Page 65 of The Black Trilogy

I waved to get George’s attention. “What’s happening with Tia?”

“What are you doing here?”

“Answer the question, would you?”

He did a double take at my tone, but answered nonetheless. “She rode off and the horse came back on its own so she must have fallen off and we can’t find her,” he said, all in one breath.

Luke had told me that much already. “When did she leave?”

“I don’t know. Arabella—when did Tia leave?”

“About eleven? Susie said it was when she went in for a tea break.” She sobbed harder. “What if she’s dead?”

Nothing like looking on the bright side, was there?

So, Tia had been out for two hours, but how far she’d got would depend on her speed and Gameela’s sense of direction. How long had the horse taken to find her way home? I did a quick calculation and estimated we were looking at a six-mile search radius. A snowflake landed on my arm, and I glanced up. Clouds were gathering overhead. Great. Even if Tia wasn’t injured, we had exposure to contend with.

“Where have people looked?” I asked.

George did the deer-in-headlights thing. “Some of the girls rode up the lane, and Mr. and Mrs. Jackson from next door went out on foot. At least, I think they’ve left—Mrs. Jackson said she had to find her hiking boots first.”

My eyes started to roll all of their own accord, and I blinked to stop them. “Which way up the lane?”

He scratched his chin. “I’m almost sure they went left.”

Well, wasn’t this organisation at its best? A well-oiled machine. Tia would be a popsicle at this rate.

“Who’s still here?”

“Arabella, Marianne, and Mrs. Halston-Cain.”

And me.

“Right, you stay here in case Tia comes back. Her mother can stay with you—get her a cup of tea and try to keep her calm.” I turned to Arabella and Marianne. “It won’t be dark for a couple of hours—saddle up and head right up the lane. Look for any single sets of hoof prints, medium sized. Has anyone called the police?”

George shook his head.

I took a deep breath and gritted my teeth. “Well, could you please phone them?”

The sweetness in my voice was at odds with the acid building up in my stomach. George’s colour had lightened by that point, which was a relief. I didn’t have time to deal with him stroking out as well.

He bobbed his head up and down. “I’ll do it right away.”

Moving at a steady amble, he headed for his house—he must have been the only person left in the country who didn’t own a cell phone.

Next, I called Luke and gave him an update, brief because he was driving. Fast. I could hear the roar of the engine. After quickly reminding him it wouldn’t help if he ended up in a ditch, I went to join the hunt myself.

Gameela was back in her stable, head hanging low. A quick examination revealed cuts on her legs, and although none of them looked serious, she still needed a visit from the vet. Apart from the crusts of blood, she was clean—hardly surprising given frozen ground. It was in her mane that I spotted the clue I was searching for. Twigs with tiny, spidery yellow flowers attached.

Witch hazel. A shrub with many medicinal uses and one of the few that flowered in winter. The plants weren’t common in the wild, but I’d spotted a clump at the entrance to a thicket when I’d been out running. It lay about five miles away, if I remembered rightly.

But how could I get there?

The quickest way would be by horse, but only Tia’s were in the barn. I hurried past the two invalids and eyed up Majesty. I’d never seen him ridden, but his reputation preceded him. Still, he couldn’t be worse than Stan. Nothing could be worse than Stan. I painted the bottoms of his feet with hoof grease the way Dustin had taught me, an old trick to stop the snow balling up in them, then tacked him up and hopped on.

Luke drove into the yard as Majesty, thrilled to be out of his stable, had a bucking fit then stood up on his hind legs.

“Come on, you pig-headed git—that the best you can do?”

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