Lois Greiman - [Hope Springs 02]

by Home Fires

  Rage had taken over. Standing in the living room watching the TV anchor talk about PMU horses with such bored disregard had shot her into action. Although the clip hadn’t shown the interior of the particular barn she was headed for, she had recognized the farm featured on the news clip. It was an out-of-the-way place on a little-known gravel road, a road she’d often traversed between her father’s condo and the Lazy Windmill.

  Her hands shook as she turned off the highway. Puke’s right front tire hit a pothole and she gasped. The anger had worn down a little, turning to bitter uncertainty. But she drove on. Another right turn brought her onto a rutted gravel road that wound around a murky slough.

  The farm stood on a small hill a quarter of a mile or so to the north. It was fully dark now, but there was a light on in the yard. A shelterbelt, a narrow band of Russian olives and blue spruce, grew beside the road. She pulled past the edge of it, shifted into neutral, and shut off the truck. She would be all but hidden from view of the house now. Still, uncertainty kept her frozen in place. Who the hell did she think she was? Some superhero come to right the wrongs of the world? She was just a kid. If she had a brain in her head, she’d go home. Then she could rant and rave and insist that someone do something, knowing all the while that no one would expect that someone to be her. But the image of the horses loomed in her mind again. Reaching to her right, she curled her fingers around the camera she’d taken from Emily’s room. Her left hand moved out of its own accord. The driver’s door squeaked as she stepped out of the truck. Her knees felt less than steady as she eased the door shut, trying to be silent. Her nerve, so sharp and clear when she was standing in the Lazy’s warm kitchen, seemed to have abandoned her completely. But the pictures on the television gnawed at her brain like nasty rodents.

  She swallowed hard, straightened her spine, and took a step toward the farm.

  “What are you—”

  She jumped back with a shriek, raising her arms in a wild effort to protect herself from the monster that accosted her.

  But the monster morphed quickly into human form. “Soph! Geez, Sophie!”

  She stepped back, heart pounding, mind desperately trying to make sense of things.

  “Ty?” The name sounded shaky and ridiculous to her ears, an unshapely meld of terror and hope. “Ty!” Anger came quickly on the heels of the relief she was sure she shouldn’t be feeling. She hated surprises, and glanced around now, sure she’d been followed, sure her plans, unformed as they were, would be thwarted. She refused to admit that just seconds ago she had desperately hoped that would be the case. “What are you doing here?”

  “What am I doing here?” He looked around. There was little enough to see, just a lone farm with a few run-down buildings and a yard light making a poor attempt to pierce the gloom. “Where is here?”

  Her legs felt wooden, her hands sweaty. What the hell was going on? She paced past the trailer, looking for his vehicle. “How did you even get here?”

  “How do you think?” He waved wildly at nothing in particular, anger or something like it making his tone tight. “You almost ran me over. You drive like a …” He shook his head and blew out a breath. “What the devil are you doing? You don’t even have no license.”

  “Were you …” Things were unclear in her mind, skewed by fear, made jagged by the sharp rush of adrenaline. She shook her head, trying to see past the tail of the trailer. “Neither do you. How—” She stopped breathing, remembering she’d passed him on the road. “Did you grab on to the trailer? Were you hanging on to the side the whole time?”

  “You gotta slow down when you’re pulling a load, Soph. It can jackknife on you, you know. And if you’re hauling a horse, you can’t drive nearly so fast.”

  “I didn’t have …” She shook her head. “You were hanging on the trailer?” She scowled at the rusty fender, the pockmarked slats. “Are you nuts?”

  “No more than you, looks like. What are we doing here?”

  “We’re not doing anything here,” she said, and gathering her nerve, skirted around him to head for the barn.

  “Soph.” She could hear him turn toward her, could hear him scramble after. “Sophie! What’s going on?”

  “Nothing! Go home.”

