Рита Браун - The Tell-Tale Horse

Betty came up and quietly slipped her hand into Sister’s while Gray held the other one. They walked over the bridge. Val supported Tootie with her free hand, her other hand pressing her stock tie against her forehead.

Sybil moved up to help with Tootie so Val could keep the compression on her head. She fished in her pocket for a handkerchief, handing it to Val.

“Mrs. Fawkes, I can’t use this. It’s embroidered,” Val said, ever sensitive to value.

“It’s hardly as important as your wound.” Sybil shoved the handkerchief at her and took her bloody stock tie.

Shaker had stopped to peer down at the bottom of the millrace. The mists swirled, as clear patches opened up, then closed again. He caught up with the others. “She’s up against the end of the race.”

Sister grimaced. “Let the sheriff’s department fish her out.”

“Who’s going to tell Ramsey?” Gray had told them exactly what he saw as they reached the barn.

“Oh, let it wait a bit. Let it wait.” Betty felt so exhausted she could hardly lift one foot in front of the other.

“I’ll tell him.” Shaker looked down at the center aisle of the barn paved with rubber bricks. “Can’t have him running all over looking for his wife.”

“Shaker, wait until Ben gets back. Ramsey might lift the body. Ben should see Ilona before she’s disturbed,” Gray said sensibly.

Walter arrived within minutes, driven by Ben in his deputy’s squad car. Shaker flagged him down. Ben cut the motor and the two men flew out of the car. As Walter examined the girls, Shaker led Ben to Ilona’s body, also pointing out where Cabel lay, slightly moving under the water as though alive, her body hitting the end of the race and moving away for a foot, then pushed by a paddle to hit the end of the race once more. The opening and closing mist made the sight even more eerie.

“Val, I need to stitch this up. It’s going to hurt. I have procaine, which I’ll rub on, but it’s still going to hurt.”

“Just do it, Master.” Val also felt exhausted as she sat in the chair in the tack room.

“Sybil, my bag’s in the front seat of the truck. Would you mind fetching it?” He turned to Tootie, boot still on. “Luckily the bullet tore your boot more than it tore you. It’s the kick that is raising up the knot on your shin.” He felt her skin under her breeches.

Sybil hurried off as Sister stood in front of Tootie, back to her, and pulled off the damaged boot. Tootie bit her lip as it came off.

“Put ice on that,” Walter ordered. “Might take a week to get your boot back on, but it’s not bad.” He walked over to the refrigerator, took out an ice tray, dumped half of it in a clean work towel, and handed it to the diminutive Tootie. “’Course, you’ll have to repair the boot.” He smiled.

Sybil returned with Walter’s bag. He washed Val’s wound, quickly smearing it with procaine and giving it a few minutes to work while he threaded a needle. Val held a clean rubdown towel on the gash, red seeping through the rough white cloth.

“Did you know that a horse’s skin is thinner than a human’s?” Sister decided conversation might help.

“I did.”

“You are so-o-o smart.” Tootie was feeling better.

Val eyed the threaded needle. “How many stitches, do you think?”

“Five at the most. I make a nice tight stitch. There will be a scar but it won’t be bad. All right, take that bandage away. Let me clean this one more time.” Sister handed him a prepared antibacterial wipe that was in his bag. “Now, if this hurts we need to give the procaine more time.” He carefully wiped the wound, still bleeding but less so. He checked the ragged edges. “Going to be swelling from the blow. You might not get a black eye though, since she hit you high on the forehead.”

“I can feel what you’re doing but it doesn’t hurt much.”

“All right then. If you can hold still, this will take three minutes. I’m fast!” He smiled reassuringly at her.

The small group had watched countless horses stitched up, even doing it themselves sometimes, so watching Val didn’t faze them.

Sister held her hand. Tootie held the towel filled with ice against her shin.

Tears rolled down Val’s cheeks. “Sorry.”

“I know you’re not crying.” Walter smiled as he pierced her skin for the third stitch. “Body’s natural reaction. Girl, you took one helluva hit. If she’d smashed your brow, she could have damaged your eye.”

“Luck.” Val tried to smile.

Tootie thought to distract her friend. “Do you believe what Cabel said about sex poisoning a relationship?”

“Why, do you want to sleep with me?” Val returned to form.

“You are so conceited.” Tootie exhaled through her nostrils.

As Walter started the fourth stitch, Sister, knowing the longer one sat the more difficult it became, answered Tootie. “No, sex doesn’t poison a relationship. People poison relationships. Sex is the excuse.”

“Well said.” Gray nodded.

“We’ll never really know what those two did,” Betty said. “I mean, we know Cabel killed Aashi and Faye, but Ilona helped somehow. Cabel had a hold on Ilona ever since college. Can you imagine helping your best friend kill someone? Actually, don’t answer that.” Betty wanted to let her head drop on her bosom; she needed to talk to keep awake.

Sybil piped up. “Their sex lives certainly seemed poisonous. How do people get twisted like that?”

“I don’t know,” Sister replied, as she dabbed Val’s tears with her own handkerchief. “Almost done.”

“I wonder why Cabel spared us when we went down the stairs?” Tootie tried to make sense of it, tried to keep her emotions at bay.

“God’s grace.” Sister smiled as Walter finished the last stitch, snipping the thread.

“Wait one minute.” He smeared on a little more procaine, giving Val two tiny tubes. “Val, this is going to sting and throb. Use this for a day or two and then just endure it.” He covered his work carefully with a gauze pad, taping the ends with white adhesive tape. “Change this at least once a day, because the wound will still seep. Rub a lot of this antibacterial cream on too, because you don’t want the bandage sticking when you pull it off. Okay? Going to hurt when you wash your hair. If you can bend over a sink to wash it, that’s better than getting in the shower.”

“I’ll wash her hair,” Tootie volunteered.

“Thank you, Dr. Lungrun.” Val stood up and just as quickly sat down.

Walter grabbed her when she wobbled a little. “Honey, you’ve suffered a shock. You just sit there. Need a drink or anything?”

A little dazed, Val shook her head. “No.”

“Gray, will you take Tootie and Val back to Custis Hall in the Land Cruiser?” Sister asked him. “I’ll drive the horses back with Betty.” She turned to Sybil. “Tell Shaker we’ve gone on.” Then she spoke to her joint master. “Walter, please take charge here. I need to get these horses back and I’m a little shaky myself. I’m not up to the crowd.”

“I’ll tell Charlotte the girls have gone on,” Walter agreed.

The little group left the barn. Just as they reached the trailers, they saw Shaker emerge from the mill with Ben. Sybil walked toward the men.

Betty said, “I want to get out of here before Ramsey sees her.”

“Yes,” Sister replied.

The girls moved slowly with Gray to his big Land Cruiser.

Val, voice wavering, took Tootie’s hand. “Thank you. I love you, Tootie.”

“I love you too.”

Once in the trailer, Sister hit the window button, calling out to Ben, “I’ll give you the details later, Ben. Trust me?”

“Yes.” He waved, face solemn, as behind him two deputies, already wet from mist, knelt over the millrace to figure out how to haul up Cabel’s body without going in themselves.