Читать книгу The Saddle Creek Series 5-Book Bundle - Shelley Peterson - Страница 17

7

FIONA’S PROBLEM

PETE ARRIVED FASTER THAN Christine expected. Dancer and Abby, with Cody in her arms, were just turning up the lane when his old blue truck appeared. Pete came to a stop beside them. Christine opened the passenger door and Abby got Cody settled in the middle of the seat. Dancer stood still, attentive and protective. Before climbing in beside Cody, Abby patted the stallion and quietly thanked him. Dancer shook his mane and whinnied. He turned and trotted up to the barn.

Pete grimaced as he backed up and turned the truck around.

“Thanks for getting here so fast,” Christine called as the truck pulled out. As it sped off, gravel flying, Pete waved his goodbyes. There was no time to lose.

Christine walked up the lane, thinking about her daughter. Hilary was very upset. Was it the shock of seeing the injured coyote? Or was there something else?

Christine noticed Joy entering the barn, where Hilary was untacking the horses. It was just like her mother to know when she was needed. Instead of going to the barn as she’d intended, she decided to head for the house to start dinner. She’d let the two of them have a chat.

“Gran, I need to be alone right now.” Hilary continued brushing Dancer. The tack was still in the aisle, but Henry had been brushed down and was in his stall with a cooling blanket over him.

“I’m sorry, Mousie. I don’t wish to intrude.”

“You’re not intruding, and I don’t mean to sound rude. I just need some time to collect myself.” She bent down and picked up Dancer’s front left foot.

“Sure. I understand. We all have times like this.”

“I know you understand. You always do.” Hilary deftly cleaned the hoof with the pick.

“Not always, Mousie.” Joy reached into her pocket. “Would you like my hanky? It’s clean.”

“Thanks.” Hilary took the white linen handkerchief and wiped her eyes. “This is embarrassing. I’m twenty-two years old.” She blew her nose.

“I’m seventy-two and I still cry.”

Hilary laughed. “But not about stupid things.”

“If it’s making you cry, my dear, it’s not stupid.”

“But it is stupid. I’m crying because Dancer seems more attached to Abby than he is to me. And Abby just started riding him yesterday. I feel sad. I feel so . . .” She left the sentence dangling as she picked up his back left hoof and cleaned it. “I feel so jilted. And that’s stupid.”

Joy said nothing until Hilary finished picking out Dancer’s feet. “It’s totally understandable, my dear. There’s nothing stupid about that emotion.”

“Yes there is, Gran. I can’t look after him anymore. I wanted Abby to ride him because she’s the only person I can think of who could get into his head. And I was right. They get along great, so I’m sad? It doesn’t make sense.”

“Logically, no. But emotions aren’t always logical. You feel that you’ve lost your best friend.”

“But I haven’t, really. And I know he’ll only be happy if he’s working, and I want him happy.”

“You really love him, Mousie, if you’re willing to let him go because it’s better for him.”

“Maybe, but I still feel jealous.”

As Hilary led Dancer into his stall, Joy tried to explain. “It’s like having a child. You love her, raise her, protect her, teach her how to look after herself. Then the time comes when he or she leaves you to discover the big, outside world. And you’re left with a hole in your heart. But it’s the best thing for her. You can’t keep her with you for selfish reasons. So a mother who loves her child has to let her go.”

“Maybe it’s exactly like that, Gran.” Hilary looked at her grandmother with questioning eyes. “Is this how you felt when Mom moved out?”

Joy nodded. “Exactly.” She smiled. “I cried like a baby.”

“And is this how Mom feels now? Now that I’m moving on?” Hilary’s face suddenly crumpled. She ran out of the barn.

As she watched Hilary stumble into the house, Joy thought she’d made things worse. She picked up the bridles and hung them in the tack room. Wondering what to do about her granddaughter, she put Henry’s saddle on the proper rack then returned to get Dancer’s.

There was a bullet lodged in the back of Dancer’s saddle. Joy breathed deeply, steadying herself. “Oh my,” she muttered as she ran a finger over it. It was deeply embedded in the leather on the left side of the seat. “Oh my, my, my.” Joy felt shocked as the realization of averted tragedy hit her. Her head was light. Trembling visibly, she rested the saddle on her hip and started for the house. Hilary would have to see it.

Joy wasn’t looking forward to showing her granddaughter the saddle. She’d upset her enough already. When she opened the kitchen door, though, she saw Hilary and Christine locked in a hug, rocking and laughing and crying together. Joy smiled and wiped a tear from her own eye.

