Lois Greiman - [Hope Springs 02]

by Home Fires

  “What?” Sophie asked, voice breathless.

  “Think about it.” Casie lowered her brows, expression beseeching. “She’s stolen property. It’s a felony.”

  “They abused her.” Sophie’s tone was low, steady, flat, and dangerous. “That’s the felony. Or at least it should be.”

  “Well, it’s not a felony that’s going to get them put in jail.”

  The morning went silent.

  “I’ll do it,” Casie said, exhaling carefully. “Just tell me where the farm is.”

  There was a moment of silence. “No.”

  “Soph—”

  “You can’t go there,” she said. “It’s not safe.”

  Colt’s heart stopped. Casie raised her brows. “What?”

  “They have rifles.”

  Casie’s lips formed an O. Her face was very pale. “You said no one saw you.”

  “I lied.”

  “You …” She stopped herself. Colt held his breath.

  “I talked to him. The owner.” Sophie swallowed. Her expression was nothing if not fearful. It looked out of place on her kick-ass face. “I spoke to him.”

  “The owner with the …” Casie paused, winced, carried on. “The rifle?”

  Sophie nodded. Colt stepped a little closer to Casie … just in case.

  “What did he say?”

  “He invited me into his house.”

  Casie reached out, grasping the arena’s nearest two-by-six. “You didn’t go.”

  “Of course I didn’t go. Do you think I’m an idiot?”

  No one spoke.

  “What happened then?” Casie’s voice was quiet.

  “Then Ty set Freedom loose and she bolted out the door.”

  “Then?”

  “Then we took off across the field.”

  “They didn’t follow you?”

  “They did, but we doubled back. They never found us.”

  “For real?” Em asked. Colt hadn’t seen her coming. How the hell did she do that?

  “Sophie …” Casie’s voice had gone from quiet to breathless. “You’re—.”

  “My hero,” Emily said. “Sophie Jaegar … my hero.” She scowled at the thought, seeming momentarily perplexed. “… And other signs of the apocalypse,” she murmured, then shook her head. “How did you outrun them?”

  For just a second a flash of something showed in Sophie’s eyes. It would have been nice to believe it was regret. But it looked a little more like excitement. “Turns out …” She cleared her throat. “Turns out Freedom rides double.”

  Casie’s knees actually buckled. “No.” She shook her head. Colt propped her up with one hand on her elbow. “You didn’t ride her knowing how wild—”

  “Bareback double.”

  On the far side of the arena, the mare reared, dreadlocked mane dancing as she leaped into the air, spun to the left, and trumpeted again. The sound spoke of a hundred fears, a thousand wild hopes.

  “Isn’t she a pretty thing,” Linette said.

  Colt turned abruptly toward the newcomer. Holy cow, since when did women sneak around like furtive mice? And how long had she been there listening?

  “Yes,” Casie said, not looking surprised that the older woman was there. Maybe she was counting on Murphy’s law taking precedence once again. “Even like this, she’s poetry.”

  “How far along is she?” Linette asked.

  Sophie shook her head, eyes mutinous. “The bastards didn’t give a—”

  Casie cleared her throat. Colt stared. Sophie wasn’t usually the one to swear. The little mother-to-be, on the other hand, had a mouth like a storm trooper when left to her own devices.

  Sophie pursed her lips at the censorship, but complied with the warning, finding that pitch-perfect snooty tone without any apparent trouble. “Her past owners just pasture bred their mares … just turned them out with the stallions,” she said. “They weren’t sure when she conceived.”

  “Who’s the sire?”

  They all looked at her.

  “That’s uncertain as well.” Sophie said the words through clenched teeth.

  “Doesn’t sound like your friends know much about horses,” Linette said.

  No one spoke. It took Colt a moment to realize she was talking to him, a moment longer to remember his lie regarding the mare’s past ownership.

  “Oh, yeah,” he agreed. “I guess they aren’t world-class equestrians, huh.”

  “They’re world-class—” Sophie began, but Casie interrupted.

  “Well, are you ready for that riding lesson, Linette?”

