An Embarrassment of Itches Page 7

  Holding up the bag to the light after the collection was complete, the sample seemed pathetically small. Yeah, they could extract DNA from mosquitoes, but no one had successfully cloned a dinosaur yet. Perhaps Joe was right, and I was barking up the wrong tree.

  Regardless, preserving the evidence felt like the smart thing to do, but I needed a place to store it. The fridge seemed the wisest receptacle, and opening it reminded me I hadn’t had much to eat all day. At almost eight p.m., the thought of deciding what to make for dinner and actually cooking it seemed like too much work, so I had a bowl of cereal. Cap’n Crunch, dinner of champions.

  Remy was intensely interested in the “visitor” living in the closed guest room, and I had to call him twice to come to bed before he abandoned his vigil of lying with his nose pressed up to the crack beneath the door.

  The next morning, I met Frank out at Amanda’s place. Frank looked less than thrilled to be our supervisor for the morning, and after escorting me to the barn, sat in his cruiser drinking coffee while Deb and I worked.

  Deb was the only person I knew who drove an old-style van that could hold up to six horses. The red and white truck with its familiar lettering: CAUTION: HORSES was a welcome sight as I drove up to the barn. Thankfully, neither Brad nor the Ringbolt’s truck were anywhere to be seen.

  When I hurried to feed the cats, I was relieved to spot Blackjack among the crew, and scolded him in a silly voice for worrying me while I fed them.

  I started bringing the cans of grain out to the van while Deb stuffed hay nets. “I really appreciate your help, Deb. Thanks to you, we can make the move in one trip.”

  Anyone looking at Deb would peg her for a horsewoman right off. She was lean in a tough, wiry kind of way, with arm muscles that would rival a rock climber’s. She wore her thick hair back in a braid and was tanned from spending hours in the sun teaching riding lessons. She tied up the last of the hay nets and then swung the fifty-pound container of grain onto the rig as though it were a carton of milk. “I can’t believe Amanda’s brother would be such an asshole as to sell her horses for meat. Or maybe I can. Word is around town he’s been a real jerk there too.”

  “Oh?” I placed my tack trunk on the edge of the van floor with a slight pang of regret. Another year had passed without me reaching the goals I’d had to compete my mare. Maybe I should accept the fact that it wasn’t something I was ever going to do. “What are people saying about him?”

  Deb took the trunk and hefted it up into the hold behind the driver’s seat. “Well, at first he was just the uppity stranger staying at the B&B, you know? Nasty to waitresses, and a poor tipper. But I heard he was rude to Miss Ellie.”

  “What?” Miss Ellie was a fixture at the local library. Already gray when I was a kid, she dominated the library much in the way my mother dominated the town. Except in a kinder, gentler way. No one was mean to Miss Ellie. “Whatever for?”

  “He wanted some information she couldn’t get for him, so he got ugly with her, according to Donna.”

  As Donna was the assistant librarian, the source was a good one. “What was he looking for, do you know?”

  Deb shrugged. “No idea. But that’s no excuse to be a jerk about it. What are you going to do about the cats?”

  “I don’t know.” I sighed and rubbed my forehead. “I’ve got to come up with something before Brad calls animal control. I can hardly dump them on Joe, and I can’t really bring them home with me. They aren’t going to be happy being moved, either. I have to figure something out soon, though. No doubt Brad will refuse to let me back on the premises once he gets control of the property.”

  “Joe’s being very cool about taking the horses.” Deb had the grace not to smile, but I could hear it in her voice. “I’m sure he would take the cats, too.”

  “They would probably be safer there than out at my place. But it could take me days to catch them, especially if the weather doesn’t cooperate. I’m going to have to come back tonight and try. After I ask Joe about taking them, that is.”

  “What about Ming? You already have him, right?”

  I blew my breath out. “Yes, but I’m not saying anything about Ming just yet, and between you and me, I’d like to keep that quiet. I don’t want Mr. High and Mighty Taylor to demand custody of the cat. He’d probably order Ming euthanized.”

