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  “She’s in the house. Taking a nap.”

  “Did you send me a message earlier today?” Suzanne asked. Then she decided this might be a little too cryptic. Noah struck her as having a more literal interpretation of things. “Did you drop by the Cackleberry Club and leave something for me?”

  A faint smile played at Noah’s mouth. “Did you like it?”

  “I liked it very much,” Suzanne said. “That was very sweet of you to leave that little stuffed toy for me. I love horses. I have one myself.”

  “I know. I saw you riding at the county fair last August. You were doing the barrel racing thing.”

  “You were there?”

  “You won a third-place ribbon. Pretty good.”

  “I think I surprised myself,” Suzanne said. “It ended up being a very wild ride.” She paused. “Do you want your little horse back?”

  “It’s okay, you can keep him.”

  Suzanne smiled at Noah. “But you know the other horses have got to go back.”

  Noah was instantly on alert. “What do you mean?”

  “I think you and I are starting to become pretty good friends. So it’s probably time you start leveling with me.”

  Noah swallowed hard. “Yeah . . . maybe.”

  “Did you take those horses?”

  “You mean after that lady drove off with the horses in the trailer?”

  “You know about that?”

  He nodded. “I see what goes on around here. I get around. There are lots of trails and paths through the woods.”

  “So you know that there were four horses left behind at Julian Elder’s farm,” Suzanne said. “And that they’ve disappeared.”

  Noah took a step backward and planted himself stiffly. “What if I did take them?”

  “Well, it could be a problem.” Suzanne tried to sound more philosophical than threatening. “For one thing, those horses don’t belong to you. For another thing, the sheriff is out looking for them.”

  Noah’s eyes got big. “The sheriff is, really?” He looked frightened and a little proud at the same time. “In a way, that’s kind of . . . cool.”

  “So you did wrangle those horses?”

  “Yeah, but it wasn’t any big deal.”

  Suzanne glanced at the nearby barn. “Are they stabled here? In your barn?”

  Noah shook his head slowly. “Nah, I’ve got a better place. A secret place.”

  “Where is that?”

  Noah jerked a thumb. “Out in the woods where I know they’ll be safe.”

  “Noah, why did you take them?” Suzanne studiously avoided using the word “steal.”

  Noah looked at her as if she just didn’t get it. “To save their lives, of course. Just like Mike did.”

  To Suzanne’s ears, Noah sounded completely logical, without any pretense or guile involved.

  “But you must have known you’d get in trouble over this,” she said.

  Noah shrugged. “What are they going to do to me?” He didn’t seem particularly worried. “Put me in jail?”

  “Probably not.”

  “Listen,” Noah said, and now his face took on a glow of intensity. “I know those horses were gonna get shipped to Canada. I know all about that. My mom thinks I’m too sensitive to hear that kind of stuff, but I’m not. I’m really not.”

  “Who told you about horses going to Canada?” Suzanne asked. But she already knew the answer.

  “Mike did. That’s why he bought the three horses that are in his barn. But I’m scared they might send those away, too. Maybe they won’t be saved after all.”

  “I don’t know,” Suzanne said.

  She was thinking that Mike’s horses had already been bought and paid for. So maybe Claudia could be talked into just turning them over to the horse rescue group. Maybe. But for right now, there were other horses to deal with. Horses that she’d been accused of stealing.

  “Will you show me where you hid the horses, Noah?” Suzanne asked.

  Noah didn’t hesitate. “Okay.”

  * * *

  IT wasn’t so much a horse barn as a kind of low shed. A mile out in the woods where a faint path led through a narrow gulley, sumac bushes flared red, and a trickling stream spilled merrily over moss-covered rocks.

  Suzanne ducked through the doorway of the small building and looked around. The place was old and weathered, the wood worn down to a soft silver finish by the elements. But the slat roof looked solid enough and the interior felt warm and sheltering. And the horses weren’t all that big, so they fit inside the shed all nice and cozy-like. It was certainly better than being left out in an open pasture.

  “Where’d you get the hay?” Suzanne asked. Bales were stacked everywhere and the four horses looked perfectly content as they munched away.

