Bones of a Feather - Carolyn Haines [54]
“That horse isn’t a stray,” Tinkie said. “Someone is caring for it.”
“And very well.” Two barrels full of fresh rolled oats and sweet feed stood against one wall. Three hay bales had been stacked in a corner, and a bucket of fresh water was in the stall. I wished I’d caught a glimpse of the horse. The breed and condition of the animal would tell me a lot about the owner. Big and black, while accurate, were far from specific.
At the end of the stables we found the tack room, where a beautiful English saddle rested on a stand and a bridle hung from a peg. I ran the stirrups down the leathers. Judging by the length, the rider was tall. Stashed in a corner were old football pads and a helmet. I picked it up and examined it. “We’ve solved the mystery of the horse and rider on Briarcliff property. It’s a high school jock from the nineteen seventies,” I said. “At least we know he isn’t a phantom and we know how he gets the horse to the estate.”
“And I found how he escaped,” Cece called. We joined her at a back door that stood slightly ajar.
“We still don’t know why he’s doing it, or where he came from.” Tinkie peered anxiously at the gray square of outdoors visible through the barn door. She was ready to get back outside. “The problem with owning four hundred acres is you can’t watch it all the time.”
Thunder rumbled in the distance, a warning of bad weather to come. “Predictions are for another line of thunderstorms to come through, maybe tornadoes,” Tinkie said. “Let’s get out of here. There’s nothing else we can do right now. The horse knows his way around the estate. He’s been running free for a couple of weeks now. He’ll come back here as soon as we leave.”
She was right, but it didn’t sit well to leave with the matter unresolved. “We have to find the rider. I think it’s Barclay, but we have to know for sure.”
Cece had had enough. “I mean it, Sarah Booth. You need to walk away from this. We should get our asses out of this creepy place and head for the Eola bar for a cocktail.”
Tinkie linked arms with both of us. “If it is Barclay, then we need to confront him.”
* * *
Jerome was digging weeds in the Briarcliff herb garden. He did his best to ignore us, working without looking up even as we called his name. When Tinkie persisted, he finally put aside his shovel.
He reluctantly agreed to keep the dogs for a couple of hours. He seemed to approve of my hound and tolerate Chablis. Like most people, he judged Chablis on appearance, but if he was around her long enough he’d recognize she had courage and heart.
We kept the secret of the horseman to ourselves. Cece thought we should question Jerome about the stables, but Tinkie and I decided not to corner the gardener until Eleanor was present. He might lie to us, but he seemed to genuinely care for the sisters.
On the way to the Eola, Tinkie drove by Langley Insurance. Eleanor’s luxury car wasn’t there, but we spotted it at the bank. Obviously she’d received the insurance money and was putting the check into her account so she could pay the ransom. Which meant the kidnappers’ demand might come as early as today. Clearly they knew Eleanor’s every step.
Now it was a waiting game. When would the kidnappers call?
Anxiety is an appetite stimulate for me, and apparently for my friends. We were starving and opted to go Under-the-Hill for a late lunch and adult beverage. Once we had our Bloody Marys, we rehashed the elements of the case.
“Be smart and let the professionals handle this. Monica could be killed and you two can easily get injured.”
“It’s okay,” I assured her. “Tinkie and I will be safe, I promise.”
“If you get hurt again, Sarah Booth—or you, either, Tinkie—you’ll end up losing the men in your life. You can’t expect a person to risk his heart over and over again,” Cece said.
“I know.” I didn’t need to have my nose rubbed in the truth. Whenever I risked my physical safety, I put Graf’s emotional well-being, as well as my friends’, on the line.
We ate our lunch and moved away from discussing the case as Tinkie filled us in on her activities