Looking for Ginger North by John Dunning

Author:John Dunning [Dunning, John]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-1-4804-5627-3
Publisher: MysteriousPress.com/Open Road
Published: 2013-10-11T15:44:00+00:00

11

SANDRA FARRADAY WALKED THROUGH the shedrow at exactly four A.M. The tack room door was open and all the shedrow lights were on. She looked into each stall as she passed and saw that her horses had been fed, then came on to the tack room. I was sitting on the edge of the bed, rubbing my eyes. It had been a long night.

She took in the situation with a glance: my pants were sopping wet from the knees down and my boots were covered with mud. She didn’t say anything; just came in and started the coffee. When it was going good, she said, “I saw O’Brien in the kitchen last night; he’d been looking for you all afternoon. He wanted me to tell you—Norman’s leaving today. He’ll hold the job if you want it.”

“Thanks.”

She sat on the trunk, facing me. “Maybe you’d better hit the sack.”

“I’m fine. My leg’s just a little stiff.”

“You’re one of those crazy people who never go to doctors, aren’t you? I predict an early death for you, my friend.”

I looked at her. “I’m doing fine. I’m here and I’m ready, if you still want to send your horses up.”

“The sooner the better. It’s about a five-hour drive, if you think you’re up to it.”

“I always look worse than I am. Draw me a map and I’ll be back in a minute.” I got up and stepped into the shedrow. “I’ve got some business with Poole before he leaves.”

I walked through the slop to O’Brien’s barn. The rain had slacked off to a drizzle, but a heavy morning ground mist was settling over the stable area. I felt like a foot soldier: cold and wet and tired and hungry; maybe a little afraid. The apprehension sizzled through my blood. Rage was there too, throbbing around with a primitive kind of joy. The joy of combat, of doing your enemy in. I hated Poole, and Chris was only part of it.

I had no doubt as I came under the shedrow how it would turn out. O’Brien hadn’t arrived yet, but the barn was ablaze with light and the guineas were hopping from stall to stall. They each stopped work as I came past, peeping down the shedrow to see what would happen.

Poole wasn’t in his stalls, so I went to his tack room. I pushed the door open with my foot.

Eddie came up beside me. “He ain’t here.”

“Where’s he at?”

“He saw you coming and lit out. I couldn’t believe it. The backstretch bigmouth took off like a ghost was after him.”

“Which way’d he go?”

“Out toward the bushes, toward the can. Watch out for him, Harrison, he’s got a knife. I told him we found Chris and he’s in a mean mood.”

That was it, then: a fight or nothing. He’d left me a clear-cut option. My blood raced as I pushed ahead through the slop. The barn faded into the mist behind me. I stopped just outside the rest room door and felt the ground. I looked all along the path, where I’d seen the woman the day my clothes were stolen.

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