Page 10 of Spindrift

“Absolutelynot,” said Morgan.

“Fine.I’ll use my account.” Stevie pulled her phone out of her pocket and perused itfor a few minutes in concentrated silence. “And nothing. She’s not on Hinge,either.”

“Maybeshe’s seeing someone.”

“Orshe doesn’t use dating apps because people who look like her don’t needtechnology. Either way, she’s definitely queer,” said Stevie.

“Youjust want her to be gay because she’s hot.” Morgan turned off the main road andonto a side street, swerving to avoid yet another pothole.

“Ahhah. Youdothink she’s hot.”

“I’mnot blind.”

Steviefiddled with the radio and settled on an ’80s station that made Morgan’s headthrob. At least they only had three appointments scheduled for the day, plusshe had gotten a full night’s sleep. No calls. With luck, they might even bedone at a reasonable time. She knew better than to say the words aloud. Theveterinary gods loved to fuck with their followers.

“HasDoctor Watson found anyone to hire yet?” Stevie asked as they pulled into thedriveway of a small farm.

“Notthat she’s told me. Apparently, no one wants to move to bumfuck Maine.”

“We’renot in Bumfuck. You’re thinking of our hometown.”

“Whichis two towns over.”

“Whatever.Anyway, Emilia. When did her dad die?”

“February.Heart attack.”

“Thatsucks. Maybe she needs a friend.” Stevie propped her chin on her fist andstared up at Morgan with dramatically widened eyes. “If only you’d gotten her number.”

“Whydon’t you ask her for it?” Morgan parked the truck by a pile of old tires.

“Becauseshe’s not my type,” said Stevie. “And she’s totally yours.”

“Shutup.”

Ina different time and in a different place, she admitted to herself, she mighthave made a pass at Emilia. Dark-eyed brunettes, especially tall, dark-eyedbrunettes, had a history of getting under her skin. A different Morgan wouldhave asked her out for coffee or a beer without thinking twice.

Katehad shattered any chance of that.

AbbyKillmore greeted Morgan with a firm handshake at the barn door, her coverallssmeared with all the shades of green and brown found in barns. “Good to seeyou, Doctor Donovan.”

“How’sthe flock?”

“Mostof them lambed without a problem. I’ve got one ewe with mastitis, butsomething’s up with Percy.”

Morganstifled a groan. Percy, Abby’s livestock guardian llama, had a foul temper.

“Ididn’t know you had a horse, Abby,” said Stevie. Morgan followed Stevie’s gazeand frowned. A stout chestnut walked across the pasture toward them. Belgian,Morgan guessed, or a draft cross. The horse’s flaxen mane blew in the latespring breeze. She recognized the odd snap to the horse’s left hind immediately:stringhalt.

“Idon’t,” said Abby, her brow creasing. “That’s Olive.”

“Areyou boarding?”

“Somethinglike that. She’s my cousin’s daughter’s, but she’s got stringhalt. Kid wanted anew horse, and my cousin’s an idiot and got her one.”

“Andnow you have Olive?” said Stevie.

“Yep.”

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