  “Not if he had to pay for it. He’d just drop the cat off at the pound.”

  “You’re probably right. He couldn’t take my check for the horses fast enough.”

  Which was food for thought. Was that why he’d come to town? He was hard up for money and had hit Amanda up for some kind of loan? Maybe the two of them had gotten into an argument, and—

  “Earth to Ginny.”

  I became aware Deb was speaking to me. “Huh?”

  “I said that should be everything. All we need to do is wrap and load the horses.”

  It would have taken me forever without Deb’s competent efficiency. I didn’t have enough leg wraps for Amanda’s three horses, but fortunately, I found shipping boots for them in the tack room. I still used the old-fashioned cotton padding and flannel wraps on my own horse, as they provided superior protection.

  Getting the shipping wraps out, however, cued my mare into the fact Something Big was going on. At seventeen hands tall with a jet-black mane and tail, during the summer show season, Scotty was a magnificent sight to behold. Now, having yet to shed her shaggy winter coat and wearing a muddy blanket, she looked more like a moose than a competition horse. I could see why Brad had lumped her in with the others. To him, her worth could be measured by the pound.

  As I put her in the crossties, she snorted and blew as though she heard the foxhunting bugle or the start bell at a racetrack. I managed to get her bell boots on to protect her hooves while shipping, but she continued to shift in place, making it hard to wind the nine-foot-long flannel wraps over her legs. If it hadn’t been for Deb’s stern eye, I might have been tempted to use the less protective shipping boots myself. Four tabs to Velcro in place and you’re done.

  Having already determined the order in which to place the horses on the van based on their weight for the best distribution, Deb didn’t wait for me to finish wrapping, but began loading the other horses without me. It took both of us to get Scotty on the van, as she refused to go up the ramp without a lot of encouragement. As soon as we got her in the van and buckled into her slot, we put up the chest bar to lock her in and hoisted up the ramp.

  No wonder Deb was built like a rock climber. Everything with horses required some serious muscle.

  We waved to Frank as we left. He saluted us with his travel mug and a yawn.

  Joe hadn’t been kidding when he’d said his drive was iffy in bad weather. The long winding road into his property had been graveled at some point, but rain had washed a fair bit away. Serious potholes forced us to creep along the drive. I followed behind the van in my car and watched as tree limbs scraped its roof.

  The bulk of the van blocked my view until the trees opened up, and suddenly we were in a large bowl of land with a nearly three-sixty view of the Blue Ridge Mountains. Whereas Amanda’s house was on a ridge, Joe’s property was flatter, but still high enough for breathtaking scenery. A neat, newly built barn stood to one side. A stack of treated lumber was visible beneath a blue tarp, but a fair amount of fencing had already been finished, along with a run-in shed. No automatic waterers, but a brand-new water trough stood under a spigot that had been built into the fence line. There was no house either, but a foundation had been dug, and cinderblocks lined the sides.

  An old RV stood near the barn. The awning was up, creating the effect of a porch, and a beat-up lawn chair resided in the relatively dry space beneath. An electrical cord snaked its way into the barn. He must have had a 30/50 amp hookup installed to power the RV when needed.

  As we pulled up in front of the barn, Joe came out carrying a bale of hay. He was dressed in a blue-check flannel shirt, jeans, and cowboy boots, and wore
leather gloves to protect his hands from the baling twine. Seeing him like that took me back twenty years in the blink of an eye, when he’d used to work on his daddy’s farm.

  He set the bale of hay down and came over to greet us.

  Deb, as usual, said exactly what was on her mind. “Nice place. Must have set you back a pretty penny.”

  “You’re asking how I could afford it?” His smile showed no offense taken. “My share of the proceeds from the sale of my dad’s property. He made a killing when they turned the dairy into a sub-development.”

  He gave us a quick tour of the barn to show us where to store the feed and supplies and then explained the layout of the pastures. “I only have so much fenced in right now. Eventually, I plan to put in an arena, and keep at least one field for making hay, but they can go in the field by the barn for now.”