Colleen Millitch was the head veterinarian at Cheltenham Veterinary Hospital. Although she was only in her mid-thirties, she’d dealt with more than her share of animal crises. Tall and dark-haired with a ready smile, Colleen was attractive as well as capable.

As soon as she’d gotten the call from Pete Pierson, she prepared an operating table and disinfected herself. Colleen smiled. A vet’s life was full of surprises. This had been just an average Monday afternoon until now. She remembered working on Cody before, the night Pete Pierson had brought him in, full of Colonel Kenneth Bradley’s buckshot. Cody had been a good patient, but he was still a wild animal. Colleen would be very careful. She was pulling on her latex gloves when the receptionist buzzed.

“They’re here, Colleen. What should I do? It’s a real coyote!”

“Send them in.” Colleen opened the door to the operating room and studied the animal as Abby carried him in, followed by Pete. Cody would need intravenous fluids immediately.

Abby held him close, hiding his face so he wouldn’t see Colleen injecting him with a tranquilizer. Cody’s head dropped. He was instantly asleep.

While Cody’s rear leg was being operated on, Samuel Owens and Gus LeFarge were viewing the Wick property. They’d walked the land, gone through the house, and checked out the sheds. Now they were entering the huge old barn theatre.

“This would go up in flames with one match,” said Owens as he examined the space with critical eyes. “Insurance would build another barn. A modern, functional barn.” He swept his arm from wall to wall with a disgusted sneer. “It’s a piece of garbage, the whole place. Wick was always crazy, but this takes the cake.”

“Funny. Joy Featherstone wants the farm because of the theatre. Each to his own, I guess.”

“Don’t tell me she thinks she can make this theatre profitable! She’s as crazy as Wick.” Owens walked up to the stage and kicked the wood. “Solid. Some salvage here, but he’ll be lucky to get it off his hands.”

Gus stood quietly, watching his client. He was getting impatient with all of Owens’ complaints, but he wanted the sale. “He’ll be happy to sell it to you.”

“Does Wick know I want it?” Owens asked, suddenly suspicious.

“No, but he’ll know soon, if you decide to raise Joy’s bid.”

“Why? Wick will just jack up the price if he knows I want it. I told you, I demand anonymity. If you can’t get this place for me on my terms, I’ll find someone who can.” Owens’ face was dark with anger as he snapped out the threat.

Suddenly, the lights went out. The two men were plunged into complete darkness.

“What the—!” sputtered Owens. “The goddam electricity’s out! Get me out of here.”

A blur of dim blue light briefly appeared in the second seat in on the second row from the back, stage right. Then it was gone. It flickered in the fourth row from the front, stage left, then disappeared.

“Gus, are you playing games with me?” demanded Owens angrily.

“N-no, I-I promise.” Gus LeFarge was terrified. He’d heard stories, like everyone else, of the ghost that haunted the theatre.

The blue light flared brightly right in front of LeFarge. He turned and ran, clumsily bumping into seats and bouncing off the walls in his haste to find the door. He pulled it open and fled.

“Coward!” Owens hollered as he walked to the door. “Chicken liver!” He was disgusted with Gus LeFarge. A grown man afraid of the dark. Owens grabbed the door latch. It was burning hot. “Yeowch!” he screamed, pulling back his hand and shaking it. He kicked at the door. “LeFarge! Open this door! I’ve had enough of this crap!”

Owens listened for Gus at the door, but heard nothing. He covered his hand with his jacket sleeve and reached again to open the hot latch. This time, an electrical surge shot through his hand along his arm, throwing him back into the seats. Owens was dumbfounded. He sat dazed.

The blue light flickered in the aisle beside him. “You’ll never get out.” The tone of this unexpected voice was flat and the pitch was deep. There was a slightly faraway sound to it, a husky echo. “You’re like me, locked forever in a joyless void of your own choosing.”

“LeFarge?” Owens called. “Is that you?”

“You’ll never get out.”

“Who said that?”

The dim blue flickering light moved closer. “Samuel Owens. You’ll never get out of your own personal hell. Wherever you are, whatever you do, no matter how much land or how many horses you own.”

“Get away from me!” Owens cried, frantically swatting the air. He jumped to his feet and ran to the door. Uncertain of what might happen when he grabbed the latch, Owens squeezed his eyes shut and lunged for it, ignoring the consequences.

