by Laura Crum
Jeri Ward began walking toward a shed row that led off the main barn; I followed.
"I've always wanted a horse," she went on, "but I thought I was too busy and they cost too much. But Kevin decided I ought to have one. One of his friends is a team penner, and he had a seventeen-year-old horse he wanted to retire. He said the horse would be perfect for me. He gave him to Kevin, just so the horse would get a good home."
"Sounds ideal," I said.
She smiled again. "Wait till you see him. Anyway," she went on, "I don't know much about horses, but enough to know that an older, gentle horse that I can ride through the hills is what I need, so in most ways this guy fits. There are just a few small problems, though."
She stopped outside a pen and we both stared at the horse inside.
"Is that him?" I asked incredulously.
"I'm afraid so." Another smile.
This had to be the funniest-looking horse I'd ever seen. He was little, with abnormally short legs and an equally abnormally long back. He looked like a dachshund. Added to this, he was high-headed, with a long, skinny, giraffe-like neck, and he had a blind eye on the right side. Not to mention, he was thin as a rail.
"See what I mean," she said. "We picked him up last week, after I made arrangements to board him out here, and he really is gentle to ride, and he seems to be sound. But everything else aside, he's so thin; I thought I ought to have a vet check him, despite the fact that he's a gift horse and all that." Another smile.
"Okay," I said. "Let's get him out."
Jeri took a halter off a peg and walked into the pen with the sorrel gelding, who allowed himself to be caught with no difficulty. "Come on, ET," she said.
I had to laugh. "Is that his name?"
She smiled back. "Fits him, doesn't it?"
"It sure does." We grinned at each other companionably; I was remembering our last encounter, and how annoyed she had been at me for getting involved in a murder investigation. Apparently she was a different creature off duty.
I checked ET out as completely as I could; he was a perfect gentleman throughout. He did indeed appear to be sound; in fact, he was one of the cleanest-legged older horses I'd come across. Judging by his teeth he was closer to twenty than the reputed seventeen. Jeri just shrugged.
ET's pulse and respiration were normal and his heart sounded good; his gut made typical noises. He was definitely blind in the eye that was glazed blue; by my reckoning he had no vision in it at all.
"Do you know how that happened?" I asked. "It looks like the result of an injury."
"No, the guy didn't say. Just told me to be careful not to surprise the horse when he couldn't see me, and that other than that, he was perfectly gentle. And he does seem to be."
I nodded. "Lots of one-eyed horses do just fine," I said. I looked at the horse some more. "I really can't see any reason for his degree of thinness. Sometimes that can be caused by sand in the gut, but his gut sounds normal. Another possibility is heart problems, but once again, there's no sign of that. Have you wormed him?"
"The day I brought him home."
"And his teeth look fine, no corners or sharp edges." I ran a hand over the gelding's ribs. "What are you feeding him?"
"All the alfalfa hay he can eat."
"You might try oat and alfalfa pellets, and put a tub of alfalfa meal and molasses in the pen with him, so he can nibble on it free-choice. That is, if you can arrange it with the stable."
"She can do anything she wants." The voice came from behind me; even before I turned I knew it was Bart Bishop. That quasi-friendly tone thinly overlying an essential aggression-it had to be him.
It was. Bart flashed his teeth at me in the form of a smile. "Dr. McCarthy."
"Gail," I said automatically.
"And Detective Ward." The same brief baring of teeth. "This lady gets the deluxe treatment," he said.
"That's good," I said.
Jeri Ward nodded civilly.
"We wouldn't want to alienate the newest member of the Santa Cruz County Sheriff's posse."
Jeri gave him a short smile and said, "Can we arrange to feed this horse oat and alfalfa pellets and free-choice alfalfa meal and molasses?"
"Can do," Bart said crisply. "Of course, it will cost you a little extra."
"How much?" Jeri asked.
"Twenty-five dollars a month, and the cost of the pellets and meal."
"All right," she said.
