Dead of Night (The Youngbloods #2)

Dead of Night (The Youngbloods #2) Page 14

I saw several listings circled with a pencil; all of the ads were for different office positions. “Okay, so we should talk to him about this when he gets back.”

“You know how he is,” Gray said. “He won’t admit we’re going broke, but he’s worrying himself sick. His insomnia has gotten so bad he went to the doctor and got sleeping pills.”

“No way,” I said. “Trick hates taking pills.”

“Go look in his bathroom,” Gray said. “The bottle is on the top shelf of his medicine cabinet.” He heaved a sigh. “I thought if I got a job first, he’d feel better about letting us help. Or maybe we could just pay some bills and stuff.”

“We don’t have the checking account, he does,” I reminded him. “I think if we start buying groceries out of the blue, he’ll figure out that we know he’s having money trouble.”

“Then what do we do?” he asked. “Nothing?”

“No.” I didn’t have any immediate answers, though. “Let me think about it.” I glanced at the wall clock. “It’s getting late. I’ll come out and help you with the horses.”

Between the two of us we got the horses fed and turned out half of them so we could clean their stalls. I went outside to fetch the barrow we used to haul the soiled bedding and saw a rider coming up the road toward our property.

Some of the local trainers would take their students out on trails around our farm, but this girl was riding alone. Her mount, a pretty golden buckskin mare with black stockings and a glossy dark mane and tail, wore an English saddle, and trotted like they were circling an arena.

She looked so small atop the mare that I thought at first she might be a lost kid, but when she dismounted and led her mount through our gate she showed no hesitancy.

“Where’s the barrow?” Gray asked as he came out, and then noticed our visitor, who had led her horse up the drive and was coming across the lawn toward us. “Who’s that?”

“I don’t know.” I walked out to meet the girl, who was barely five feet tall, and had short curly black hair and pretty brown eyes. “Hi. Can I help you?”

“That’s my line,” she said, her crisp voice adding a little snap to the words. “I’m Mena. My dad sent me over.” When I frowned, she added, “Dr. Marks is your equine vet, right?”

“Yes, he is.” She definitely wasn’t twelve, but she couldn’t be much older than me. “Do you work at the clinic?”

“When he drags me in on Saturdays, or any other day one of the techs calls in sick.” She led the buckskin over to a post. “Mostly I’m too busy training.”

I still wasn’t clear on why Dr. Marks had sent her to the farm. “Did he give you something to deliver?”

“He didn’t call, did he?” She shook her head. “He’s so busy in the spring that he forgets. I show horses, and I’ve worked with some Arabians, so he wanted me to take a look at your mare.” She glanced over my shoulder. “Who’s the professional wrestler?”

“That’s my brother Grayson.” I took her over to introduce them, and watched them size up each other.

“I don’t know,” Gray said. “You’re pretty tiny to be handling Rika.”

I stared at him. “Gray.”

Mena seemed amused. “I’m stronger than I look, big guy.” She cuffed his shoulder before she headed into the barn. “So where’s her stall?”

My brother and I went in and took her down to the end stall, where Rika immediately stuck her head out and laid her ears back as she whinnied a warning.

“Talkative little brat, aren’t you?” Mena circled around her, keeping out of nipping range. “Have you got her to tie quiet?”

“Not all the time,” I admitted. “She’s going to foal soon, and we didn’t want to stress her out by working her too hard.”

The girl nodded, still studying the mare. “So you’re a pregnant talkative little brat.” She reached for the door latch.

Gray beat her to it. “Not a good idea, kid.”

“Really. How many Arabians have you trained?” Mena asked sweetly. “Any at all?”

Gray scowled. “She kicks.”

“I can dodge.” She pulled open the stall door and went inside.

Rika backed up until her hindquarters hit the wall, and then she tossed her head and reared.

“Hey, now, none of that.” Mena grabbed her halter and brought her head down so they were eye-to-eye. “You may be bigger, but I’m a brat, and I know all your tricks.” My brother and I watched as the girl ran her hands over the mare, feeling the muscles in her shoulders, legs and neck. Rika only shied a little when Mena checked her ears, but the girl ignored her.

“She’s in decent condition.” She pulled on a pair of thin leather gloves before she pushed back Rika’s lips and nudged her teeth apart.