  “Sure. I’ll do that.” She heard him stop. “I’ll just leave you here. But just so I got some idea what to tell Casie when they find your hacked-up body along the side of the road, where the hell is here?”

  She felt herself blanch, hated herself for her weakness, and worked hard to dredge up a modicum of the rage she’d felt just a short time before. She straightened her back. “This is the place your hero was talking about.”

  “What?” Confusion echoed in his voice.

  “The farrier,” she said, lowering her voice. Off in the darkness somewhere, a dog barked. Her stomach knotted. “Sam told us about it.”

  He shook his head.

  “The PMU mares are kept here!” she snapped.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, but his voice was low, too.

  “Pregnant mare urine,” she said, leaning close to rasp the words into his face. “I just saw it on the news. They collect the stuff here, then send it to the big pharmaceutical companies out east.”

  His brows were pulled low over his thousand-secrets eyes. “So?”

  “So?” She hissed the word, glared at him, then, for lack of anything more constructive, ground her teeth and ducked between two strands of barbed wire fencing. Something rustled in the scraggly sour dock that grew to her left. She jerked spasmodically, then gritted her teeth at her own cowardice and crept silently forward, though she didn’t have a reason for her stealth. She couldn’t see two feet in front of her face. A bat wouldn’t be able to find her in this darkness. Although a big dog might be able to. She winced at the thought and glanced to the side. Something slithered across the toe of her boot. She swallowed and resisted grabbing Ty’s arm, though he had caught up to her.

  “Why—” he began again, but she snarled at him.

  “It’s inhumane,” she said.

  “What’s inhumane?”

  “The way they treat these mares,” she said and turned abruptly toward him. Reminding herself with every word that she had a mission, she dredged up her anger. “It’s barbaric,” she said and winced as she saw his face. In the darkness, it almost seemed that she could still see the discoloration around his battered eye. The discoloration that his own worthless mother had caused. But that wasn’t her problem. Casie had come to his rescue. Sophie Jaegar wasn’t anybody’s hero. Not any human’s anyway. But horses … maybe horses were another matter entirely. “It’s cruel and stupid and—”

  “I’m sorry.”

  His simple words stopped her cold. Because he was sorry. She could hear it in his voice. Could feel it in his presence. How could someone who had been hurt so much by his own mother still care? She was still angry because her mom hadn’t given her a cell phone until her fourteenth birthday. “They’re kept in tie stalls for months at a time,” she said and carefully stifled the confusing emotions that stormed through her.

  “Why?”

  “Pregnant mares have something in their urine that’s used in drugs for women’s menopause problems. That urine has to be collected, and the easiest way to do it is to keep them immobilized.”

  His lips twitched. His brows lowered. “Well, that ain’t right, Soph. But lots of animal ain’t treated no better. Pigs are confined all the time. Dairy—”

  “These aren’t pigs!” The words left her lips in a rush, though she knew he had a valid point. “And they’re not cattle. These are horses.” Her eyes stung and her cheeks felt hot. “The species that’s been serving mankind since people drew pictures in caves. Don’t you think they deserve a little more from us than this?” She waved vaguely toward the farm.

  Ty opened his mouth, but she hurried on, though she didn’t know why. It wasn’t as if she’d ever cared about his opinion.

  “They don’t
need that urine anyway. There are synthetic ways to make the same type of drug.”

  “It sucks, Soph. I see that, but—”

  “They constrict their water.”

  She watched his lips twitch, saw the pain in his face, but she didn’t let that stop her.

  “They’re mostly draft horses, big mares that’ll produce more pee, so being confined is going to be harder on their joints. And the tight spaces get even tighter as their fetuses grow and their bellies—”

  “Soph!” He stopped her, sounding almost desperate. “There ain’t nothing we can do.”

  “No,” she agreed, and drawing a deep breath, straightened her spine. “There’s nothing. Go home,” she said and turned away.

  He caught her arm. She stopped in midstride and gazed down at his hand for a second. “Listen, Ty,” she said. “You can’t be here. I get that. Casie has enough legal trouble already.”

