Mystery at Saddle Creek (3 page)

3

 

THE WILD MAN

Tan had not intended to scare the girl with the beautiful horse. He'd only wanted to talk to her. The sound of something moving had woken him up. First, he'd listened to the noises of leaves rustling and twigs snapping. Then, he'd seen movement through the trees. A gorgeous chestnut horse was striding down the trail with a girl on its back. Tan had studied the girl's face; there was peace in her eyes. He saw something else, too—something that he couldn't define. Suddenly he knew that he could trust her with his secret. He wanted to tell her about all the blood, and explain how it had happened—he'd need her help if they caught him. And they'd try. People always blamed him. And that man. That man had seen Tan, and Tan had seen him, and the man knew it. Maybe they were stalking him now. He looked at the girl again. She wouldn't betray him. He could tell her about the morning. He must tell her. She would help. He'd stepped out of the bushes and—in an instant— the girl and the horse were gone.

HANNAH HAD BEEN every bit as upset as Bird had predicted. Maybe more. She'd yelled about safety and choices and reckless behaviour. And about breaking promises in general, and about her going down the Escarpment in particular. Hannah had never yelled at her like that, and Bird felt awful, mostly because Hannah was right.

But today was a new day, a fresh start, and Bird vowed to behave herself. Liz had ended up staying the night, and now Julia, Liz, Hannah and Bird were in the barn, saddling up for a light schooling and maybe a short hack. Bird was half listening to the younger girls' rambling conversation as she worked.

“So, want to hear something weird?” asked Liz as she bent down to pick dirt and pebbles out of Timmy's foot.

“Sure.” Julia brushed Sabrina's thick white tail.

“When I called my Mom this morning, know what she said?”

“How could I?” Julia grimaced at her friend.

“You're never going to guess.”

“Just tell me!”

“You know that sketch the police brought here last night?” Liz straightened up and looked at her friend. “When they came to our house, Mom told them it looked like Phil.”

“You thought so, too.”

“I know, but at least I feel better now. And there's something else.”

“What?”

“Jeremy, who lives next door, told
me
that his mother told
him
Phil didn't retire on purpose. He was
forced
to retire. He did something bad.”

Now Bird was listening with both ears.

“What did he do?” asked Julia.

“I asked Mom. She said it was something that seemed bad but really wasn't. She said the person who accused Phil made it all up, but because it looked bad they made him resign.”

“Wow.” Julia stopped brushing her pony. “I wonder what it was.”

Hannah had been listening, too, and now she offered a word of advice. “You know, girls, this is serious. Let's get the facts straight before we pass on gossip. Liz, your neighbour might have no idea what he's talking about.”

“Maybe.” Liz went on. “But now Mom's all worried. She thinks the police'll bring Phil in for questioning because of her.”

Bird caught Julia's eye. “Did you mention that you'd told them the same thing? That you thought it looked like Phil?”

Liz shook her head and blushed. “No, but I w ... will.”

The conversation was interrupted as Boss, a small white Jack Russell, started barking in his shrill, ceaseless way. A moment later, a police cruiser stopped beside the barn. Everyone watched as the two policemen from the night before got out.

“Excuse me, ladies,” said Officer Paris as he entered the barn. “Is Cliff Jones here?”

“Is there a problem?” Hannah's voice was filled with concern.

Officer O'Hare spoke. “We have to take him in for questioning.”

“Was he positively identified?” asked Bird.

“From that sketch?” Hannah put her hands on her hips defensively. “Who identified him?”

Officer O'Hare crossed his arms. “That's confidential, folks. Suffice it to say that she knows Cliff well.”

“But that sketch could be any number of people.”

“Maybe so, but if he's innocent ...”

“He'll be cleared.” Bird finished his sentence. “But Cliff couldn't have hit a person like that. He couldn't even imagine doing that!”

“You'll have to let us do our job.” Officer Paris glared at the still-barking Boss. The persistent noise was getting annoying.

Cliff came around the corner just then, pushing a wheelbarrow. “Boss! Hush!”

“Cliff Jones?” asked Officer O'Hare.

Cliff looked wary. “Yes?”

Officer Paris walked up to him, heavy-footed and straight-backed. “You'll have to come with us for questioning.”

Cliff froze. His eyebrows rose quizzically.

Hannah stepped forward and patted him on the shoulder. “Don't worry about a thing, Cliff.”

“He's innocent!” Bird stepped up. “Last night a man jumped out at me when I was riding. He looks exactly like the composite sketch. He lives somewhere in the woods and he had hardly anything on.
That
man is the man you need to arrest, not Cliff.”

“He had nothing on, you say? A naked man?”

“He had shorts on,” corrected Bird.

“And he jumped out at you?”

“Yes. From the bushes. He must live down there.”

The officers gave each other dubious looks. Bird knew they didn't believe her. She appealed to Hannah to confirm her story.

