“That’s right. I enjoy watching Nathan’s hockey, but I’m a baseball man at heart. He got these all queued up for me so I could see you play.”
Embarrassed, I scuff my foot against the floor. “I was just the catcher. Not too exciting.”
Jesper snorts, grinning around the mouth of the bottle as he takes another sip. “You call the game, kid. Now that I’ve met you, I can see why they knew you were the man for the job. Can’t have some hothead behind the plate.”
Pleased, I smile to myself. I was never going to continue on past college ball, but I did love playing and I especially loved playing catcher. I was proud of that position.
“Did you need something?” Jesper asks. “Whatever you’ve got going back there smells amazing.”
“Pozole. It’s a soup. I made plenty, so give it thirty minutes and you can have as much as you want.” I step forward and hold my phone between us, thumb hovering over Nate’s voice message. “I just got this from Nate.”
Jesper frowns as he listens. Rain starts to drum against the roof of the house, and the sky outside has darkened considerably. Looking through the window in front of me, I’d never assume it was early evening. It’s black enough to be almost midnight. Jesper scratches a hand through the rough stubble on his face as the voice message finishes playing.
“Paulsons’ place,” he mumbles, standing up and pausing the game. “Sounds like he was headed for the road instead of looping around the way he went.”
“He just sent this,” I reiterate. “Like…two minutes ago.”
“Service is pretty dodgy around here. He could have sent that an hour ago, and it’s only now making its way through.”
I nod, biting my cheek and glancing out the window again. “I tried to text back and it didn’t go through.”
“That’s why we still have landlines out here,” he tells me, smiling kindly. He doesn’t look nervous, which settles my own gently roiling stomach. “How about I call over to Dean’s place, and ask if they’ve seen him?”
I nod again, gratefully. Maybe Nate’s riding out the storm at a neighboring farm, safe and dry in someone’s barn.
Back in the kitchen, I stir the pozole idly, eyes on the window above the sink. It’s really getting dark now, rain lashing the glass. Does Nate have a flashlight with him? How the hell will he be able to see?
“Dean’s going to check the stable,” Jesper tells me,walking into the kitchen. “They haven’t seen him, but he could have let himself in. He’ll call back.”
“Okay. I have to feed Tuna, so I think I’ll go do that while we’re waiting.”
“Good idea. Here.” He opens a closet and pulls out a long raincoat, handing it to me. “Or I could drive you.”
“This is fine.” I pull on the coat, which is long enough to hit my knees, and tug up the hood as well. The barn and loft are down the road a way, but having him drive me feels ridiculous. It’s just a little rain.
I run for the barn as soon as I leave Jesper’s covered porch, feet sliding on the wet grass and head tucked low. It’s coming down hard—a steady downpour interspersed with rumbles of thunder. Lighting forks across the sky, temporarily illuminating the yard. I pick up my pace, almost sprinting now, and regret not taking Jesper up on the offer to drive me. I’m so focused on just getting inside the barn that I almost run past the figure huddled against the wall, sheltering from the storm. Skidding to a halt and almost losing my footing, I push the hood on my borrowed coat back and peer at the horse.
“Qué demonios,” I mumble, stepping closer. It’s Annabelle, that much is clear, although her white coat is gray with moisture, making her nothing more than a ghostly apparition. She doesn’t shy away as I approach, head hanging low. When I grab the reins, which are pooled on the ground, she jerks her head half-heartedly but doesn’t move otherwise. She’s visibly quivering.
Confused, I glance around as though Nate might pop out of the gloom, smile on his face and hands reaching for me. Maybe he’s inside, opening the doors to bring her in.
The rain pelts down, hammering the roof of the barn andsliding off in great sheets of water. I’m soaking wet, despite the coat. Tugging Annabelle, I lead her around the barn and wait for the motion lights to switch on.
The sliding doors are still closed.
Shouldering them open, I try to ignore the tinny ringing in my ears as my nerves begin to morph into fear. Something’s not right. Nate would never leave one of the horses out in this weather—certainly not one fully tacked up.
As I lead a freakishly calm Annabelle into the barn, I nearly faint as I get my first good look at her. Blood rushes to my head and my vision tunnels. She’s limping heavily, desperately trying not to put weight on her back leg where I can see a raw scrape down her hindquarter. The saddle is skewed—tilted at an angle with the cinch strap digging into her armpit. I drop the reins.
“Nate!” I shout, throwing the hood completely off as I jog toward the loft stairs. “Nate! Are you here?”
Tuna whinnies and startles as I run by. Several of the horses kick the sides of their stalls, reacting to my anxiety and the storm.It’s important to keep calm around horses,Nate’s voice says in my ear, reminding me of my first day here,because they can always tell when you’re not.A nervous rider is going to be riding a nervous horse.
“Nate? Are you up here?”
I fling open the loft door with probably more force than necessarily, and nearly vomit on to the floor. The lights are off—he’s not here.
Back down in the main barn, I quickly walk up and down the stalls, checking each one.Maybe he’s hiding, I think desperately, even though I know it’s futile. Nate would never hear me yelling for him and ignore me. I pause only long enough to try calling his cellphone, but it doesn’t go through.Annabelle hasn’t moved from where I left her, water dripping steadily from the saddle onto the concrete floor.
