Рита Браун - The Hounds And The Fury

CHAPTER 12

The large silver commercial horse van pulled into Roughneck Farm at three in the afternoon.

Matador, who had passed his vetting with flying colors, stepped off the ramp, stopped, and took in his surroundings. Ears forward, eyes bright, beautifully conformed, he lowered his head when Sister held out her hand to him. She brushed his muzzle, then stroked his ears.

“Boss, he’s a beaut,” Shaker exclaimed.

“For his price he ought to be.” Sister smiled, but she, too, found the flea-bitten gray dazzling, flea-bitten referring to the brown flecks in the gray coat.

Horsin’ Around, one of the many good commercial haulers in the country, covering coast to coast, knew Sister and the farm.

“How’d he load, Hank?” she asked the driver.

“No problem. He’s a real nice horse.”

The staff horses in their various paddocks and pastures viewed the newcomer with curiosity.

Lafayette called out to him, “ Pretty is as pretty does.”

Matador turned his head toward the other gray in the barn, snorted, but said nothing. He figured he’d show them.

Keepsake, half thoroughbred and half quarter horse, a friendly guy, simply said, “Good shoulder.”

“Good shoulder is one thing. He’d better damn well take care of our master.” Rickyroo stared at the charismatic animal.

Aztec, youngest of Sister’s hunt horses, said, “Sister Jane has been riding horses since she was four. I expect she knows a good one when she sees him.” He paused for effect. “After all, she picked us, didn’t she?”

Sister handed the cashier’s check to Hank with a fifty-dollar tip. She took the clipboard and signed the paperwork. “January 4. Already four days into the new year.”

“Time flies.” Hank took back the clipboard and thanked Sister for the tip.

Shaker was leading the new fellow into the barn as Hank pulled out.

Sam, in Gray’s Land Cruiser, came down the drive. He bounded into the barn. “Had to see ’im.”

“Well?” Sister raised an eyebrow.

Sam walked around him, stroked his neck, then stood behind as Shaker led him to his stall. “I liked him when I rode him. He really is your kind of horse. Bold.”

“Your word is dipped in platinum.” Sister dropped her arm around his shoulder.

Shaker closed the bottom half of the stall door. He leaned over the top half as Matador checked his surroundings.

“Well, I’m not hunting him until the footing improves. We’ll exercise him, but I do want to give him every chance to get settled and show his best.”

“How about some hot coffee, or what about hot chocolate?” Sister invited Sam into the house.

“Thanks, but I’m heading home. I’m going to work on the kitchen cabinets. Went in at six this morning. Rory and I are working all hours to get the hounds settled along with the other chores.”

As they walked outside to the car, Sister discreetly dug into her pocket for money. She’d gone to the bank earlier. “What are you doing with Gray’s pride and joy?”

“He wanted me to pick up distressed oak. He’s driving my wheels.” Sam smiled. “Hope the car lives long enough to get him home.”

As he slipped behind the wheel of the expensive SUV, Sister stuck five hundred dollars in the front of his coat. “There’s more coming.”

“For what?” Sam fished in his pocket to hand it back. She gently held his wrist. “Part of your finder’s fee. I appreciate you telling me about the horse, and, of course, I appreciate you keeping your brother from other women.”

He sighed. “If I don’t take the money you’ll send it to me as a check.”

“You got that right.”

He grinned. “Gray doesn’t know other women exist.”

“Oh la!” She rolled her eyes.

“While we’re on the subject, I’ll work for food. I’ll muck stalls, groom—I’ll recite poetry even, if there’s a woman out there who’d have me.”

“Funny, isn’t it, Sam? Time was when you trailed clouds of women. None of them did you much good.”

He quickly interjected, “I didn’t do them much good, either.”

“Six of one, half dozen of the other. There’s a lid for every pot. Look at Shaker.”

“Lucky man.”

“Be patient.”

As Sam drove off, Sister hurried back into the stable to admire Matador. “Well, let’s bring these other actors inside.”

As she and Shaker led in the other horses they talked about Thursday’s draw, who to take. The sun touched the horizon. They were glad to be with the horses and one another.

This was not the case at Aluminum Manufacturers. Iffy, buried in paperwork for Farmers Trust, grimaced each time Gray passed her door.

Each time Gray asked her for information, she gloried in retarding his efforts.

She’d erupt, sulk, and use her cane to stomp around, eventually complying with Gray’s request.

She left the office at five. Damned if she’d work late.

No sooner had she passed through her back door when the phone rang. “Hello. Garvey, what do you want?”

“Hate to call you at home, but Sonny called after you left.”

“It was five. Quitting time.” She glowered.

“I’m fine with that. But why I’m calling you at home is because someone must have told the state president of the bank that we were performing an internal audit. He told Sonny to hold approval until Gray finished the audit.”

“Bullshit.” She exploded. “Sonny is president of Farmers Trust for our region. He has the power to make the loan.”

“Sonny’s madder than hell. Look, we’ve got to speed up this audit.”

“Why can’t Sonny face down the Big Prez in Henrico County?”

“You know, Iffy, once banks started merging, once computers replaced people who actually knew their community, it all changed. If the economy were up, I expect Sonny wouldn’t have heard a word. But interest rates are rising; the Dow is falling. You know the rest of the story. The banks are nervous.”

“I’ll talk to Sonny. No, let me just take him what I’ve done so far. We’re rock solid. I resent this.”

“I do, too.” Garvey thought a minute. “Let me handle Sonny. If you worked with Gray, how quickly could you two finish the audit?”

“I can’t work with Gray. I’m your treasurer. If I work with him that could be construed as a conflict of interest. There goes the enhanced line of credit.”

Garvey exhaled a long sigh. “Of course, it would. I don’t know where my head is.”

“Have you spoken to Gray?”

“Yes. He suggested I hire Freddie Thomas, another independent, to work with him. Even with Freddie they’ll be pushing to get it done by next week.” He sighed, irritated and worried. “The devil is in the details.”

“Always is. Is Gray still there?”

“Just left. He said his mind is tired. He’s going to be coming in at seven-thirty, and he’ll work until five.”

“Who ratted to the big president?”

“No idea.” He thought it funny that she said “ratted.”

“Why would someone call the president of Farmers Trust about us?”

“Our audit isn’t a deep dark secret. I doubt anyone called. Sonny probably mentioned it to his staff or at a meeting in Richmond. I doubt he expected this complication.”

“Rotten timing.” She took a breath, then exhaled. “There will be small discrepancies, Garvey. I mean small. It’s a bitch to get it to the penny. If you’d kept Gray out of this, forgotten the audit idea, you’d have had the loan the first day of business this year, I swear. I could have finished up the paperwork in a hurry before Sonny could blow his nose.” She paused again. “Turn in our last tax return. It will give Sonny and company something to read. When Gray finishes, they can compare the two. I don’t want this to drag out any more than you do. Of course, we haven’t done last year’s income tax returns. No one has. To be safe, I’ll turn in the prior three years’ returns. That’s a start.”