Page 11 of Spindrift

“Wantus to take a look at her?”

Abby’shesitation was more pronounced this time. Morgan kept her expression neutral.She understood what Abby wasn’t saying. The cousin wouldn’t pay for another vetvisit, and Abby wasn’t interested in coughing up more money, either.

“Whowas your cousin’s vet?”

“Dr.Baker, over in Scarborough.”

Morganmade a mental note to give Dr. Baker a call the minute she left the property. “Anyhistory of injury to that leg?”

“Notthat I know of, but that doesn’t mean much.”

“Let’stake a look at Percy, then.”

Percy,after an examination that resulted in several wads of spit landing on Morgan’storso; and one nearly hitting her face, had a suspicious swelling on his breast.She took a few cultures from the abscess, then checked over the flock. Some bacterialcauses of abscesses were contagious. When she turned up a ewe with similarsymptoms, she turned to Abby.

“Itcould be pigeon fever. I won’t know for sure until I get the cultures back, butit can affect horses, too. I’ll need to check Olive.”

“I’llgrab her,” said Abby, relenting. Olive didn’t need much coaxing. The mare hadbeen hanging out by the gate with bright, curious eyes. She nuzzled Abby asAbby slipped a halter over her head and led her into the barn. Her left hindsnapped up and then down to the cement floor of the barn with a hard clunk thatmade Morgan wince in sympathy.

Stevieheaded up the horse while Morgan performed her examination. Olive, despite thestringhalt and an overly round stomach, was in remarkably good health as far asMorgan could tell without running blood work.

“Whatdid your cousin do with her?”

“Kidwanted to barrel race.”

“Witha Belgian?”

“She’ssupposed to be a quarter horse cross.”

Morganlooked at Olive. Any quarter horse blood had been obscured by her Belgianheritage, save for her shorter stature. She wouldn’t be racing any barrels witha weak hind end.

“Youcould probably still do something with her. Stevie, try her at a trot.”

Stevieled her out of the barn into the yard and clucked a reluctant Olive into atrot. The stringhalt affected the trot, too, and without a round pen or a ringMorgan doubted they could convince the mare to canter.

“Idon’t ride,” said Abby.

“Ican keep an ear out if you’re looking for a home for her,” said Morgan. Steviereturned to them with the horse trailing her, ears perked forward.

“Thankyou. She’s a sweet horse.” Abby watched Olive with a resigned expression. “Shedeserves better than this. And she needs a job. Follows me around like a dog.”

Morganstroked the mare’s shoulder and studied her vet tech. Stevie had an odd, almostdreamy, expression on her face as she tickled the horse’s lips. Morgan knewthat look. It was how Stevie had ended up with her pitbull, but there were vastdifferences between bringing home an unwanted stray dog and bringing home ahorse.

• • •

Emiliaheld one paint chip up to the wall after another. None of them spoke to her,but all looked like they’d be an improvement over the tobacco stains. Heroptions consisted of eggshell versus gloss versus whatever other type of paintshe somehow needed to select, and she had no idea what each term meant.Icould Google it.She thought of Doug and his YouTube advice and pulled outher phone, but before she could start her search, it rang.

Shit.

“Hi,Mom,” she said in a forcibly bright voice.

“Hi,sweetie. How are you doing? I haven’t heard from you since you got to thecabin.”

“Itexted you.”

“Youknow how I feel about texting. So? How is it? Did they clean it for you?”

Cleaned. What her mother really meant was “hasthe company we hired removed all signs and smells that might suggest a man haddied in this house alone in a chair with his beer and his pipe?”

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