“Her name is Bonita Bar Santos, but I call her Broomtail.”
“Broomtail?”
“She rubs her tail on the fence in hot weather and makes a mess of it,” Charley explained as he entered the corral with a halter. The mare lifted bored eyes and stood, docile, while he slipped the halter over her head and buckled it. Regan opened the gate and Charley led Broomtail out.
“Did you bring your saddle?”
“No.” Her saddle was English and it was still at her mother’s house. She’d have to send for it.
He dropped the lead rope and went inside the tack shed without tying up the mare. She cocked a hind leg and waited, ears at half-mast. After much clunking and banging, the guy came out carrying a dusty saddle in his left hand. “Only small one I have.” With his right hand, he put a blanket on the mare and smoothed it, then settled the saddle into place. He cinched it up. “Just let me get the bridle and you can take her for a spin.”
Regan rode for almost an hour, happy to be back in a saddle after too many years out of it. The horse moved slowly—pleasure rather than performance material. But she knew her stuff. She sluggishly picked up her leads, turned on the forehand and side passed. As Regan worked her, the mare gradually became more responsive, quicker in her movements. She tossed her head impatiently a few times on the way home and started to jig, but after her slow beginning, Regan took it as a good sign. Maybe the mare had life in her after all. Maybe all she needed was to lose weight and get some exercise.
“I hope I haven’t kept you from something,” Regan said after dismounting and handing the man the reins. He’d been looking at his watch when she returned and she felt bad for taking so long.
“Not at all.” He smiled hopefully. “Well?”
“I’ll think about it and let you know.”
His face fell. “Just a word of warning. There will be some people coming to see her tomorrow morning.”
“I’ll let you know,” Regan said firmly. “Thanks for showing her to me.”
IT WAS NOT A CALL Will wanted to make, but Zero Benson from the feed store had seemed pretty certain of his information. Zero wasn’t exactly the sharpest person in the world, but Will figured he’d better check things out anyway. He dialed Charley Parker’s number. The conversation lasted almost a minute before Charley hung up on him.
“Is Charley trying to sell Broomtail?” Kylie asked without looking up from her math book. Her collie pup, Stubby, lay at her feet, his chin resting on her shoe.
“When is he not trying to sell Broomtail?” Will went to the old-fashioned enamel sink and rinsed the coffeepot, then wiped down the counter.
“Charley’d probably be happy if someone stole her, then he wouldn’t have to feed her anymore.” Kylie erased part of an answer, then rewrote a few numbers.
“That would only work if he had her insured, and I’m pretty sure he doesn’t.”
“So, did the Martinezes have insurance?”
“Hardly anyone insures their horses around here, kiddo, except for maybe the Taylors. Too expensive.”
“So when their horses got stolen…” Kylie made a gesture with her pencil.
“They’re out of luck, unless we find them.” And it wasn’t looking good. Most stolen horses ended up in an out-of-state auction within days of being taken. The Martinez horses had been gone for three days.
“Should have freeze-branded them,” Kylie murmured before turning back to her homework.
“Ever hear that saying about the barn door and the horse?”
“Only when you say it,” she replied in a way that made him feel very old and out of touch.
Will settled in the kitchen chair across from his daughter and pulled his account books closer. He’d developed the habit of doing his paperwork while Kylie worked on her homework, finding that it kept them both on track. He now had a set of books he was proud of and Kylie was proving to be a much better student than he’d been.
Now if she could just stay out of trouble for a day or two.
THE MARE WAS no longer on the market. Charley called early Saturday morning to give Regan the news.
“Did you sell her?” she asked, thinking that if he had, he’d sold her within the past twelve hours.
“Not exactly. I just…changed my mind.”
Regan hung up the phone with a frown. Weird. The guy’d seemed anxious to sell the horse less than a day ago. She decided to chalk it up to small-town eccentricity.
She gathered her purse and car keys, ready to start phase two of her horse hunt.
Madison White operated the indoor riding arena at the edge of town and, according to people at school, if she didn’t have a horse, she at least had the connections to find one. Regan had already decided to see what the woman had to offer before making a decision on Broomtail, which was fortuitous, since the mare was now mysteriously off the market.
As it turned out, Madison had a horse for sale that was stabled at the arena. A nice, big horse with a nice, big price tag. A Thoroughbred that had been purchased as a jumper and had proven to be too hot for the girl who’d bought him.
Regan borrowed a saddle and mounted what felt like a bundle of dynamite. But once she got him moving, she found that he was smooth and smart. He just needed work, and Regan was looking for a project to fill her free time.
She did a quick calculation, decided to eat less for a few months and told Madison she wanted the gelding. She managed to dicker the price down by a couple of hundred dollars, but the purchase was still going to eat a hole in her budget. Regan didn’t care. She had a horse.
She made arrangements to continue boarding him at the arena until she got her pasture properly fenced, and then drove home, feeling richer rather than poorer.
Now all she had to do was hire a fencer, buy a water tank, arrange a vet check, send for her saddle and watch her pennies for a few months. Okay, maybe a year. But it didn’t matter, she had a horse.
CLAIRE TRIED TO BE EXCITED for Regan when she called to share her news. But since Claire had never owned an animal in her life, Regan knew her sister was having a hard time relating. Claire soon turned the topic to her primary concern.
“I can’t believe you left me alone in this city with Mom.”
“How’re your classes going?”
“I’m not wild about them. I mean, they’re easy enough, but…I don’t know. Something’s missing.”
Only Claire would say that engineering classes were “easy enough.” She was accidentally brilliant, according to their mother. She could do upper-level math with ease, but she found the things she was good at boring. She liked to dive into subjects she knew nothing about, learn what she could and then move on. An attention-deficit engineer. Probably not what the world needed.
“What’s missing?”
“I don’t know. Passion?” Claire must have sensed Regan’s smile. “Hey, you feel passionately about your job. Why shouldn’t I feel the same about mine? And you put your foot down when Mom wanted you to go to law school.”
“Yes, and you can do the same.”
There was a slow intake of breath on the other end of the line, followed by a long exhalation. “I’m not quite ready for that.”
KYLIE STAYED LATE on the day she returned to school, making up the science lab she’d missed the day before. Regan attempted to initiate a conversation once the girl was finished—attempted being the key word. In the wake of the smoking incident,