by Abigail Keam
I found Kelly where I always find him.
Al’s Bar.
I threw my purse into the empty booth seat and sat down beside him, making him scoot over. He shielded his plate from me, but not before I snagged some French fries and dragged them through a mound of ketchup.
“I never have a moment to myself,” Kelly mumbled, his eyes shut.
“Hey, whatcha reading?” I asked, picking up a book from his lap. “Short stories by Raymond Carver. Branching out, I see.”
“He was also a poet.”
“Are you still scribbling out blank verse?”
Kelly looked embarrassed. “Yeah.”
“Published yet?”
“Got one poem in the Kenyon Review. Comes out next issue.”
“Kenyon Review. Impressive.” I snatched another fry.
“What do you want, Jo?”
“Why is your buddy Norbet Drake riding my bumper?”
“He’s a good cop.”
“Didn’t say he wasn’t.”
Kelly slapped my hand as I reached for more fries. “If I tell you, will you leave?”
I stuck out my bottom lip the way Asa used to do when I made her eat Brussels sprouts. “You hurt my feelings, Kelly. Makes me want to stick to you like glue until you tell me what I want.”
“He’s being thorough. Doing his job. He really thinks Rosamond Rose killed Gage Cagle.”
“If this case goes to trial, Rosie may have a good chance of getting off because of the self-defense angle.”
“I cautioned Drake and the DA to keep in mind that Gage threatened Ms. Rosamond’s dogs and made veiled references to killing her on the night of his death.”
“But Drake wouldn’t listen?”
“He’s a kind of black-and-white guy.”
“He’s not out to get Charles or Lady Elsmere because of personal feelings?”
“I’ve never known Drake to do anything but strictly by the book. He’s got a blemish-free record.”
“Tell me something. How would you know about those death threats made by Gage if you’re not working on the case?”
“I’m handling all the paperwork for Drake at the station, so I read all the witness statements. When the DA came in to talk with Drake, I happened to be there and gave my two cents worth. There’s no conspiracy involved, Josiah. Put your mind at rest.”
“Do you know who put the whammy on Charles and Rosie?”
“No, but even if I did, I couldn’t tell you.”
“If you’re handling all the paperwork on the case, how is it you don’t know?”
“Drake knows my connection to your family and wouldn’t put the name in the case file at the police station. The informant’s name is with the DA.”
“If Drake feels that way, why hasn’t he taken you off the case?”
“Two reasons. We are short-staffed at the moment, and I know most of the players involved. I can winnow through the witness statements quickly.”
“Okay. I’ll leave you alone. Read your stories.” I got up to leave, but Kelly put his hand on my wrist.
“Wait a minute. Is Asa still in town?”
“Why do you ask?”
“No reason. She got something going on with that Slavic gorilla who works for her?”
“Tell your wife hello for me,” I said before grabbing my purse and leaving.
22
Passing my barn, I spied Franklin’s smart car. I parked my car and hurried inside where I found Hunter saddling his Hanoverian.
We kissed in greeting. Was I ever happy to see him!
“Whatcha up to?” I asked.
“I couldn’t stand working on my house any longer and wanted to steal a few hours away. Thought you might want to go horseback riding with me, but you weren’t home. I should have called first.”
“I was at the courthouse, but I’ll tell you about it during our ride. It’s been crazy around here.”
“Franklin’s up at the Big House having tea with Her Ladyship. Looks like the Queen is visiting. There’s a security team surrounding the house.”
“They’re Asa’s people. That’s what I want to tell you. It’s been a wild twenty-four hours.”
“Asa, who’s supposed to be an insurance fraud agent, has her own security team?”
“Frightening, isn’t she?”
“As little contact as I have had with your daughter, I know I would never want to cross her.”
“I know her cover story is thin.”
“Let’s not focus on Batgirl. I want to hear your story. Go home and change. I’ll bring the horses up to the Butterfly.”
