Saddled With Trouble by Michele Scott Page A

through her. She took a step back, suddenly a bit dizzy. Her feelings had nothing to do with Davis, she reassured herself. Instead, it was the realization that somebody had been on her property and had either been playing a cruel joke on her, or had intentionally planned to do her harm. Yeah, that’s all it was.
    Michaela sat down on the step. The sadness she’d felt earlier still lingered, but now shared space with an overwhelming sense of fear.
    “ You okay?” Davis asked, pulling a pair of latex gloves out of his coat pocket.
    “ Tired. That’s all.” Michaela noticed, as he slid the gloves over his hands, that he wasn’t wearing a wedding ring. Huh? What about that honeymoon in Barbados . . . ? Lord! What was wrong with her? Why in the world did she care if this guy was married or not? He was the detective on her uncle’s murder case, for heaven’s sakes, and now he was checking out a threat on her property.
    He bent down next to the pitchfork and picked up a wrapper, holding it up to the light.
    “ What is it?” Michaela asked.
    “ A wrapper for chewing tobacco,” he replied.
    “ Chewing tobacco?”
    “ Yep.” He took another small plastic bag from his coat pocket and placed the wrapper in it
    “ Anyone you know around here chew tobacco?”
    “ No.”
    “ Maybe Dr. Slater?”
    “ Definitely not.” She stood up.
    “ Okay. I’ll take it with me, too. Doubt it will tell us much, but you never know.”
    “ So where do you think it might have come from?”
    She shook her head. “That I don’t know. It makes sense that whoever moved the pitchfork might have been the one to leave the tobacco wrapper. But that doesn’t seem too smart to throw it down.”
    “ No.” He sighed. “But it could have dropped out of someone’s pocket and they might not have seen it.”
    “ Makes sense.” Michaela felt a shiver run down her spine with the repeat thought that someone might have been watching her from outside the barn while she fed and took care of the horses, waiting for a deliberate moment to do something to spook her. Or, what if that person had planned to do something more than spook her, but had gotten scared when Ethan pulled in? She didn’t like this at all. “Do you think whoever was trying to frighten me— which, I assume, is what someone was trying to do— could also be my uncle’s murderer?”
    “ I don’t know. But can you think of anyone you and your uncle knew that might have some type of, uh . . . well, is there anyone out there who might want to get even with you for something?
    She sighed and nodded.“Maybe I do. Let me pour you that cup of tea. This might take a while.”

 
     
     
     
     
    SEVEN
    MICHAELA HADN’T THOUGHT ABOUT IT UNTIL Detective Davis mentioned the possibility of revenge. And, it clicked that maybe there was one person out there who wanted to get even with both her and Uncle Lou. The thing was, she knew how this might sound, because she knew exactly how it sounded to herself— not good.
    Davis sat at her kitchen table sipping his tea. Camden still wasn’t home. Where the heck was she? Must still be out with Kevin Tanner. Hadn’t she told her last night they were spending the day together? Looked like day had turned into night. Camden sure was spending a lot of time with him lately.
    She sat down across from Davis. He twisted the mug back and forth between his hands. “Good tea.”
    “ Thanks.” She took a sip and it warmed her insides. “Here.” She opened the top of the cookie jar that sat on the table. “They’re not homemade— Oreos. Kind of a vice for me.”
    He smiled. It was a nice, warm smile. Comforting. “I have a sweet tooth, too. I better not, though. Ms. Bancroft, you said that there was someone who might have something against you and your uncle.”
    “ Please, like I said, you can call me Michaela,” she interrupted.
    “ Okay, Michaela, who are you thinking of?”
    She leaned back in the wooden chair. “Possibly my