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Authors: Lisa Wysocky
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Darcy––if Hill didn’t get all riled up about it. He could be stubborn enough to argue with a stop sign.
We left the gate area and walked back into the barn where we almost bumped into Allen and Ruthie, who were coming out of the viewing room. They must have been watching the lesson, too.
“Sirens,” said Ruthie, and we all stopped to listen. They were some distance away.
“I’ve been hearing them off and on all afternoon,” Allen said to her. To us, he expounded, because that’s what pompous people like Allen did. “The Harpeth River runs along the back of our property, and a lot of canoers and kayakers use the river. Once in a while one of them gets in trouble and the rescue squad has to fish them out. From the sirens, I think they are near Hwy. 70, which is about three miles away by road, but as the river flows it’s about a mile away. As the crow flies, much less than that.”
I looked at my watch. It was time to head back to feed. Before we left, Darcy committed to attending a volunteer orientation the following Tuesday night. I thought I might go with her, and maybe take Bubba, too. Who knows, maybe Melody and I could sidewalk in the same lessons. That might be fun.
Thinking of Melody, I checked my phone to see if I’d had calls or texts about or from her. Nothing. This was definitely not a case where no news was good news. Where was she?
Just as we were deciding who would ride in the truck and who would ride with Darcy, Martin Giles drove in and eased his way out of a discrete dark blue Chevy. Martin is Cheatham County’s newest young detective––and my boyfriend’s younger brother. If it hadn’t been for Martin’s belief in me when my movie star neighbor was murdered, I might be sitting in a jail cell right now, so he was one of my favorite people. Martin must have seen my truck and stopped by to say hi.
“Well, look who’s here. It’s always good to see you Miz Cat,” Martin said with a casual two-fingered salute. “And Darcy. Jon. Bubba, you’re keepin’ good company with these people. Glad to see you outside of juvenile court.” These last words Martin said with ominous authority.
I nudged Bubba. “Nice to see you,” he mumbled to his shoes. Bubba was just learning to act like he had some raising.
Ruthie and Allen drifted up as Martin looked at the clipboard in his hand. “I wish this was a social call. But it’s not. Jon,” he said as he looked at Bubba, “how ’bout you an’ the boy get Miz Cat’s truck warmed up for her. It’s getting’ a might chilly in this late afternoon air.” Then Martin moved his gaze to me.
I knew right then that my best friend, Melody Cross, was dead.
Cat’s Horse Tip #5
“A therapeutic riding lesson focuses on a combination of riding skills, therapeutic goals, and the relationship between horse and rider.”
7
J ON , B UBBA , D ARCY , M ARTIN , B RENT and I gathered around the big, scarred wooden table in my kitchen. It had been in my grandmother’s kitchen for many years and had seen a lot of dinners, but no dinner had been as sad as this one. I was shattered by Melody’s death and filled with questions, but Brent and Martin, whose shifts had both just ended, insisted that we eat first.
Somehow, I managed to make everyone some hot chocolate, and several large, gooey pizzas magically appeared. I leaned into Brent’s solid frame as I picked at a slice of vegetable supreme, his arm around my shoulder. Brent was a good man. He and Martin shared a tall, stocky build and thick, blond hair, but Martin’s protruding ears and jutting chin, typical characteristics of the Giles clan, were more prominent.
Brent wasn’t perfect, but then, neither was I. He didn’t like it when I was out of town at horse shows, which was frequently the case in spring, summer, and fall. I knew I could be moody, and I wasn’t the best cook. In fact, I didn’t cook at all, unless you counted hot chocolate as a food group, as I did. Unfortunately, Mama
We left the gate area and walked back into the barn where we almost bumped into Allen and Ruthie, who were coming out of the viewing room. They must have been watching the lesson, too.
“Sirens,” said Ruthie, and we all stopped to listen. They were some distance away.
“I’ve been hearing them off and on all afternoon,” Allen said to her. To us, he expounded, because that’s what pompous people like Allen did. “The Harpeth River runs along the back of our property, and a lot of canoers and kayakers use the river. Once in a while one of them gets in trouble and the rescue squad has to fish them out. From the sirens, I think they are near Hwy. 70, which is about three miles away by road, but as the river flows it’s about a mile away. As the crow flies, much less than that.”
I looked at my watch. It was time to head back to feed. Before we left, Darcy committed to attending a volunteer orientation the following Tuesday night. I thought I might go with her, and maybe take Bubba, too. Who knows, maybe Melody and I could sidewalk in the same lessons. That might be fun.
Thinking of Melody, I checked my phone to see if I’d had calls or texts about or from her. Nothing. This was definitely not a case where no news was good news. Where was she?
Just as we were deciding who would ride in the truck and who would ride with Darcy, Martin Giles drove in and eased his way out of a discrete dark blue Chevy. Martin is Cheatham County’s newest young detective––and my boyfriend’s younger brother. If it hadn’t been for Martin’s belief in me when my movie star neighbor was murdered, I might be sitting in a jail cell right now, so he was one of my favorite people. Martin must have seen my truck and stopped by to say hi.
“Well, look who’s here. It’s always good to see you Miz Cat,” Martin said with a casual two-fingered salute. “And Darcy. Jon. Bubba, you’re keepin’ good company with these people. Glad to see you outside of juvenile court.” These last words Martin said with ominous authority.
I nudged Bubba. “Nice to see you,” he mumbled to his shoes. Bubba was just learning to act like he had some raising.
Ruthie and Allen drifted up as Martin looked at the clipboard in his hand. “I wish this was a social call. But it’s not. Jon,” he said as he looked at Bubba, “how ’bout you an’ the boy get Miz Cat’s truck warmed up for her. It’s getting’ a might chilly in this late afternoon air.” Then Martin moved his gaze to me.
I knew right then that my best friend, Melody Cross, was dead.
Cat’s Horse Tip #5
“A therapeutic riding lesson focuses on a combination of riding skills, therapeutic goals, and the relationship between horse and rider.”
7
J ON , B UBBA , D ARCY , M ARTIN , B RENT and I gathered around the big, scarred wooden table in my kitchen. It had been in my grandmother’s kitchen for many years and had seen a lot of dinners, but no dinner had been as sad as this one. I was shattered by Melody’s death and filled with questions, but Brent and Martin, whose shifts had both just ended, insisted that we eat first.
Somehow, I managed to make everyone some hot chocolate, and several large, gooey pizzas magically appeared. I leaned into Brent’s solid frame as I picked at a slice of vegetable supreme, his arm around my shoulder. Brent was a good man. He and Martin shared a tall, stocky build and thick, blond hair, but Martin’s protruding ears and jutting chin, typical characteristics of the Giles clan, were more prominent.
Brent wasn’t perfect, but then, neither was I. He didn’t like it when I was out of town at horse shows, which was frequently the case in spring, summer, and fall. I knew I could be moody, and I wasn’t the best cook. In fact, I didn’t cook at all, unless you counted hot chocolate as a food group, as I did. Unfortunately, Mama
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