STUDS AND STILETTOS (Romantic Mystery) (35 page)

“There must be something.” Emily’s voice cracked. “What would Jenna do?”

“Just let him know you care.”

“But what if he stops breathing?” Her hand shook as she stroked his shaggy neck, so small and vulnerable, bumpy now with hives. “What do I do?”

“Nothing.” Wally’s voice lowered. “I know it’s disconcerting…being the one to see him off. Want me sit up with you?”

She raised her head in surprise. Wally was an old family friend but he’d always been Jenna’s buddy, not hers. And clearly he was exhausted. Besides, he seemed to think Peanut wasn’t going to make it, and she didn’t want that attitude spreading. They had to believe.

“You go to bed,” she said. “We’ll see you in the morning.”

Wally’s gaze flickered to Peanut’s still form. He gave a dubious nod then turned and disappeared down the aisle.

Peanut’s eye closed again. His breathing was shallow but at least he was breathing. She ran her fingers over his head, scratching the base of his left ear where he’d always had a particularly stubborn itch. No reaction. Nothing.

“Just rest, fellow. You’ll feel better in the morning.” But his ears didn’t twitch the way they usually did when she spoke. He acted as if he didn’t know she was there.

Fear curled in her chest, and a part of her wished Wally had stayed. Better still, she wished for Dan. Not only did he understand horses but his quiet confidence was infectious. His mere presence made her feel more confident, more capable, affecting her the same way it did the animals.

However, there wasn’t much anyone could do. Peanut was unresponsive. He didn’t hear her. Didn’t see her. Didn’t seem to know she sat beside him.

She bit her lip. Dan had talked about horses’ keen sense of smell. And Peanut always knew when Emily had carrots in her pocket.

She inched around his prone body, moving her palm closer to his flared nostrils. On impulse, she bent down and blew gently in his nose. He twitched but it seemed more in irritation than recognition.

Her tears pricked. So many times, she’d cried into his neck. Once she’d caught Jenna crying too. He’d been their buddy, playmate and confidante when friends and money had been achingly scarce. Maybe he’d felt a little ignored over the last few years. Jenna was focused on acing vet school while Emily had been chasing smoky dreams. And she knew it hurt to be shuffled aside. He probably didn’t realize how much he was cherished.

And so she told him.

She curled up against his back, wrapped her arms around his neck and whispered of bittersweet times. She even spoke of the night her father had slammed her against the sink because she hadn’t dressed prettily enough for his poker game.

Jenna had never heard of that incident. Emily had been too ashamed. And scared. Her big sister had always stood up to their father, and he had a very uncertain temper. She’d always feared that one day his hammy fist would crack open Jenna’s skull.

But Peanut knew everything. There’d been no secrets from Peanut.

A horse shuffled in the adjoining stall, moving restlessly in the straw and nosing at her water bucket. Emily wiggled deeper into the shavings. Peanut always gobbled up straw if it was used as bedding. Keeping his weight under control had been a constant issue so they only used wood shavings or peat moss.

Overeating wasn’t an issue now. She’d never imagined a day when he wouldn’t sniff at her pockets, searching for a treat. Never imagined a time when he wouldn’t press his forehead to her stomach in that special greeting he reserved for her and Jenna.

She blinked back the well of tears and then gave up, no longer able to hold them back. Besides, Peanut was no stranger to crying. At least maybe he’d recognize her. “If you have to go, it’s fine,” she sobbed. “But I need you. And I’ll always love you.

“And you should stick around and meet Dan. He’d love to see your tricks. He had a pony too until his mother sold him.”

She pressed her wet cheeks tighter into his shaggy mane, remembering the Sunday afternoon that Peanut had disappeared. Jenna had marched off, fists clenched, both braids swinging—still in her church dress—and somehow found a way to buy him back. Their father had never tried to sell Peanut again.

“Please stay,” she added brokenly. “Stay for Jenna. She’ll be back soon. We can wait together.”

The horse in the next stall banged her bucket again, but Peanut didn’t move. Emily thought his breathing wasn’t quite so shallow but maybe that was wishful thinking. Besides, it was hard to see anything through her blurry eyes.