"So, Dr. McCarthy," Bart was watching me. "What's wrong with this horse?"
"I don't know," I said. "There's nothing obvious. Maybe his former owner didn't feed him enough. Maybe he's just a hard keeper. If he doesn't show signs of gaining on this regime, I'll run some blood tests."
"Did you check his teeth?" Bart asked. I stared at him. Did the man really mean to imply I was a totally incompetent veterinarian?
"Yes," I said shortly. Checking the teeth was a routine first step with a thin horse.
"No problem there?" Bart was pursuing it.
"No," I said, and stared right at him, willing him to walk away. This guy was sure different from his brother. I'd already glanced in the direction of Clay's house and ascertained that his pickup was gone.
"I'll start him on his new feed tonight." Bart was looking at Jeri now. "Is that okay with you?"
"Fine," she said. I had the impression she found Bart as annoying as I did.
He smiled at her with a glint in his eyes that I was sure he meant to be charming, but which struck me as merely obnoxious. With that handsome face and the mystique of the trainer's mantle on his shoulders, he was clearly used to bowling women right over. He probably found it annoying that neither Jeri nor I appeared impressed.
"Shall I put him back?" Jeri asked me, ignoring Bart.
"Sure," I said. "I'm done with him."
Taking his cue, Bart gave us both a nonchalant wave and moved off down the barn aisle. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes at the slight swagger in his departing butt. Putting the horse away and hanging the halter back on the peg, Jeri accompanied me back to my truck.
"Call me if he hasn't gained some weight in a month," I said.
"All right." Jeri looked as composed and distant as ever. I have no idea what prompted me to say what I did next. "Have you ever run into the problem of a man having sexual relations with a horse?"
Jeri stopped dead, as well she might, and looked at me. "No," she said. She looked at me some more. "It's a crime, you know. Bestiality. It's still on the books." She wrinkled her nose. "That's nasty."
"I think so, too. I have a client who thinks it may be happening to her mare. Someone is sneaking into her barn at night. She doesn't want the police involved, but I was just wondering what you thought."
Jeri shrugged one shoulder. "I think she should call us. A thing like that can become compulsive, like rape. Pretty soon the person has to do it. He won't be stopped. Such a person can be dangerous."
"That's what I thought," I said. "I'll tell her."
"Try and get her to call us," Jeri said.
"I will. And call and let me know how ET does."
"I will," she repeated, and smiled. "Thanks, Gail."
I climbed back into my truck feeling mildly pleased that Jeri Ward and I were now on reasonably friendly terms. A phone call confirmed that I had no more appointments or emergencies, so I headed back to the office. It was now four o'clock.
The last client of the day turned out to be a man with a young stallion who couldn't figure out the mechanics of breeding a mare. Jim had told the guy to bring the two horses in, and we would assist.
The stallion was a three-year-old Arabian, still a little uncertain about the sexual act. The mare, also an Arabian, was older, and the owner assured us she had been bred before. "She's quiet enough," he said. "I tie her in the barn and lead him up to her, but he just can't seem to figure it out. She's in heat now, and I really want to get her bred before she goes out."
"Hmmm," Jim said.
I watched him as he teased the
mare, leading the stallion up to her and letting him sniff her, watched as the young stud nipped playfully at the crest of the mare's neck. We all looked hopefully at the stallion's genitalia.
Sure enough-he was responding appropriately.
Jim gave orders. "You hold this mare over here, where she's down in a hole and easier for him to get on," he said to the owner. ''I'll handle the stud, and Gail, you help him get it in."
Great. Now this was one of my odder cases.
Jim led the stallion up to the waiting mare, who did, indeed, stand quietly. With an eager nicker, the stallion clambered up, his front legs hanging over the mare's hips, as he struggled to find the spot.
I put him in. Not too difficult, really. We all stepped back as he pushed, finally getting the idea. Mission accomplished.
