You Can Lead a Horse to Murder

by Tara Meyers

  Looking at the money, Elizabeth did some calculations in her head. “Can I have an iced latte?”

  Ember stifled a laugh at the wagering. The young teen was just like her mom. Becky always was a shrewd bargainer. When Elizabeth was little, she babysat her all the time. She was only four when Ember moved away. Ever since, she’d only seen the kids on random holidays. Watching the interaction intensified the sense that she’d been missing something important for the past decade. It was good to be home.

  “Sure, Lizzy,” Becky agreed with an exaggerated tone. “Why don’t you get your brothers one other item too. But try not to max out your sugar quota for the month, and don’t tell your father!”

  Leaving them to hammer out the details, Ember jogged to the back office to retrieve her field bag. Walking around the partially-put-together desk she’d just taken out of the box last night, she paused when her hand wrapped around the familiar leather handle. Dr. Burns, DVM was burned into the supple leather on the front of the bag, and Ember traced the etching with her free hand. It was a graduation gift from her mom. She’d been so proud.

  “Now everyone will know you’re a doctor!” her mom had announced, clapping her hands. They’d been sitting in the middle of a restaurant not far from the college campus.

  She had hushed her mom. She remembered that now. Why did she do that? Ember’s frown turned to a small smile when she recalled the rest of that weekend. Her mom rented a fancy hotel room, and they’d spent two days being pampered with room service and their in-house spa.

  A cold nose nudged her wrist, and Ember was pulled from her thoughts. Daenerys was sitting at her feet again, tucked into the small remaining space behind the furniture. Whining softly, the dog looked up at her with a somber expression.

  “It’s okay,” Ember encouraged. “I’m just getting my stuff.” Hefting the heavy bag, she grinned and patted at her leg for the Labradoodle to follow.

  As they left the room, it dawned on her that Daenerys was already adding a new dimension to her life. She now had someone else to be strong for.

  ***

  “She said the horse was going crazy?” Ember navigated around a sharp turn on the two-lane country road. She was familiar with where the farm was but had never met the owner, Bonnie Hathaway. According to Becky, she and her husband had owned for the property for the past five years. Rolling her window down, Ember breathed in the warm summer air. It was heavy with the smell of fresh-cut hay and triggered poignant memories of her time growing up in Sanctuary.

  “Yeah. Like I said, it’s a rescue horse. But there wasn’t anything wrong with it! The vet from Refuge gave him a clean bill of health.”

  Haven county was made up of three rural communities spaced miles apart through a rugged valley. Sanctuary was the smallest and most central, with Refuge to the North and Parker to the South. One hundred years ago, a group of explorers split off and founded both Sanctuary and Refuge. Sometime later, when logging created a population explosion, Parker arose, named for the owner of the logging company. The debate to change the town’s name after Mr. Parker closed shop and left was decades old and still a source of contention among the “old timers.”

  “Maybe it isn’t a physical problem,” Ember suggested. “Was it abused?”

  “Absolutely not.” Becky was resolute. “The woman who surrendered this horse was heartbroken about it. She was a responsible owner and willing to admit, for the sake of the horse, that she couldn’t properly care for it anymore. It has a little attitude, but I adore him.”

  “Okay,” Ember replied, surprised at her aunt’s emotional response. “I had to ask.”

  “Of course you did. Sorry if I seem defensive. I feel some guilt over not taking the horse myself, but Paul was adamantly against it.

  Ember glanced sideways at her aunt. “Are you guys doing okay?”

  “Oh, you don’t need to worry about us. Paul’s just concerned that I spread myself too thin. As much as I hate to admit he’s right … he’s right.” Chuckling, Becky reached out and patted Ember’s leg. “I see that look. Honest, Paul’s construction business is booming. The housing market is inflating incredibly fast, although Paul is having to travel farther and farther to find it. But I’m still glad that our valley here is physically inhibited to development to a certain degree. The tourist industry has been more than a substantial source of revenue for the city.”