  He flinched and even as she reveled in her ability to strike a direct blow, she cursed herself. What the hell was wrong with her? It wasn’t as if he didn’t have enough guilt without her piling on more, but she blew out a breath and continued on.

  “You shouldn’t be here,” she repeated and pulled her arm from his grasp, “but I should.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  She turned resolutely away. “It’s not going to do anyone any good if I tell you that,” she said. Besides, her plan was sketchy at best.

  “Soph!” He marched after her, strides long and noisy through the scraggly weeds of the pasture. “This is somebody else’s property. You can’t just go barging—”

  “What about the foals?” she asked, and feeling herself buoyed by her belated revelation, faced him again.

  “What?”

  She pursed her lips. “There are tens of thousands of these mares,” she said. “Maybe hundreds of thousands. Each one of them has to give birth every single year.”

  “Yeah?” He sounded tentative.

  “What do you think happens to the babies?”

  She could hear his teeth grind.

  “The economy sucks.” She kept her voice quiet, letting him think. “And it’s not like these mares are anything special. They’re just cash on the hoof. They’re just bred …” She shrugged. “To be bred.” Her eyes stung. She took a deep breath and marshaled her anger. “So if the mare’s only value is in her urine, her foal has no worth at all.”

  “Animals are slaughtered all the time,” he said, but his voice was oddly husky. “There ain’t nothing better than Em’s blue beef Stroganoff.”

  “So you think this is okay?” Her voice sounded self-righteous even to her own ears, but in the darkest part of her mind, she hoped he would say yes. It was fine. This was none of her concern. He would drag her back to the Lazy where she could seethe and carry on and blame him for being weak and uncaring and barbaric.

  But somewhere far away a horse nickered. The sound was low and hopeful. Ty glanced up. His jaw was set. Silence set in. “What’s our plan?” he asked. His voice was very quiet, barely heard above the night sounds.

  Her stomach twisted. She tried to repeat that he wasn’t included in her plan. But the look on his face did something to her. It weakened her, softened her, made her irresistibly grateful that he was there. “I’m going to take photographs,” she said.

  He stared at her.

  “There were only pictures of the outside of the building. The news clip showed the interior of other barns. But nothing of this one. Maybe if I could get real footage of the horses’ conditions to the local media, we could get this place shut down.”

  For a while she thought he would argue. For even longer she hoped he would, but finally he drew a deep breath and turned toward the farmstead in the distance. “Ain’t never going to be no time like now, I suppose,” he said and turned toward the light on the hill.

  She swallowed, fear making her knees weak. “Maybe …”

  He paused to glance over his shoulder at her. She could see little more than the outline of his face, the high jut of his cheekbones, the sharp cast of his jaw, but that was enough. There was something about his silhouette that looked absolutely resolute, not like her, not scared out of her wits even though she’d never suffered a real hardship in her entire life.

  She nodded once and stepped up beside him. Their footsteps seemed ungodly loud in the stillness. The yard light vaguely illuminated five buildings.

  “That must be the horse barn,” he said. It was a long, low building sided with galvanized steel.

  She nodded, unable to speak. Anger had worn off completely now, leaving her with nothing but the ashy taste of fear. Beyond the barn, the house stood tall and gray in the darkness. A light shone from one of the far windows. She swallowed, hating herself. “Maybe we should wait until they fall asleep.”

  He watched her in the darkness. It was not until that moment that she saw her own fear reflected in his eyes. But he spoke nevertheless. “We’re already all saddled up, Soph.”

  “But we shouldn’t have to wait long.” She said the words too quickly, too eagerly. She slowed her pace, took a deep breath. “REM’s the deepest shortly after people fall asleep and—”

  “You think Case won’t come looking for you?”

  She had no idea why she hadn’t considered that possibility. She blinked. “She doesn’t know where I am.”

  “She ain’t stupid, Soph. She’ll talk to Em, know you seen that clip on TV, and put two and two together.”

