Razor's Edge (5 page)

I shake my head. “Bizarre. And cruel.”

“Cruel?” she says. “It's not like it hurts the horses.”

“I know that. But in the summer they won't be able to swish away flies.”

“You know what I heard?” She cocks her head to one side, waiting for me to guess.

“What?”

“You can make fake tails for horses.”

“With what? Stolen horse tails?”

“No, dummy. With baling twine.”

“Seriously?” I can't imagine a horse with a fake tail. One made of the string that holds the hay bales together would look stupid.

“Seriously. I think the draft-horse people do it sometimes. You know, for those big-ass horses where they bob their tails on purpose.”

“If the thief keeps coming back, you could make tons of money making replacement tails.”

She grins. “Wouldn't that look strange? A whole race full of horses with orange and blue tails!”

“Almost as strange as a race where all the horses have bald butts!”

Sassy laughs. Sometime between cup number one and cup number two she has let her hair down. It slips over her shoulder when she tips her head back. This week the color is a rich, dark brown and all the sharp points have gone. Instead, her bangs fall loosely over her forehead, the longest strands brushing her eyelashes.

“So, who do you think is doing it?” I ask.

Sassy stops laughing. “No idea. Actually, that's not true.”

“You know who's doing it?”

“No,” she says quickly. “I don't know. But I have a theory.”

Sassy bumps her coffee, and some slops out onto the table. She grabs a napkin and mops up.

“Well? What's your theory?”

Sassy re-wipes the table even though it's dry. “It's just a theory…”

I put my elbows on the table and lean forward. Lowering my voice, I ask again, “What are you thinking?”

Sassy glances at the door. I'm not sure whether she wants to escape or if she expects to see the tail thief standing there with a razor blade.

“Okay. You know Jasper's grandmother?”

That makes me sit up. “Jasper's granny? She's no tail thief!”

“I know that,” Sassy says. “But listen, she sells those dream-catcher things at the farmers' market.”

“Your point?” I can't keep the edge out of my voice. I don't like the direction this is going.

“Have you ever looked at them closely?”

“I'm not really into dream catchers.”

“Why do you have one in your tack room?”

I think of the fancy dream catcher hanging from the ceiling. It's about our only decoration, outside of a couple of lonely win photos.

“Jasper brought it in as a barn-warming present when we set up shop,” I say.

She acts like she doesn't hear me.

“You know the dangly parts? They're usually feathers. But that's not how she makes them.”

“She doesn't?”

“Look again when you're in the tack room. Those things are made of horse hair.”

“So?”

“So she sells hundreds of them. In the summer, the market is packed with tourists. She's always there, and her stall is full of the things. She must need a lot of tails to make them all…” Sassy talks faster, idly spinning her spoon on the table.

“But Jasper's grandmother never comes to the track.”

“Who said anything about the old lady stealing the tails herself?”

“That doesn't even make sense! Who would—?” I stop when I realize what Sassy is suggesting. “Jasper? Forget it. No way he'd do something like that.”

Sassy reaches across the table and squeezes my hand.

“I'm only saying this because I care about you. You're a sweet guy, Travis. I wouldn't want to see you get hurt.”

Sassy's eyes fill with tears. I reach over and put my hand over both of ours.

“Hey,” I say. Something clenches in the pit of my stomach. She looks so sad. So worried. So vulnerable. I want to move over to her side of the booth and wrap my arms around her. She'd bury her face in my shoulder and cry. I'd rub her back and stroke her hair and—

What am I thinking? I gulp down a mouthful of coffee. She couldn't seriously think Jasper would be involved with the tail thefts.

“I know Jasper,” I say. “He's my friend. He wouldn't do anything stupid like stealing horse tails.”

Sassy bites her bottom lip. “Maybe not for himself. But you know how Indians are…”

When Jasper uses the word
Indian
, it sounds okay. When Sassy does, it sounds wrong, almost like she's swearing.

I stiffen in my seat and try to pull my hand back. Both of her hands grip mine. The look in her eyes has changed from sad to desperate. Pleading.

