LITMIR.BIZ

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are your parents?” he asked.

      “Anyone’s guess,” she answered, filling her mouth again.

      He let her chew. He piled nuts in his mouth while she worked on her mouthful. When she had finally swallowed, he asked, “So, are you …?”

      “Grandpa and I moved here when I was thirteen and I think it was the right move,” she said, cutting off his next question. “Because I did well in school, made new friends, and although Yaz will never admit it, he’s making money on silage and hay.” She laughed and shook her head. “Don’t try to trick an old Hopi into telling you what he’s got in his pocket. He’s crafty.”

      Clay studied her for a moment, really wanting to know a lot more about her and fully aware she was keeping her answers impersonal. “I think maybe you’re crafty, too.”

      She smiled as though she had a secret. “I have been trained by the best.”

      She bit into her sandwich and the mare farted.

      “Well, that was nice,” Lilly said. “Very ladylike.”

      Clay laughed at her. “Music to my ears,” he said. He stood up. “I think she’ll be going in the trailer real soon. I think what you call that in veterinary medicine is progress.”

      Lilly hated the idea of ending the conversation even if it was getting a little close for comfort for her. “Shouldn’t you wait until you’re sure that blockage clears?”

      “As long as she’s not in pain and there’s progress, I’ll be more than happy to hose out the trailer when I’m back at the clinic.” He stood and went to the mare, took the lead rope and led her to the fence. He pulled a small wire cutter out of his back pocket and made fast work of the barbed-wire fence. Once cut, the wire sprang away and gave them an exit. Why worry about the pasture’s security now? The owners had clearly fled.

      But he turned toward Lilly. She cradled all her picnic stuff in her arms—nuts, remaining sandwich, bottles …."That was so nice, Lilly,” he said. “So nice that you’d worry about the horse and come to be with her. And so nice that you’d share your meal with me.”

      “Even though it was a mushroom sandwich?” she asked.

      When he looked at her, his brows relaxed and his eyes seemed to darken. “Even though,” he said.

      Then he made clicking noises and said, “Come on, precious. Let’s get you outta here ….” And he led her to the trailer.

      Three

      Colic, a term that covered a litany of equine intestinal disorders from a bowel obstruction to twisted intestines, was one of the most common and dangerous illnesses in horses. If diagnosed early, treated quickly and if it wasn’t the critical variety that required surgery, the prognosis was typically good.

      Clay delivered the mare to the Jensen stable and reported improved gut sounds and even a little excrement in the trailer, evidence that there was some digestive action and the blockage might clear. Luckily for him, he was able to wash up, sit down to some of Annie’s fantastic pot roast and visit with his friends before the worst of the horse’s recovery happened in the stall. When he returned to the stable, he could have sworn the mare was smiling.

      “Well,” he said. “Feeling better?” She saw him and whinnied. “Tender belly, I’ll bet. And Nathaniel’s records of his single visit to the Jerome house indicate your name is Blue Rhapsody. You’re a beauty. Must’ve half killed them to leave you behind.” Then he shook his head and muttered, “Things must’ve gotten real bad around the old homestead.”

      One anonymous phone call to Nathaniel Jensen’s answering machine stating that the horse was being abandoned might have seen a brighter immediate future for the mare. Nathaniel might not be in the rescue business, but he’d have tried his best to make arrangements.

      At 6:00 a.m. Clay turned her out in one of the small paddocks where she could see the Jensen horses. Then he went about the business of cleaning stalls. When he’d finished that, he went back to check on the mare. It shouldn’t have surprised him at all to find that Hopi girl leaning on the fence at the crack of dawn, watching her. He got rid of the rake and leaned on the rail beside her. “They call her Blue Rhapsody.”

      “Blue,” she said in a breath, keeping her eyes on the horse. “Perfect.” Then she turned toward him. “And she’s going to be all right?”

      “Unless there’s a chronic condition that hasn’t revealed itself,” he said with a shrug. “My instincts say you probably had it right—the owners left out feed, thinking they’d give her a better chance to survive and be found, and it did more harm than good.”

      “What will happen to her now?” Lilly asked.

      “If she proves healthy and sound, which I assume she will, we’ll make some calls and see if we can place her. She’s actually a valuable horse. They shouldn’t have left her. A black Arabian with those markings, gentle, bred a few times which means a proven uterus and she’s a good potential surrogate, twelve isn’t too old …”

      “I can’t imagine why they didn’t look for at least a few hundred dollars for her,” Lilly said.

      “Maybe they did,” Clay said. “Or maybe they came by the horse some other way—took her to help someone out, or she was a gift for the kids, or something like that—and they weren’t really aware of her potential value. They weren’t horse people. They just had Blue.”

      “Blue,” she repeated. “It suits her.”

      “She’s twelve and yet Nathaniel only made one visit to that farm a year ago. He didn’t know her. That means she’s not from around here. She has a story we don’t know.”

      They stood quietly and watched her in the paddock. She seemed peaceful and relaxed. “I should talk to Nathaniel about her,” Lilly said.

      “Oh?”

      “Will he want to sell her? Blue?”

      Clay frowned and shook his head. “He doesn’t own her, Lilly.”

      “I wonder if he’d give it a few days to see if I know anyone responsible who might want to take her …”

      “Oh?” Clay asked again.

      “I have friends. My grandpa has customers. People post animal sales on his bulletin board sometimes, so. I’d feel so much better if I knew she’d found a good home. Where she’d be appreciated—she’s such a nice horse. Didn’t you get a sense from her that she’s sweet-natured but has a wicked sense of humor, too?”

      Actually, he had gotten that from her, but since that sort of thing happened to him all the time he tended to take it for granted. Lilly’s blue eyes twinkled in anticipation, so Clay just said, “You have your few days, Lilly. Call your friends or customers. Consider the favor granted and I’ll talk to Nathaniel for you. He won’t be hard to convince.”

      “He won’t?”

      “He likes it when things work out for the best.” He felt an urge to lift her chin with one finger and look into those deep blue eyes for a long time. Maybe whisper to her; maybe even … “I’d better get back to work, Lilly. Stay as long as you like. I’ll be in the barn if you need anything.”

      Getting acclimated to Nathaniel’s practice was more than a full-time job for Clay, and as they didn’t have any hands at the moment, the daily stable chores were handled by Clay, Nathaniel and Annie. Since Clay’s main function would be assisting the practice and managing the barn, he’d have to bring on a hand or two right away, probably two hands for now—one full-time and one part-time. He’d have to talk over some ideas with Nathaniel later.

      With the troubled economy, it was a good time to grow the equine business; Nathaniel’s farm practice would keep them afloat. While some stables were struggling, some even closing, Jensen’s could

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