  She felt herself wince. Felt herself nod.

  “Okay,” she said and ground her hands into fists. “Let’s go.”

  They crept forward in tandem. The overhead light became brighter. It felt as hot and revealing as a spotlight against her face. She froze when they reached the next fence, unable to go on.

  He looked at her, paused. Maybe there was something in her eyes, because he nodded once and said, “I ain’t the best photographer in the world, but I can get the job done.”

  She couldn’t speak. She wasn’t sure why, but she hoped to hell it wasn’t due to gratitude. Still, she remained silent, staring at him.

  “Listen …” His voice was very low. He glanced at the farmstead again, just yards away now. “I think you should go back, get Puke outta here.”

  She blinked at him, barely able to do that much.

  “I mean, what if someone sees it there? It ain’t like it’s inconspicuous. And I don’t want to get Casie in no more trouble.”

  “Are you saying …” She swallowed. Even that was difficult. “You want me to leave you here alone?”

  “Better I walk home unnoticed than I go in a squad car.”

  She felt herself pale. “We’re not going to get arrested. We’re just taking pictures,” she said, but her voice was barely audible.

  “We’re trespassing, Soph.” He leaned close when he said the words. “Some of these old farmers take that real personal. ’Specially if they got things to hide.” He turned toward the barn. There was something about the place that felt wrong. Maybe it was her own fear that made her think so, but he narrowed his eyes, seeming to feel the same.

  “We’re not going to get arrested,” she repeated, but her voice shook.

  “Then you better get that rig outta here,” he said.

  He was right. He was so right. He would be better at sneaking around anyway. He’d probably spent half his life trying to be invisible. And if there were two of them it would make it twice as likely that they’d be seen. And …

  And when had she become such a coward?

  She stared at him, locked her knees, and straightened her spine. “You want the truck moved, you do it,” she said.

  They faced off in utter silence.

  “Could be you’re the stubbornest girl ever was born,” he said finally, but his eyes spoke of something other than loathing. It might have been admiration. Dear God, it might have been affection . “Come on, then,” he said, and curling his fingers around a smooth expanse of wire, pressed the other
strand down with his foot before reaching for her with his free hand. Their fingers touched. Something sparked warm and hopeful between them. Their gazes brushed. Feelings rushed through her, but she reined them in and ducked through the fence, feet barely touching the ground.

  She held her breath as they tiptoed through the darkness toward the barn. Every snap of a twig, every sigh of the breeze made her heart leap, but in a moment they were at the door. They shared one furtive glance before he twisted the latch. The door groaned as he pulled it open.

  The odor was the first thing that assaulted her senses. Not the comforting scents of horse sweat and hay, but the rancid smell of rotting manure and despair.

  Ty said something she had never heard pass his lips, something Casie would disapprove of. Maybe it was the sound of his suppressed anger that brought up her nerve, or maybe it was the smell of the place, the acrid odor of hopelessness, that strengthened her resolve.

  His fingers tightened on hers, but not as if he was trying to tell her something. More like he couldn’t help himself. As if the conditions reminded him of something too painful to be borne alone. She squeezed back and in that moment they were comrades. He was the first one to speak.

  “That camera have flash?” he whispered and nodded toward the Canon that hung from her neck.

  “It’s Emily’s.”

  She could feel his immediate disapproval. “You took Em’s camera?”

  She felt jealousy rise beneath the surface. What did Em have that she didn’t? Sophie was richer, probably smarter, definitely bitchier. She contained her wince at the thought and felt her anger bubble down to a soft boil. “I’m just borrowing it,” she said. Her tone was a little more caustic than she had intended, but he didn’t drop her hand. The point of contact was as warm as sunlight on her skin.

  “Well …” He was scowling. “I guess if anybody’ll be for saving babies, it’ll be Em,” he said.

  She felt her gut twist at the affection in his tone, but managed to keep her mouth shut.