“Travis, listen to me! I just want to protect you. Think about it. They live on the reserve. His family has no money. It would be easy for Jasper to—”

“No!” I yank my hand away and slide out of the booth.

“Wait!”

I throw money on the counter on the way out. She's insane! How could she say those things about Jasper? She doesn't know him the way I do!

Sassy catches up to me in the parking lot where I'm fumbling with my keys. When she throws her arms around me, she's sobbing. “I'm sorry,” she says, over and over. “I know he's your friend. But maybe you're not seeing things clearly. I don't want you to get hurt…”

I stand for a long moment with my arms held stiffly at my sides. Sassy's head pushes into me, her arms wrap around my waist. “I'm sorry. I'm sorry,” she moans, still sobbing.

I put my arm around Sassy's shoulders. “Hey,” I say. “Stop crying.” I feel her body relax against me. The top of her head reaches just below my chin. Her hair, still loose over her shoulders, smells like peaches. I close my eyes and inhale the scent.

It hardly seems possible that she could get any closer, but she manages to snuggle in, drawing me in even tighter. She pushes her hips forward and moves against me. I'm horrified to feel my jeans tighten.

“Sassy,” I say, moving my hands to her shoulders to push her away.

She tips her face up and whispers, “I'm sorry, Travis. Please, please, forgive me? I shouldn't have said anything.” Tears glisten in her eyes.

Before I can reply, she reaches up and slips her hands behind my neck. Her lips part, and she pulls me to her.

Oh help, help, help, I think as I reach for her and find her lips with mine.

chapter seven

We leap apart when a door slams right behind us. How could I not have heard the car pulling up? Sassy turns away and moves to the other side of my truck.

“Good cup of coffee?” Ryan asks.

Could this night get any more complicated? The passenger window rolls down and Jasper sticks his head out. Apparently, it can.

“Getting lots of cream with your sugar?” he jokes, laughing.

Ryan slaps my back as he saunters past. “Don't be late for work in the morning, my friend.”

He winks and then heads for the coffee shop, Jasper close behind.

I climb into the truck and reach over to unlock the door for Sassy. She slides across the seat and cuddles next to me. I keep both hands on the wheel and my eyes on the road as we drive to her place.

When we get to Sassy's place, I still don't look at her. “Good night,” I say quietly.

There's a long pause. Sassy sits still and silent beside me. “Good night, Travis,” she says after what feels like forever. She reaches up and gives me a quick, warm kiss on the cheek before sliding across the seat. “See you tomorrow,” she says, reaching for the door handle.

When she slams the door behind her, I drive off. Not that I get far. The minute I'm around the corner and out of sight I pull over and shut off the engine.

What just happened? My hands shake, and I sit on them to keep them still. What am I doing? What is Sassy thinking?

When I finally start the truck up again, I feel a little dizzy. At home in bed I can't fall asleep. Usually, I can't wait for morning, but tonight, things are different. I don't want morning to come. I don't want to think about being in the same place as Jasper and Sassy at the same time.

In the tack room the next morning, my cheeks burn. Jasper and Ryan have no mercy. They've been making coffee-drinking jokes and punching me in the shoulder ever since I arrived looking like I hadn't slept. There's no point in explaining that I was wide awake all night but completely by myself. The only good thing is that Sassy isn't around. I don't have to worry about her saying something dumb in front of Jasper.

“Can we try to get some work done here?” I say.

“Are you sure you don't need a nap first?” Jasper teases.

I close my eyes and slump against the wall. The truth is, I'd love to have a nap. I'm almost sorry I dragged my butt to the track. I should have stayed in bed.

“Hey, you should tell him what your mom said,” Ryan says to Jasper.

“Oh yeah, you missed that yesterday. I think you were busy having coffee with someone…”

“Very funny. What did she say?”

“My mom said she'll help me apply early,” he says.

