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

in the business, albeit the junior one. Still, if I made enough noise about it, I was pretty sure that Jim would agree to replace John with someone I could get along with.
    So why in hell was John going out of his way to antagonize me?
    No ready answer sprang to mind, except that it did seem to be a knee-jerk reaction. Perhaps just the fact that I was a woman in a position of authority over him annoyed the man.
    I watched John's back move away as he checked his morning calls with the receptionist and knew I had no choice except to try and get along with him until Jim came back. The practice was too busy for one vet to handle it all.
    However, we could, I thought, get by with two. Jim had hired John before Hans Schmidt came to town. And Hans had already drawn away a significant number of our clients. Who knew how many more would follow?
    Speak of the devil. Nancy, the receptionist, was paging me. "Dr. Schmidt on the phone for you, Gail."
    I picked up the extension in my office. "Hello, Hans."
    "Good morning to you, my dear."
    "So, what's up?"
    "It is several things. First of all, you will not forget to submit my bill for antibiotics to your bookkeeper?"
    "Nope."
    "Of course not. And then, my dear, I have a question for you."
    "Shoot." I wished Hans would get to the point.
    "I wish to be gracious about this." Hans paused. "I do not quite know how to say it."
    "Just fire away, Hans. You know how it is. I've got a full day of calls ahead of me."
    "Of course. I have a new client who was at one time your client, and I'm afraid I need the X rays you have taken of this horse."
    "No problem," I said crisply. "Who is it?"
    "Mary Sinclair."
    "Right," I said. "I'll send the entire file over to your office." I tried to sound dispassionate, but inwardly I was seething. Mary Sinclair had been a client of mine for many years. How in the world had Hans managed to entice her away?
    He didn't leave me guessing. "I met her at the barn fire. She boards her horse at the Bishop Ranch. Of course, you know."
    Of course I know, you bastard, I thought but didn't say.
    "Or rather," Hans went on, "she used to board her horse there. She is moving him to Quail Run Ranch today."
    "No doubt you talked her into that."
    "I suggested it, yes. I feel it will be very helpful for her horse's foot problem."
    I could feel the steam coming out my ears. This was Hans' m.o. Quail Run Ranch just happened to be run by Hans' daughter and son-in-law. It was a large property (for our well-populated county), comprising several hundred acres, all fenced in one pasture. Horses who were boarded at Quail Run ran loose together in a herd, roaming the entire property.
    That this was, in some ways, a better way for a horse to live, I couldn't deny. There were, however, some very real disadvantages. It was difficult for an owner to find and/or catch his mount, and the pecking order that evolved in the herd could be brutal for timid horses. But the worst thing, in my opinion, was that Hans' enlightened daughter did no feeding, considering it unnatural. This time of year the grass was sparse and had little feed value, and all the horses out there were pretty damn thin.
    "Mary's horse is a Thoroughbred gelding and he's a hard keeper," I said pointedly. "He'll starve."
    "He will adjust," Hans rebutted, "and it will be good for him. It is Nature's way. Nature did not intend horses to live in little stalls and pens. You see what comes of it, I told Mary. Such a fire can only occur in a confined situation."
    "Right," I said. "I'll send the file over." All I wanted was to get rid of Hans.
    "Thank you, my dear." Hans sounded just as courtly and self-satisfied as ever. Nothing seemed to ruffle the man.
    I hung up the phone feeling annoyed with the world. First that ass, John, and then Hans. This was really shaping up to be a bad day.
    Nancy chose that moment to hand me my list of scheduled calls. Scanning it quickly, I registered mostly familiar names, except the first one.
    "Who's that?" I