Shadow Horse (6 page)

But what about Chase? Was he really about to say she was cute?

No way. Not me
.

Jas shook her head. He was probably going to say he was staring because he’d never seen a foster kid before.

She bit her lip hard. What a fool she was. She’d been around the center punks for so long that she’d forgotten what a “normal” kid might think about someone like her.

Breaking into a jog, Jas tried to catch up with Chase, who’d disappeared inside a barn. She needed to forget about him and think about the horses.

Horses
. She grinned excitedly. Okay, so they weren’t going to be sleek Thoroughbreds or majestic Trakehners. But they’d have four legs and whinny, and maybe—just maybe—there’d be one to ride. Not that any horse would ever come close to Whirlwind.

When she reached the barn, Jas slowed and stared at it in dismay. The rectangular building looked like an abandoned warehouse. The paint was peeling, and the aisle
door hung on one hinge. Hesitantly, she stepped inside.

“Down here!” Chase hollered from somewhere at the other end. “I’m in the feed room.”

“In a minute!” Jas wasn’t about to rush past the stalls, which were arranged on both sides of the dirt aisle. In the summer at High Meadows, they’d brought the horses inside during the day. They’d covered them with fly sheets and fed them the best alfalfa hay there was. Sprayers automatically spritzed repellent from the ceiling, and fans stirred the air. It was a four-star hotel for horses.

From what Jas could see, the accommodations at Second Chance Farm had no stars. Still, the barn was cool and dark against the heat and bugs of summer.

The first stall Jas glanced into was empty. It was clean, however, and bedded with thick straw. In the second stall, a horse dozed behind a mesh door, his brown eyes half closed.

“Hey.” Jas reached one finger through the mesh, eager to feel the velvety soft muzzle. Startled, the horse jerked his head up, and Jas got a better look at him.

He was so thin, she could count every rib,
and when she looked at his back, she gasped.

A bone was sticking out.

Jas gagged. Grabbing hold of her stomach, she stumbled backward, slamming into the wall behind her.

“The Animal Control Officer found him locked in a stall,” Chase said as he walked up the aisle, a bucket in each hand. “The manure was piled so high around his legs he couldn’t move.”

Jas clapped a hand over her mouth. Turning, she rushed from the barn and threw up her breakfast in a patch of weeds outside the door.

Chase was quiet, and she didn’t hear him come up beside her. “Here.” He handed her a can of soda. “This might help.”

She took a quick sip, letting the syrupy drink wash away the terrible taste in her mouth. “Why didn’t you warn me?” she yelled.

He shrugged. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking. Usually we prepare visitors by telling them ahead of time the story behind each horse. This horse here, Ruffles, just came off quarantine yesterday, so I didn’t know that Diane, I mean Miss Hahn, moved him into this barn.”

Jas pressed the cold soda can to her
forehead. Her skin felt clammy. “Has the vet seen him?”

“The animal control officer called the vet immediately. Before he came here, Ruffles was in a barn full of fat, well-cared-for Morgan horses. But about a month ago, he threw his owner’s daughter. Locking him in his stall with no food for four weeks was his punishment.”

“No—no way.” Jas swung her head. “People don’t do things like that.”

But you know they do
, a voice inside her head said.
Hugh killed Whirlwind, remember?

Jas began to feel sick again. Stumbling to the shady side of the barn, she propped herself against the wall and closed her eyes.

“Hey, Chase, what’s going on?” a cheerful voice asked.

Snapping her eyes open, Jas saw a girl waltzing toward them. Reese and Lassie trotted beside her with adoring expressions on their doggy faces. And no wonder. Tall and shapely as a cover girl, with shoulder-length blond hair, she was a very attractive girl.

“Hey, Luce.” Chase shoved his hands in his jean pockets, his expression as sheepishly adoring as the dogs’. “This is Jas, Miss Hahn’s,
uh—” He stopped, as if not sure what to say.