The door swung open and Owens charged, right into Robert Wick, who was accompanied by Joy Featherstone and a quivering Gus LeFarge.

“Whatever Joy Featherstone offers, I’ll offer more! Just for the pleasure of burning down that theatre!”

“It’s a little late, Sam,” said Robert Wick quietly, after he righted himself. “I’m not selling.”

Owens was stunned. “You’re not selling?”

“I’m not selling. I’m back in the theatre business.”

“You’re crazy! You’re absolutely crazy. You think you can put your farm on the market and take it off when somebody wants it!”

“You never put in an offer, Sam.”

“I was just about to.”

“Like I said, it’s a little late,” answered Wick. “I’ve changed my mind.”

“I’ll sue. You’ll live to regret this.” Owens backed away, shaking with rage. “And what are you doing here, Joy Drake Featherstone? Have you two made a deal, or what? You and your daughter and your granddaughter are nothing but trouble. Let me warn you. I’m back, and you can’t trifle with me.” His face was crimson and rigid. His body was hunched and aggressive. “I expect a call within the next two hours accepting the offer that Gus was about to draw up, or you’ll all regret it.”

Samuel Owens walked stiffly to his car, rubbing his right arm. He got in and drove away, leaving Gus, Robert, and Joy puzzled and more than a little alarmed.

Colleen pulled off her surgical gloves and washed her hands thoroughly. It was getting late. She pulled off her cap, quickly brushed her hair, and changed into a fresh white uniform. Bloody clothes are not a comforting sight to nervous pet owners.

She smiled as she strode into the waiting room, now empty except for two worried people. “Mr. Pierson, Abby. Cody is going to be fine.”

Pete and Abby both looked at her with the same expression of relief.

“His leg is badly broken and unstable at the moment,” Colleen said. “I’ve set it and put a plaster on it, but I want to talk to you both about what we should do.”

“What do you suggest?” asked Pete as Colleen sat in the armchair beside him.

“I believe that it’s best to keep him here for a week, heavily sedated. That would give the bones a chance to begin to knit.”

Abby looked at Pete. “Won’t he be scared to be here alone?” she asked.

He looked back at Colleen. “What are our options?”

The vet pursed her lips and thought. “If the leg gets knocked, it’ll need pins and a steel rod. I’d hate to have to re-operate on him.”

“Can we keep Cody sedated at home?” asked Abby.

“I can give you pain pills for him, but they won’t stop him from moving. He needs some days of immobility.”

“So, you’re saying that we don’t have much choice. We need to leave him here.”

“That is my strong advice. He needs to be sedated, and that means he should stay here.”

Abby was worried. “If he starts to gain consciousness, he’ll be terrified to find himself here.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll look after him.”

“We know you will, Colleen,” said Pete. “Thank you so much. Do we pay the bill now?”

“No, the secretaries leave at six o’clock. It’s seven thirty. Don’t worry, we’ll get you.” She smiled.

“Can I come to visit him?” Abby wanted to know.

“Any time at all.” Colleen Millitch rose wearily from her chair. “Now, you two better get something to eat. It’s way past dinnertime.”

Pete dropped Abby off at her front door and waved goodbye.

“Thanks, Mr. Pierson!” she called. She watched the headlights disappear down the lane with a heavy heart. She hated leaving Cody at the vet’s. Abby took a deep breath and opened her door. The house was quiet. A few lights were on, but there were no cooking smells coming from the kitchen. Abby had a feeling that something was wrong.

“Mom? Dad?”

She heard footsteps coming out of her parents’ room. Someone stopped and closed the door quietly behind them.

“Hello?” she called. “Who’s there?” Abby stood at the open front door, ready to bolt.

“Abby, it’s me,” whispered Liam.

“What’s wrong? Why are you whispering?”

Liam came slowly down the stairs. His face wore an expression that Abby instantly recognized.

“It’s Mom, isn’t it? She’s drunk.”

“It’s not so bad, Abby. Come into the kitchen and let’s talk.”

Liam flicked on the lights as they walked into the kitchen. He opened the fridge door and looked inside. “Scrambled eggs on toast?” he asked.

“Sounds good. I’m starved.” Abby cleared the table of the empty gin bottle and dirty glass with a disgusted groan.

“Tell me about Cody.”