“Bird came home quite rattled. She was worried that perhaps this man might be the one who attacked the woman.” Hannah stepped closer to Bird. “And even if he isn't, I don't like the idea of a man living wild around here, jumping out of bushes.”

“And why didn't you report this incident the minute it happened?” asked Officer Paris.

“I'm sorry.” Hannah looked abashed. “I was going to call this morning, but I should have told you immediately.”

“You certainly should have. We need all the help we can get.” Officer Paris looked at his watch. “We'll get Bird's statement later. Right now, we need to take Cliff in. There are two more men to interview after him.”

Hannah and the girls watched as the officers walked Cliff out to the cruiser and put him in the back seat, taking care not to bump his head on the door frame.

Before they closed the door, Cliff flashed a forced smile in Hannah's direction. “Don't worry, I'll be fine. Can you bring the horses in for me at four and feed them? Jules needs her mud fever treated — Bird knows what to do — and Sir Jeffery has to get one more dose of penicillin. Twelve pills soaked in hot water and mixed into his grain. And can you do night check if I'm not back?”

“Of course.” Hannah shook her head. “I can't believe this is happening.”

Cliff smiled with all the confidence he could muster, but Bird sensed his nervousness. She admired how he was being strong for Hannah's sake, and how he cared more for the horses than for himself.

The cruiser drove down the lane and away. Fine dust billowed up behind, obscuring the car from view.

They exercised the horses for over an hour, doing flatwork in the arena. Hannah was insistent on teaching horses to know their leg aids, bend into corners, flex their necks and stretch out their backs. After a good workout, the girls hosed down their mounts and put them back out in their fields. Then, like always after a ride, they soaped and oiled the tack. Finally, after checking the outside water troughs, they went to the house for sandwiches and milk.

Paul had just arrived, and he looked grim.

“What's the matter?” asked Hannah.

“It was on the radio. The woman died.”

Hannah's hand shot up to her mouth.

Bird stiffened. Paul could only mean one woman — the woman who was mugged with the tire iron.

“She'd lost too much blood and they couldn't save her. She died in the ambulance yesterday, but the authorities only told the media today.”

“All from the blow to her head?” asked Bird.

“They think she may also have hit her head on a rock when she fell.”

Hannah grimaced. “It's a pity that Ellen came too late.”

“Every second counts when there's blood loss,” Paul said, speaking as a medical man. “There's more,” he continued, as he washed his hands at the sink. “The woman's name was released. It's Sandra Hall.”

Hannah gasped. “Sandra Hall? That's Pierre's ex-wife.”

Paul nodded.

Bird knew who he was. Pierre worked next door for Guy and Bunny.

“And he definitely looks like the sketch,” added Julia.

“Didn't Pierre and Sandra have ... problems?” asked Bird. “I used to see Sandra with bruises and stuff.”

Hannah and Paul exchanged a look, but Paul answered Bird's question honestly. “That was always my impression, but it's impossible to know what really goes on behind closed doors.”

“Maybe it
was
him,” mused Julia.

“The jealous ex-husband,” added Liz. “The prime suspect.”

“Now we're behaving just like everybody else,” chided Hannah, “putting two and two together and getting forty-four.”

The girls looked sheepish.

“It's all that people are talking about,”Paul said.“Everywhere I went this morning, everybody had a theory. Everybody's got a suspect.”

“And everybody wants him caught,” Bird said, thinking about the women in the Inglewood store. With all the talk and that sketch out there, she hoped the police would catch the right person.

“Is there anything we should do for Cliff?” Hannah asked Paul as he sat down at the table. She'd filled him in by phone, moments after the police had left. “Should we go down and vouch for him? Hire a lawyer?”

“Let's see what happens. If they question him and let him go, no harm done. If he's held there or arrested, that's another thing altogether.”

They didn't believe me,” Bird told Paul. “I told them about the man in the woods and they thought I made it up.”

“They'll be back,” Hannah reassured her as she put a plate of chicken salad sandwiches on the table.“They'll believe you because it's true. When the truth is told, things always turn out fine.”

Bird wasn't so sure.

“Something else was on the radio,” Paul said. “There's a meeting tonight at the Inglewood General Store. The police are making themselves available for questions.” He took a bite of his sandwich.

“What time?” Hannah asked.

“Seven. No children allowed.” He glared in mock seriousness at Bird, Julia and Liz, trying to lighten the mood.“Not that you'd want to go, anyway. It'll be a bunch of worried grown-ups wondering if they'll be the next to get a tire iron to the head.”

The phone rang, and Bird picked it up.

It was Patty Brown, calling to speak with her daughter. Bird handed Liz the phone. After a quick conversation, Liz hung up with a stunned expression on her face. “Phil's been t ... taken to the police station for questioning, and Mom's coming r ... right away to pick me up.”

“Oh, Liz,” cried Julia. “It's not your fault. You know that, right?”

