Free Flying Changes by Sara Gruen Page B

officer. “I mean, I did kind of get thrown into the middle of the whole thing.”
    “So you’re taking that horse, right?” says the nice one, giving me an opportunity to look back at him—which I do, gratefully.
    “Yeah. I guess so,” I say. “My, uh, boyfriend runs the Day Break Horse Sanctuary.”
    Boyfriend. That word becomes troublesome when you’re nearly forty.
    “Is it registered?” he says.
    “Yes. He gets called out to cases like this all the time.”
    “Good. Then I won’t have to—”
    “Annemarie!” cries a hoarse female voice.
    I twist in my chair and see Mutti cross the kitchen at a near-run. When she reaches me, she puts a hand on the back of my chair and runs her eyes frantically over my body. “ Mein Gott, what is going on here? What happened?”
    “A ‘ten-sixteen,’” I say, reading from the top of the evil officer’s report. “A domestic disturbance,” I continue.
    Understanding dawns on her face. “That brute out front? Did he touch you? Because so help me God, I will rip out his spleen!”
    The eyebrows of both officers shoot up.
    “Mutti! I’m fine. He never touched me.”
    Mutti halts, presses her lips together, and continues investigating me with her eyes. When she’s finally satisfied that I’m fine, the lines disappear from her forehead. She makes the sign of the cross and takes a seat in the only remaining chair.
    The men exchange glances.
    I sigh. “Officer Pitts, Officer Ewing; my mother, Ursula Zimmer.”
    Mutti nods at each of them. “It is very nice to meet you.”
    “Likewise,” Pitts says unsurely. His eyes dart sideways.
    “Are we finished here?” I ask. “Because that pony’s chariot just arrived, and I’d like to catch him before he wanders off.”
    “I think we’ve got everything we need. I assume we can call? I’m pretty sure we’ll be laying charges about the animal as well.”
    “I should hope you would. And yes, by all means, call anytime,” I say, pushing my chair back and rising. I grimace and grab my hip.
    “He hurt you! I knew it!” cries Mutti. “I’ll kill him!”
    “No he didn’t!” I hiss. “I slipped in the mud. In the rain. Back at Dan’s place.” I add each detail separately, watching her fury deflate in stages. “Really,” I say firmly.
    She stares at me for a moment longer. When she’s finally sure she believes me, she rises and places her hands on her hips. “So, where is this horse?”
    “God only knows at this point,” I say. “With any luck, not out on the highway.”
    “He’s still out back,” says Officer Ewing. “And he’s got a bit of a temper from the looks of it.”
    “Yeah, well, you would too if you’d been living like him,” I say grimly. Then I turn and limp from the kitchen.
    Mutti follows me, watching my progress carefully—I can feel her eyes all over me. When we get to the living room I lean back and whisper, “Mutti, could you please refrain from threatening to kill people in front of police officers?”
    “Hrrmph,” she snorts, raising her chin and making it pointier.
    I’ve never known how she manages that.
     
    When we round the corner and the bedraggled little horse comes into view, she stops in her tracks.
    “ Mein Gott. He is full of parasites.”
    “I know. He’s a mess.”
    “Go get in the car. I will catch him.”
    “No, I’ll help.”
    “With that leg? Get in the car.”
    “It’s my hip. Besides, he’s full of piss and vineg—”
    Her arm shoots straight out, index finger pointing through the house. “In the car, Annemarie!”
    I make my way carefully around to the front yard. It’s full of vehicles, the porch buzzing with activity.
    As I climb obediently into my car, Mutti marches back to her truck. She opens the passenger door, removes a bucket, halter, and lead rope, and disappears behind the house. Moments later she reappears with the pony plodding beside her, stretching his nose out toward the grain. He follows her straight into the trailer without