  “Sure,” she said, pulling her attention from Sophie with some difficulty. “If Colt is.”

  Colt glanced at Casie for a second, making sure she was okay. “Come on, then,” he said and reminded himself that although Casie Carmichael’s eyes could melt his heart, when the hammer hit the anvil, she was tough as nails. “You can show me what you remember about saddling up.”

  “Prepare to be astonished,” Linette said.

  He grinned as he turned away, but his student paused and glanced back.

  “Best not to think about those people too much, Soph. Premeditation can prolong a sentence considerably,” she said and turned away without another word.

  Casie watched her guest walk away. “What did she mean by that?” she asked.

  Sophie shrugged and changed the subject. “Well, I’m going to clean Free’s stall while she’s out here.”

  “We need to talk,” Casie said.

  Sophie scowled. “I thought that’s what we were doing.”

  Casie narrowed her eyes. Ty was just turning onto the Lazy’s pockmarked drive. It was Saturday morning, and he could have slept late, but she wasn’t surprised to see him pacing toward the barn. “Bring Ty into the house,” she said and turned away, gathering her wits as she went.

  In a matter of moments, the three of them stood in a rough triangle in the living room. Twenty feet away, Emily sang off-key as she banged around in the kitchen.

  “First of all …” Casie glanced at the pair. “I want to say that I understand why you did what you did. Horses shouldn’t be kept in the kind of conditions you described. But that doesn’t mean you can just take those horses. It’s …” The word crazy came to mind. A couple other prime adjectives followed quickly on its heels. “Dangerous.”

  “We didn’t take horses,” Sophie said. “We took horse.”

  Casie turned on her, mind spinning, anger spurring up. “Don’t you split hairs, Sophie Jaegar. What do you think your dad’s going to say when he finds out about this?”

  Sophie shrugged, looking bored.

  Frustration made Casie want to gnaw off her own arm. “Is that what you want?” she asked. “Do you want your father to come around asking questions? Do you need his attention that badly?”

  “This has nothing to do with him.”

  “This has everything to do with him,” Casie snapped. “He’s your legal guardian. He can make sure you never set foot on this property again.”

  “He wouldn’t do that,” Sophie said, but her face looked pale suddenly and her voice was breathy. “He doesn’t care enough to do that.”

  Casie shook her head in disbelief as she turned toward Ty.

  “And you,” she said, but even to her own ears, she heard her tone change, felt her emotions soften. “You know better, Tyler. You can’t afford to get into trouble.”

  “I know,” he said and shifted his eyes toward the floor. “But Soph …” He paused, raised his gaze to Casie’s, and caught himself. “It ain’t right,” he said. “The way they treat them horses. It just ain’t right.”

  “I know it’s not.” Casie cleared her throat, searching for her already dissipating anger. When did she become the Wicked Witch of the West? It wasn’t many months ago that she was the one bringing home the neglected and the abused. She’d never stolen them, though. And why was that? Just because she lacked the nerve? “But there’s nothing we can do about it. As much as I feel fo
r the mare … my main concern is you two.” She hardened her jaw. “We have to take her back.”

  “Case—” Sophie began, but a noise from outside interrupted them.

  Casie hurried into the kitchen to peer outside. A muddy pickup truck turned into the driveway. There was something about it, some premonition older than time that made the breath stop in her throat. “Get back,” she said, seeing that Sophie had followed her.

  “What?” the girl asked, but there must have been something in Casie’s eyes because she backed away from the window.

  “The guy with the rifle … Freedom’s owner …” Casie continued to gaze through the window from an oblique angle, trying to see inside the pickup. “How did he look?”

  “I’m not going to let you take—” Sophie began, but Casie stopped her with a glance.

  The girl drew a sharp breath. Her eyes widened. “Do you think it’s him? Is he here?”

  “Stay put,” Casie said, and gathering every ounce of nerve she could muster, paced toward the front door. Her mind was spinning, her body pressurized. Don’t look tense, she told herself, but she was no actress. Still, spying the egg basket in the tiny entry, she grabbed it on her way out. Her knuckles hurt from her grip on the handle. Way to be casual, she thought, and loosened her fingers with a concerted effort.