  Relieved, Ember was happy to drop the subject and turned her focus back to the horse. Her stomach tightened at the thought of being faced with her first real client. While she had her endorsement to work on horses, it was still new for her. Especially with something this vague. Psychological issues in horses were not easily approached, and it was more likely to be an illness since it came on so suddenly. “How many other horses does Bonnie have?”

  “Not many,” Becky answered. “They focus on raising Angus cattle and growing alfalfa. I believe they have two or three other horses.”

  “Do you think she had him in with them yet?”

  “No. She was very clear about keeping him quarantined for a week. It’s only been a few days.”

  “That’s good.” Ember breathed a sigh of relief.

  “You’re thinking something viral?” Becky questioned, obviously concerned.

  “It’s impossible to say without examining him. Is this the entrance?” Ember slowed down as they approached a side road with a big log arched entry. “Hathaway Farms” was carved across the top.

  Nodding, Becky turned to look at Daenerys in the backseat. “Did I forget to mention Danny’s issue with horses?”

  “Issue?” Ember said slowly. “What sort of issue?”

  “The kind you want to avoid. Just don’t let her out of the truck. We’ll find some shade to park in and leave the windows down. It’ll be fine.”

  Shaking her head, Ember snorted. “Anything else you forgot to mention that I should know about?”

  “Nope. She’s amazing with people and every animal except horses,” Becky promised.

  Before Ember could push for more of an explanation, a middle-aged woman came running up to greet them as they pulled into a graveled driveway. She looked completely distraught, and the light nerves lingering in Ember’s stomach blossomed. Her heartrate doubled, and a cold sweat broke out on her forehead. Distracting herself by gathering her things, she barely remembered to tell Daenerys to stay. Fortunately, the dog was well-behaved and remained in the truck as told.

  ***

  The dark-brown quarter horse whipped its head back as they approached the stall, its eyes rolling so that only the whites showed. It screamed in what most closely resembled terror, a sound Ember had never heard before.

  “What in the world?” Becky murmured, taking a step back.

  “He’s frothing, but I can’t tell if it’s because he’s making such a fuss or if he’s sick.” Bonnie hadn’t even waited for introductions but took off for the nearby barn, waving at the two ladies to follow.

  Ember took one more cautionary step closer. It was hard to see. The stall was a large 12x24 pen at the back of a typical barn. While there were scattered windows down either side of the open space, the overhead lights were off.

  “I thought maybe the dark would help settle him,” Bonnie explained when she saw Ember struggling to get a good look. “We’ve only got but a few horses, so I’ve kept him quarantined this past week in our foaling stall since it’s bigger.”

  Ember eased past the fretting gelding and walked the length of the pen. She didn’t see any other opening. Most stalls had half walls so you could see inside and a secondary entrance if large enough, but this wasn’t a typical setup. She could see where the horse might prefer it, but it wasn’t very practical from a handling aspect. It would make it extremely difficult to get a lead rope around its neck if their only possible approach was head-on.

  “I know,” Bonnie said before Ember could comment. “We’ve talked about modifying this ever since we moved in, but we never had a compelling reason. It was
n’t even used prior to Butterscotch.”

  “You decided to keep his old name?” Becky questioned, smiling at the news in spite of the situation.

  “The horse is five. Changing its name would make things even more confusing for him. Not that it likely matters now,” Bonnie added while nervously rubbing her hands together, “because he’s either gone crazy from the move, or he’s very sick.”

  As if in response, Butterscotch landed a solid kick into the side of the stall, shaking the wall.

  Ember went back to stand with the other women. Bonnie was close to tears, but not knowing her, she wasn’t sure how to respond. Fortunately, Becky leaned in and wrapped an encouraging arm around her shoulder.

  “Where’s Carl at, Bonnie?”

  “Tending to the cattle. He’ll be out most of the day. I tried to call him first, but there are dead spots all over the back forty. I’ve told that man we need to get some good ole hand-held radios. I’ve seen some with a three-mile radius that would be more reliable than our darn cell phones!”

