“I don’t know, but it can’t be good.” The tiger purred, for she loved horses.
“Do you all need a hand?” Fair inquired.
“No, thanks,” Ward replied.
“We apologize for trespassing,” Harry said.
“Now she’s lying!” Pewter exploded.
“Don’t be an ass, Pewter. Mother knows something’s off. She’s trying to protect all of us,” Mrs. Murphy sharply rebuked her friend.
“You’ve got a point there.” Tucker frowned.
“We’ll be on our way, then.” Harry headed for the fence line.
“Harry, I really am thrilled.” Renata ran after her, gave her a big embrace, and then hugged Fair, too. “I’ll see you all back at Kalarama.”
Neither Harry nor Fair spoke as they climbed over one fence, walked across the main farm drive, and climbed over the other fence.
Brown Bess walked after the humans, then Amanda and Lucy Lu thought that was a good idea, too. It would have made a lovely photograph, two humans, three retired mares, two cats, and one smiling corgi treading over summer’s green pastures.
“What’s going on?” Bess flicked a fly off her hindquarters with her luxurious tail.
“Yeah,” Amanda and Lucy Lu sang in chorus. “The sheriff was here.”
“The flashy chestnut who came in—well, she was stolen.” Pewter liked giving out important information.
“She didn’t look stolen. ’Course, we didn’t get a good look until this morning.” Lucy Lu thought Queen Esther’s coloring a bit off, since her face, neck, and legs were darker than her flaming chestnut coat.
Of course, “the girls” couldn’t have known how many shampooings Queen Esther received until the worst of the dye washed off.
“Well, it’s all worked out.” Tucker didn’t quite believe this.
As they ducked under the fence while Fair and Harry climbed over, Mrs. Murphy, Pewter, and Tucker bid good-bye to the nice mares.
“Why does Renata believe Ward? I wouldn’t.” Tucker waited for Fair to lift her into the cab of the truck.
“Maybe she doesn’t. Maybe she just wanted her horse back.” Pewter let Harry lift her up. “There’s been enough fuss.”
Mrs. Murphy jumped up into the foot well, then onto the seat. “Glad he left the windows open.”
“Yeah.” Tucker wedged between Harry and Fair.
“We know he’s lying. Queen Esther knows he’s lying. I think Renata knows he’s lying.” Pewter sounded definitive.
Mrs. Murphy, whiskers forward then back, asked, “How do you know Renata’s not lying?”
W hat’s going on?” Harry blinked, then added, “Locusts.”
The main barn, white, greeted a person as soon as he or she turned into Kalarama, passing the grave of the great Kalarama Rex as they did so. In line behind the old main barn was another barn housing horses in competition.
The white vans, TV call letters on their sides, were parked on the drive to the right next to the outdoor practice track.
The small mobile TV crews shot footage of the barn, of the whole layout, of Paul and Frances’s brick home, trimmed shrubs, weeded flower beds, Rose of Sharon and crepe myrtle in full regalia.
Fair parked by the round pen.
Once out of the truck, the little band stayed still.
“I don’t want to get in the middle of all this.” Fair folded his muscled arms over his forty-two-inch chest. Fair had about nine percent body fat, which meant his muscles were well defined.
“Honey, Joan and Larry might need us.”
He exhaled from his nostrils. “You’re right.”
They trudged up the hill, heat waves shimmering. They entered the barn from the open north end. Fortunately a light breeze swept across the long main aisle, and both doors were fully open at each end.
The office and gathering room, both well appointed, were crammed with clients, newspeople.
Krista, blond and efficient, had her hands full answering questions and giving directions. Being the office manager at Kalarama, busy consistently, was overwhelming at this moment. Krista possessed a sunny personality, so she handled the pressure better than most.
Joan organized tours of the other barns, but she kept everyone out of the enclosed concrete arena.
Reporters or not, Larry and Manuel had to work horses. At that moment Larry was riding Point Guard.
A five-gaited horse learned two artificial gaits, a slow rack and a fast rack. The high-stepping gaits—with the horse in a frame not quite like dressage but a frame nonetheless—required concentration and conditioning from both horse and rider.
Larry, fabulous hands, lightly jigged the bit so Point Guard would begin his slow rack. Today would be a light workout. No point running a young horse through the bridle, risking his future.
The horse’s mind was probably more important than his conformation. Point Guard had a good mind.
Fair knew Larry’s schedule, as they had discussed it that morning. As he pushed open the glass door from the main aisle into the crowded room, out of the corner of his eye he saw Manuel walk toward the arena.
“Good,” Fair thought to himself. “They can get Point Guard out of here before the reporters realize who was working.”
Fair assumed the reporters knew the young horse’s promising reputation and that the last class Saturday night would be a shoot-out between Larry, Charly, and Booty. He assumed too much.
What they wanted was a shot of Queen Esther disembarking from the van, of Renata’s rapture.
It occurred to Fair that Renata had probably called the media. Who else would do it?
As if reading his thoughts, Harry whispered, “This won’t hurt Renata’s career.”
Joan pushed through the people, hugged Harry and Fair, then turned to the reporters after giving her friends a wink. “These are the people who found Queen Esther.”
Like lampreys, the reporters sucked onto anything that might provide copy, the cameras clicked on, one camerawoman stood on the sofa to shoot from a different angle.
Before they could all ask the same question—“How did you find the horse?”—Harry, shrewdly, smiled. “We’d love to take credit for the discovery, but”—she bent over to pick up Mrs. Murphy as Fair lifted up Pewter—“the cats were the real detectives.”
Mrs. Murphy, eyes wide, stared at the closest reporter. “We recognized her immediately.”
“We ran away from our humans. We knew because the old mares told us!” Pewter added.
The cameras rolled.
Tucker, the picture of obedience, sat in front of Harry.
“My corgi was right there, too.” Harry smiled, and the cameras panned down to Tucker.
The questions flew fast and furious. Pewter answered each one, although both Mrs. Murphy and Tucker told her to save her breath.
Harry and Fair told the same story they had told Sheriff Ayscough, that a doggie bathroom stop was in order.
The reporters ate it up.
They’d no sooner finished when Ward turned in. His white and green van was forced to park at the entrance since the TV trucks hogged the drive as well as the large area behind the main barn, where a secondary barn for horses that were showing stood.
The lower barns housed mares and yearlings, plus there was the well-fortified and farther distant stallion barn. Both were down the hill where Fair had parked.
The reporters and cameramen ran out of the office and gathering room.
Joan, hands on hips, swiveled to face Harry and Fair. “Do you believe it?”
“It’s their bread and butter,” Fair evenly answered.