Lost Christmas Memories. Dana MentinkЧитать онлайн книгу.
pushed her aside and started hunting around the bottom of the tree. “Maybe there are shards. It won’t be proof enough for the cops, but let me see if I can find a piece to corroborate your details.”
Underneath the tree was a flannel tree skirt in a bright holiday plaid, which concealed a water reservoir. Other than a pile of needles and an ornament hook, he found nothing, no sign that anything had broken.
She studied the branches. The ornaments were laid out at precise intervals, all silver orbs with gold beading, except for one. It was a subtle difference, but the one nearest the bottom was a plain silver ball.
“Someone replaced it,” Tracy said.
Keegan grabbed a tissue from the box on the reception counter and reached for the ornament. “I’ll put it in a bag and have it checked for prints. I have a friend who can do it.”
“No, you won’t.”
They whirled to find John Larraby glowering down at them. “That’s my job. I’ll do it, if you give me a reasonable explanation of why I should bother.”
“I broke it as I ran, and someone hung a new one in its place,” Tracy told the chief.
“You remember that detail now?”
She nodded.
Regina called to them from the doorway. “Are you coming, Miss Wilson? The horse is ready.”
Keegan put an arm around Tracy’s trembling shoulders. “You don’t have to do this.”
She swallowed hard. “I’m okay.” Gently she detached herself from his grasp. “I’m ready,” she called to Regina, following her out the front doors.
John grabbed another tissue and retrieved the ornament from the tree.
“Be sure it doesn’t get lost,” Keegan said.
John’s expression hardened to cement. “Don’t mess with me, Keegan.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it, brother, not unless you give me reason to.”
Keegan thumbed back his hat and walked away.
Tracy tried hard not to show that her knees were still wobbly as she followed Regina to the arena. She took a stab at being friendly. “Have you worked here long?”
“Since they broke ground. I tend to my stable duties and Bryce put me in charge of the front office part-time.” Pride crept into her tone. “I love it, love my work. Even met my fiancé here, plan to stay forever, if they’ll have me.”
“Congratulations on your engagement. Do you have a date picked out?”
“Not yet. Things keep getting in the way.” Her tone was dark. “Why do you care anyway?”
“Just being friendly.”
The woman rounded on her. “Let’s cut through the garbage, shall we? You’re an outsider. You have no reason to be friendly to some stable hand you just met. So what are you after, exactly?”
“After?”
“With this murder story. What are you angling for? Money? From Bryce Larraby?”
“I’m not after anybody’s money. I’m telling the truth.”
Regina hooked her thumbs in her belt loops. She was tall, arms wiry and muscled, dark eyes brimming with anger. “Just so you know, Bryce Larraby is a great man. He’s done awesome things for this town and me personally. Busted my wrist in the summer doing some rock climbing, and he kept me on and even paid me while I was on leave. Every single person who works here would do anything to protect him, especially me.”
Anything? Including lying about a murder? She stood straighter. “I want nothing from Bryce Larraby.”
“Yeah? Coming here with a story that could tarnish our event? With Keegan, who’s got a massive chip on his shoulder?”
“Like I said, I told the truth and I have no ulterior motive.”
“Well, Keegan does—he’d love to destroy Bryce, so keep that in mind. Mitch told me all about how his mother tried to weasel money out of him after she seduced him while he was married to John’s mother. He’ll use you and anyone else to get back at his dad.”
Use you. She looked at Regina full on. “Thank you for your advice. Now I’d like to get to work, if that’s okay with you.”
Regina shook her head, which sent her earrings flashing gold against her curls. “I have some chores to do. See your own way out when you’re done.”
Tracy tried to get her rapid breathing under control. How had she earned herself another enemy already? That had to be some kind of a record.
She knew part of Regina’s comments were true. Keegan did have an enormous chip on his shoulder. He’ll use you...to get back at his dad. If that was true, it was a top-notch reason to get her business done at the Mother Lode and get out.
The arena was clean and well lit, the electric lights on the vaulted ceiling overhead illuminating the soft dirt floor, which was newly raked, from the looks of it. On one side of the arena was a towering stack of baled hay that lent a fresh smell to the space. She breathed in deeply to calm herself. She was in her element here with the horses and hay. She approached the beautiful stallion standing next to the bales, craning his neck over the fence in search of a snack. Flight of Fancy was as gorgeous as the photos she’d seen when she’d researched his bloodline. His conformation at first glance was excellent, as well. Flight had already fathered two offspring that had proved themselves worthy dressage horses.
“Hey there, pretty boy.” She gave the horse a moment to get used to her proximity before she reached out to stroke his neck.
Keegan joined her and she was pleased that her fingers did not shake as she caressed the animal. Keegan was close, very close, and her pulse would not behave for some reason. He’s probably using you, remember? But his smile was so genuine, his presence so comforting. A few stable hands milled about, but the arena was empty except for the two of them and the horse.
“He’s a looker,” Keegan said.
“Yes, he is. My client is interested in a stallion to breed with her mare. She wants a dressage horse. It’s her passion.” She caught his snort. “Dressage not your cup of tea?”
“No, ma’am. I’m a cutting-horse man. Horses were meant to help on ranches, not jump over little white fences.”
She laughed. “That’s very snooty, Mr. Thorn. Dressage dates back to classic Greece when they trained horses to do evasive maneuvers for battle. Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it.”
“I’ll pass. I’d look pretty silly in those tight white pants and the shiny boots.”
She looked down at his well-worn cowboy boots and long legs covered by faded denim and decided he was probably right. Keegan Thorn was a horse of a different color for sure. Turning her attention back to Flight of Fancy, she took his lead rope. “Let’s see about your gait, boy. Are you as good as you look on your YouTube videos?”
“Let me,” Keegan said. He took the rope from her and led the horse away.
The horse’s natural walk was perfect, and so, she noticed, was Keegan’s. He had a brisk, easy way next to the horse that was somehow masculine and graceful at the same time. A natural athlete, she supposed. She leaned back on the fence and admired the power in both of them. Something trembled against her back. For a moment, she thought it must be an earthquake.
Keegan’s mouth dropped open. “Look out!” he shouted.
Still uncertain what was happening, she glanced up in time to see the tower of half-ton bales begin to topple.
Her scream froze in her throat as the bundles hurtled down toward her.
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