“Sounds like a plan.” I reached up and kissed Hunter on the lips.
Hunter said, “If you keep kissing me like that, the only thing that’s going to happen in this barn is horseplay, and not between the horses.”
Laughing, I gave Hunter a playful slap on the shoulder before turning to leave.
“Hey, one more thing before you go.”
“Yeah, what’s that?”
“Tell me where you’ve stashed Morning Glory so I can saddle her for you.”
“She’s in the paddock, Hunter.”
“No, she’s not.”
“I put Glory in the paddock myself yesterday.”
“She’s not there, Josiah.”
I rushed to the paddock, and it was true. Morning Glory was not there. Frantically, I checked all the stalls in the barn, but none of the horses were mine.
“Don’t fret, Josiah. One of your hands must have put Morning Glory in a pasture.”
“You’re probably right.”
“I’m going to unsaddle my horse. We can use your golf cart and check all the fields. Just give me a minute.”
Hunter quickly unsaddled his Hanoverian and put the horse in a stall after scooping oats into the horse’s bucket. His horse seemed content to stay home and eat.
Following me in his car, Hunter parked in front of the Butterfly, and we jumped into my golf cart and took off.
We checked every one of my pastures. There were horses in them, but no Morning Glory. Hastily we rode over to June’s property and checked every pasture, barn, and stall. Nothing.
“What’s left?”
“Only the road that leads to the river,” I replied, sick with worry.
“Let’s try it. She could have wandered to the river for a drink.”
We hurried down the bumpy gravel road to the river, but no Morning Glory. Both Hunter and I searched for hoofprints, but saw no sign of them.
We widened our search until it had grown dark and reluctantly headed back to the Butterfly. Since I had cameras around the farm, Hunter wanted to check the video log.
He studied the tapes while I changed and made a quick salad for dinner. The Kitten Kaboodle meowed at the back patio door, so I let them in and fed them before setting the dining table.
“Jo, come look at this,” Hunter called.
I hurried to the little cloakroom where I kept all the surveillance equipment.
“Did someone take her?”
“Watch.”
Hunter rolled back the tape and played it.
To my amazement, Morning Glory ran around the paddock, gaining speed until she jumped the fence.
“Pintos don’t do that! Can’t be.”
“At least you can relax ’cause it looks like no one stole her.”
“She’s out there somewhere.”
“Having the time of her life.” Hunter did his best to reassure me.
“You don’t know that. Maybe something spooked her. We’ve got to find her.”
“Let’s eat, and then we’ll go back out. I’ll call the Big House and see if they can spare some men to help us search.”
“Good idea.”
We ate, but the salad sat like a lump in my throat. I was worried about my horse and was glad when we got back on the road to search for her. Tyrone and Malcolm helped us, but we came back to the house hours later defeated.
No Morning Glory.
Once Hunter left, I was alone at the Butterfly. I had no man. No horse.
Baby and his pet kitty-cats did their best to distract me with scratching the furniture, playing tag, knocking over knickknacks, and regurgitating furballs on my slate floors, but their antics didn’t alleviate my worry.
I was in a blue funk and was going to stay that way until I could find my horse—dead or alive.
23
Early the next morning, Marjorie Hughes, a neighbor of Rosie’s, called. “Josiah, this is Marge, over by Rosie’s place. Do you remember me?”
“Of course, I do. What can I do you for?”
“There’s a rumor going ’round that you’re missing a horse.”
I grabbed the phone tighter. “Yes, ma’am. She jumped the fence yesterday.”
“Is she black and white?”
“Yes. Yes. A little pinto.”
“I found your horse meandering on the road this morning. She came right up to me. I put her in Gage’s cattle field where there’s a pond. She looked thirsty. Since Gage’s dead and Rosie’s in jail, I thought no one would bother her there.”
“Marge. Thank you so much. I’ll be right over to get her.”
“I’m glad. I knew she belonged to someone. Her coat looked really good. You say she jumped over the fence?”
