“No!”
She screamed the instant the pistol went off in her hand. The deadly sound seemed to ricochet off the stone walls of the stable and reverberate forever. Horses whinnied and tramped in fear. Someone outside shouted, and several of the firemen scrambled through the door to see what the shot meant.
Reede shoved Alex away from him. His voice crackling with rage, he said, “You should have done it clean like that in the first place, and spared him the agony.”
“The fire’s completely put out, Mr. Minton,” the fire chief reported. “We checked all the wiring, insulation, everything in the roof. All the damage was superficial.” He clicked his lips against his gums. “Damn shame about Reede Lambert’s Thoroughbred, though.”
“Thank you for all you’ve done. I’ve always said our fire department is the finest in West Texas.”
Some of Angus’s heartiness had been restored, though his features were heavy with fatigue. He was putting up a good front, as though he was determined not to let this be a setback. Alex could only admire his stamina and optimism.
He was sitting at the kitchen table with Junior, looking like he might have been wrapping up an all-night poker game instead of holding a wake for a destroyed racehorse and his vandalized property.
“Guess we’ll be taking off, then.” The fireman picked up his hard hat and moved toward the back door. “Someone will be out tomorrow to look for clues. It’s a definite arson.”
“We’ll cooperate any way we can. I’m just glad you responded so quickly and kept the fire from spreading.”
“So long.” As the fireman went through the back door, he met Reede coming in. Reede ignored Alex, who was standing self-consciously against the wall, and poured himself a cup of coffee from the pot Lupe had brewed.
“The troughs are pure again. The horses won’t be poisoned by their own excrement,” he said emotionlessly. “We got all the windows boarded up so you won’t freeze tonight. There’s still a lot of cleanup to do.”
“Well,” Angus sighed, coming to his feet, “we can’t start on that till daylight, so I’m going up to bed. Thanks, Reede. You went above and beyond your duties as sheriff.”
Reede bobbed his head in quick
acknowledgment. “How’s Sarah Jo?”
“Junior made her take a tranquilizer.”
“She’s sleeping now.” Junior stood up also. “Would you like me to drive you back to town now, Alex? You’ve got no business being out here at this time of night.”
“I wanted her to see her handiwork,” Reede said.
“I had nothing to do with it!” she cried.
“Maybe not directly,” Angus said sternly, “but this damn fool investigation of yours put things in motion. We’ve been fighting that loud-mouthed hellfire-and-damnation preacher for years. He was just looking for an excuse to pull a malicious stunt like this. You handed him a golden opportunity.”
“I’m sorry if you see it that way, Angus.”
The air was thick with tension. No one moved. Even the housekeeper stopped washing empty coffee cups. Finally, Junior stepped forward and took her arm. “Come on. It’s getting late.”
“I’ll take her back,” Reede said curtly.
“I don’t mind.”
“I’m going anyway.”
“You’ll just harp on what happened here.”
“What the hell do you care what I say to her?”
“All right then, you take her home,” Junior said testily. “You’re the one who brought her, aren’t you?” With that, he turned and left the room.
“ ’Night, Reede, Alex.” An unsmiling Angus followed his son out.
Reede tossed the dregs of his coffee into the sink. “Come on,” her ordered her.
Retrieving her coat, she went outside with him and dejectedly climbed into his truck. She wanted to say something to break the dreadful silence, but couldn’t bring herself to utter a single word. Reede seemed disinclined to converse. His eyes remained resolutely on the center stripe of the highway.