One Hoof In The Grave [Carriage Driving 02] Read Online Free PDF Page A

expect you to be eternally grateful to them afterwards.
    Neither Peggy nor I could conceive why Sarah Beth, Raleigh’s trophy wife, had married him. He was rich, but she’d had a successful career as an interior designer in Atlanta before she met Giles. I wondered if she’d ever been happy in the marriage. One hot afternoon beside the dressage arena, she whispered to me, “You know, Merry, I use to love horses. Giles has even taken that away from me.”
    I could have cried. Horses have saved my life, my sanity, my bank balance, and my ability to love. I don’t have to ride them or drive them—just having them in the barn and in my life keeps my endorphins pumping.
    My mother says that some people are born psychopaths, some choose psychopath and some have psychopath thrust upon them. I had no idea which category Giles fit into. Surely somebody loved him at some point. I used to think his daughter Dawn loved him, but although she was acting as his gator, she seemed to be ignoring him otherwise.
    After we passed Raleigh, Peggy and I went to get dry clothes and towels out of our truck and hunt up the shower in the Tollivers’ stable.
    “I hope they have a big water heater,” Peggy said. “I’ll flip you for who goes first.”
    As I opened the door to our trailer, Sarah-Beth opened the door to their trailer and leaned out. “I’ve been watching for y’all. Get yourselves in here right this minute. Y’all need some coffee and a hot shower.”
    “You’ve heard about our dunking?” Peggy asked.
    “Who hasn’t? I want to apologize for Giles. He shouldn’t have spoken to you like that. I know how he gets when he’s driving. Do you have dry clothes here or do you have to drive back to the motel?”
    “We have several sets here, as a matter of fact,” I said. “It’s fifteen minutes back to the motel, so we came prepared.”
    “We just didn’t expect to take a dive in the lake,” Peggy said. “But we’re covered in mud. We’ll mess everything up. We were planning to shower in the stable.”
    “I’ve got more hot water, and I definitely have coffee. Get your fresh clothes while I heat up some hot chocolate. That’s even better. Our shower is more private than the shower in the barn. Where are your Halflingers?”
    “Dick Fitzgibbons’ groom is looking after them.” I saw Peggy shiver. “Okay, Sarah-Beth. You have a deal.” I shoved Peggy forward. “Warm this one up while I get dry outfits.”
    When I got inside Raleigh’s trailer, I heard the shower running. In most living quarters attached to horse trailers—even the big ones—the shower is barely large enough to raise your arms to wash your hair. Raleigh’s had a real bathroom. I shoved Peggy’s fresh clothes inside the bathroom door and took the mug of hot coffee Sarah-Beth handed me. “You’re a life-saver, but won’t Giles have a fit if he finds me here?”
    “Screw Giles,” Sarah-Beth said. “Or not. Preferably not.”
    Uh-oh.
    Sarah Beth had been trophy wife thin since I’d known her, but now she looked positively cadaverous.
    I don’t agree with the prevailing theory that you can’t be too thin or too rich, although some of the rich-rich folks I know would benefit from a hefty dose of penury. But there is a limit on thin and she’d gone way past it. Something was wrong.
    If anyone could find out if Sara-Beth was having health problems, Peggy could. People confide in Peggy. Not because she looks nurturing and motherly. Believe me, she doesn’t. She’s nearly as tall as I am with muscles like tanned leather strips. She taught at the college level until she retired and moved to Mossy Creek, Georgia, and has not lost her ability to terrify the average liar into blabbing the truth.
    Until my father, Hiram Lackland, discovered her aptitude for driving carriages, she seemed content to cosset her four cats, read tons of murder mysteries, enjoy the Mossy Creek, Georgia, Ladies Garden Club and her grandchild Josie.
    Now, I couldn’t