“I can't believe this is h ... happening,” whispered Liz, her eyes filling with tears.

Hannah crossed the kitchen and put her arm around Liz's shoulder. “It'll be all right, honey, you'll see. This'll all be over before you know it. Once the man is caught.”

“If they can figure out who really did it,” Bird added.

Hannah shot her a look, but Bird wasn't paying any attention.

Bird summarized, counting on her fingers. “There are four suspects that we know of: Cliff, the wild man, Phil Butler and Pierre Hall. I know for sure it wasn't Cliff.”

“Or Phil,” added Liz quickly.

Bird nodded. “Of course. So that leaves Pierre and the wild man.”

“Pierre is creepy,” Julia stated, “but the wild man really scares me.”

Bird knew exactly what she meant.

After helping to clean up the lunch dishes, Bird put on her chaps and went outside, desperate to get in a practice with Sundancer. No matter how horrible the news of Sandra Hall's death, the show was only four days away.

The Palston Horse Show was a big one. Bird felt totally unprepared and more than a little nervous. She would be competing against some serious riders. Normally, she would've had several schooling shows under her belt by this point in the season, but this was her first time out in a year.

To duplicate the level of difficulty they'd be facing, she set up a course of jumps in the front field. Striding out the distances, hauling poles, measuring heights, Bird was concentrating so hard that she was startled by a nose on her arm.

Sunny! You scared me!

Cool.

I think it's ready. Let's get your saddle on and give it a whirl.

The triple is weird. Pace it out again.

It's perfect.

You want to risk it?

Bird thought for a second. She didn't want to ride through and crash. She took Sunny's advice and walked it again. Sure enough, she'd made a mistake. The first and second jumps were fine, but to get to the third was not an easy three strides, it was a messy two-and-a-half.

Bird looked at Sunny. He was gloating.

Okay, okay, so you were right.

Again. And you were wrong. Say it.

I said you were right.

Say you're wrong or you can't ride me today.

What?

I'll get all crazy. I still remember how to do that, you know.

Are you threatening me?

Maybe.

Bird certainly did remember how crazy Sundancer had been. When he'd first arrived at Saddle Creek, Hannah had forbidden Bird from riding him, and for excellent reasons. The horse was particularly sensitive and naturally suspicious. His first trainers had not factored that into his early education, and, as a consequence, Sunny had become confused, bitter and unresponsive. The situation quickly became a vicious circle — the more he questioned, the harsher the training methods became until finally Sunny was a danger to himself and to every rider who dared get on his back. Saddle Creek had been his last chance, and Bird had been his saviour. Her unique ability to communicate with animals had literally kept him alive.

I can't believe you'd do that again.
She patted his neck gently, enjoying the feel of his healthy, silky coat. They'd been through a lot together. Those were not good days.

You're right.
He rubbed his forehead on her shoulder.
I wouldn't really do it on purpose.

I was wrong about the triple.

Then let's do this.

Bird and Sunny warmed up for ten minutes with a collected walk and trot that stretched out his back muscles and the tendons and ligaments in his legs. Soon his stride was long and low and loose, and it was time to begin the course. Just as they cantered around the corner toward the first jump, Sundancer spooked and leapt sideways.

Sunny! What's up?

A human is there.

Where?
Bird scanned the edges of the field. She could see nothing.

Behind the trees along the fenceline. It's the same human from the trail.

The wild man?

He smells the same. Let's pay him a visit.

What? Last night you almost kill me running away from him and today you want to confront him?

Yes.

The pair trotted along the fence to the spot where Sunny had sensed the presence. Nothing was there.

Are you sure, Sunny?

Of course, I'm sure! My nose still smells him.
Sunny flipped up his upper lip and snorted loudly.
Horrible.

He's gone now.

I know. But he was here.

Puzzled and disquieted, Bird rode Sunny back to the grassy area where she'd set up the jumps.
Can we do this now?
she asked, unsure whether the man's presence had spooked Sunny out of his good mood.

I can. The question is, can you? You're trembling.

I'm fine. It was just a little weird.

They began the course again, cantering in the same as before, and this time there were no interruptions. They got their rhythm around the corner and took the first jump nice and easy, cantering four strides to the hedge, then six strides to the oxer. The triple combination rode perfectly, thanks to Sunny, with a two stride then a three stride and on to the water jump, which was really a kid's discarded wading pool rescued from the dump. Sunny took the skinny, then doubled back to an illusion jump constructed of jumbled poles. They finished by jumping the hedge from the other direction.

You did that really well, Bird.

Thanks. So did you!

No surprises there. You left my head alone so I could land easily and keep my hind feet up over the poles. And you didn't overdo the lead cues. I hate when you jab me with your heel when all you have to do is look where you're going next. I get that.

Bird slid off Sunny's back, laughing.

What's so funny?

Never mind
. Bird could only imagine what people would think if they knew the conversations she'd had with this horse.