I know right away what he's talking about. If you've been working around the track forever like we have, it's pretty easy to get a trainer's license when you're sixteen. But getting a license to drive in races is way harder. You have to drive in a bunch of qualifying races set up just for drivers who are learning.

There's a written test and an interview and a practical test of driving skills. You have to be recommended by three other drivers. The list goes on and on. Then you are allowed to drive in races, but you still don't have a full license. That doesn't happen until you've survived a whole bunch of races.

Jasper has been wanting his license since he was ten. In most cases, you have to be nineteen to get your driver's license, unless a parent agrees to let you go for it earlier. My parents won't even consider it. Dad says it's too dangerous and the longer it takes for someone to get a license, the better. Not that I'm a great driver anyway. I'm just as happy training, jogging the horses to get them ready for racing. But if Jasper's mom is willing to help him get on a race bike, that's good for us.

“Go for it,” I say. The Three Musketeers need all the help they can get.

“I can't believe it's going to be the end of summer before I finally get done,” Ryan grumbles.

He'll be lucky to get finished by the fall. Ryan doesn't win too many races. We don't exactly have a long lineup of trainers at the door begging him to drive for them. And our own horses often race better for other, more experienced, drivers. Even
we
don't hire Ryan unless we're desperate. Jasper is the one everyone's watching. Even if he jumps through all the hoops, it's still going to be a long time before he's racing.

The rest of the weekend is a wash. Our best finish is another sixth with Finnegan on Saturday. Sassy hasn't come by, and I'm starting to think I just imagined our cozy Friday night. By Sunday evening, we're all feeling pretty grumpy.

“What are you doing?” I ask Jasper when he pulls a red duffel bag out from behind the tack trunk.

“Grabbing my duffel bag. What does it look like I'm doing?”

“Yeah, I can see that. Why? What's in the bag?”

“Sleeping bag. Toothbrush. Homework. Chocolate-chip cookies. Any more questions?” Jasper grins at me and closes the tack room door.

“Sounds like what you'd take on a camping trip.”

“Bingo.”

“You're going camping? What about a tent?”

Jasper rolls his eyes. “I'm sleeping right here.”

“Why?”

“So I can keep an eye on the horses' tails.”

Just the mention of horse tails makes me feel sick to my stomach. Sassy was the one who made the stupid comment about Jasper, but for some reason, I feel guilty. That doesn't even make sense. I wonder where she is, but then I'm glad I haven't seen her around all weekend.

“Haven't you seen the posters? About the reward?”

In fact, I have. The track bosses have offered a five-hundred-dollar reward to anyone who gives them information that leads to the arrest of the tail thief. “For once they came up with a good idea.”

“Hey, five hundred bucks is five hundred bucks. We could use the money,” Jasper says.

I wonder if he's suggesting I stay at the barn too. “Maybe I could stay next weekend?” I doubt my mom would be too happy about me staying here on a school night. No way I'm going to admit that out loud. I'm seventeen, not in kindergarten. But my mother is one scary woman when it comes to the subject of school.

“Sure,” Jasper says. “A guy could get lonely around here at night!” He laughs. “You want to do hay or grain?” he asks, strolling down toward the feed room.

“Hay.”

“I was hoping you'd say that.”

Jasper is great around the horses, but he's allergic to hay. Just carrying it from the stack to the stalls makes his arms break out in red bumps. When we help unload the big hay truck, his eyes and nose stream and he sneezes for hours after. His doctor says he should wear a mask, but Jasper says he'd rather suffer than look like an idiot. I'm just glad I don't have that problem. I've never seen anyone more miserable than Jasper after he deals with a load of hay.

After all the chores are done, Jasper unrolls his sleeping bag in the tack room.

“See you tomorrow!” I call as I leave him there.

Ryan and I pull into the parking lot at our usual time the next morning. With the three of us working, it won't take long to get the chores done and all four horses exercised and back in their stalls before school. My dad has a dentist appointment this morning, so I peel off to go to his barn first. After I feed and water his horses, his groom, Chuck, will handle the stalls and start jogging the horses.