Lois Greiman - [Hope Springs 02] by Home Fires Page A

put it in the top drawer. I thought that’s where you kept it.”
    “I . . .” Sophie began, but Emily stopped her.
    “That is where she keeps it.”
    “Stay out of this,” Sophie warned.
    “I don’t know why you’re getting so hot-wired,” Emily said. “It’s not like it’s the Holy Grail or something. It’s just a frickin’ curling iron.”
    “It’s my curling iron.”
    “Yeah, well, it’s not as if you even need it. I mean, good God, golly, ” she corrected, glancing at Casie. “It’s six thirty in the morning and you look like you just stepped off a high fashion runway.” She scowled. When Emily was honest, which was a sporadic thing at best, she was spooky honest. “Makes me want to eat my weight in salami.”
    “That’s . . .” Sophie, though pampered like a princess before her arrival at the Lazy, never quite seemed to know how to handle compliments. “It’s not as if it makes any difference. He doesn’t even . . .” She paused, shifted her gaze from one to the other, cheeks coloring a little.
    “What?” Casie said.
    “He who? ” Emily said.
    “Nothing,” Sophie said, and turning, rummaged noisily through the silverware drawer.
    “He what? ” Emily asked, sparing a grin for Casie. “Hey, you don’t have a thing for that shoot-’em-up cowboy, do you? Cuz he’s mine. Soon as I pop out this baby, I’m gonna throw him over my saddle and bring him on home to the Lazy.”
    Casie watched Sophie’s jerky movements. It wasn’t like her to get embarrassed, but Casie herself was all too familiar with the pangs of self-consciousness and drew the conversation in a different direction.
    “I thought you were looking for an elderly doctor, Em,” she said.
    “A sugar daddy. Sure,” Emily conceded happily. “Brooks Hedley’s just for sport.”
    Casie shook her head. “You’re a terrible influence.”
    “Yeah, well, Sophie’s not as innocent as she seems.”
    “I meant for me,” Casie said.
    Emily laughed with her usual effusiveness. “I’m surprised you can even blush anymore after stashing Mr. Dickenson away in your bedroom last night.”
    “She’s down!” Ty burst into the kitchen like a tornado. There was terror in his eyes, a quiver in his voice.
    “What?” Casie was in full panic before another word was spoken.
    “It’s Angel!” He spit out the words. “I think she’s collicking.”
    “What happened?” she asked, but she was already rushing toward the foyer, searching for her boots with eyes too recently open.
    “She was flat out when I went to feed her. I thought she was just resting cuz she got up as soon as she saw me, but when I dumped the oats in her bucket she wouldn’t eat.”
    Casie swore in silence as she smashed a Marlboro cap onto her head. Horses didn’t turn away from oats unless they were sick. Prior to this, she’d been pretty sure Angel would have to be dead to refuse breakfast.
    “Did you take the grain back out?”
    “Didn’t have time. Came straight here. What are we going to do?”
    “Do you think she’s been rolling?” They were already rushing out the door together.
    “I don’t know.”
    “What’s wrong with rolling?” Despite her bulk, Emily was only a half pace behind them.
    Sophie was closer still. “Horses have an esophageal sphincter that won’t allow them to throw up. They thrash around to try to alleviate the pain. Sometimes the agitation will cause a gut to twist. After that . . .” She fell blessedly silent.
    Thank you, Miss Happiness, Casie thought, and lengthened her strides. It was no secret that the Lazy could barely afford equine feed much less equine surgery.
    Inside the barn, Al, the follicly challenged goat, greeted them with an early-morning bleat, but Angel’s head remained unseen above her stall’s Dutch door. In a moment Casie was looking inside. The mare was down again, and there was no question that she was in pain. Her head was stretched out on the ground, her eyes half closed. Little moans of