Hoofprints (Gail McCarthy series) by Laura Crum Read Free Book Online

freedom not to work, and the money to pursue her sport to the limits. She had all this courtesy of Rick, a man with whom I wouldn't have lasted a day. To put it simply, I don't like men who assume they have the right to tell me what to think and how to live. Not at any price.
    My mind pictured Lonny again, and I smiled, almost involuntarily. Lonny had no inclination to tell me what to do. Taking it all in all, I didn't really think I was jealous of Kris.
    Gunner stretched his nose through the corral rails at me, and I leaned toward him and blew gently into his nostrils. He blew back, his breath warm and sweet. I'd watched horses greet each other this way many times, and I'd found that they would greet a human they were friendly with in the same fashion.
    "See you later, fella," I told him as I straightened up to go. He watched me with his ears forward, the very picture of what a horse should be, and my heart warmed.
    I called Blue and got back into the pickup, reflecting that horses are more than a sport to those of us who love them; they are a way of life. They seem to personify an elemental harmony, to provide a continual response to all that was ugly, sordid, and depressing in the modern world. I drove down Kris's driveway, feeling wiped clean of the dark taint of murder, free of the urge to retell my story as if it were some TV docudrama. Instead, I thought of Cindy and how much she'd loved Plumber, and slowly, the tears I hadn't shed filled my eyes.

FIVE
    A mile down the road, I pulled into my own driveway. I lived on the edge of Soquel Creek, too, but my little cabin was a long ways from Kris Griffith's ranchette. Tiny, sided with half rounds so it looked like a miniature log cabin, my house was crowded onto a steep minuscule lot between the road and the creek, with lots of redwoods and firs towering up above. I had painted it reddish brown with dark green trim to match its surroundings, and filled the small flower bed in front with salmon-colored impatiens. It wasn't fancy, but it did look like a home.
    Unlocking the front door, I followed Blue into the living room, which was in more or less original condition, though I had all kinds of plans for remodeling-someday. At the moment, just making the house payment was stretching me. I'd learned to live with phony wood paneling-dark and dingy-and old-fashioned floor tiles, speckled brown and white and cracked and chipped in a dozen places. A large wool dhurrie rug patterned in shades of brown and tan- my one extravagance-covered most of the ugly floor. I had a few pieces of antique furniture my parents had left me. The rest consisted of director's chairs, a battered couch, and some assorted, unwanted relics. Everything covered with a thin coat of Blue's hair.
    At least there was cold chardonnay in the refrigerator. I poured myself a glass and settled on the couch, stepping carefully over Blue. He was half-asleep already, curled up next to the spot where he knew I would sit.
    The wine tasted good. I put my feet up on a threadbare footstool and stared out the old casement window into the tangle of green branches and steep hillside that fringed Soquel Creek. My mind wandered, touching briefly on Gunner, going over the appointments I had missed, brushing once again on Lonny. I sipped the wine slowly, turning the wineglass in my hand and watching the evening sunlight on the pines and redwoods.
    Inevitably my thoughts returned to those bodies. How empty they'd been, minus the spark that had made them human and alive. I thought of Cindy as I had known her, her frothy white-blond hair framing her animated, fair-skinned face, her voice going a mile a minute, chattering and laughing. What horrible chance had brought her to that end?
    I shivered. If the Walker hadn't killed them, and I simply didn't believe he had, then who? And why?
    Some dark twist unknown to me, in her life, in his life--there must be a motive. "The four L's-love, lust, lucre, and loathing. And the strongest of