  The weather was still drizzly. She tugged the brim of her Marlboro cap lower over her eyes and tried not to pass out.

  Jack turned a happy circle and loped back to her as the truck came to a halt not twenty feet from them. She tried to look surprised about this unexpected visitor. The man who stepped out from behind the steering wheel was somewhere in his early forties. He wore loose blue jeans and a brown plaid jacket.

  A few salutations zipped through Casie’s mind. Greetings. Hey there. Top of the morning. She stifled a groan. “Can I help you with something?” she asked and forced a gritty smile.

  “Yeah.” He shifted his gaze right and left, as if searching the premises. “I’m Pete Whitesel. Got a few acres west of here.”

  “Hi.” She extended a hand. The kids had bought her a pair of buckskin gloves. The leather was soft and pliant, considerably superior to the duct-taped pair she’d been wearing just a few months earlier. His handshake was quick, his gaze unsteady. “Cassandra Carmichael,” she said. “It’s nice to meet you. I don’t know any Whitesels. Are you new in the area?”

  Her mind was spinning. She knew, absolutely knew, that he was Freedom’s owner. Which meant that she should tell him the truth, admit the facts … or maybe … maybe she could say it was her idea. But either way … any way, she should return the horse to her rightful owner. Had to return the horse to her rightful owner. But in the back of her mind, she saw the mare’s frantic expression, her wide, wild eyes.

  “Fairly new. Say,” he said. He stared at her a second too long, lips curling up a little. “I’m looking for a horse.”

  Why she laughed she would never be sure. But the sound was ridiculously convincing, at least to her own ears. She nodded toward the pasture where her own wild bunch grazed. “Well, you’re in luck,” she said. “We’ve got a good half dozen for sale. Most of them aren’t broke yet, but if you’re looking for a yearling or a 4-H project for your kids or something—”

  “I ain’t looking to buy,” he said and grinned. The expression was kind of oily. Still, Pete Whitesel was a relatively attractive man … considering he was the scum of the earth.

  “Oh.” She made a confused face. It wasn’t half hard. “Well, I—”

  “One of mine was stolen.”

  “Stolen!” She was not meant for the stage, but anger had begun a slow boil in her soul. Why now, she wasn’t sure. Maybe she had imagined the owner of a PMU farm differently. Maybe she thought he would have some horrible disfigurement that would make it impossible for him to make a living in a manner that didn’t make her want to spit in his eye. “You’re kidding! That’s terrible. How did it happen?”

  He shook his head, but watched her out of the corner of his eye while he did it. “Some damn kids come up and took her right out of my barn.”

  “No!” It took every bit of discipline she had to keep her gaze off the window from which those same damn kids were surely watching. Neither did she cut her eyes toward the arena behind the barn where Freedom was being kept.

  “You sure they were kids?” Emily’s voice broke into the conversation like a steak knife through suet.

  Casie refrained from closing her eyes in misery. The last thing she needed was Emily’s radical opinion at this point, but she turned, feigning nonchalance. The girl was dressed in a pair of oversized overalls. Her hair, the whole untamed mass of it, was shoved up under a cap that would have made Elmer Fudd proud. There was a red-checkered handkerchief hanging from one pocket, and her feet were bare.

  Pete eyed her up and down, brows low, lips lifting into a lazy grin. She didn’t even blink.

  “I mean, kids these days …” she continued. “They’re too busy with their ’pods and ’pads and whatnot to barely take a step outside. Why would they steal your horses?”

  “They only got away with the one.”

  “Well, that’s lucky anyway,” Emily said. “How many do you have?”

  He shrugged, still watching her, eyes alight as they rested on her protruding belly. “Forty head maybe.”

  She whistled, sounding impressed. “You must be an exceptional horse trainer.”

  “Trainer!” he scoffed. “I don’t have no time for that sort of thing.”

  “Then …” she began but stopped suddenly. “Hey, you don’t have one of those pee lines, do you?”