Watching as the stallion thrust into the mare, an image as powerfully erotic as it was innocent as a flower blooming, I felt mildly confused. The two men watched with me; outwardly we all looked detached, but I wondered what sort of thoughts were chasing around their brains.
Flowers are the sexual organs of plants, after all, was what I was thinking. This young bay stallion, just now completing the act of passion, was in some ways the equivalent of a full-blown tea rose. And yet there was the forcefulness of his thrusting; the male intensity of his desire.
I thought of Nicole and her mare and the man who came to her barn at night. Thought of the man secretively thrusting into the mare, as the stallion was doing. The image was deeply disturbing in ways I couldn't fathom; I shook my head abruptly to chase it away. When I did I shivered, and Jim looked at me.
I met his eyes and shrugged. "A goose walked over my grave," I said, and unaccountably, I shivered again.
THIRTEEN
Friday night I went out with Kris. I'd been to visit Nico on Wednesday, drank another glass of wine, and narrowed my choice down to one of three paintings. Nico reiterated that I should come back as often as I liked. Thursday and Friday had both passed relatively uneventfully, so when Kris called me at work late Friday afternoon, I had no ready excuse.
"All right," I said finally, yielding to her urging.
"And wear something sexy," she added.
"Right." I hung up the phone, and went back out to look at a horse with a pulled groin muscle. Two hours later, as I showered and readied myself to go, her often-repeated advice came back to me. Wear something sexy.
Well, there was that dress. The blue velvet dress that I'd never worn. I'd bought it in a fit of something, right after I broke up with Lonny. A fit of what, exactly? Not pique or rebelliousness, but something like that. I was tired of looking like a conservative little country girl in my jeans and silk blouses. I wanted to appear sophisticated for once.
The upshot of all this was that I'd never brought myself to wear the new dress, either out on a date or anywhere else. It looked too overtly come-hitherish, and I never felt comfortable in it. Maybe tonight, I thought.
Taking the dress off its hanger, I pulled it on, or rather, I wriggled into it. The dress had a low-cut neckline and spaghetti straps; it fitted as tightly through the torso, waist, and hips as stretch velvet could manage, and flowed from there in a sweep to midcalf. A deep midnight blue, which looked black in the shadows and had a sheen of sapphire in the light, the dress bared most of my back and a lot of my chest, and had a glamorous, forties-type ambience-for all the world like something Myrna Loy might have worn in The Thin Man.
I stared at myself in the mirror. This dress was not me. It didn't reflect either my taste or my style, and yet, it looked good on me. What the heck. Tonight I'd be a vamp. There was no harm in it. I'd made Kris promise that it would be just us two, and if she happened to find a man she liked, she would arrange to meet him later and take me home.
I wasn't interested in picking up strange men. Let alone the fact that it wasn't my inclination, I also thought it was dangerous. Slipping on the high-heeled black shoes I'd bought because the dress demanded them, I studied my reflection. Then I opened my mother's jewelry box and picked out a piece of hers I almost never wore-a two-carat topaz pendant on a braided gold chain. It hung perfectly in the deep neckline of the dress.
Pulling my hair up in two combs, and adding a little extra eyeliner and lip gloss, I decided that I was almost unrecognizable as Gail McCarthy, the horse vet. What I looked like exactly, I wasn't sure.
I could hear Kris's horn beeping as she drove her Mazda Miata up the driveway; Kris was always impatient. Putting my black silk jacket over my shoulders, I told Roey to be a good dog and stepped out the door.
Kris rolled the window down and gave a long wolf whistle. "Look at you," she said.
I grinned. "Well, is this sexy enough for you?"
"Yes, ma'am. You look great."
Folding myself into her little car I said, "I did it for you, pal."
Kris reversed handily down my hill and said, "You should do it for yourself."
Then we were off, with Kris running through the gears in her usual hasty fashion. I often thought that this snappy little black sports car was the perfect reflection of her current state of mind.