Abby had flung herself into a chair and was slumped over the pine table. Without lifting her head, she answered, “I can bring him home in a week, if the bones are knitting properly. He’ll be so heavily sedated, he won’t move around. Dr. Millitch says that’s the best thing to do, but I feel sorry for him, locked in a small cage with only strangers around. He’ll freak out. Even drugged, his instinct will be to panic.”

“She’s the best small animal vet around. She knows what’s good for him.”

“I hope so. I’ll visit Cody every chance I get.” Abby sat up and looked at her father. “Now Dad, tell me what happened here. With Mom. Not that I really want to hear.”

“I got home about an hour ago. My meeting ran a little later than I thought. Your mother was sitting at the table with a glass in her hand. She raised a toast to me when I came in, then fell on her face.”

“Great.”

“Abby, we have to accept that this is an illness. A disease.”

“Right, Dad. Like chicken pox? Or is it more like cancer? I’ve heard that before and I’m not buying it. She’s weak, face it. You’re late getting home so she pays you back by getting smashed.”

“You can be as mad as you like. I don’t blame you. I’m pretty mad myself.”

“So, what are we going to do about it, Dad? Hold her hand and tell her we understand? It’s just a disease?”

“In fairness, she’s been pretty good lately, but she needs help.”

“Help? That’s an understatement, Dad. She needs brain surgery, a lobotomy. When you were in jail, she was drunk all the time. I’m sick of it! I don’t have any compassion left. It’s disgusting.” She dropped her head onto her folded arms in defeat, exhausted after her long, emotional day.

“I’m taking her on a trip.”

Abby’s head popped up from the table. “What?”

“A trip. For at least a month. Maybe two. Only her and me. Sorry, but I think it should be just the two of us.”

“Great! She gets pissed so she gets a big trip! What do I have to do to get some attention? Develop a drug habit?!” Abby was yelling, fists clenched and face red.

Liam closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead. “Abby, my girl. I wish it wasn’t like this. I really do.”

“What’s taking her away on a trip going to accomplish anyway? She’ll just come back again and everything will be the same.”

“We’re going to a clinic. A place where she’ll learn new ways to cope with her urges. At least that’s the hope.” He spoke quietly, and Abby heard the despair and disappointment in his voice.

Abby stifled a sob. After a minute of thought she rose from her chair and walked over to her father where he stood tending the eggs. “I didn’t mean everything I said, Dad. I love Mom, and I love you,” she said as she hugged him. “I’m glad you’re home to look after her.”

“And I love you. Everything’s going to be all right, Abby,” Liam said as he returned the hug. “It’ll turn out fine, you wait and see.” Now he had to figure out how to look after Abby.

The phone rang, startling them both.

“I’ll get it,” said Liam, reaching for the wall phone. “Hello? . . . Yes, Hilary, just a minute.” He covered the receiver and looked at Abby. “Do you want to take it?” he whispered. Abby nodded, wiping the tear from her cheek.

“She’s right here.” Liam passed the phone to Abby, kissed her on the forehead, and returned to his cooking.

“Hi, Hilary,” said Abby.

“How’s Cody?”

“Dr. Millitch says he’ll be okay, but he has to stay there for a bit. He has a broken leg and he lost a lot of blood.”

“You were right about something being wrong, Abby. I thought he was probably just out hunting.”

“He could’ve been. But, anyway, thanks for helping. I’m sorry we didn’t get a lesson today.”

“No lesson would’ve given you what you got today.”

“What’s that?”

“Dancer’s devotion.”

Abby carefully considered this for a minute. “I’ll never have the bond with him that you have. Not in a million years.”

Hilary chortled. “I don’t know about that, Abby.” The older girl wondered if her conflicted emotions had been transparent. “I have to go back to Montreal for my exams. Can you keep riding Dancer?”

“I’d be happy to. I mean, really happy. How often?”

“Maybe three or four times a week? When you have the time. And ride Henry, too, if you can. Or bring along a friend when you hack. Keep records so I can pay you.”

“Pay me?”

“Of course. D’you think I’d ask you to exercise Dancer for free?”

“Yes! I don’t want money, Hilary. I love riding him.”

“Abby, I’m glad you do, but—”

“Let’s figure it out later, okay? Right now I think I should be paying you for letting me ride him.” Abby paused as she listened. “What’s that noise, Hilary? Are you having a party?”

Hilary laughed. “No. My grandmother just came in with Mr. Wick. They’re going to be partners in a new theatre operation, and they’re telling Mom and Rory all about it.”

“Really?”

