In spite of not having seen them.
Regan forced a smile and refrained from pointing that out to him, in the interest of maintaining a peaceful work environment. She liked her new school. A lot. It had a small staff, nice-sized classes and one of her best friends from college worked there. Actually, when all her carefully made plans had blown up in her face, thanks to Daniel, her former colleague and jerk of an ex-boyfriend, it had been Tanya who’d encouraged her to move four hundred miles north.
“I’ll try to be more observant next time.”
Pete gave a curt nod. “It would help.”
REGAN’S NEW PRINCIPAL lasted less than a week.
Bernardi experienced chest pains on Thursday. On Friday it was announced he was taking an indefinite leave of absence. Pete Domingo, the only person on staff with administrative certification, would become acting principal in the interim.
“Pete Domingo?” Tanya moaned on the day of the big announcement. She flicked her smooth blond hair back over her shoulder. “Do you know what we’re in for?”
“A united front, I gather.” Regan perched on the edge of a student desk, waiting for her friend to finish her lesson plan.
“I’d rather have a monkey as an administrator. No, make that a baboon. Pete’s ego is entirely too big and he’s not concerned with learning. He’s a do-or-die coach. He just wants to dom-i-nate.”
“So do you, only in the academic sense.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Come on, let’s go.” Tanya closed her book. “I can finish up tomorrow. Oh, by the way, my landlord knows a guy who’s selling a horse. Some kind of fancy quarter horse. He told me about it, but I can’t remember much. I think it’s female, has four legs and a tail.”
“Funny, but that’s exactly what I’m looking for.”
Tanya reached for the phone book on the edge of her desk. “I’ll find the number.”
TANYA WAS BUSY ON SATURDAY, so Regan drove to the landlord’s friend’s place alone. She was greeted by a man in cowboy gear who introduced himself as Charley. He led her to a panel corral, where a stocky bay mare stood.
“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
