Dogcatcher in the Rye : A Cozy Mystery for Animal Lovers (Bought-the-Farm Mystery Book 1) by Ellen Riggs

Author:Ellen Riggs [Riggs, Ellen]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
ISBN: 9781989303498
Publisher: Sandy Rideout, Author
Published: 2020-03-31T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

My scream startled Florence so much that she reared in her stall and echoed the sound.

“For pity’s sake, would you ladies keep it down?” Charlie asked.

I ran to his side and fell to my knees. “I thought you were dead, Charlie.”

“I’m still on the right side of the grass, though a little worse for wear.” He was lying flat on his back inside the pen with the goats. We never left them out overnight, even with their fierce donkey guardians.

“Keats, keep them back,” I said, gesturing to the livestock. The dog slipped past me and pinned the goats in the corner. “Is it your heart, Charlie?”

He shook his head. “My knee. Nothing serious, so don’t worry your pretty head. Still, I’m going to need a hand to get to my truck.”

“What happened?” I pulled him into a sitting position and stared around.

“Twine across the doorway into the pen. Oldest trick in the book. And I fell for it.” He forced a grin. “Literally. I cut it so you didn’t trip, too.”

“You’re saying someone rigged up a trap for you?”

“Or you. But yeah, someone wanted one of us out of commission.”

“But why?”

“Can we debate this when I’m on my feet? There’s nothing more humiliating for an old farmhand than being flat out in manure.”

I looked around for something to help him up. He was a tall, sturdy man and I risked injuring him further by doing the job wrong. I thought about getting Jilly out of bed to help but that was only going to damage Charlie’s pride further. Besides, problem solving was part of a farm-owner’s skill set.

My sheep hook! That was just the thing. I stood and turned so quickly my head spun… and what I saw didn’t help. The place on the wall where my red and white sheep hook normally hung was bare. I hadn’t used it since before I’d decided to move to Runaway Farm. One day I might join herding trials again because Keats had loved our hobby. But it wouldn’t be till the inn was up and running smoothly.

“What’s wrong?” Charlie asked, blue eyes squinting up at me.

“Nothing. Just looking for the pig poker. I think it’s out near Wilma.” I ran to the back door. “Hang tight.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” he called after me.

The heavy wood poker did the trick, and he was soon up and going, using the pole as a cane. “Are you sure you’re good to drive?” I asked as he maneuvered himself into his truck. “I’d rather take you to the clinic myself.”

“God gave me two legs for a reason,” he said, smiling down from the driver’s seat. “I’d have to be pushing up daisies before I let you bunny-hop me into town.”

“Very funny.” It did make me smile, though. “Charlie, why is someone sabotaging us? First they let Wilma out and now they rigged a trap that could have given one of us a concussion. Banging up my brain again would not bode well for Runaway Farm.”

Turning the key, he raised his voice over the motor.

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