Part 8 (1/2)

I decided to walk to the stable. As I pulled the door opened and walked in, I noticed the saddles were hanging neatly on a ledge. Then over in the far corner, next to a small bale of hay, I saw what looked like a stirrup. I quickly walked over and saw the remainder of the saddle behind the bale. I turned the saddle over, picked it up and swung it over the ledge.

As I set it in place, I noticed the length of leather that held the stirrup to the saddle was cut almost in half. It was practically dangling off. Additionally, also cut almost completely, was the strap that goes under the horse to secure the saddle.

I looked around the stable and everything else looked normal. It all looked like what I'd expect a stable to look like. There were five stalls and five horses. A few pitchforks, a couple of shovels, some other tools and grooming supplies-the usual stable stuff, I'd guess.

Chance was nosing around, obviously enthralled with so many new smells.

I heard Thunder, the wild one, way in the last stall, huffing and snorting. A chestnut mare was in another stall, snorting and bobbing her head when she saw me. I walked over to her when I spotted a big burlap bag of oats that said Carson Grain and Feed on it. Carson? As in Allison Carson? Probably her father, I couldn't imagine Miss Carson owning a feed store. I took a handful and let the mare eat.

It was then the stable door opened. I turned around to see Bedford coming into the stable. He hadn't noticed me yet, but he had noticed the damaged saddle on the ledge. I watched him for a moment. He looked puzzled, which I found interesting. Last night he gave me the creeps. I wanted to know why.

It was then he spotted me. ”G'morning Miss. I didn't see ya standing there.”

”Sorry, didn't mean to startle you. Is that Maggie's saddle from yesterday? Looks like it's in bad shape,” I said, looking right at him.

”Yes, it is. I was coming to fetch it and get it fixed.”

I wondered how Maggie with all her expertise could miss the damage to the saddle. ”Does Maggie saddle her own horse, Bedford?”

Bedford had gone over and was brus.h.i.+ng one of the horses. ”No, usually if I know she's going out, I do it.”

”And did you yesterday?”

He glanced up. ”No.”

”Where were you?” I asked.

”I have Thursdays off, but Miss Hannah called me to come and get the horse.” He continued brus.h.i.+ng the mare.

”Don't you find it odd how an expert horsewoman like Miss Winfield can fall off a horse so easily?” I asked, leaning against the ledge.

”Strange things happen all the time Miss,” he said. ”I'm sorry I wasn't there to help.”

”I am too. Bedford, where do you live?”

He motioned outside and said, ”I live in an apartment above the garage. It's small but comfortable. It suits me.”

”Well, last night was disturbing to say the least. I don't suppose you heard or saw anything?” I asked.

”No, Miss. When I heard the sirens, I came down but you were already inside with the police. Like I said, I spoke with them. Then I came around and found you and the ladies. I am sorry, I didn't come out sooner.”

”Well, if you didn't hear anything how could you know? Funny you didn't hear the noise when we crashed through the French doors, though.” I kept my eyes on him.

He frowned as he continued with his task. ”You sure you're all right, Miss?”

”I'm not the issue here, Bedford. I would think you'd be worried about Maggie.”

”I do worry, Miss,” he said. He sounded sincere, but something didn't ring true.

”What do you think is happening?”

He looked at me over the ledge, and said plainly, ”I don't know what's going on Miss. I just take care of the horses and the property.”

”But surely, you've been here forever, you have to have some opinion. Let's take this for example. What is your opinion of this?” I held out only the watch I'd found. It was still in the burlap.

He came out of the stall and looked down at my hand. His eyes widened. He looked up and, with the brush in his hand, he looked right at me. He had a threatening look on his face. He took two steps toward me and pointed the brush in my direction.

”It's a watch, Miss. Now, if you're asking if I know whose watch it is, I don't know. I learned long ago not to ask questions or go nosin' around. You might do well to do the same.”

I was a little frightened, but mostly angry. ”That sounds a tad like a threat, Bedford,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. ”A moment ago you said you cared about Maggie. Well, I care for her as well.” I amazed myself at how easy that came out. ”Something is happening around here, Bedford. Maggie and Hannah have asked for my help. I'm not sure what I can do, but I'm going to try.”

He looked out of the open stall door and into the woods. ”This is an old family, Miss...”

”With old secrets?” I prodded. He shot an angry look my way.

”Don't talk of things ya know nothing about.”

”Who can talk of such things then, Bedford?” I felt as though I was getting somewhere with him.

He put the brushes away and turned to me. ”Everyone has secrets, Miss. I'm sure even you.”

We were having a good old-fas.h.i.+oned staring contest when I felt a presence behind me in the doorway.

I turned to see a woman, maybe in her late fifties. She was tall, slender and had salt-and-pepper hair she had pulled back into a tight bun, which looked a little too tight. What I noticed most of all, though, were her eyes. They were almost black. She was wearing riding clothes and had her gloves and riding crop in one hand. I had no idea how long she had been there or what she had overheard.

Chance barked at her, and then bravely hid behind me and growled.

”I don't believe I know you.” She extended her hand. ”My name is Sarah Winfield, I'm Maggie's aunt.”

I took her hand. She had a good grip. If Hannah was the aunt everybody loved, this woman struck me as the aunt no one wanted to kiss.

”It's nice to meet you. Kate Ryan,” I said.

She turned from me and glared at Bedford, who appeared as if he wanted no part of this conversation. ”I was out riding and I think the poor creature has something stuck in his shoe. Bedford, please go and check.”

Without a word, Bedford took a tool and left the stable.

She turned back to me and said rather coolly, ”I understand there's been some excitement.” She put her hand up to hair as if to straighten it. Why, I don't know, there wasn't a hair out of place. ”I hope no one was seriously hurt.”

”No, not seriously hurt, but it was a little scary. Do you have any idea what's going on?”

She looked at me for a moment. ”No, Miss Ryan I can't say that I do. Are you investigating?”

”No, no, I just seem to be in the middle of whatever is going on and I'm curious.” I was still standing by the sabotaged saddle. I held up the cut leather strap. ”They sure don't make saddles like they used to.”

Bedford came into the stable. ”He's okay, just a stone in his shoe.” He limped over and put the tool back.

I started for the door. ”Well, Mrs. Winfield, it was nice to meet you. Perhaps I'll see you again.”