“Really. And I just overheard that Samuel Owens is mad because he wanted to buy it.”

“Samuel Owens?”

“Yes. He wanted to burn down the barn because the ghost scared him.”

“Hilary, are you kidding?”

“No! I guess he shot out of the barn as white as a sheet!”

Liam’s ears had pricked up at the mention of Samuel Owens. “What happened, Abby?”

“Hold on, Hilary, I have to fill Dad in. Actually, why doesn’t he speak directly to your grandmother so we don’t have to be in the middle?”

“Good idea. Good luck with Dancer, and I’ll call soon. Any problems, get my number in Montreal from Mom. Now, here’s Gran to talk to your dad. And thanks, Abby. You riding him is the best thing that could’ve happened to Dancer, and I really appreciate it.”

Liam took the phone from Abby. “Joy? It’s Liam.”

Abby popped the bread in the toaster and stirred the eggs while Liam and Joy laughed and chatted. Why did her mother drink? She didn’t want to think about it.

She worried about Cody waking from the drugs and becoming frantic. She hoped nobody would be foolhardy enough to try to befriend him. Cody was wild. He would bite. That could be a problem. At least he’d gotten all his shots and had his teeth cleaned. Colleen had taken the opportunity while he was under sedation.

Her mother worried her, but Abby didn’t want to think about it.

She started planning her riding schedule. Moonie would be kept fit at three rides a week: Monday, Wednesday, and Friday after school. Working Leggy twenty minutes each day before school would keep her training on target. And she would bike to Hogscroft directly from school Tuesdays and Thursdays to ride Dancer, and ride him again Saturday, Sunday, or both. Lucy could ride Henry sometimes; they’d have fun riding the trails together.

Her parents were leaving. She didn’t want to think about it. The toast was buttered, the eggs were scrambled, and Abby arranged the plates with sliced tomatoes and parsley. She set them on the kitchen table with knives and forks and napkins, and two glasses, one with milk and one with water.

“That looks delicious, Abby!” praised Liam as he returned the receiver to its cradle. “I guess you heard everything?”

“No. I was thinking about other things. Why? What should I have heard?”

Liam sat down at the table and shook out his napkin, placing it on his lap. “First, a little gossip for you. Samuel Owens and Helena Casey are an item.”

Abby snorted. “They deserve each other.”

Liam nodded, smiling. “Aside from the age difference, I can’t think of a better match.” He dug into the steaming plate of food. “Maybe that’s too harsh. I remember Helena Sandford when she younger. She was a great girl. A wonderful dancer, and an eyeful, too. But she changed.”

He nodded his approval of Abby’s cooking, then his face darkened. “Joy found a bullet in the back of Dancer’s saddle.”

Abby’s face paled. “Oh my gosh, I forgot to tell Hilary about that. Someone shot at us when we came through Owens’ place.”

Liam stopped chewing. “You forgot?”

“Well, so much has happened today, and all I could think about when I got back with Cody was getting him to the vet’s.” She stopped. “Dancer. A bullet in his saddle? That was close.”

Liam nodded. “Real close. Rory called the police and they’re having the bullet examined. They’ll want to talk to you. We were lucky this time, Abby my girl, but you stay off Owens’ property from now on, you hear?”

Abby could only murmur, “I hear.”

They ate in silence, deep in their own thoughts. Liam wiped his mouth with his napkin after a few minutes and tried to lighten the tone.

“Joy and Robert Wick have gone into partnership. In a theatre venture.”

“Hilary told me.” Abby was relieved that the topic had been changed.

“So Joy is going to be around a whole lot more.”

“That’s good. I really like her, although I don’t know her very well.”

Liam raised an eyebrow. “Would you like to get to know her better?”

“Sure.” Abby looked up from her eggs. “Why? And why are you looking at me like that?”

“Because Joy could move in here while your mother and I are at the clinic. How would that be?”

“Dad, I can look after myself. I’m a very responsible person. I’ll be fine by myself.” Abby stopped herself from adding that she’d been virtually alone all the time that her father had been in jail.

“Honey, I’m not going to leave a sixteen-year-old girl alone on a farm. It’s too isolated. You’re too young.”

“I could move in with Leslie.”

“What about Cody? And how would you look after the horses if you weren’t here?”

Abby looked at her father. She swallowed the last mouthful of toast. “If it would put your mind at rest, then do it. But understand, it’s for your sake, not mine.”

Liam laughed aloud. “That’s my girl.”