Free Hayburner (A Gail McCarthy Mystery) by Laura Crum Page A

mean?" I asked him.
    "I carry a pistol when I do the nighttime check now."
    "Is it loaded?"
    "Of course."
    "Isn't that kind of dangerous?" I asked him. "Surely you don't want to shoot those kids?"
    "I'm not a fool." Bart gave me a level look. "And I know about guns. There's no shell in the chamber, and none in the next slot either. I only keep four bullets in the gun. That way, no matter what happens, no one can get shot accidentally."
    "Sure," I said. "I did the same thing myself, when I went packing in the Sierras. But what if you catch these kids in the act?"
    "Then I figure the gun will help me keep them here until I get your lady friend, the detective." Bart bared his teeth at me again. "I carry a cell phone, too."
    I nodded. It all made sense. Still, it struck me that Brother Bart was wound pretty tight. I wouldn't want to be the one to run into him after dark.
    Taking another bite of my cake, I readied myself to compliment Mrs. Bishop on her home-cooked food. Before I could get my mouth open, my own cell phone rang.
    "I'm sorry," I said. "I need to answer this. I'm on call."
    I carried the little phone out into the all-white living room to answer it. In a minute I'd ascertained that I had yet another colic to deal with. It wasn't really a surprise. Colics were our most frequent emergency call, and also the most frequent cause of equine death. A horse's digestive system is in some senses poorly constructed; it can't throw up. Thus any sort of bellyache, known generically to horsemen as colic, could be the cause of a twisted or ruptured gut and a resulting fatality.
    Fortunately all the Bishops were horsemen; there was no need for lengthy explanations. When I said I had an emergency colic and needed to leave immediately, the whole group nodded in understanding. I thanked Mrs. Bishop for the dinner and said good-bye to Bart. Clay walked me out to my truck.
    "Thank you for a nice evening," I said as I got into the cab.
    "I'm not sure about that," he responded. "But I'm grateful to you for coming." And he leaned forward and kissed me.
    It was our most lingering kiss yet; Clay's mouth was warm on mine; I could feel his desire. When we parted, he met my eyes. "I think I love you."
    I didn't know what to say. Instead, I reached out and gave his hand a squeeze. "See you soon," I told him. And then I was on my way to yet another colicked horse.

EIGHT
    At seven the next morning I was down at the clinic. With Jim gone, I needed to be there early to keep up on things. It didn't help that I hadn't gotten home until well after midnight, or that I'd had to put the colicked horse down. Not a good start to the week.
    And things went from bad to worse the minute John Romero walked through the door. Everything about him, from his cocky stance to the sulky expression in his eyes, irritated me.
    I just couldn't understand what was going on with this guy. In his late twenties or thereabouts, John had the olive skin and dark hair and eyes that went with his last name, as well as a prominent nose and pouting lips. He looked just what I imagined a young Sicilian gangster ought to look like. Certainly most women would think him handsome.
    I had witnessed John doing some very competent veterinary work; the client grapevine reported that he was always polite, though a tad too reserved for some people's taste. Jim seemed to like him. There was no obvious reason for him to have a chip on his shoulder. But as far as I could tell, John had only to look at me to get in a bad mood.
    "I expect to be compensated for Friday night." The first words out of his mouth.
    "I'm sure you will be," I said evenly. "Talk to Jim when he gets back."
    John glared at me. We both knew he wouldn't want to raise the subject with Jim. Helping out in large-scale emergencies was taken for granted. As I understood it, John wanted to keep his position here and was quite keen to get Jim on his side. What I couldn't grasp was why John was so overtly hostile to me. I was a partner