Seeing that small gloved hand reach into Rika’s mouth made me cringe. “Mena, maybe you shouldn’t … “ I stopped as Rika responded by licking the girl’s fingers. “Holy cow. She likes you.”

“It’s my size. They think I’m a snotty little filly.” She patted Rika’s shoulder before she came out of the stall. “I also have a secret weapon that no horse can resist.”

“Sure you do.” Gray smirked. “What is it? Horse hypnosis?”

“Molasses.” She tossed him a small plastic packet, which he caught reflexively. “I put a little on the fingertips of my glove.”

Mena went into the tack room, where she looked at everything, and then asked me to show her how we were mixing Rika’s feed.

“That reminds me, Dad said you should increase her concentrate now.” She took out a little notepad and scribbled down some ratio numbers. “Have you checked where she’s foraging?”

As I told Mena about our weeding routine, we walked out to the back pasture. She inspected one partially eaten hay bale before she studied the graze around it, and then climbed up on the fence and sat on the top railing to look at the side of the barn, where Gray was washing Flash.

I joined her. “So what do you think?”

“He needs some manners, and a haircut, but he’s kind of cute.” She saw my expression. “Oh, you mean the mare, not your brother. Her sire and dam were probably show horses, and there may have been others in her herd, but my guess is she was never trained. Or she could have just been starting when the VBE happened.”

That was something I’d never heard of. “The VBE?”

“Very bad experience,” Mena said. “I think someone scared the crap out of your mare, and not just once. They did it so often that she may never stop trying to run away.”

Of course I’d heard of horses being ruined for life, but the thought of someone doing that to a mare as young and beautiful as Rika made my heart clench. “Maybe we can still gentle it out of her.”

“I thought the same thing about my first show horse,” Mena told me. Her expression turned wistful. “He was a dream to ride. Quick, smart, loved the arena. A real gentleman. Every time he took a fence I felt like we were floating over it.”

“He sounds like a great first horse.”

“He was.” Her smile slipped. “There was just one problem. Whenever my trainer led him to a gate, he’d freeze, dig in or try to rush it, like it was his first turn out after six months in the barn.”

“Gray’s horse didn’t like gates when we first got him,” I said. “And he still hates trailers.”

“My horse didn’t just balk at gates. He seriously freaked out every single time he came within ten feet of one,” she told me. “Once he even bucked me off, and came close to trampling my trainer.”

I caught my breath. “That must have been awful.”

“My dad bought him from a breeder, so I thought it was me. My trainer drove herself nuts trying to work it out, too.” Mena sighed. “Finally my dad called the breeder, who told him how to handle it. He said to punish the horse every time he balked at a gate, and that would keep him in line. Then we knew. To that horse, gate equaled punishment. We worked with him for another year, but the behavior was too ingrained. I never showed him again.”

I understood what she was trying to tell me. “Do you think Rika’s that far gone?”

Mena shrugged. “It’s hard to say. Foaling might settle her down. Not even the best vet—or his darling perfect daughter—can fix everything, but we can try. Tell me what happened the last time she bolted.”

I described how Gray had put Flash in with Rika that morning, and how Rika had reacted by breaking down the pen and taking off. “When Sali and I found her, she was lathered and exhausted, but she still tried to get away from us.”

She nodded. “With frightened horses it’s always run back to the herd first. Safety in numbers. She’s so young she’s probably still looking for her mother, too. Which

is good, because she might make your lead mare her

surrogate.”

I didn’t know if I agreed. “She seems to hate all the other horses.”

“She doesn’t know them,” Mena corrected. “I know you’re worried about her temper, but the only way she can form bonds within the herd is to socialize with them. Start by turning her out with Sali and a couple of the other mares for an hour or two. Use one of your bigger pastures so they have room to run her around.”

I chuckled. “I don’t think Rika needs any help with that.”

“The mares will keep her trotting. It’s how they enforce the ranks. It’s also good exercise for her, but don’t leave her out too long. Once she accepts the females, then introduce the males one at a time, starting with the gentlest.” Mena jumped down from the fence.

“Rika’s owner moved out of state, and we can’t reach him,” I mentioned as we walked back to the barn. “How can we figure out where her training went wrong?”