Saddled With Trouble by A. K. Alexander Read Free Book Online Page B

door, then dialed the number to the police station and asked for Detective Davis. When she told him what had happened, he assured her he’d be right over, and to stay put. She hung up the phone and waited, looking at Cocoa, and for a brief moment she wished she had a Doberman instead of a Lab. Especially when she thought she heard something. There it was again. Shit. Someone was walking down the breezeway. One of the horses whinnied. Michaela looked around for a weapon. Nothing. Shit, shit, shit. Oh jeez, whoever was there was probably here to, to . . .
    “Mick, are you in here?”
    She threw open the tack room door and yelled, “Dammit, Ethan, don’t you ever do that to me again!”
    He stopped. “What are you carrying on about?”
    “The pitchfork . . . and then walking down the breezeway. What were you thinking? Are you trying to scare me?” She trembled and her face burned. Here she’d gone and called the cops, and it had only been Ethan all along.
    “The pitch . . . Girl, I have no earthly idea what you’re talking about. What have you been smoking? I just got here. And since when did bumps in the barn ever put the hairs up on the back of your neck?”
    She glared at him. “What do you mean you just got here?”
    He looked at his watch. “Uh, well, pretty much just that. I pulled up a few minutes ago. I was coming to check on Leo, the next thing I know you’re going psycho chick on me.” He put an arm around her. “You okay? I’m sorry, dumb question. Of course you’re not okay. You’re shaking like a leaf, kid. What is going on?”
    She told him what had happened.
    “Are you sure?”
    “Yes I’m sure. I know what I saw.” She backed away and studied him for a second. “You don’t believe me.”
    “No, it’s not that. I think you’ve had a real difficult day and our minds can play all sorts of tricks on us when we’re dealing with stressful events.”
    “Bullshit! It isn’t stress. It wasn’t my mind playing tricks on me. That pitchfork was moved. It was right here”— she smacked the wall—“and now it’s not.”
    “Look, I apologize. I believe you, okay? And, because of that, I’m not letting you stay here alone.”
    “I’m not alone. I’ve got Camden.”
    He shook his head. “She’ll do you a helluva lot a good now, won’t she? What’s she going to do if some maniac comes through your door? Throw a pair of stilettos at him?”
    Michaela couldn’t help but smile. He had a point. “I got Cocoa here.”
    “Uh-huh. You’d have better luck with your margarita-drinking, high-heeled, society-wannabe pal at your side than that old girl.”
    “That’s not nice.”
    He shrugged.
    “I don’t need you staying here. You’d drive me crazy and Camden would drive you crazy and the next thing you know we’ll all be snapping at each other. Not a good idea.”
    “Stubborn and foolish. That’s the way you’ve always been.”
    “Look who’s talking.”
    “I’ll stay out here in the tack room, keep an eye on the colt, and if any trouble happens to come your way, I’ll be within screaming distance. Just be sure to do one of those horror film-types, you know, a Fay Wray scream, and that way I’ll know you’re not joking.”
    She had to admit that having Ethan close by would be a comfort. No. She wavered for a second. She’d learned the hard way that men were not dependable. But, Ethan was different. They’d known each other since before they could each ride a bike, much less a horse. Was he really different, though? He was the same man— supposedly her closest pal— who’d taken off less than a month ago on a river-rafting trip without telling her or calling her while away. What had he been up to, alone on that trip?
    “You can’t sleep in the tack room. It’s not exactly comfortable.”
    “In case you hadn’t noticed, I don’t need a five-star hotel. I just slept on the ground in a pitched tent for weeks, Mick. I think a cot in the tack room would suffice.