“Can you beat that?”
“Never heard of such a thing. I gotta go to work, but you know where she is . . . that is, if she hasn’t jumped the fence again and taken off. Haha.”
“Yeah, real funny.”
Marge hung up, and I called Hunter with the good news. I could tell he was relieved. He had workmen there, so I got off the phone quick and hurried to Gage’s farm, wondering if I would find my black and white pinto when I got there.
Since I didn’t own a horse trailer, I threw a rope, bridle, and reins into my golf cart, and off I went. I realized I should have gone next door to borrow a horse trailer with a ramp, but then I’d have to borrow June’s dually to pull the horse trailer, and then I’d have to borrow a farmhand who knew how to get a horse in the trailer and drive the truck with the trailer back to my place.
Too much trouble. My thought was that I would tie Morning Glory to the back of my cart and slowly mosey back home. Maybe take a little longer, but no fuss, no muss.
Simple, huh?
I forgot Baby was out doing his business, and when he heard the golf cart whiz by, of course, he jumped into the cart, not wanting to be left behind. “Promise to be good,” I begged.
Did I really expect Baby to answer me, much less obey me?
Going to Gage’s farm held no anxiety for me. He was dead and gone. I say good riddance.
Charles had taken Rosie’s animals back to the Big House, and a neighbor was feeding Gage’s cattle. I expected to collect my horse and be back lickity-split.
WRONG!
Baby and I made it to Gage’s farm without incident, parking the cart next to the pasture gate. I told Baby to stay in the cart as I got out. “Morning Glory. Glory. Glory. Treat. Treat,” I shouted. This usually brought her running.
No whinny. No horse. Just lots of Angus cows chomping on grass.
Suddenly, the flash of a black and white body emerged from the woods that encircled the pasture. I waved wildly so Morning Glory would see me. “Here, girl. Over here. Treat. Got peppermints for ya.”
Morning Glory trotted through the cattle herd who lifted their heads to stare as she passed. I held out my hand as Morning Glory came to the gate and stretched her head over to nudge my shoulder. I stroked her muzzle while feeding her peppermints. “You naughty girl. Were you bored? Is that why you jumped the fence? Looking for some adventure, huh?”
Morning Glory nuzzled me, wanting to be scratched behind the ears. I complied for a while until she was relaxed, and I slowly opened the gate wide enough for me to slip through and clipped the lead onto her halter. She calmly followed me as I led her out and tied the lead to the cart.
Excited, Baby slapped his tail against the seat, but stayed put.
“Now, Glory, we’re going home. I’m going to go real slow, but you need to follow when the cart moves. Okay?”
I got into the cart and started down the road at a very slow pace.
Morning Glory resisted by pulling on the lead and bucking. It didn’t help when Baby barked at her. “Shut up, Baby. You’re making things worse.”
It was evident Glory was not willing to walk behind a beat-up golf cart occupied by a harried redhead and a yelping Mastiff.
I sat in the cart not knowing what to do. I thought about walking the horse home, but I knew my leg would give out before I could make it to the barn. I could call Charles and have him send a trailer over. Jumping Jehoshaphat! I left my phone at home.
I would have to put Morning Glory back in the pasture, go home, and get help.
Untying the rope, I led her back inside the gate and unclipped the lead from her rope halter. “I’ll be back, Morning Glory. You’ll be sleeping in your own stall tonight. I promise.”
Hopping into the golf cart, I stepped on the pedal, but the cart didn’t move. I turned the key again and pushed the pedal. Nothing. My little cart had finally given up the ghost. Poor shot-up thing.
Now what!
I couldn’t walk home. I didn’t have my phone, and there were no houses close by. I was at the bottom of a dead-end road. What were my choices?
I looked at Morning Glory who was watching me expectantly, her head hanging over the gate. I had no saddle or mounting block, but I had a bitless bridle, reins, and the cart.
