Forged (Gail McCarthy Mystery) Read Online Free PDF

My house trailer sat just where that greenhouse is sitting now. When I kept my horses out here, I took lots of rides down on the beach. I thought I'd take you on my favorite little trip."
    "Okay."
    Brewer's Rose Farm was less than a mile from the ocean. We could see the deep turquoise-blue of the water and hear the distant rumble of the surf as we saddled the horses and ate our lunch on the tailgate of the pickup. When we were done, Blue adjusted the pack rig on Plumber's back and I slipped the plastic EZ Boot over Gunner's barefoot right hind. Then we pulled the cinches tight and climbed aboard.
    Gunner grunted slightly as he felt my weight in the saddle. Danny stiffened as Blue settled himself; I saw the colt's head go down and his back hump up.
    "Look out," I said.
    Blue just smiled. Clucking to Danny, he urged the young horse forward. Danny took two stiff-legged steps, as if he were walking on tiptoe, dropped his head another notch, and launched into a buck. Blue sat on top of him as peacefully as if the horse were strolling rather than crow-hopping.
    It didn't last long. Blue let Danny buck for half a dozen hops, while the dogs ran around him, yapping with excitement, then tugged on the reins and said, "That's enough."
    When Danny didn't respond, Blue used the end of the reins to spank the colt lightly, which brought his head up right away. Blue walked him in a circle for a moment and then untied the packhorse and rode off. The dogs and I followed.
    "My goodness," I said as we trooped down a dirt road between fields of artichokes and strawberries, headed towards the bay. "Why do you think he did that?"
    Blue shrugged. "He's young; he feels good; I haven't ridden him in a week; he's a little bit cinchy. All of those things. It's not a big deal. He's fine now."
    It was true. The bay colt walked along as quietly as if he were twenty-five instead of five, his acrobatics temporarily forgotten. "Better you than me," I said. "I just don't have the experience to cope with that. I'm sure glad you do."
    Blue just smiled.
    I remembered how easy Danny had been to train when I'd purchased him a year and a half ago as an unbroken three-year-old. Blue had helped me with him every step of the way and had taken over as trainer at my request when I felt that I'd gone as far with the colt as I was capable of going. Danny had begun bucking when he was fresh-something that I was entirely unequal to.
    "Why does he do that?" I asked Blue again. "He never used to."
    "It's not uncommon," Blue said. "He's just starting to wake up, feel his oats. Sort of like an eighteen-year-old kid who's always been docile and obedient and suddenly gets himself arrested for drunk driving. The parents are aghast, but it's more or less a normal stage. Danny's just being rebellious."
    I looked at my bright-eyed bay horse and was deeply grateful for Blue's long years of experience breaking and training horses. Without Blue, I might have felt like giving up on Danny, seen his bucking as incurably "bad." At the very least, I would have been afraid to ride him, which was bad enough in itself.
    Instead, I sat comfortably on my old and trusted buddy, Gunner, while Blue quite happily took the kinks out of Danny. What a deal.
    Warmed up now, the three horses plodded quietly down the road, the dogs trailing in their wake. I could smell the briny, seaweed smell of the ocean mixing with the earthy scent of freshly turned agricultural fields. Seagulls screeched; my heart sang.
    We passed an abandoned farmhouse, faded and weathered to a silver gray. Some rusting tractors crumbled silently in the sagging shed alongside. The road rose up into the dunes.
    Up one hill and down the other side. Up again and there it was-a great, shining, restless bulk-the ocean. Sleek and aquamarine far out, heaving translucent green in the nearby breakers, frothy white at the shoreline. Gunner snorted.
    Then we were moving out onto the sand of the beach while the dogs ran ahead to frisk in the waves.