  Since Deb would not see anything unusual in his living arrangements, I had to ask. “Are you living out here in the RV? Why build the barn first? Why not the house?”

  “Now that the days are getting longer, I can work here in the evenings. I spent more than one night camped out at the station this past winter, that’s for sure. As for building the barn first...” He shrugged, making a non-committal sound that could have been a laugh. “The house is going to take me a while. I thought it would be nice to get a horse to ride up in the mountains on the weekends. If you come across a nice little Quarter Horse or Anglo Arab, let me know. Something quiet. It’s been a while since I last rode.”

  At the rate he was going, it would take him years to build his house. “Yeah, not much opportunity to ride in the Big City, I guess.”

  I hadn’t meant for my statement to come out as snide as it did.

  Joe took it at face value. “Middleburg isn’t that far from D.C., but they turn out more fancy dressage horses there than they do cowponies.”

  That was another thing different about the two of us. I trained in the English sport of eventing: dressage, cross-country, and stadium jumping. Joe rode as well, but in the Western style: reining, cutting, and at one time, barrel racing. It might not sound like a big difference, but it’s a gap as wide as the gulf between someone enjoying Top 40 versus country. They’re both styles of music, but the tone, rhythm, and typical message are as different as can be.

  “Wade Harris has a horse you might want to look at,” Deb volunteered. “Nice blue roan. Good feet. Good temperament. Bought it for his daughter to show in Western Pleasure a few years ago, but she started college last fall. He’s looking to sell. The best part is now you’ll have other horses to keep it company.”

  “Temporarily.” I stressed that point.

  She and Joe discussed the particulars of the blue roan as he helped us unload. We ended up with a pile of dirty blankets and wraps as we stripped the horses and turned them out into their new surroundings. They squealed and ran about briefly, but except for Scotty, they were all senior citizens who quickly decided they’d rather eat the bright green grass coming in with the change of seasons than run about like lunatics. Scotty trotted around the perimeter of the field in great, floating strides before hearing the siren call of the grass herself.

  We watched them until they settled to make sure no one was going to do something stupid, like try to run through a fence. Joe asked for the rundown on each horse, and I shared their history. Rebel, the little chestnut Arab, who needed daily aspirin for his chronic uveitis. King, the flea-bitten grey who was practically white with age. And last, but not least, Sherlock, the big, homely chestnut who was swaybacked, and would crib if given the chance. Cribbers grabbed hold of any stationary object with their teeth and pulled back while sucking air, making a noise like a giant bullfrog. The habit was as addictive as smoking cigarettes, since it created an endorphin release. Unfortunately, they did marked damage to fences and stalls. He would have to wear a cribbing muzzle until Joe could run a strand of hot wire up along the tops of all the fencing, something he assured me he was planning to do anyway when I insisted on paying for it.

  Joe indicated Scotty as she lifted her head and flared her nostrils, testing the air. “She’s gorgeous. What’s her breeding?”

  I couldn’t help a little puff of pride. She wasn’t a fancy sport horse, but she had the potential to be a great competition horse just the same. “Clydesdale crossed with a Thoroughbred.”

  The draft horse in her gave her the shaggy feathers on her legs and the white blaze down her face. In the summer, she’d shed out to a rich mahogany, as shiny as a new penny.

  “Like the Budweiser horses?” He shook his head with a little laugh. “Well, you always did like them big.”

  Deb released a braying laugh that sounded exactly like a dying donkey, and I shot her a dirty look. With a bright-eyed look, she wandered away to pick up the wraps, whistling innocently.

  Ignoring her, Joe lead the way into the feed room, where we’d set up aluminum trashcans for mouse-free grain storage.

  “Since I’m staying out here now, I’ll feed the horses and check on them twice a day.”

  I didn’t argue. Coming out to this place twice a day would have added a significant amount of time to my already jam-packed schedule. I went over the feed amounts and how to administer the various medications, and he gave me the key code to the gate at the end of his drive, which would be locked whenever he wasn’t there. It reminded me of the situation at Amanda’s.

