Crawford joined them.“Sister, I have an idea about the staff.”
Her eyebrows rose.“Love to hear it.”
“What if we advertised in Horse Country’s newspaper and The Chronicle of the Horsefor an intern? You know, someone in vet school or a college kid who rides on the show-jumping team. You and Shaker would have help in the summer, and it wouldn’t cost as much as full-time help.” He caught his breath, the cold air stinging his throat. “If it proved efficient, then in the fall we could organize some fund-raisers for a permanent position.”
“Excellent idea,” Sister replied. “Even if we couldn’t hire full-time help, we’d make progress. Excellent,” she repeated.
Sister turned to see how the others were coming along behind them. Sam and Marty rode well to the rear, far away from Xavier, Clay, and Ronnie, all three in an animated discussion.
Back at the trailers, Sister asked Ronnie,“What was that all about?”
“Sam Lorillard.”
“Oh.”
Ronnie loosened his horse’s girth. “X swears he’s drinking again, but X hates him so much we’re taking it with a grain of salt. I don’t know.” He shook his head.
“Here.” She took the saddle as he took off the bridle, then slipped on a high-quality leather halter from Fennell’s in Lexington, Kentucky.
“You know, Ronnie, when you were a Pony Clubber with Ray, I told you to keep the saddle on the horse, but to loosen the girth. They get cold-backed in this weather if you take the saddle off.”
“I know, I know,” he answered as though he were still twelve, pony in hand. “But Regardless,” his horse was named Regardless, “is cold-backed. I have this big gel pad.” He took the saddle from her, stepped up into his trailer tack room, put the saddle on the saddletree and the bridle on the bridle rack, and plucked out a blue gel pad wrapped in warm towels. “Feel it.”
“Still warm.”
“These things are amazing. They’ll stay warm for hours.” He stepped down, put the pad on Regardless’s back, looped a soft web overgirth over it. Then he draped on the sweat sheet, pulling a sturdy blanket over all. “This really works.”
“I should have known not to chide you. You were my best Pony Clubber, even better than Ray Jr.”
Ronnie beamed.“Thanks.”
“Ronnie, forgive me for asking you this. I don’t want to put you on the spot, but, well … can you in your wildest imaginings think that Clay could be part of a criminal ring, whether it’s furniture or something else?”
He faced her as he stood on the other side of his horse, putting his arms over Regardless’s back. “No. But having said that, do we truly know anyone? I guess we’re all capable of things that aren’t pretty. But no. He makes enough money honestly.”
“Greed. It’s a vice like lust. Or maybe I should say it’s one of the seven deadly sins.” She stood close to Ronnie. “It’s irrational—obviously—and Izzy has expensive tastes.”
“That she does. Wraps him around her little finger.” Ronnie grimaced for a second. “Still, I can’t imagine Clay as a crook. Just can’t. Now,” he lowered his voice as he rubbed Regardless’s forehead, “I can imagine Izzy doing many out-of-the-way things.”
“Yes, I can, too. Think she’s faithful to Clay?”
After a long pause, Ronnie replied,“No. Do you?” “No, but I can’t judge these things.” She sighed, then brightened. “Let me tell you again that your lottery ticket idea was just the best.”
“How about Alex winning a thousand dollars?”
“I know. Five hundred for the club, and every dollar helps as you well know.”
“Yes.” He smiled sheepishly. “Obviously, I don’t have the gambler’s gene.”
“That’s why you’re treasurer.”
On the way back to the farm, driving slowly on roads that remained slick in some spots, while the slush turned to ice in others, Sister and Betty rehashed the day’s hunt.
Betty fretted,“I hope that kid of mine is being sensible.”
“She’ll be at the stable. She left before we did, and she’s a good driver.”
“She’s young. She hasn’t seen as many bad roads as we have.”
“Betty, there are days when I look like nine miles of bad road.” Sister laughed at her. “Stop worrying.”
Betty scrunched back down in the passenger side of the truck.“You could never look like nine miles of bad road.”
“Aren’t you sweet?”
“Ha.”
They rode in silence for another mile, then Sister said,“You never know the length of a snake until it’s dead.”
“Huh?”
“My dad used to say that. I was thinking about the fire, all that. Might be a long snake, you know?” Sister answered.
“Whoever is behind this will screw up sooner or later. They always do.” Betty crossed her arms over her chest.
“But that’s just it,” Sister became animated. “They already have. If everything’s running smoothly, seems to me, you don’t have to kill people.”
“Maybe. Maybe not. Get rid of people or partners, and the money is all yours, if it’s about money. And when you think of it, why two drunks and one, well, working-class guy. Doesn’t seem to me much money there. Sorry to call Anthony a drunk. Seems disrespectful somehow.”
“He was.” Sister gripped the steering wheel tighter. “I keep remembering his laugh, the time he threw the basketball from half court when the buzzer sounded in the game against Lee High his senior year. Jesus, what happens to people?”
“Life,” Betty said.
CHAPTER 36
Back at Roughneck Farm, Sister had just hung up the phone after a glowing conversation with Gray. She glanced out the kitchen window. Snow was falling heavily.
She reached across the counter to turn up the radio, 103.5. Mozart’s “Turkish Rondo” played.
“Always makes me think of fat people dancing.” She laughed, then performed a rumba across the uneven heart pine floor.
“Mental!”Golly giggled, but followed Sister, batting at her legs.
Raleigh and Rooster, ever attuned to Sister’s emotions, jumped out of their fleece-lined dog beds to dance with her. Raleigh turned in circles as Rooster hopped on his hind legs, only to suffer a whack from Golly on his swishing tail.
“Hey!”
“Anything that moves is fair prey to Golly, Killer QueenAmong All Felines!”The calico sang her own praises.
As the short musical piece continued, the four became sillier and sillier, each influencing the other until the music stopped. Sister, laughing until the tears ran down her cheeks, dropped to her knees, hugged the squirming dogs, wildly happy, then scooped up Golly as she stood up. She held the cat like a baby, burying her face in her longhaired tummy. If anyone else did this, Golly would rearrange his or her face. She purred.
“Are we nuts or what?” Sister then turned the cat over, putting her on her shoulder.
“Yeah!”Raleigh danced to the next selection on NPR, another Mozart.
“So ungainly.”Two tiny streams of air from Golly’s nostrils brushed Sister’s hair.
“I don’t think I’ve laughed this hard since we ran up on Donnie Sweigert drenched in fox pee! Course, I couldn’t laugh then.”
“Never did bag a deer,”Raleigh said.
“Weather,”Rooster, doing his best to dance, replied.“Messed up the last of deer season.”
The phone rang again.
“Gray, did you miss me?” She insouciantly spoke into the mouthpiece.
His heavy voice lifted a second.“I did. But I called to tell you that Dalton Hill just phoned me to say he’s with Sam on Garth Road in Charlottesville. He stopped when he noticed Sam’s Toyota off the road right there where you turn to go back to the Barracks,” he said, referring to the famous show stable, its turnoffbeing right after a deceptive curve in Garth Road. “He said Sam is drunk, blind drunk.”
“Oh. Gray, I’m so sorry. Would you like me to come over?”
“Well, I’ve got to get my brother.”
“I’ll pick you up. One of us can drive Sam’s truck back if it’s not wrecked.”