  “Took it out of Mike’s barn,” Noah said. “Even though he’s dead, I knew he wouldn’t mind.”

  “No, he probably wouldn’t mind. Mike was that kind of guy.”

  Three metal buckets were lined up against the wall.

  “And they’ve got plenty of water?” Suzanne asked.

  “I hauled it in from the spring. I think it’s a pretty sweet setup.”

  Suzanne had to agree. The horses looked well taken care of and certainly well fed. They were probably better off than when they were just standing out in Elder’s pasture. The big question was—how long could this idyllic home last? This hidden little barn with Noah acting as loving caretaker?

  Suzanne feared it wouldn’t be long. Reality would intrude. Julian Elder, Faith Anne, Sheriff Doogie.

  Noah put an arm around a white mare’s neck and gave her a kiss on the nose. “You have to keep my secret,” he whispered to Suzanne.

  “I don’t know if I can,” Suzanne said. She felt heartless saying it. The adult telling a boy he can’t have his perfect little world where all creatures are safe and loved.

  A shudder went through Noah’s body. “If you don’t, these horses will probably get sold to the bad guy who comes with a big cattle truck and smashes ’em all in together.”

  Suzanne touched a hand to her face. Out of the mouths of babes . . .

  Noah went on. “You should have heard that last group of horses. They were crying and whinnying like crazy when they got hauled away. Scared to death of where they were going.”

  “Noah, I will keep your secret. But just for a couple of days. Until I figure this whole mess out.”

  “Please,” he begged.

  Suzanne glanced out one of the small windows. “Did anybody see you bring the horses back here?”

  Noah shook his head. “I don’t think so. Well . . . I guess somebody could have. I heard, like, an engine roaring. Could have been a trail bike or ATV. You never know. People are always roaring through the woods on those things.”

  “I have to ask you something else,” Suzanne said. “Something really important.” She hesitated. “Do you know who killed Mike?”

  Noah shifted from one foot to the other. “My mother doesn’t want me to talk about that.”

  “I’m sure she doesn’t, but it’s very important. Did you see who went into Mike’s barn that day and killed him?”

  Noah stared at her for what felt like a good couple of minutes. Finally he said, “No. But I wish I had.”

  “Have you ever heard of someone named Gleason? A neighbor, perhaps? Or someone that Mike might have known?”

  Noah shook his head. “I never have.”

  CHAPTER 23

  SATURDAY evening and Suzanne was far, far away from the problems of missing horses, harebrained schemes, and snarling opossums. Sam had picked her up promptly at seven and driven her in his BMW over to the nearby town of Cornucopia for the promised romantic dinner.

  Sam had definitely kept his word, and then some. Suzanne was happily ensconced in a co
zy leather booth at Kopell’s Restaurant and Inn, where she was being treated like a proverbial princess. She and Sam were seated in a prime spot close to the warmth of the crackling fireplace. And with the dark oil paintings, stag’s head décor, dim lighting, and brass wall sconces, Suzanne almost felt like she’d been swept away to some far off schloss in the Black Forest.

  And there was champagne. An icy cold bottle of Taittinger Brut.

  “Here’s to you.” Sam lifted his champagne flute in a toast.

  “And to you,” Suzanne said. “For helping me weather this last week.”

  “It’s all behind you now.”

  Suzanne took a quick sip of champagne. “Well, not quite.”

  Sam fixed her with an earnest expression. “You have something more to tell me?”

  “Maybe we should enjoy a little more wine first.” Suzanne figured it wouldn’t hurt to get Sam relaxed. A little liquored up.

  Anna, their waitress, arrived with leather-bound menus and boundless enthusiasm for tonight’s specials.

  “Besides our regular menu,” Anna said, “Chef Affolter is offering duck à l’orange, grilled venison with chanterelle sauce, and steak au poivre.” She grinned as their eyes lit up. “And each entrée comes with our house salad, basket of popovers, lyonnaise potatoes, and braised asparagus.”

  “Yes,” Sam said. “Just bring it all, thank you.”

