Shadow Horse (16 page)

Jas held back a giggle. Chase reached for her hand, twining his fingers with hers. On Jas’s other side, Sam flopped down, squashing his huge furry butt against the door handle and resting his head on her legs. His big eyes, cloudy with cataracts, gazed contentedly up at her as she stroked his graying muzzle.

“We’ll tell Miss Hahn we found Sam hanging around garbage cans at the tack shop, looking very old and hungry,” Jas said.

“Good idea,” Lucy said. “She’s a sucker for lost dogs.”

“Only you better get rid of his collar.” Reaching across Jas’s lap, Chase unbuckled Sam’s collar. When they turned down a narrow road, he rolled down the car window.

“Wait, I want to do it.” Jas took the collar from him and, leaning forward, threw it out.

The collar sailed through the air, the tags jingling. Turning in the seat, Jas watched until it landed and disappeared in the weeds.

“Are you sure you’re ready to jump him?” Chase asked Jas the next day as he set up a crossbar in the middle of the paddock. “You’ve only ridden him three times.”

Jas nodded as she steered Shadow past the bales of hay and two poles they were calling a jump. “He’s been perfect. Besides, we need to see if he was professionally trained—by a jerk named Hugh Robicheaux.”

Chase stood back to inspect the crossbar. It was only about two feet high in the middle. “I guess even old Sam could jump over this.”

As Jas gathered the reins, her heart began to pound excitedly. It was the first time she’d jumped a horse in over six weeks.

But that wasn’t the only reason she was excited.

She wanted to find out if Shadow’s clearing the paddock fence was just a fluke. If the big horse couldn’t jump worth a hoot, she knew there was no way he could be Aladdin.

“Say cheese!” Chase called when she rode by. He’d lifted up the camera that was hanging around his neck and was holding it to one eye. Sam was sprawled by his feet.

When they brought Sam back to the farm, Miss Hahn hadn’t even questioned their story about finding him at the tack shop. She happily fed the shepherd a dog cookie, then told Jas and Chase to give him a flea bath.

This morning, Miss Hahn had left early for a meeting. As soon as she’d left, Jas had tacked up Shadow, figuring she could ride him before her lockdown time and Miss Hahn returned.

“Don’t forget to take a shot of Shadow jumping so we can compare it to the photo in the album,” Jas said, circling the big horse around the hay bales.

Even though Shadow was huge, his trot
was light and springy, and he responded to Jas like a dream.

“I love this horse,” she exclaimed as she thundered past Chase.

Jas trotted Shadow, keeping him slow and steady, and when the beat of his gait became as rhythmic as a song, she steered him down the middle. His ears tilted forward. His nose went up just enough so Jas knew he was focused and ready.

Without breaking stride, he jumped the crossbar, landed softly, then continued trotting. Grinning happily, Jas scratched his withers. He shook his head as if to say, “Was that all?”

“He just stepped over the thing,” Chase said in amazement. “Keep trotting while I put it up to three feet.”

When Chase had adjusted the poles, Jas again turned Shadow toward the jump. He trotted over it, his back rounding in a perfect bascule.

Chase hooted. “Four feet!”

“No way!” Jas shot back, but already he was adjusting the fence, dragging another hay bale to make it higher. “Three feet six,” she said. “I’ll pretend it’s a fence in one of my junior hunter classes.”

Even though Jas had jumped the height a hundred times, her mouth went dry. This time, she cantered Shadow down the center, keeping light contact on the reins. He didn’t tug or rush. When he leaped the bales as if they weren’t even there, her heart leaped with him.

He landed on the other side, ducked his head, and bucked playfully. Jas was too excited to scold him. Halting at the end of the paddock, she dropped her reins and threw her arms around his sweaty neck. “You were terrific!”

“He cleared it by two feet!” Chase whooped as he jogged over, Sam trailing behind him. “Just like the other day when he jumped out—”

Jas straightened just as Miss Hahn came walking over, the burros ambling alongside. She shot Chase a horrified look. He clamped his mouth shut, but it was too late.

“When he did what?” Miss Hahn demanded as she opened the gate and came into the paddock. “And why are you jumping that horse without asking me first?”

