Reining in Murder by Leigh Hearon

there’s no sign of infection. I’ll just give him another dose of antibiotics to make sure he stays on the right path.”
    Jessica did this with dispatch, then retrieved the bran mash and placed it before the horse. The bay lunged at it.
    â€œSpeaking of pleading looks, Annie—” said Dan.
    â€œForget it! One breakfast a year is enough. I have things to do.”
    â€œAnd I don’t? When’s Hilda’s man supposed to show up, anyway?”
    â€œCrack of dawn, was how he put it yesterday. But he said Hilda would call first, and I haven’t heard a peep from her since Todos left.”
    â€œWhat did you think of the guy?” Jessica seemed genuinely curious.
    â€œWell, he did seem to know what he was doing.” It practically killed Annie to admit this. “But he’s as snobby as Hilda, just without the fine clothes. In fact, I thought he was a local cowboy.”
    â€œYeah,” Dan agreed. “He doesn’t seem to fit into Hilda’s usual assortment of dressage trainers. Well, no sense hanging around if he’s not going to show anytime soon. I’m going to head down to Laurie’s Café and get some grub. Annie, let me know when Todos shows up, will you? I want to talk to him and Hilda today if possible.”
    It occurred to Annie that Dan was just as capable of doing this job as she was, but if making a phone call got her out of making breakfast, she wasn’t going to argue.
    It was nine o’clock by the time both Dan and Jessica left, after admiring Baby’s new spurt in growth and listening to Annie gush about her plans for her. Truth be known, it was Annie’s way of getting everyone to leave so she could get on with her day.
    * * *
    The material witness did not want to be sequestered.
    As soon as Annie opened the paddock gate, the bay let out a low, throaty bellow of protest. Trotter turned from the rest of the herd galloping out to the main pasture. He walked back inside the stable aisleway, squarely planted his four hooves, and gave a mournful, earsplitting hee-haw.
    â€œOh, fine. Go out with your buddy to the paddock. Just don’t talk to him about the case.”
    All morning, Annie kept a close eye on the stable clock, watching the hours tick past. She was damned if she was going to call Hilda again—but what was taking her so long? She half expected Hilda to come swooping in with an entourage that included the revered Dr. Barnes. Or maybe her personal attorney. Or both. By the time Annie had finished mucking the stalls and set out Sam’s tack for Hannah that afternoon, she had worked herself into a fine frenzy—and had told off Hilda at least six different ways in her head.
    Noontime came and went, and with it, so did Annie’s resolve. She trudged back to the farmhouse and dialed Hilda’s number again. Her message this time was colder and more to the point. Just to put a little zing into the one-sided conversation, Annie tartly ended with, “And please call Sheriff Stetson immediately. He wants to talk with you and your barn manager. Today.”
    Still feeling peeved, Annie made two PB&Js—one for her and one for Hannah for later—then sat down at her computer and made out an invoice to Colbert Farm. She added Jessica’s bills, stuck in a surcharge for the medicinal bran mash, then took it out. No sense in sinking to Hilda’s level.
    Her anger was not yet assuaged, but the PB&J made Annie feel marginally better. And when Hannah arrived, Annie forgot all about the rude and irritating behavior of stuck-up horse people. The little girl’s thrill at riding a real working horse was so appealing that no one, especially Annie, could fail to be caught up in her enthusiasm.
    Hannah proved to be just as adept on Sam as she had been on Bess. The old Morgan was healthy and perfectly capable of being ridden as long as her rider didn’t weigh more than a hundred pounds. But at this stage in