We'd agreed on Clouds as a destination for drinks and dinner; Kris cut a good five minutes off our time getting there. As we entered, I noticed that Caroline was behind the bar again tonight. The next thing I noticed was Clay Bishop-sitting at a small table with a woman.
The sight gave me a funny feeling. I'd thought myself indifferent to Clay; I'd also thought him devoted to me. Obviously I was wrong on both counts. It disturbed me.
The woman he was with was tall and blond, wearing a goodly amount of makeup and several earrings in her ears. She was about my age, slim and fit-looking, with a pretty face, and she had an indefinable air that I could only describe as Southern Californian. A little too obviously dyed-blond, a little too showy. She was talking vivaciously to Clay while he listened, looking absorbed.
I poked Kris in the ribs with my elbow and jerked my chin infinitesimally in Clay's direction. Kris raised an eyebrow and walked purposefully toward the bar. I followed. Clay turned his head and saw us. His eyes widened and for a brief moment he looked truly stunned, whether at my appearance or at seeing me when he was out on a date I couldn't tell.
He got somewhat clumsily to his feet. "Hi, Gail. Hi, Kris."
We both greeted him. The blond woman looked at us curiously. "This is Sue," he said. No further explanation seemed to be forthcoming.
I smiled, said, "Nice to meet you," and walked on by, finding a seat on a stool at the other end of the bar. Kris trailed after me.
"What a rat," she hissed.
"What do you mean? He's not committed to me. He's got a perfect right to date anyone he wants."
"Yeah, but all those protestations of devotion."
I shrugged. I had told Kris what Clay had said at the end of our last date. "He doesn't owe me anything," I said firmly.
"Well, I don't think much of his taste," she sniffed.
We both surreptitiously studied the woman, who was talking again. I had to admit I agreed with Kris. The blonde had a superficial prettiness that seemed applied all over, like a gloss. The patterned, somewhat shiny pants and top she was wearing were a little too loud for me.
Of the other hand, I smiled to myself, Kris and I probably looked like two ladies of the evening. Kris's backless black halter dress hit her at mid-thigh and was more than a match for my cocktail outfit. We were definitely a pair to draw to.
Caroline interrupted this reverie by asking what we'd like to drink. Kris chose a martini, I went with my usual vodka tonic. Caroline made the drinks with a ready smile.
"So, what's new in your life?" I asked Kris, firmly avoiding the sight of Clay and his date.
"Well, George," she said simply.
"Is he your new guy?"
"Almost." Kris grinned. "I'm working on it. He rode over to see me yesterday evening."
"Rode? Like on his horse?"
"Uh-huh. Those trails go everywhere th
rough the hills. There's one that takes you up the bank behind my place and right over to Lushmeadows. He came that way. I thought it was romantic."
"Kris, what exactly do you know about this guy?"
"He works as a finish carpenter and builds furniture on the side. He's Greek. And he's sexy as hell."
"That's it?"
"What more do I need to know?"
"Shit, Kris." I took a long swallow of my drink. "Maybe he's a rapist in a past life. Might be nice to get to know him a little better before you jump in the sack."
"I know," she teased, "it would take you six months, minimum. I'm different. "
"Well, maybe not six months," I said.
Kris looked over her shoulder. "They're leaving," she whispered.
I looked. Clay and his tall blonde were indeed exiting the bar. Clay gave us a casual wave and a smile. The blonde had a good figure. I was being surprised by how much it bothered me.
"So ask that other guy out," Kris said, seeming to read my mind.
"Blue? I went and saw him and made my interest plain. If he doesn't call me, he's just not interested. I don't want to hound the poor guy."
"Why not?" Kris finished her martini and looked for the bartender.
"Don't forget you've got to drive home," I warned.
Caroline approached. "How's it going, Dr. McCarthy?"
"Real well," I said firmly, knowing she would have seen Clay and the woman. "This is my friend Kris, this is Caroline."
"Hi." Both women said it at once.
"Like another?" Caroline asked.