But she kept a loving hand on his neck and recited every happy story she could remember, grateful that he’d been a stalwart presence in so many of them. The night inched past. A lone star twinkled through his stall window but darkness clung to the sky, and morning seemed a fragile lifetime away.

“Tomorrow I’ll find a charger and call Dan,” she rambled on, her throat painfully dry from non-stop talking. “Explain why I had to leave. But don’t you worry about a thing. I can handle it. And I’m not going to fall asleep and let you leave, so don’t even try to sneak off.” Her voice turned fierce. “Now you listen to me, Peanut.”

And whether it was her sudden bossiness or the raised voice, Peanut’s ear twitched and for the first time since her arrival, he finally seemed aware of her presence.

Barney was supposed to hold the bucket in his mouth, but every time they filmed the scene, he dropped it on her chest
.

I should have practiced the grab trick a little more, Emily thought
.
She tried to push the bucket away but only felt Barney’s tiny nose.
Tiny?

Her eyes whipped open. She stared up at a muzzle flecked with white and gray. Peanut was alive! And standing.

She scrambled to her feet, almost afraid to touch him. He looked wobbly and his legs were swollen, but he definitely recognized her. In fact, he pressed his head against her stomach, holding it for a few seconds before sniffing at her pocket.

“Good boy,” she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion. She scratched him cautiously behind the left ear and studied his flank, checking his respiration. It was a little rapid but much stronger than last night. Best of all, his eyes were wide and lucid, not quite as bright as usual, but he was definitely interested in her presence.

A door slammed. The horse in the adjacent stall nickered and slammed the bucket. Obviously it was breakfast time. A lanky teenager with reddish-blond hair stopped and stared over the door. His freckled face broke into a broad grin.

“Wow. Peanut’s up!” he said. “When did you come home?”

“Hi, Charlie,” she said, recognizing the local teen. “I came in last night. Are you working here now?”

“Sure am.” He thrust out his thin chest. “Wally hired me to feed and muck stalls. It’s never busy here though. He doesn’t think I’m ready to work with the expensive horses in the big barn.” He flushed and the color of his face matched his hair. “I don’t mean Molly and Peanut aren’t expensive. I think they’re the best horses on the property.”

“Best loved anyway,” Emily said with a smile. Burke had built this ship-in barn so local horses could be treated at free or discount rates. However, the animals in this building certainly didn’t match the dollar figures of the elite racehorses stabled in the Center.

“Is that your mare in the next stall?” she asked.

He nodded, his lanky hair flipping over his forehead. “Yeah, that’s Molly. She’s sore in the hind end again but a massage will fix her up. When is Jenna back anyway?”

“I’m not sure,” Emily said, still touching Peanut’s head, reluctant to move her hands. The pony was obviously weak but it didn’t seem necessary for Jenna to abort her vacation. Now when they spoke, there’d only be positive news.

Emily’s gaze drifted over Charlie’s worn backpack and the Apple headphones dangling from his neck. “Do you have a charger I could borrow for a bit? My phone’s dead.”

“Sure.” He rummaged in his pack and pulled out a battery charger. “I’ll leave it in the feed room. Dr. Colin gave instructions for a mash in case Peanut could be coaxed to eat. I’ll get it ready.” But he lingered, shuffling his feet. “Jenna told me you had a part in a horse movie. I always thought you were pretty enough to be a movie star.”

Emily smiled but felt a slight pang, realizing that filming had started without her. “I actually don’t have lines, not anymore. I was going to be in a speaking scene today. I did get to lead a rearing horse though.”

Charlie’s eyes widened. “Wicked. That’s way cooler. Everyone can talk. Not just anybody can lead a horse.”

“It is fun,” she said, “working with the horses. And my time here really helped. So be sure you listen to Wally. It might not seem that way, but he knows his stuff.”

Charlie gave a teenager’s typical shrug, backed away and wandered down the aisle. He probably feared she’d break into a lecture. Emily totally understood that feeling. She’d always thought she was pretty damn smart when she worked at the Center.

She turned back to Peanut and began plucking pieces of shavings from his mane. “You’re the toughest little guy,” she said.

“That he is.” Wally’s voice sounded behind her. “I’m not sure what you did, but it looks like he’ll rebound.” He swept into the stall and wrapped her in such an exuberant bear hug it lifted her feet off the floor. “Thanks for showing up.”