  Anna winked at them. “I’ll give you some more time.”

  “I don’t need time,” Sam whispered to Suzanne once the waitress had retreated. “I need food. And plenty of it.”

  “Did you skip lunch again?”

  “Sweetheart, I skipped everything today. Breakfast, lunch, coffee, cookies in the break room, the grape suckers we hand out to kids. You name it, I’ve skipped it. So I’m about ready to go facedown in that wonderful-sounding steak au poivre.”

  “You’re definitely a meat-and-potatoes guy, aren’t you?”

  “And wine. If I’m having red meat I feel compelled to order an excellent bottle of red wine.”

  “Are you going to consult your wine app?” Suzanne asked. Sam was big into wine apps, wine clubs, and wine magazines.

  “Nope, I’m just going to ask for their best cabernet.” Then Sam reconsidered his words and peered at her expectantly. “Unless you’re going to order the duck? In which case I’ll select a lovely Pouilly-Fuissé just for you.”

  “I’m in complete agreement on the steak. So a cab sounds perfect.”

  But once the Chateau Montelena Estate Cabernet Sauvignon 2007 was ordered, Bernie Affolter, the owner and head chef, came out to greet them and do the honors himself.

  Large and effusive, with meaty hands and a big friendly face, Bernie was over the moon about Sam’s choice of wine.

  “This has been sitting in our wine cellar for a good four years,” Bernie enthused as he pulled the cork. “I’m thrilled somebody finally ordered it.”

  “We’re so glad you hung on to it for us,” Sam said.

  “Now you’re going to want to let this breathe a bit,” Bernie said. “And I see you still have some champagne left, so that shouldn’t be a problem.”

  “No problems tonight,” Sam said. Then he sat back and looked pensive. “Well, maybe just one.”

  Really? Suzanne thought. When everything seems so perfect?

  Bernie looked concerned. “What’s wrong, Dr. Hazelet? How can I help?”

  Sam reached over and grasped Suzanne’s hand. “The lovely Suzanne and I are getting married next spring. And we were thinking about having our wedding reception right here.”

  “Yes!” Bernie exclaimed. He clapped his hands together gleefully. “We’d be delighted. And a spring wedding means we’ll have plenty of time to work out all the details and plan a truly excellent menu.” He directed his gaze to Suzanne. “Maybe even a farm-to-table menu using locally sourced produce?”

  Suzanne nodded. “I love that idea.”

  Bernie held a finger to his mouth. “But I just had another thought.”

  “What’s that?” Sam asked.

  “Why don’t you get married here! You know, we’ve got a beautiful garden out back.”

  Sam pretended to be surprised. “Oh really?”

  Which sent Bernie rushing off to grab his book of photos.

  Suzanne nudged Sam. “You were setting him up.”

  “Having a little fun. But, seriously, what would you think about having our wedding and reception right here?”

  “It sure beats the Boom Boom Room at Schmitt’s Bar,” Suzanne said.

  Anna came back and took their orders then, and Bernie popped by and left his brag book of event photos.

  “This could be it,” Sam said, peeking at a couple of the pages.

  “It would be expensive,” Suzanne said, trying to be practical. They hadn’t quite gotten down to talking finances yet. But that conversation was definitely looming on the near horizon. She didn’t have a lot of extra cash and neither did Sam, so they were going to have to draw up a guest list, figure out wedding expenses, and then make some difficult choices. Well, maybe not that difficult. Because when it came to the groom, that choice had already been made. So anything after that was a Lucky Strike extra.

  Sam picked up the bottle of cabernet and poured two fingers of wine into her Riedel wineglass. “Happy, sweetheart?”

  Suzanne snuggled closer to him. “You know I am.”

  “It feels like you’re more amenable now to making some actual wedding plans.”

  “Absolutely I am.”

  “Am I going to see you in a long white dress and white cowboy boots?”

  “Only if you show up in your blue scrubs.”

  They joked back and forth as they enjoyed their wine, Suzanne feeling relaxed and in the moment, but knowing she’d have to tell Sam about the missing horses. And how they’d ended up in Noah Jorgenson’s secret barn.