I went over to Morning Glory and petted her neck. “I’m going to have to ride you, Glory. We will go very slow, but I can’t walk home like you can, so would you be good enough to carry me?”
Leading Morning Glory out again, I slipped on the bridle, clipped the reins onto her bridle rings, and brought her close to the golf cart. Pushing Baby out of the way, I climbed into the back of the cart and pulled the horse as close as I could. “Please don’t shift and cause me to fall.”
After giving the pinto several more peppermints, I grabbed the reins and her mane, pulling myself up on her back. Struggling, I got my fanny on her back only to endure the slow process of getting my right leg over her neck to the other side. Not the correct way to get on a horse, but it would have to do. Immediately, I could tell the way I was attempting to get my leg over wasn’t going to work.
Being old and infirmed is really a drag.
I would have to try the correct way, which was more stressful for me because of my bad leg. Oh, how I love western saddles with their horns. It’s easy to pull oneself up on a horse with a saddle horn. I didn’t have anything to hold on to but two strips of leather and a hank of hair.
I needed to get myself higher in order to lower myself on Morning Glory.
Bingo!
There were concrete blocks stacked by the gate. I dragged them over to the cart and made little steps in the back of the cart. It took me about twenty minutes, but the result was worth it. Before I climbed them, I gave Morning Glory the last handful of mints I possessed. “Be good, now, my little pony. Be sweet. I’m counting on you.”
Yes, I was bribing an animal. I was that desperate.
Since the pinto was more of a pony size, it wasn’t as difficult as I thought it would be. I climbed the steps, which wobbled a bit, but they stayed intact long enough for me to lower myself onto Morning Glory without much stress to herself or me. “Whoa, girl. Easy now. Easy.”
I did it!
Sitting on her back for a few minutes, I let Morning Glory adjust to my weight before I gave her the cues to move down the road.
“Baby, come!”
Baby jumped out of the cart and followed behind, sniffing this lump of grass or that mound of manure. Things were going
well as we plodded along Rosie’s gravel road until we came to an offshoot dirt road.
Morning Glory immediately took a sharp right.
“No girl. That’s not the way home.” I tugged on the left rein to make the horse turn, but Morning Glory tossed her head in defiance and picked up speed, bouncing me on her back like one of those little rubber balls tied to a wooden paddle. Without stirrups, there was no way I could control my seat, so I was at her mercy, sliding back and forth on her back.
“STOP! WHOA!” I cried, pulling hard on both reins, trying to get Morning Glory to halt. The problem was I didn’t have the strength to control this horse, and she knew it. She not only didn’t stop, but picked up her pace until we were galloping at full tilt.
Looking ahead, I saw where Morning Glory’s path was taking us, grabbed as much of her mane as I could, leaned forward, pressed my legs against her side, and screamed, “Oh, my God, oh, my God!” as we sailed over a fence.
24
I landed with a thump. The wind knocked out of me, I lay in a heap upon the ground, not moving or making a sound.
Was I still alive? Yes, I thought I was.
Was anything broken? Too afraid to move.
Was I bleeding? Hoped not.
I remained in a crumpled lump for what seemed an eternity until my head cleared a little.
Baby whined and circled before stretching out beside me, panting. Occasionally, he pawed me with those sandpaper pads of his, trying to get a response.
I realized he was trying to help, but I heard myself say, “Quit pawing my face, Baby!”
I could speak! At least my mouth worked—the least important part of my body according to some.
Did I have the guts to move? I rolled over on my side. So far, so good.
The first thing I saw was Morning Glory contently munching on grass nearby. The thought came to me that Morning Glory had a future date with a glue factory.
I’d deal with her later. I slowly placed a hand over one eye and then the other. Both worked—no spots or flashes. Okay, I thought, let’s sit up.
Baby was standing now with a waterfall of drool dripping on me. I grabbed his collar and pulled myself up into a sitting position. “Good boy. Good boy.” Next, I tried moving my legs. My gams moved. Ribs. Seemed intact.
