Page 10 of Wild and Unruly
My heart ratewas pounding as I made my way back to The Lodge, that name repeating over and over in my head.
Tommy Smith. Tommy Smith. Tommy Smith.
How? How, after all these years, is he still out there, causing problems and ruining lives? He should be behind bars.
Period.
Maybe it’s a different Tommy Smith. Maybe somewhere along the way, over the years I’ve been out of the game, a different guy with the same name moved to town and was in horses as well. The name wasn’t uncommon. It could be…
But no. I know, even without confirming the accusations, that they were talking about the same person I was thinking about.
Emotions on high alert, I stomp through the lobby and ignore the calling of my name from the sweet receptionist who I’m certain is terrified of me. I just…can’t right now. I can’t stop for her, I can’t think about anything else, I can’t pretend that I’m okay when I’m just…not.
My hand shakes as I push the key into the handle of my door, and I shove it open, dropping my bag way too haphazardly with my laptop in it, and sit on the edge of the bed, bending forward to place my head between my knees.
I have to get myself under control.
I try to picture peaceful things. Mountains, soothing waterfalls, birds chirping, fresh air, deer eating grass. None of it works. I take a deep breath, or as deep as my lungs allow as they seize, and tell myself to calm down.
A face pops into view, a charming smile and smooth tan skin, and I frown as I focus on the new object, confused as to why he is now in my head. But…it works. Focusing on his grin, the way he affectionately petted the horse he was working with and took care of it, the way he talked with me as if we were old friends.
Slowly, I’m able to lift my head and open my eyes, my heart slowing enough for me to breathe normally.
I hold my finger over my wrist, counting as it slows, and take stock of the room around me. Damn. That was…rough. I can’t believe I actually made it all the way back before I broke down.
I look to the clock on the nightstand and see thirty minutes have passed since I got out of my truck. My bag on the floor is partially dumped out, and I stand and make my way over to fix it. Thankfully, my laptop is firmly intact, and I grab it, taking it out to the little porch area off of my room. I set it on the table and take a deep breath of the fresh mountain air, letting it calm me down.
I take a seat on the little chair and turn on my computer, letting it load for a moment. My mind drifts to the way I got myself to calm down. That was new. And disturbing. I’veknown the man for all of two seconds, and he was already a soothing person to me?
But something about him was low stress. He didn’t seem to be the type of person who lived to make drama. He was just…him. And it was incredibly nice to see.
Still, he was a horse trainer and in the business that I have distanced myself from as much as I could stand.
I open my browser and type inTommy Smith Horse Trainerand can feel the fury building in my veins at the sight of him before me. I haven’t purposefully set eyes on him in years. There was the occasional article where he may have been mentioned years ago, but where he competed, I didn’t pay much mind. My job was to cover out-of-the-arena stories, farms all over the country, family businesses that still strived to keep their family farms going, and wholesome, kindhearted people working to make our country better.
Tommy Smith was someone I pushed far, far from my mind the moment I was told I needed to let things go and not pursue anything any further.
But he was the reason for my family falling apart, for my life going up in flames. He was the reason my mother was overbearing. He was the reason I saw the truth with my dad. He was the reason my brother was not the same person he used to be.
And I was told to let it go.
Anger burns in my veins, and a new thread of determination pushes me to keep searching for more and more information on him. I was sick and tired of the life my family had now because of this piece of shit.
If he did something to that client of Dani’s, if he hurt her or her horse, it was more proof that he was doing the same bullshit he did back then.
But why was he getting by with it? Why, if they had evidence against him, was he still allowed to show and not be behind bars where he should be?
Maybe that client would talk to me. But I wasn’t sure how to approach her without seeming suspicious. To them, I was a reporter, not a friend they could confide in.
I think about becoming their friend, about trying to worm my way in, but then his damn face pops up into my mind again, and I hesitate. If this family was anything like I thought they were, they were too kind and undeserving of that kind of treatment.
I can’t do that.
But I could be subtle and see if I could find some real justice for my brother.
My brother, who, because his horse wasn’t in the right frame of mind, was now stuck in a wheelchair for the rest of his life.
My brother who couldn’t ride ever again because his injury put him into a depression because riding and showing was once his entire life.