  When the moment was right, she would explain it all to Sam. And as she gazed lovingly at him, with crystal glasses sparkling in the candlelight and the fireplace snapping and crackling a few feet away, she decided that maybe this was the right time.

  “Sam . . .” Suzanne began. But she’d hesitated a split second too long. And in that exact moment his phone rang. Oh no. No, no, no.

  “Excuse me,” Sam said. He pulled his phone from his jacket pocket and held it up. “Hello?”

  Bummer, was all Suzanne could think. Really bad timing.

  “What’s that?” Sam said as he casually draped an arm around Suzanne’s shoulders and gently massaged them. “Speak up, please. We don’t have the best connection.” He smiled encouragingly at Suzanne.

  Suzanne leaned back and exhaled just as Anna set a wicker basket heaped with golden brown popovers in front of them. A tiny glass dish filled with elegant honey butter accompanied the popovers.

  Suzanne reached into the basket and selected a popover. She could almost taste the sweetness of the honey butter as it oozed into the popover’s doughy goodness.

  “A fracture?” Sam said. “Wait a minute? Who?” This time he glanced directly at Suzanne as if she was somehow involved.

  “What’s wrong?” Suzanne asked. An alarm bell suddenly began to clang inside her head. Had something happened to Toni? Or Petra? A car accident or worse?

  Sam dropped the phone from his mouth and gazed at Suzanne, concern evident in his eyes. “Ah . . . it’s Junior. His shoulder is dislocated and his leg is broken.”

  “Junior?” Suzanne yelped. “Toni’s Junior?”

  Sam looked disheartened. “I’m afraid he’s going to be my Junior tonight. It looks like he sustained a fracture to his right tibia.”

  “You’re not going to set the leg . . .”

  “No, but I’ll have to line up a decent orthopod who will. And Junior’s been asking for me . . .”

&nbs
p; Suzanne tossed her popover back into the basket and sighed. “Of course he has.”

  * * *

  THE ride back to Kindred was anticlimactic. Until they arrived at the hospital, that was. Toni was right there waiting for them, a tiny tornado dressed in denim and cowboy boots, rushing between the ER and the front desk. Her hair was gathered into a messy topknot, she looked utterly frazzled, and Suzanne figured she’d probably been driving everyone at the hospital stark raving bananas.

  “You came!” Toni cried when she saw Suzanne and Sam hurry through the double doors that led into the ER. “Bless you! I knew you’d come!”

  “How’s Junior?” Sam asked.

  “They keep telling me he’s stable,” Toni said. “But I don’t know what ‘stable’ means. Is he back there playing pinochle with the staff or is he on life support?”

  “It’s a fractured leg,” Sam said, sounding calm and in charge. “We’ll take care of it. He’ll be fine.”

  “Please take care of him,” Toni begged. She was clearly worried sick.

  “Let me go check on his status,” Sam said. He gave a nod to Suzanne and disappeared down the hallway.

  Suzanne put an arm around Toni’s shoulders. “Come on, honey, let’s go sit in the waiting room.”

  Toni staggered along with Suzanne and collapsed onto a beige vinyl couch. “Poor dumb Junior,” she whimpered. “That stupid fool. He can never catch a break.” Then she seemed to realize what she’d said and muttered, “Unless it’s his leg.”

  “Just calm down and tell me what happened,” Suzanne said. She figured Junior probably had done something foolhardy, like climb up on the roof of his trailer and fallen off. Once he’d even dangled over the edge of a highway bridge and spray-painted Toni’s name inside a big red heart. Sweet but definitely misguided.

  “I don’t know what happened,” Toni said. “All I got was a call from one of the ER nurses! I mean, here I was, sitting at home, watching a perfectly good bootleg copy of Magic Mike and munching a bag of Chips Ahoy! And suddenly I get this call.” She mimicked a high, squeaky voice. “Mrs. Garrett, Toni Garrett? Your husband is in the emergency room and he’s asking for you.” She threw up her hands. “Can you believe it?”