  “Carl is Bonnie’s husband,” Becky explained to Ember. “How about that guy you’ve had helping you out?”

  “Unreliable. Tom was supposed to be here at six this morning!” Bonnie pulled away from the embrace and went to retrieve a blinder hanging on the wall with other tack. “I thought that maybe, between the three of us, we could get this on him and it might help calm him.”

  Blinders were a piece of equipment used to limit a horse’s peripheral vision to keep it from getting spooked. But Ember didn’t think that was going to be enough. Instead of agreeing, she pointed to a blanket. “Actually, Bonnie, I think the best course of action would be to cover him up completely. That’s what we normally do during an exam with a skittish horse. I’m afraid the blinders might make him worse.”

  Bonnie glanced back and forth between Ember and Becky for a moment. “What do you think, Becky?”

  Ember tried not to take the lack of faith in her professional judgment personally. She was new in town, as far as in the capacity of a veterinarian. She was going to have to get used to the skepticism until she’d had a chance to prove herself.

  “Of course, there is always a concern that a horse who hasn’t been trained to being blinded might react badly,” Becky conceded. “But I know the previous owner, and she was responsible. I think Dr. Burns is right. It may be our best bet to get him under control before he hurts himself.”

  Ember silently thanked her aunt for using her formal title. And she was right. Any good horse owner with a barn should train them in the technique. It was the best way to lead a horse out of a burning barn or away from any sort of threat or danger. But the flip side was that if the horse wasn’t used to it, the result could be disastrous.

  “It looks like he’s still reacting to your voice,” Ember said encouragingly. “So why don’t you try and coax his head out, Bonnie, while Becky and I approach from the sides and place the blanket. Then after you get a rope on him, we’ll bring him out where I can give him some medication to calm him and then draw some blood.

  Nodding in consent, Bonnie retrieved the lead rope and blanket. There were a few very tense minutes as the three inched their way toward the gelding, Bonnie talking to him quietly the whole time.

  “That’s a good boy,” Bonnie whispered. “We aren’t going to hurt you, boy. You know you can trust me.”

  Butterscotch flared his nostrils and bobbed his head in rapid succession. He stamped at the ground and snorted but didn’t back away from the opening. Slowly, carefully, Becky and Ember moved into place. Ember raised her arms as high as she could, holding the bunched-up blanket.

  “Now!” Ember silently mouthed around a syringe she had clamped between her teeth. It contained a mild tranquillizer. Reaching out carefully, she gave the free end of the blanket to Becky, who helped direct it down over the horse’s head.

  At the same time, Bonnie moved in with the rope. Fortunately, Butterscotch responded to the blindness by freezing, allowing Bonnie to secure him. Though he tossed his head at the pressure around his neck, his body visibly relaxed, like he was relieved to relinquish his control to them.

  “There you go,” Bonnie cooed, still staying as far away as possible while Ember unlatched the gate. “Come on, buddy,” she directed, giving the lead a test pull. “Come out here where we can try to help you.”

  Once Butterscotch started moving, he suddenly ceased struggling after he was out in the openness of the barn. Ember looked questioningly at Becky as she quickly injected the medication, but before she could make a comment, a cell phone rang.

  From inside the stall.

  It was a distinct tune, but Ember couldn’t remember the name of the song, just that it was an 80s classic.

  Bonnie’s head snapped up. “That’s Tom’s phone! The man who helps us out around the farm.” Pulling urgently on the rope, she led the now-sedated horse to a nearby hitching post.

  Stepping into the gloom of the large stall, Ember pulled out her own cell phone and switched on the flashlight app. Becky followed close behind.

  “I don’t like this,” the older woman cautioned. “Something’s not right.”

  Ember nodded slowly in agreement. Stopping about ten feet from the back, she gasped when the light fell upon a boot sticking out of the hay.

