Shadow Horse
Authors: Alison Hart
ALSO BY ALISON HART
Whirlwind
Horse Diarie #2:
Bell’s Star
To the dedicated professionals who shared their time and knowledge:
Susan Weisgerber, juvenile case manager at Staunton-Augusta Court Service Unit; Rod Jones, probation supervisor at 25th District Juvenile and Domestic Relations Court Service Unit; Corporal Tom Byerly of the Staunton Police Department; Dana Wandless, social worker at Staunton-Augusta Department of Social Services.
Special thanks to Patricia Rogers, Manager of the Equine Rescue League in Leesburg, Virginia. Your energy and enthusiasm were inspirational.
One
SHE WAS A FLASH OF GOLD AS SHE CANTERED
around the ring. Ears pricked, neck arched, she moved like a movie star in the spotlight as she sailed over the last fence. Landing smoothly, she slowed to a trot in front of the crowd, tossing her mane as if to say, “Wasn’t I great?”
Because she
was
great. She was the most beautiful horse in the world.
But now she was dead.
Whirlwind
.
Jas whispered the mare’s name as she stared at the photo clutched in her fingers. Whirlwind was posed for the camera with her head high, a tricolored ribbon fluttering from her bridle. The picture had been taken a month ago at Devon, the horse show where they’d won the Junior Hunter Championship.
Now this picture was all Jas had left of the mare she loved.
Tears welled in her eyes. She hadn’t cried since the chestnut horse died three weeks ago. She wasn’t about to now.
Clapping her hand over her mouth, Jas tried to hold back a sob. The paper grocery bag on her lap slid sideways. She grabbed for it, but the handcuffs bit into her wrists, and the bag fell, spilling her underwear onto the floor of the Municipal Court holding room.
Someone in the room snickered. Flushing hotly, Jas bent over and scooped her underwear back into the bag.
The kid sitting next to her leaned closer. “Hey, can I have those?” he whispered.
“No,” Jas retorted, shrinking from his leering face. “They’re all the clothes I’ve got.” Sitting up, she crumpled the bag to her chest.
A silent cry filled her.
Grandfather!
If only he was here. Jas knew if he was, none of this would be happening. She’d be schooling a horse at High Meadows Farm and not waiting for the court bailiff to call her name.
“Move to another seat, Vince,” a deputy barked at the kid sitting next to Jas.
From the corner of her eye, Jas watched Vince swagger across the floor, his defiant gaze directed at the two deputies standing guard. The deputies wore tan suit coats with the sheriff’s department emblem over the pocket. One stood in an army stance. The other sat on a folding chair with his long legs stretched in front of him. The rest of the holding room was filled with teenagers.
Jas was the only girl.
Turning away, Jas stared out the barred window that overlooked Stanford’s Main Street. A man wearing a dark suit walked briskly down the sidewalk, a soft breeze ruffling his hair.
“Jasmine?”
She snapped her head around. Charles Petrie, the public defender, looked down at her with his half-glasses perched on his nose.
“We’ll be called sometime in the next hour,” Petrie said. “Unfortunately, there’s no set schedule.” Impatiently, he ran his fingers through his thinning hair. “Is there anything you want to tell me before we see the judge?” He sat down next to her, balancing his briefcase on his knees.
Jas shook her head.
He let out an exasperated sigh. It was the same sigh Jas had heard the last time he’d asked that question.
“I can’t help you if you won’t tell me what happened.” He waited. Jas didn’t say anything. He exhaled loudly, expressing his annoyance. “Okay. I’m going to defend you, but I don’t know how well we’re going to do.”
He stood up. “I’ll see you in court. If you change your mind, tell one of the deputies to come get me.”
“I won’t change my mind,” Jas replied. She
couldn’t
change her mind.
“Hey, beautiful,” Vince said as he sat down in Petrie’s vacant chair. He was about her age, thirteen, or maybe older.
“Beautiful?” Jas said as she wrinkled her nose. She’d barely slept or eaten for three weeks. Her tan had faded. Her once well-muscled arms and legs were soft from inactivity. Her brown hair had been washed only once since she’d been put in the detention center by the judge at the first hearing.
The first hearing—she could still remember everything the judge had said:
Jasmine Schuler, you have been charged with a felony. Since there is no one to release you to at this
time, you will be held in the Juvenile Detention Center until your trial on June fifteenth
.
