had that Miguel would be of help sank.
The big, mustachioed man emerged, yawning and rumpled, from the direction of the first floor bedroom.
'Miguel, I can't find Blackie.' My breath shook around the words, surprising me.
He turned toward us, a flush turning his normally dark complexion ruddy as he shoved his shirt tails into his pants. 'You checked the paddocks?'
Unable to voice a word, I nodded. Oh God, I'd read Delores right. He didn't know where Blackie was.
'Yes, of course she did.' Despite her severe expression, Delores's reply was no more brusque than usual.
All traces of sleep were gone from Miguel's expression. 'I did not do his barn this morning. Jorge did. I will ask him.' He dashed up the stairs, surprisingly agile for a man of his age and girth.
There was a pounding on an upstairs door then a conversation in breakneck, agitated Spanish that I couldn't follow. One pair of heavy footsteps crossed the floor and thudded a brisk beat down the stairs. Miguel returned to the living room, his bandito moustache in a fierce downward slant, and a deep furrow between his eyebrows. Before he could open his mouth Jorge's footsteps clattered down the stairs. He arrived with his boots mostly on, buttoning his jeans. His gaze flitted between Delores and me.
'Tell them.' Miguel, arms folded high across his barrel chest, jerked his head at us.
Jorge licked his lips and swallowed. Maria echoed her husband's stance, but the accusing glare she aimed at her son had the edge only a mother is capable of honing. Jorge shrank under his parents' scrutiny, then forced his shoulders down and focused his worried gaze on me.
'Last night, about ten, when I was checking the barns I saw you drive off in a truck and horse trailer with Blackie. He had his head out the window and whinnied at me.'
My arms dropped to my sides. I stared.
He hurried on. 'At least I thought it was you, Thea. I figured someone forgot to tell me you were coming.'
'No.' I swallowed most of the word and it came out overly soft. This went beyond his usual goof-up. He should have known better than to let an unexpected rig go unchallenged. Even I knew it was one of Eric's rules. 'I didn't take Blackie anywhere. Besides, I don't own a truck and trailer. You know that.'
Maria's short, round frame vibrated with fury and her temper blew with a single exhale. 'You men! You have let Thea's horse be stolen! The best horse in the barn, the one every professional horseman has wanted to buy, her Blackie who she loves with all her heart, and you let a thief drive off with him! I am ashamed to know you.' Her eyes flashed from son to startled husband.
'But Mom-'
'None of your excuses. None! I am done with them.'
Miguel opened his mouth to speak but, wisely, closed it again as she snapped a look at him.
'I must miss church because of your carelessness. How can I go to church when my husband and son cannot be trusted out of my sight? If you know what is good for you, you will ask the good Lord to forgive you. I wash my hair of you both!'
Miguel shifted uncomfortably and Jorge studied his boots. Maria's struggles with English usually drew teasing from her son. Not this time.
Then Jorge looked up and snapped his fingers. 'The truck and trailer – I can tell you what they looked like.' His eager gaze swept all of us, and a thread of hope dragged me up from complete despair.
'Don't keep us waiting,' Delores said.
He drew a quick breath. 'The truck was new, a Ford F350, super-duty dually, silver, with a four-door crew cab.'
At least he remembered the vehicle. But, everybody in Snohomish drives a truck. Half of them are gray, or grayish.
'I didn't get the license plate,' he added, dejected. A beat later he brightened. 'The trailer was a Sundowner goose-neck, same color as the truck, three-horse, with a camper in the front.'
Hope surged. An expensive rig – and familiar sounding. Delores's eyes narrowed and she shook her head once, but she was silent. Maybe I was wrong. Despair made a comeback.
'Well, that very tiny news could be helpful,' Maria said, and sniffed disparagingly.
'I really screwed up, didn't I?' Jorge said, and pressed both hands to his head. 'I should have stopped a rig I didn't recognize.'
'We'll discuss that later.' Delores tapped an index finger against her lips. 'Did you see who was driving?'
'No. The truck was pulling around the corner of the Big Barn when I saw it so I just had a quick look at the rig.'
Blackie was truly gone. I pulled in a shaky breath trying to control the tears. Nearly eleven hours – he could be in California by now, or who knew where.
'I'm sorry, Thea. I -' Jorge's voice caught.
Delores put a hand on my shoulder.
'Did you let Valerie think you changed your mind about selling Blackie?'
I could only gape at her. Delores knew I'd never sell him.
'The rig Jorge described matches hers,' she said.
I walked two steps and dropped into a chair. 'No. Valerie? No. I never…' My words trailed away into disbelief. That didn't make any sense. I looked, again, at Delores. She nodded. I closed my dry mouth and straightened. Crap. Valerie offered to buy Blackie several times and for increasingly exorbitant amounts of money, although I'd made it clear he was not for sale at any price. But Valerie never believed me. To her, everything had a price.
I imagined the self-satisfied look on her face when she waltzed off with my horse in her trailer, and my initial anguish rebounded into rage. Not only could I handle this, but I would make that self-centered, miserable excuse for a human-being sorry she was ever born. Cold, clear purpose had me on my feet and in motion.
'Thea!' Delores barked.
'I'm going to Valerie's.' I shot over my shoulder. 'That bitch stole my horse!'
'Thea!' Delores's roar stopped me, and I turned to challenge her. She tossed her keys at me and I snatched them out of the air in a one-handed catch. 'Take my truck and trailer. Jorge, help her hook up and go with her. I'll call the police and report the theft.'
I ran across the parking lot to Delores's dark green Dodge Ram 3500, Jorge on my heels.
Damn. This was unbelievable, just plain effing unbelievable. How could she? Bitch.
Fifteen minutes later I stomped on the clutch and tried again to downshift without grinding the truck's gears. No success. The gnashing of metal on metal as the stick shift jerked and vibrated under my hand pissed me off even more.
'Goddammit.' I tried to force it.
'Do you want me to drive, Thea?' Jorge's offer was his third.
'No.' I found the gear and accelerated carefully.
I knew exactly where Valerie lived and where to look for my horse, having been there twice before over the past year. At the end of the summer she'd hosted an auction for the Puget Sound Sporthorse Breeders' Association, and on another occasion invited the local dressage club there to hold a special meeting.
'At least let me drive back. If we find Blackie at Valerie's your driving will sour him on getting in a trailer for the rest of his life.'
I shot him a scowl. He was right, of course, but considering my frame of mind, he was lucky I didn't drop him off at the side of the road and tell him to walk home. A small portion of my mind, a fragment that still retained some semblance of reason, reminded me that it was Valerie I was angry with and not Jorge. I needed to keep my head if I was going to make sure she paid for this. The very first thing I'd do was call the police, if they weren't already there from Delores's phone call. Then, when they hauled Valerie away in handcuffs I'd load up Blackie and take him home. Then I'd get an attorney and sue her ass.
We approached the turn on to OK Mill Road and I eased the truck into second gear to negotiate the turn. The gears ground, again, and the truck bucked despite my efforts to finesse the clutch. Jorge slouched in his seat and covered his face with his hands. I dismissed his silent critique, turning my attention back to self-involved Valerie. Could she really be so stupid as to steal my horse? Arrogance was normal for her, but she'd made quite a leap from conceit to criminal, and in one greedy move destroyed her chances to ride in the Olympics.
I downshifted to negotiate the curve where OK Mill became Carpenter Road, flinching as the gears ground –