  “Oh …” Becky moaned, almost falling down when she tried to rapidly scoot backwards. “Call 911, Bonnie!” she yelled.

  Grimacing, Ember knelt down near Tom’s head. Reaching out, she placed a hand to the side of his throat, confirming what was already obvious. Rocking back on her heels, she looked up at her aunt. “He isn’t going to need an ambulance.”

  THREE

  “Well, this is a fine mess.” Sheriff Ben Walker grunted as he pushed up from where he’d been squatting next to the body.

  “You reckon it was the horse?” The deputy was holding a small digital camera and had just completed taking about a dozen photos.

  Ember guessed he was around her age, although she couldn’t remember him from school. He’d introduced himself as Deputy Trenton, and the name wasn’t familiar. He was tall, skinny, and held himself the way someone does that’s worked on a farm all their life. He made a ticking sound against his teeth and then shook his head.

  “It sure looks like it was the horse that killed ’im.”

  “That would be the obvious conclusion,” Sheriff Walker said with some irritation. “What’s your professional opinion, Dr. Burns?”

  Ember was standing at a discreet distance from their “crime scene,” as Deputy Trenton had called it when they arrived and shooed everyone out. Becky and Bonnie went inside the farmhouse to try and phone Carl again and make some coffee.

  She was absently stroking Butterscotch, having already conducted a thorough exam and drawn what blood she needed. The smell of the leather tack on the wall behind her was comforting, but not enough to ease the ball of anxiety growing in her chest. She couldn’t find a thing wrong with him, other than some on-going agitation and rapid heart rate and respirations. His temperature was slightly elevated, but that could be attributed to the stress. She wouldn’t know more until she got the blood to a lab.

  Ember started slightly when she realized the sheriff was addressing her. She felt uncomfortable being asked to make some sort of determination but figured he was simply feeling out her first impression.

  Ben Walker she did know. He was her aunt’s age, and the two of them had briefly dated when Ember was little. She had fond memories of him, since he’d usually go out of his way to pay attention to her when she was around. He’d always been a large, imposing figure but very friendly and outgoing. A star player on the local football team, he went on to do well at college, which is what eventually drove him and her Aunt Becky apart.

  His teeth flashed white against his black skin as he smiled at her hesitation. “I’m not asking for a formal report here, Ember. Off the record. Just a confirmation that what you witnessed when you got here matches up with what a
ppears to be this poor man’s demise.”

  “I would say so, Sheriff,” she said softly. She wasn’t sure why she was nearly whispering. Maybe it was the same sense as being in a church. Having a man’s body lying there like that made the room feel … consecrated, so that she needed to be respectful. It was an odd experience, and one she hoped to never go through again.

  Sensing her unease, Sheriff Walker exited the stall and approached where the horse was still tethered, halfway down the length of the barn. The deputy followed and began taking pictures of Butterscotch.

  Hooking his thumbs through a black leather gun belt that rested over his blue jeans, Walker looked down at his cowboy boots and frowned. “His name is Tom Clark. His wife called this morning to report him missing. Dammit!” Removing the department-issued hat from his head, he wiped at his brow. “That isn’t a house call I’m looking forward to making. They’ve got two kids. Ken,” he barked, revealing his deputies first name, “better give Doc Austin a call.”

  “Why call a doctor out here?” Ember questioned. She understood why the dispatcher originally sent an ambulance, but the paramedic already officially called the death, based on the obvious head trauma.

  “Doctor Sean Austin runs the medical clinic in town, and he’s also the elected Coroner for the county,” Walker explained.

  “I believe the medics already requested dispatch to get him for us,” the deputy replied. “But I’ll make sure.” Unclipping a radio from his hip, Ken made his way toward the exit.

  While the sheriff apparently had some leeway on what he chose to wear, the deputy was in full formal attire. Walker had also arrived in a plain-marked SUV with only “Haven County Sheriff” emblazoned on the door, while Ken was driving a regular police car. As she watched him walk outside, another one pulled up and he waved at whoever was driving.