“Foster kid,” Jas helped him out, looking at Lucy with a very unadoring expression. Lucy was about fifteen or sixteen, Jas figured, just the right age for wrapping a younger guy like Chase around her finger.

“Hi, Jas.” Lucy eyed her up and down, then jerked her head toward the weeds. “I see you just blew lunch. Must be Miss Hahn’s cooking.”

“She just met Ruffles,” Chase said.

“Couldn’t take it, huh?” Hands in her back pockets, Lucy rocked on the heels of her paddock boots and thrust out her amply rounded breasts. “All the greenhorns have trouble. You’ll get used to it.”

Greenhorn!
Jas balled her fingers into a fist, wishing she could punch Lucy in her adorable little face. But she smiled instead. “Yup, that’s me. Never seen a horse close up.”

Chase gave her a puzzled look.

“So, Chase, I thought you were going to show me how to feed,” Jas said. “What do the horses eat? Straw?”

“Straw!” Lucy tilted her head and laughed, showing off even, white teeth. “Good luck training
her
, Chase,” she said as she headed
back to the office, calling, “If you’re feeding the horses, I’ll do the rest.”

When Lucy left, Jas blew out her breath and strode back into the barn, halting in front of Ruffles’s stall. This time she studied every skinny, moth-eaten inch of him.

“He’s a lot better than when he first came,” Chase said. “The bone is sticking up because the vet had to cut away—”

Jas clapped her hands to her ears. “I don’t want to hear about it just yet,” she said. “And how can you be so calm about something like this?”

“I want to be a vet.”

“Oh, I should have guessed.” Dropping her hands from her ears, Jas walked down the aisle, glancing into the rest of the stalls. Hollow-eyed horses with rough coats, knock-knees, and ewe-necks stared back at her.

Jas pressed her lips together, trying not to feel revulsion. The stalls at High Meadows had held such perfect horses, their coats groomed to a satiny patina. Their manes were pulled to just the right length, their tails brushed full and smooth, and each wore color-coordinated fly sheets and leg protectors.

But this bunch … Jas couldn’t find the right words to describe them.

Chase had been following silently behind her. When she stopped abruptly, he was so close, he almost fell over her.

“I don’t get it,” she said. “They’re in such terrible shape, why doesn’t the vet just put them down?”

Chase frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Well, what good are they?” Jas waved her hand at the row of stalls. “Their medical care must cost a fortune, and I bet it takes forever to get them healthy again. Then you still have a horse that will never show or race or even be good enough to breed.”

Chase’s frown turned sharper. “Oh, now I get it. You’re a horse snob.”

“A horse snob?” Jas repeated in disbelief.

“Yeah. One of those la-de-da types who love the ribbons and trophies and admiring glances when their horse wins something. The kind whose egos depend on reading their names in the
Chronicle of the Horse
. They don’t really love horses, they only love how much they’re worth.”

Jas narrowed her eyes. How dare the jerk accuse her of not loving horses!

“You are so wrong,” she shot back. “Not that I
care
what you think. I’m here at this stupid farm because I have to be. I’ll do my time and then I’m out of here. So don’t try and give me any grief!” Whirling, Jas plunged from the barn, charging through the geese, scattering them as she strode past the office. The door was open, and Tilly sat on the top step, panting. Jas bet that Miss Hahn was inside, talking on the phone.

Breaking into a jog, she swung around the pass-through and into the shady backyard. She plopped under a big maple and buried her face in her arms. When she was certain she was alone, she burst into tears. Not only had the day been one of the worst in her life, but now she was stuck at this Noah’s Ark for rejects.

A wet nose pushed its way under her arm. “Go away,” Jas sobbed. But when the wet nose nudged more insistently, she peered over her arms. Lassie was staring at her, wagging her tail happily. Flopping on the ground, she rolled over against Jas’s leg and thumped her tail harder.

“Fine. I’ll scratch you.” Jas wiped her damp cheeks on her shirt sleeve. Then, sniffing
noisily, she rubbed the dog’s fat tummy until Lassie’s hind foot flailed the air.