“Uh-h-h,” Chase sputtered.

Crossing her arms, Miss Hahn waited for an answer.

“We wanted to surprise you?” Chase guessed.

Jas was too afraid to speak. Miss Hahn had obviously seen Shadow jump. If Shadow
was
Aladdin, there was a good chance she would recognize him.

Quickly, Jas searched for an explanation that would keep Miss Hahn from getting too suspicious. “Uh, last Saturday, Shadow jumped out of the paddock,” she said, which was the truth.

Miss Hahn’s jaw dropped. “Over the paddock fence? But that’s five feet high.”

“I know. Chase and I decided that he was probably trained as a jumper. So we wanted to try him out.” She dropped her gaze. “I’m sorry we didn’t tell you first,” she added contritely, hoping Miss Hahn would buy it.

For a minute, Miss Hahn frowned at the two of them, as if disappointed they hadn’t told her. Then she shrugged. “Well, I guess nothing was hurt. You better cool Shadow off. Though, judging by that last buck, he’s not hot or tired. When he gets in shape, we’ll take him over to my friend Lydia’s and let him see some real fences.”

As if he knew she was talking about him,
Shadow rubbed his face against Miss Hahn’s arm. She patted him on the head. “You know, when I saw him jump, it occurred to me that I’ve seen him before. I wonder if he was originally from around here?”

Jas inhaled sharply. With a horrified expression, she looked at Chase.
Don’t say anything
, she mouthed.

This morning, Shadow proved that he
was
a jumper, just like Aladdin. It could still be a coincidence, so Jas had lots more sleuthing to do. Having Chase know what she was up to had been risky. But if Miss Hahn guessed something was going on, it would blow everything.

“Grandfather, I want you to meet Chase,” Jas said on Sunday’s visit. She stood behind his wheelchair ready to take him out to the patio.

“Ase?” Craning his neck like an old turtle, Grandfather inspected Chase from head to toe. Chase stood by the bed, his baseball cap in one hand, looking awkward. “Kind of ittle and kinny, ain’t he?”

“He says you’re tall and handsome,” Jas said when Chase gave her a puzzled look. “Ready to go outside?” she asked as she
pushed the wheelchair out of the room and down the hall.

“I’m ready to get
out,”
Grandfather grumbled. The stronger he felt, the more he chafed at being at the nursing home.

“I know,” Jas said. “It won’t be long.”

As they walked down the hall, Chase strode beside Jas, casting uneasy looks at the old people shuffling into the rec room for Bingo. Grandpa grunted as they passed by. “I ate ingo.”

“Then it’s good we came when we did.” Turning the chair around, Jas went backward through the double doors that led outside. Then she pushed Grandfather onto the brick patio and over to a bench under a tree.

“Ahhhh.” Closing his eyes, he laid his head against the back of the wheelchair and breathed deeply. Jas took the album from Chase and set it on Grandfather’s lap. Then she flipped through until she found Aladdin’s picture. From his pocket, Chase pulled the Polaroid of Shadow that he’d taken the day before and set it next to the photo of Aladdin. Then they waited, sitting side by side on the bench, their knees touching, while Grandfather studied the pictures.

“So wasn’t I right?” Jas said. Yesterday, she had told Grandfather everything on the phone.

He nodded as he turned the page to the newspaper article about Aladdin’s death. Last night, Jas had pored over the article, trying to find some clue. Just like Phil had said, Aladdin had died of colic five years ago—right in the middle of an outstanding jumping career.

“Twins,” Grandfather finally said.

“That’s what Chase and I thought. They’re even the right ages,” Jas explained. “Aladdin was seven when he supposedly died five years ago. Danvers said Shadow’s about twelve.”

Chase tapped the photo of Aladdin. “But we can’t figure out how they could be the same horse.”

“A inger,” Grandfather declared.

“What?” Jas leaned forward to hear him better.

“A r-inger,” he repeated.

“A ringer?” Jas knew what a ringer was from stories about double-dealing on the racetrack. It was a horse that looked identical to another horse. “You mean Shadow is a ringer for Aladdin?”

