Free Hoofprints (Gail McCarthy series) by Laura Crum Page B

aspirin on themselves. Grind two pills up and put them in his feed night and morning for a week, to get the pain and inflammation out, and then just give him two pills the night before and the morning of the day you want to use him. He'll probably do fine. This isn't a bad lameness to have if you've got to have a lameness. "
    She smiled in relief. I talked to her a little longer, reassuring her, and then went back inside the office, looking for Jim.
    He was sitting at his desk, phone cradled next to his ear, rooting through his papers with one hand. He glanced up when he saw me. "That was a bad deal about the Whitneys."
    "Yeah, it was."
    "I hear you're right in the middle of it," he added. He kept looking for whatever it was he was looking for as we talked. That was typical of him. Jim, in his mid-forties, was such a tireless, intense workaholic that he made me feel lazy no matter what I did. His short, stocky frame always reminded me of a compact dynamo, bristling with energy, and only the fact that he really was a virtual genius as a veterinarian made it possible for me to tolerate his complete disregard for me as a person. To Jim, a junior vet was part of his equipment, a necessary tool. His sole interest in me revolved around how well I got the job done. He paid me the lowest acceptable wage and worked me the highest possible number of hours, but he was generous with advice and knowledge, and I'd learned more in two years than I would ever have guessed was possible.
    "I need to go down to the sheriff's office this morning," I told him bluntly. Blunt was the only useful approach with Jim.
    It stopped his paper shuffling. He looked back up at me. "Damn it, Gail, you've got a full day of appointments booked and so do I."
    "I'm sorry, Jim. I've got to go down there." I felt reluctant to tell him why. The whole idea of being shot at in a barn in Bonny Doon sounded melodramatic standing in the office at eight in the morning. Ridiculous, even.
    Jim looked at me curiously. I stayed quiet. He shrugged. "Okay. If you've got to, you've got to. I'll change the schedule around. Get back here as soon as you can."
    The words were barely out of his mouth before his attention went sharply back to the form he'd found. As I left the office I could hear his voice reassuring his caller that he'd be out right away, first thing.
    Turning the collar of my coat up as I got in the pickup and started it, I stared at the gray sky outside the windows. Summer weather in Santa Cruz is pretty repetitive-fog in the mornings and sunny afternoons. The cold mornings sometimes gave me a dismal feeling, and the thought of the sheriff's office was not cheering.
    Driving toward town, I rehearsed what I'd say. I had thought about it while I got ready for work with Bret snoring on the couch, and revised it all the way down to the office. It still sounded like an unlikely story, and I wasn't exactly eager to tell it.
    I stopped at the deli on Soquel Avenue, more to delay myself than out of any real hunger, and bought a breakfast burrito. It tasted great but leaked badly, and by the time I got to the county building I'd narrowly missed two cars in my frantic attempts not to get melted cheese all over the front of my T-shirt. Eating and driving is not smart, I told myself, not for the first time.
    The front hall of the sheriff's office seemed to be filled with people hurrying to somewhere, and the place had that cold institutional atmosphere I associated with high schools and hospitals. I walked to the front desk.
    There was a woman behind it this morning. Short brown hair, tortoiseshell glasses, neat appearance, wearing the same expression of professional sternness that Jeri Ward wore. Maybe they learned it at the Police Academy: I'm not a person; I'm a cop. I supposed they needed to feel that way to do the job.
    I asked for Detective Ward and was told she was out for an hour. Too long to wait. I asked for Detective Reeder, and the woman escorted me to the same