“Did you want me to find you?”
Evie blushed deeply, filled with unease. “I didn’t know it was you in the white truck and trailer. I mean, I thought it might be you, but you’re a lot, um, a lot less old than I thought you’d be and you got here really fast.”
Mary sat and bit into the bread. “So why didn’t you wait for me in the store like we agreed?”
Evie took another bite and decided to answer truthfully. She pointed to the newspaper. “I saw that article and the picture after I called you. It says who I am and that I disappeared with a horse.”
“I wondered. I understand. I saw the article first thing this morning, too. Not bad. Chet Reynolds writes well, and he was kind to you.”
Evie stopped chewing. Chet Reynolds must be the reporter who followed me home after the race.
Aunt Mary continued, “That’s why I drove past the front lane and came in the back way. I wasn’t sure if old Bert was watching. He likes to know everyone’s business.” She chuckled.
Evie studied her. Aunt Mary was cool, and she thought quickly. “Thanks.”
“Great sandwich,” said Mary. “Nothing like PB and J.”
“I’m glad. It’s all that’s on the menu today.”
Mary laughed. Evie noticed the multitude of little lines around her eyes, and the grey streaks in the faded blond hair. Her skin was freckled all over, like Evie’s, but wrinkled and loose at her neck and elbows.
“How old are you?” Evie asked.
“Just over sixty. I know how old you are.”
Evie nodded, remembering the birthday card she’d received. “Yeah. Sixteen.”
They finished their breakfast sitting on the burlap bags. Magpie had gotten over her shyness and rested her head in Mary’s lap, looking up at her with beseeching brown eyes.
“You do look like your mother, Evie,” said Mary thoughtfully. “That’s a compliment. She’s lovely. Always was.” A brief cloud seemed to pass over her face and then disappear. “Nice dog. Is she yours?”
“No. She turned up last night and slept with me on this bed.” Evie looked at Magpie fondly. “I guess I really can’t keep her if she belongs to somebody else.”
Mary nodded her approval. “Good girl. I’ll call the Humane Society and some local vets, and if nobody’s missing her, she’s yours. She might have an implanted chip. A vet can check that out.”
“Okay. Sounds good.”
“And what about the horse, Evie?”
Evie felt suddenly chilled. “What about the horse?”
“He doesn’t belong to you, either.”
Evie jumped to her feet. “My father told Jerry to get rid of him by today! I couldn’t leave without him! They all think he’s horrible, but he’s a wonderful horse. He hurts people sometimes, but that’s because they don’t understand him. He’s just afraid!”
“There, there,” soothed Mary as she stood and put her hand on the girl’s shoulder. “I see the problem. But you must understand. He’s a valuable horse and people might think you stole him.”
Evie admitted to herself that it didn’t look good.
“Let’s get Kazzam on the trailer, and you and Magpie and I will drive to my farm. You’ll be far safer there than out here. Somebody else is bound to recognize him if I did.”
While they were talking about him, Kazzam had strolled up to the two women. Evie patted his nose and thought about what to do. Aunt Mary made sense. “Are you going to call Dad?” she asked quietly.
“Not yet.” Mary scowled a little. “He’s not my favourite person, and I’m not his.”
Evie considered Aunt Mary carefully. There just might be a chance of this turning out okay.
Parson’s Bridge
Kazzam had loaded easily onto Aunt Mary’s trailer, and Magpie sat happily at Evie’s feet in the front seat. Still, Evie couldn’t help but feel apprehensive as they drove along the road.
“We’re almost home,” said Aunt Mary as she checked the side-view mirrors to make a turn.
“It’s pretty over here. Less rocky and more rolly.”
Mary laughed. “Ho ho, hey, hey! Rock and roll is here to stay!” she sang.
Evie laughed, too, even though she had no idea what her aunt was talking about.
“Did you bring your prize money with you?” asked Mary.
“Yes. I thought I’d need it to visit you in Toronto.”
Mary glanced at her and smiled. “I have a safe at home, or I’ll help you put it in the bank, if you like.”
After driving a few minutes more, she said, “My farm is just up this road, but let’s drop in here first. Magpie might be chipped. I see my vet’s in her office today, even though it’s Sunday.”
Mary parked the rig along the driveway of a small vet clinic attached to a red-brick farmhouse. Magpie looked wary, so Evie got out, too. The black dog leaped down and followed them into the reception room, tail wagging.
The woman behind the counter smiled. “Hi, Mary!”
“Hi, Diane. I saw your door open. Do you have time to scan this dog for a chip? My niece just found her.”
“Ann’s cat was hit by a car and will be here soon, but I’ll give your pup a quick scan first.” She came out from behind the counter with a small hand-held device. Within seconds she said, “I’ve got it.” She patted Magpie’s head and said to Evie, “I’ll call your aunt later when I track down the address. Let’s hope this sweet dog finds her rightful home, whether it’s with you or the person who got the chip put in.”
Evie knew the vet was right. If she’d been the one to lose Magpie, she’d be heartbroken and would want her returned. But still....
Mary, Magpie, and Evie got back in the truck and continued on to Mary’s farm.
“When we get home,” said Mary, “we’ll get No Justice settled and make a quick call to the Humane Society to see if someone’s reported a missing dog. Then I need a coffee or two before I talk to your father.”
Evie’s stomach did a flip. “I thought you weren’t going to call him.”
“I said not yet. I didn’t say I wouldn’t call him. You’re his daughter and Kazzam is No Justice — his racehorse. He needs to know you’re both safe.”
“He doesn’t care about either of us!” exclaimed Evie. Her face flushed as anger tightened her throat. “He wants Kazzam gone, and he wants me gone, too. I mess up his perfect family.”
Mary glanced at her sympathetically, then turned up a lane that was marked with a small sign that read Parson’s Bridge. “That may or may not be how your father sees things, Evie. It’s your truth, though, and I can see that you’re hurt.”
The farm was simple and appealing. The small yellow farmhouse sat to the left of the curving lane, on the far side of a large field. The lane forked, and a little barn was straight ahead. It looked like a four-stall. The boards were unstained, weathered wood. The fences surrounding the fields were split-rail made of old cedar, and there were three very contented-looking horses in the front field. One was a lanky bay, one a sway-backed chestnut, and one a small palomino.