“Es.” Grandfather pressed his mouth in a
line. Turning the pages, he hunted through the album. When he found two photos, he tapped them wildly. “Here! This explains it! Afer Uhaddin ied Hugh ought ese oo orses or over a illion ollars!” He spat the words so fast that Jas didn’t have a clue what he was saying.

She looked closer at the photos. They showed Hugh holding his stallion Whirligig, who had sired Whirlwind. After standing him for two years, he’d sold him to a syndicate.

The other picture was of a Thoroughbred yearling Hugh had bought at the auction in Kentucky. He’d cost over half a million dollars, but went bust as a racehorse.

“Don’t oo see?” Grandfather declared, clutching at Jas’s arm.

“No. You’ve got to slow down.”

He took a deep breath, then started again, enunciating each word. “After Uhaddin died, Hugh spent over a million on two horses. But he only got twenty-five ousand from Uhaddin’s insurance money.”

“But Hugh’s rich.”

Grandfather swung his head. “Not that rich. And ee spends everything he makes.”

Puzzled, Jas tried to understand what Grandfather was saying. Grandfather grasped
her wrist with bony fingers and pulled her even closer.

“What if Hugh didn’t kill Uhaddin?” he whispered. “What if ee killed a ringer?”

Jas’s eyes widened as she slowly understood what Grandfather was saying. Beside her, Chase sucked in his breath as if he got it, too.

“You mean Hugh killed a horse that looked like Aladdin, but wasn’t Aladdin,” Jas said, repeating what she thought he was trying to say. “But since everyone thought he was Aladdin, Hugh collected the insurance money. At the same time, he sold the
real
Aladdin, who by then was worth a lot of money!”

“The creep would have collected twice!” Chase exclaimed.

“But Aladdin was pretty well known by then,” Jas pointed out. “So how’d Hugh get away with it? I mean, first, he had to find a horse that looked like Aladdin. Then he had to sell the real Aladdin. Only he couldn’t just sell the horse to anybody, because someone would have recognized him.”

Grandfather winked. “South America.”

“You mean Hugh sold the horse overseas?”

“Ight. They buy lots of orses. No questions asked.”

“Wow.” Jas slumped back on the bench. It all made sense—almost. “Then if Shadow is the real Aladdin, how did he get back to Virginia?”

Grandfather shrugged. “The new owners didn’t want him anyor when he got sick,” he guessed, his voice growing fainter and less clear.

Jas could tell he was getting tired. “Rest a minute,” she said, patting his knee.

Leaning his head back, Grandfather closed his eyes. Jas took the album and set it on Chase’s legs.

“If Hugh’s the conniving sleaze you say he is,” Chase said in a low voice, “then your grandfather’s explanation makes perfect sense.”

“It does make sense. The article says Aladdin died in the middle of an impressive first season on the jumping circuit. His value was skyrocketing, but he was just starting to attract attention in the horse world. It would have been the perfect time to arrange his death.”

“Any later and Aladdin would have been too famous,” Chase agreed. But then he frowned. “Only, why did a well-known guy like Hugh take the chance? Killing your horse isn’t a crime. But insurance fraud is. Hugh had to know he’d get in serious trouble if he was caught.”

Jas arched one brow.
“If
he was caught. And he wasn’t. Obviously, no one discovered that the dead horse wasn’t Aladdin.”

A sudden memory made Jas shudder. “And I can understand why. I remember how different Whirlwind looked when she was lying there—” Jas’s voice cracked. “And now that I know Hugh better,” Jas went on, feeling more anger now than sadness, “I realize he enjoys the risks almost as much as the money. Otherwise, why would he have called me up and used Aladdin’s name in the first place?”

Without opening his eyes, Grandfather chuckled. “Yup. Oo nailed it, Jas. Hugh is a crafty devil.” Opening one eye, he tapped himself on the temple. “But not as mart and crafty as you and me! We’ll get Hugh. Don’t oo worry.”

But Jas wasn’t as confident as Grandfather. If Aladdin was Shadow, then Hugh had gotten away with a really devious scheme.

“Hey, don’t look so glum,” Chase said. “We’ll figure this out.”

“I’m glad you and Grandfather are optimistic,” Jas said, sighing gloomily. “Because even though we think we’ve figured it all out, the reality is—we don’t have a shred of proof.”