  His eyes narrowed. “What’s that?” he asked, brows lowered.

  “Those pregnant mares,” she said. “I heard their pee is worth its weight in gold. Listen, my aunt Carol just went through her change and I’ll tell you what, it was a lifesaver.”

  He shook his head vaguely, but she was already expounding. You could always count on Emily to expound. At least if there was a lie involved.

  “You know,” she said. “Women’s problems. I guess some people think the synthetic brands are just as effective, but I don’t believe it. And why shouldn’t we have access to the real deal? I mean, God put animals on this earth for us to use, right?” She shook her head. “Damn tree huggers.”

  He looked confused. It wasn’t an uncommon expression around Emily.

  “Damn animal rights activists,” she said. “Pardon my French, but I mean … Shoot! How do they expect us to make a living? Not that they care.”

  “You think it was animal rights activists?” he asked.

  “Who else?” She shrugged. “I mean, unless there’s something special about that particular animal?”

  “Special? No. We just picked her up at an auction to replace a mare that was wore out. I should have known better, but …” He shrugged, not caring. “She’s got the right organs. Wouldn’t do that again, though. She tore up the barn first night we brought her home. Pawing, rearing …” He shook his head. “She was nothing but trouble.”

  “Still, she’s your trouble, right?”

  “I paid good money for her. Had trouble foaling her out last time, too. ’Bout took my head off when we took her colt.”

  Something flared in Emily’s eyes. Casie tensed and jumped into the fire.

  “So she’s pregnant now?”

  “You gotta keep ’em pregnant,” he said. “Otherwise their pee ain’t worth piss.” He laughed and glanced down at them through his lashes, wet lips canted up.

  Casie laughed with him.

  Emily did not. “What do you do with the babies?” Her voice was low. Maybe she was trying to smile. Definitely she was failing.

  He glanced at her. “What’s that?”

  Casie drilled Emily with her eyes, willing her to be silent. But the girl just shrugged. “We’ve got some extra space. I’m thinking maybe we could get into the business.”

  He was shaking his head. “I don’t know. I’m start
ing to think it ain’t worth the trouble.”

  “Yeah, I suppose foaling out mares year-round can be a pain in the rear, huh?”

  “Well, naw,” he said. “We just run ’em with the stallion for three weeks or so. If they don’t settle in that time we send them off to auction.”

  “You get decent money for them?” Emily said.

  Casie ground her teeth.

  “Sixty cents a pound is all. Less for the colts. They don’t want no ponies or nothing.”

  “So you sell the bab …” Her voice broke. “The colts, too?”

  “Sure. I mean, I’m a businessman. I don’t have no time to mess with training them. And anyway …” He brightened as the thought hit him. “It wouldn’t be right to sell them to some poor kid somewhere. I don’t want to get anybody hurt.”

  “Except the horses,” Emily said.

  “What’s that?”

  Casie cleared her throat and took a step closer, half blocking Emily from his view. “I heard they’re opening the slaughterhouses for horses again,” Casie said.

  “Can’t happen soon enough. Problem is, the meat is almost always shipped off to Europe or Asia.” He shook his head.

  “Tree huggers,” Emily scoffed again, but her eyes looked dangerous.

  “Well,” Casie said and edged toward him a little, shooing him gently toward his vehicle. “We’ll sure keep our eyes open for any suspicious behavior.”

  Suspicious behavior? she thought, but he didn’t seem to notice any weird CSI phraseology.

  “ ’Preciate it,” he said and kept his gaze on Emily for an extended period of time.

  Casie felt a shiver whisper over her skin, but if the girl was creeped out, she didn’t show it.

  “Just so we know …” Emily began, “when’s that colt due? I mean, if I’m driving around and happen to see a pregnant mare, it might be helpful to know what I’m looking for.”

  He shrugged, still focused on her. “I dunno. Couple of weeks, I suppose.”

  “Soon,” Emily said. Empathy had crept back into her voice. It didn’t take a genius to realize that she and the mare were on the same maternal course. “What does that make her, nine months along?”