accident, but lately sheâd reverted to her old habits. Her tangerine-colored truck careened around the county as if launched in a giant pinball machine.
âSpeaking of Ace,â Mrs. Allen said, âI called Sheriff Ballard from my bedroom phone and he said that since Dallas is coming anywayââ
âDallas is going to be on the volunteer posse?â Sam asked, surprised.
âSo he says, and I figured Ace could ride along in the trailer with Dallasâ horse. He said weâd only need three or four people, and so I asked if I could help and with Jakeâs friend, your Jen and this out-of-state expert, thereâs no problem.â
âMrs. Allen, you are just the best!â Sam said, giving the womanâs forearm a squeeze.
âWell now, I donât know about that,â she said, looking flustered. Then she pointed her index finger at Sam. âJust see that you get here in time to unload all this strange gear.â
âI will,â Sam said, then crossed her heart. âI promise.â
Sam hummed with happiness while Jake weighed the odds of getting home in one piece if he rode in the tangerine-colored truck. Mrs. Allen added tennis balls, floating pool noodles, and maracas to her list.
Sheâd just stuffed her list into her big black purse when Imp and Angel gave a volley of alarmed barks, then dove under the kitchen table and shivered in silence.
âNow, what do you suppose?â Mrs. Allen said. âThey only act like that, Iâm ashamed to say, when Dr. Scott comes over, and I surely havenât called him for anything.â
Samâs heart slammed against her ribs.
Dr. Scott, the vet. The BLM vet.
A wave of paranoia closed over her. She didnât look at Jake or Mrs. Allen because she was afraid sheâd accuse one of themâno, both of themâof calling the vet. After all, Jake had been alone in the house cleaning up after the quail, and Mrs. Allen had been in the house for some time, supposedly making lunch, before she and Jake came in. But Mrs. Allen hadnât made lunch. Maybe sheâd called the vet instead.
Wait a minute, Sam told herself. These people were her friends.
Jake had just encouraged her to do something she wanted, even though it meant more work for him.And Mrs. Allen had arranged for her to do it!
Besides, neither Jake nor Mrs. Allen were shy about speaking their minds or taking action. If they believed Sam was making a terrible mistake, theyâd stop her.
âMaybe he was just in the neighborhood?â Sam asked. She glanced at Jake, but heâd helped himself to a big glass of water and now he was stretching out his legs as if warming up for another run.
âSam,â Mrs. Allen said, âthat poor young veterinarian is so overworked, he doesnât have time for courtesy calls. At your place, maybe, where Grace will feed himâbut here? All Iâve got to offer is blisters and bites. Oh, hush up, Angel,â Mrs. Allen added as a growl emerged from under the table. âWell, we might as well go out and see what he wants. I heard they had a case of West Nile virus over in Blackheel City. True, itâs a hundred miles away, but whatâs distance to a mosquito?â
Sighing fatalistically, Mrs. Allen stood up.
Sam held her breath as the old woman turned and looked into her eyes. âWonât change your mind about having him look at that mare, I suppose?â
âNoâ¦â Sam knew as the word passed her lips that she could be wrong, but she said it anyway and followed Mrs. Allen outside.
âGuess Iâll jog home,â Jake said.
âJake, why donât you stay andââ Sam started.
ââCause Iâm no good at this,â Jake said, and Samclosed her eyes. She didnât have to ask what Jake meant, because she was no different. Neither of them were good at lying.
Â
At first, when Dr. Scott climbed out of his truck, Sam thought he
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