solid pat on the neck, “I do believe that you are probably the most excellent horse in the entire barn. Maybe even in the entire world.”
As they rounded the corner, Stevie spotted Deborah’s car. Instead of turning up the drive toward the house, it came to a stop in the gravel parking area in front of the stable.
Leo and the rest of the horses at Mrs. Monroe’s farm hadn’t been far from Stevie’s thoughts since Deborah had dropped her off at her home the previous afternoon. “Come on,” Stevie told her horse, tugging gently on her lead to change directions. “Let’s go talk to Deborah for a minute.”
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