Free At Risk by Kit Ehrman Page A

the time they
showed, the horse was nowhere to be found." He spit a glob of
chewing tobacco into an open stall. "Nothin' ever came of it."
    "What kind of farm's he run?"
    "Hunter/jumpers, lessons, sales, anything, I
imagine. . . . Got his hand in everything. Makes 'im feel
important."
    "You shoe for him?" I said and wondered
whether Harrison would have the nerve to continue supplying us.
    "Yep. For 'bout a year now. But I'm thinkin'
of droppin' him."
    "Why's that?"
    "Guy's got a major cash flow problem." Nick
flipped the rasp over in his hand. "Ol' Steel use to board at his
farm?"
    "You mean Mr. Sanders' horse?"
    "Yep."
    "He's one of the horses that was stolen," I
said.
    "I know. Sanders had him insured for twenty
grand while he was at Harrison's."
    "You're kidding?"
    "Nope. My sister works for the insurance
company that issued the claim. Agent who sold 'im the policy had a
couple of tense minutes over it, 'cause in retrospect, it appears
the horse ain't worth as much as all that."
    "I wouldn't have thought so."
    * * *
    By the time Nick's truck disappeared down the
road, my side was throbbing, and I was beat. Thinking about Mr.
Sanders' little insurance policy, I left a message for Detective
Ralston and headed home. As I climbed the steps to the loft, a
trace of light lingered in the west, conclusive evidence that the
days were getting longer.
    I closed the kitchen door behind me and
dropped my mail on the counter. The loft was oppressively quiet,
the air stale. I dumped everything I'd been wearing onto the floor
in the closet. Nothing smelled worse than burnt horse hoof. Even I
couldn't stand myself. I took a long, hot shower, sloshed some Jack
Daniels' over ice, and downed a Percodan. Between the two of them,
the rib pain didn't stand a chance.
     
     
     

Chapter 5
     
    Wednesday morning, I could have done without.
The combination of whiskey and pain medication that had
successfully obliterated feeling of any sort the night before had
mutated into a sledgehammer of a headache between my temples. And
it didn't help that the first person I ran into was Brian.
    "What'n the hell'd you tell that cop?" he
asked before I'd even unlocked the feed room door.
    "What cop?"
    "That cop that was here, Ran . . ."
    "Ralston?"
    "Yeah, him."
    "What about it?" I said. "He's investigating
the horse theft."
    "I know that," he snapped. "He was here again
Monday, day you was off. Questions he was asking, you'd of thought
I was guilty or somethin'."
    I shook my head. "Brian, I didn't say
anything about you."
    "You must of said something."
    "No," I said and knew I was wasting my
breath. "I didn't."
    Brian sulked off, and I wondered if he'd ever
see that he created his own reality. And I was impressed with
Ralston. He'd pegged Brian pretty quick, and I wondered how he had
classified me.
    The morning dragged on. Boarders came and
went. Horses were shifted from stall to paddock or paddock to
stall. A third of the stalls had been mucked out by lunch time, and
the headache had disappeared without my being aware of it. I walked
into the lounge, got my lunch out of the fridge, and checked the
office. Mrs. Hill had gone home to eat, and everyone else had gone
out. For something to do, I switched on the TV, sank into the sofa
cushions, and flipped through the channels. The news was a repeat
of the day before; only the names had changed. The soaps were a
farce. The talk shows worse. I hit the play button. Someone had
left an instructional video in the machine, and though it didn't
much interest me, it was better than nothing.
    I had almost finished my lunch when the door
to the lounge opened. I looked over my shoulder.
    Mrs. Elsa Timbrook walked into the room.
Well, she hadn't walked, not really. I doubted she walked anywhere.
More accurately, she strode with long lithe legs, like a cat. Or a
tigress. She stood just inside the doorway and surveyed the room as
the door swung shut behind her. Satisfied that we were alone, she
looked at me and smiled, and I