A sudden movement by the fence caught her eye. Miss Hahn was peering over the gate. When she saw Jas looking back, she turned and walked away.

She’s spying
, Jas thought. Anger began to dry her tears. According to the schedule, Jas wasn’t on lockdown right now.

She could run free or even walk away. She could run to Springhill Road and hitch a ride to High Meadows Farm to accuse Hugh of killing Whirlwind. Miss Hahn
better
keep an eye on her.

Wiping her cheeks, Jas let her head fall back against the tree trunk. She’d love to see the look on Hugh’s face when Miss Hahn called and told him that Jas was coming after him.

It was too bad it wouldn’t happen. Jas knew she couldn’t risk leaving the farm. If the police caught her, she’d never see her grandfather again.

Jas sighed in frustration. She knew that she might as well face it. Just like the sad-eyed horses in the barn, she was stuck at Second Chance Farm.

WHIRR-R-R
.

The whining sound of the string trimmer filled Jas’s ears as she cut the tall grass around the maple trees in the front yard. It was Friday morning, and for the last four days she’d spent her
LOCK
time—the time she had to stay close to the monitor—gardening.

I’m really doing a number on this place
, Jas thought as she turned off the trimmer and dropped the goggles around her neck. She’d mowed the lawn, shaped the boxwoods, and weeded the beds. She’d even asked Miss Hahn to order a load of mulch, which was being delivered in the afternoon.

Not that this will ever look like High Meadows Farm
, Jas reminded herself.

She was walking to the shed, the trimmer hanging off one shoulder, when Mr. Eyler, her
probation officer, drove up. Jas didn’t stop to greet him, but instead, kept walking toward the house.
He’ll catch up
, she said to herself.

They met in the kitchen. Jas sipped a glass of water, her cheeks streaked with sweat, while Mr. Eyler drank a cup of coffee.

“At your trial on Monday, the judge heard only negative things about you.” Mr. Eyler set his briefcase on the table and opened it. “Today, we need to come up with at least three goals so that when you go before him in forty-five days he’ll see how much progress you’ve made.”

“Forty-one days,” Jas corrected.

“Pardon?” Mr. Eyler looked up at her, and Jas met his eyes with a steady gaze.

“I go before the judge in forty-one days,” she clarified.

“Right.” Mr. Eyler pulled out a file and a pad of paper. “Let’s think about three goals you would like to work on during these forty-
one
days. Miss Hahn tells me you’ve been working in the yard.”

“Can’t you tell?”

“And that you went to the library Tuesday and checked out some books to read.”

“Twenty. I’ve read six so far.”

Jas had checked out lots of books on true crime, detective work, and police procedures. She figured the more she knew about being a detective, the better the chance she had to catch Hugh. But she wasn’t about to tell Eyler that.

He raised one pale brow. “You’re a fast reader.”

“I have a lot of time.”

He cleared his throat. “So what do you think you’d like to work on? For example, some kids make remaining drug-free a goal.”

“That sounds good for them. But I’ve always been drug-free,” Jas said.

“Oh, right. Well, here’s another example that might be more appropriate. Your goal would be to continue following the rules of probation so that you can visit your grandfather a couple times a week. Sound good?”

Jas shot upright in her chair. “You’ve talked to him? You’ve seen him? Is he all right? Ms. Tomlinson said she was going to find out where he was, but I haven’t heard a word from her.”

Mr. Eyler nodded. “Your grandfather’s out of the hospital and in The Stanford House, which is an excellent nursing home in town. And he’s ready to have visitors.” Mr. Eyler
smiled. Jas could tell he was genuinely happy to give her the news.

“Thank you.” She could feel herself choking up. Quickly, she stood to get another glass of water. “More coffee?”

“No, thank you. So, we can make following probation rules a goal?”

Jas nodded. “Definitely.”

“Since you like horses, perhaps one of the goals can be working several hours a day with the animals on the farm. And since you’ve been doing such a great job in the yard, we could also add more yard and farm work as a goal,” said Mr. Eyler.