That had been fourteen days ago. It seemed like a lifetime.
“You’re definitely the most beautiful babe in here,” Vince said.
Jas rolled her eyes. “I’m the
only
girl in here.”
“Yeah, I noticed.” He tossed his hair off his brow with a shrug of his head. “What’re you here for?”
“Same reason you’re here. The cops caught me,” which was the same line Jas gave any kid who asked. Not that many at the center had asked anyway. They were too busy with their own problems.
“Yeah? Were you busted for drugs, too?”
“No, just a runaway,” Jas lied.
“Been there, too. This time, the cops caught me with marijuana.” He jabbed his thumb at his skinny chest as if he was proud of it.
Jas gave him her best get-lost look. Maybe if she told him why she was
really
here he would shut up.
She turned her back to him and glanced around the room. It was full of guys just like the punk sitting next to her. They were talking
and laughing as if they were waiting for homeroom to begin, instead of court. Only one skinny kid looked scared. He was slumped in a corner, his eyes downcast. His mother was huddled just as miserably next to him.
At least he has someone, Jas thought. She crossed her fingers, hoping that Phil Sparks, the manager of High Meadows, would come to the trial. Phil was her only chance. He could make the judge understand.
“Schuler case!” The words rang down the hall, and Jas jumped. The deputy leaning against the wall came over. “Ready?” he asked as he bent down to take off her handcuffs.
Jas’s stomach rolled.
No, I’m not!
“Let’s go.” He took the bag from her, then grasped her arm almost politely. Jas stood on shaky legs. She tried to swallow, but her mouth was too dry.
“Bye, beautiful!” Vince called, making kissing noises as the deputy led her out the door. “Clear the hall!” yelled the bailiff.
The deputy steered Jas through a group of people and into the courtroom. In the front of the room, a robed judge sat at his desk. Charles Petrie stood behind the defense table to the right of the desk, facing the judge. Mr.
Eyler, the probation officer, sat against the wall. Hugh Robicheaux sat at the prosecutor’s table on the left.
Jas froze when she saw Hugh. Anger rose in her chest. When she began to walk down the aisle again, her eyes bored into the back of Hugh’s head. He was talking to his lawyer, a man in a dark suit, Mr. Sydow. As she looked at Hugh, she realized that she’d never hated anyone so much in her life.
“Jas?” someone called in a low voice.
Startled, Jas glanced back. Phil Sparks sat in an aisle seat behind Hugh, nervously twisting his John Deere cap in his work-roughened hands.
Phil!
Jas smiled hopefully. But the farm manager ducked his head as if embarrassed. When he wouldn’t meet Jas’s eyes, her smile died.
Please, Phil, don’t let Hugh scare you into not helping me!
With a firm grip, the deputy propelled her up the aisle to the seat next to Mr. Petrie. Jas’s knees buckled, and she sat down with a thump on the wooden chair.
“Jasmine Schuler, please stand,” the judge’s voice rang through the courtroom.
Slowly, Jas stood, her hands clenched in fists.
“Miss Schuler, you have been charged with assault against Hugh Robicheaux.”
As she heard the judge’s words, Jas trembled. Again she had to fight back tears. If Phil was testifying for Hugh, she didn’t stand a chance.
Hugh Robicheaux would win again.
“
MR. PETRIE
.”
THE JUDGE DIRECTED HIS GAZE
at Jas. “How does your client plead?”
Jas caught her breath.
“Your Honor, Miss Schuler pleads not guilty,” Petrie said.
“You may be seated. Mr. Sydow, call your first witness.”
Mr. Sydow, the man in the dark suit, stood up. “I’d like to call Officer Tom Diamond.” Jas slumped into her seat as a Stanford police officer walked to the front and sat in the witness box.
“Officer Diamond,” Mr. Sydow began, “were you called to High Meadows Farm on the night of June first?”
“I was.”
“Will you please summarize the facts and circumstances at the farm on this date?”
Jas looked down at the ground as she remembered that horrible day.
Grandfather! Come quick! It’s Whirlwind! I think she’s dead!
“I arrived at the farm at five in the afternoon to find the defendant, Miss Schuler, kneeling by her grandfather outside the barn,” the officer said. “The rescue squad arrived minutes before, and the EMTs were treating him. They pointed to the barn, where I found the victim, Mr. Robicheaux, being attended to for a slash on his cheek.”