  “I’ve still got to go out to Amanda’s twice a day to feed the cats until I can get them moved. And I don’t have a place to move them yet—then there’s the matter of catching them. I’ll have to set traps on the nights it’s not too cold.”

  I had to remind myself he was doing me a big favor by taking the horses when he sighed. “Can’t you put out a feeder or something? Set them up so no one needs to go out there for a few days?”

  “First, putting out self-feeders only attracts wildlife, like skunks and racoons. Second, if I don’t come out regularly, they may disperse, and then I’ll never catch them.”

  He didn’t say that might not be such a bad thing, so I didn’t punch him. As I would have, had he said it.

  “All right. I’ll assign someone to meet you. But once the scene is released, it won’t be up to me anymore. You’d better move those cats as soon as you can.”

  I bit my lower lip. It wasn’t meant as a display of feminine wiles. I simply didn’t know how to broach the question. But he picked up on it anyway.

  “Aw, c’mon, Ginge. You’re not seriously asking me to take the cats, too.”

  This time I didn’t chide him for using an old nickname, as it wouldn’t have furthered my goals. “Short-term only. Just until I figure out what to do with them. As you pointed out, as soon as Jerkface Brad gets control, he won’t let me back in. And who knows what he’ll do with the cats, given his decision about the horses.”

  Joe grimaced and rubbed his forehead with a gloved hand. “I’m going to regret this, aren’t I? Okay. You can bring them out here. But only until you find another place for them. I may be set back off the road, but there're coyotes out here, you know.”

  We’re not huggers in my family. Growing up, I didn’t receive a hug unless someone died, so it had negative connotations. But the memory of being hugged by Joe suddenly surfaced: how it felt to be engulfed in his arms, to lean into his chest and smell his clean, rich scent. It had felt like safety and love. For a split second, I wanted to throw my arms around him and give him a squeeze.

  Yeah, right. When Hell freezes over.

  Instead, I said awkwardly, “Thanks, Joe. I know this is a big imposition. I’ll try to find another place to board the horses as soon as possible, too.”

  I left him standing there with a frown as I rejoined Deb to finish putting away the gear. I found her lifting the ramp to the van by herself and rushed over to help. She’d already swung the monster ramp into place and thrust the holding pins down before I got there.

  “I hung the blankets in the barn so they’d be dry the next time y
ou use them. Hosed off the shipping boots as well. I left your wraps so you could take them home and wash them.”

  “You’re a lifesaver, Deb. I appreciate this more than you could know.”

  She waved off my thanks, got into the van, and drove off. I collected the dirty wraps and threw them in my car. Joe came over as I was getting in.

  “You headed out?”

  I got behind the wheel and left the door open so I could reply. “I’m actually ahead of schedule for once, thanks to Deb. I’m going to go home, grab some lunch, pick up the dog, and head out for my afternoon appointments.”

  He nodded. “They should be done with your phone if you want to go by the office and collect it.”

  “Really?” I was pleasantly surprised. “You got it working?”

  A brief smile touched his lips. “Yep. Plumb’s and all.”

  A momentary panic hit me as I wondered what kinds of private information he might have had access to, but then I gave a mental shrug. No sexy selfies to share with a BF. No thrilling text conversations or arrangements for clandestine meetings. Mostly a lot of photos of animals, many of which were work-related, and therefore kind of gross. Scheduling appointments with clients. Reminders from the dentist and eye doctor. My life was an open book so dull it could be used to treat insomnia.

  “Glad to hear it. It’s funny how dependent we’ve become on our phones. I’m going to do a better job of keeping a paper record in the future. I hate feeling as though I’ve forgotten to do something.” I hesitated and then rushed on. “Thanks for letting me park the horses here, at least for the time being. It’s a huge favor. I owe you big time.”

  He glanced around the property, as though seeing it for the first time. He took a deep breath and let it out with a satisfied sigh. “I don’t mind. Like I said, I was planning on getting a horse soon, anyway, and you can’t have just one horse. You’ve got the gate code now, so come out whenever you like. It’s pretty isolated, though. You sure you’ll be okay out here on your own if I’m not here?”