“But I didn’t do anything,” she said, flustered by Wally’s unusual embrace.

“You came,” Wally said, stepping back. “That’s what mattered to Peanut. You always come through when it’s important.” His voice turned gruff. “Let’s check his vitals and call Colin. He’s going to be amazed. He dropped by four times yesterday.”

“By the way,” Wally added, “you look great. New hair cut? Anyway, you look nice. I’ll be back with a stethoscope.”

Emily watched his retreating back, somewhat stunned. Wally had never seen her like this—without makeup. He’d also never once complimented her appearance. Shaking her head, she turned and pulled another shaving from Peanut’s mane. “Obviously,” she whispered, “he’s very happy about your recovery.”

She gave the pony a little pat and headed toward the feed room. She’d call Jenna after the vet came, after they were certain Peanut’s condition had truly stabilized. However, Dan’s call couldn’t wait.

The charger was on the table, just as Charlie had promised. Once she connected it to the wall, her phone blinked to life. But she paused, hit with the realization that she didn’t have Dan’s number. Had never even texted him. After a moment of thought, she called the production company. It shouldn’t be too hard to track him down.

“Sorry,” the brisk woman at the other end said. “We can’t give out personal information.”

“But I work for him. He just never gave me his number.”

The woman snickered. “Then he must not want you to have it.”

Emily fought the edge of panic. “Could you at least ask him to call me?”

“We’re not a message service. And the movie is winding down, so there are no new hires.” The woman’s voice turned mechanical. “If you’re interested in future work, please apply through our website.” The line went dead.

Emily groaned, paced twice around the feed room, then called Judith.

“You must be crazy.” Judith’s voice rose in disbelief when she heard Emily had left Hamilton Stud. “I can’t believe you left. That you didn’t show up for your speaking role.”

“This was more important,” Emily said.

“But what about looking around Billy’s yard? That’s important too. Things are starting to happen. And now neither of us is there.”

“I’m coming back after it’s certain Peanut will be okay. That’s why I’m calling. I need Dan’s number.”

“Well, I don’t have it,” Judith said, her voice plaintive. “The only contact I have is for the production company. And they’re not going to give out phone numbers. That information is protected.”

“I know. I already tried.” Emily twisted a tendril of hair around her finger. “Dan gave me his business card. But it only has the company info. Do you have Anthony’s number?”

“Only select people have the director’s number,” Judith said, “and I’m not one of them. You shouldn’t have been so impulsive. Peanut is only an animal. Isn’t your career more important?”

Emily swallowed. She was impulsive, always had been. But Peanut and Jenna
were
more important than any career. And it didn’t matter what Judith thought. However, the last thing she wanted was for Dan to think her irresponsible.

“Never mind,” Emily said. “I have the casting director’s number on my phone. I’ll call him.”

The casting director was polite and advised the scene had been moved to Friday since they were making changes to the set. He also said, with an obvious edge in his voice, that he would have no problem finding another actress if she didn’t want the role.

“I do want the role though, and that’s great it’s moved,” Emily said, elated that she hadn’t lost her lines. “But could you give me Dan Barrett’s number? We have a sick pony and I just need to tell him—”

“I’ll mention it to him when I see him,” the casting director said, his voice impatient. “Leave a message tonight and let me know if you’ll be back tomorrow.” He cut the connection.

Emily wistfully palmed her phone. ‘I’ll mention it to him’ didn’t feel very satisfactory. She needed to talk to Dan, the quicker the better. But only the production company had a listed number, and they weren’t at all helpful. Everyone else had private or temporary numbers.

Except for Hamilton Stud. They’d been in Kentucky forever and definitely had a public presence. Brightening, she checked the Internet, then called the number on their website.

A real person answered.

“May I speak to Louise Hamilton, please,” Emily said. “It’s Emily Murphy calling, the groom from the movie.”

“She’s at a fundraiser now,” the pleasant voice said, “but I’ll make sure she receives your message.”

“Thanks.” Sighing, Emily closed her phone. If Mrs. Hamilton couldn’t help, she was stuck until she returned to the set and saw Dan in person. But he of all people should understand about the importance of a sick pony… Shouldn’t he?