Chapter Four
Hot and sweaty after five hours of hard but gratifying labor, Zinnia used the sink in the tack room to clean up before lunch. Her uncle had called Raquel about twenty minutes ago to say they’d be up at the house soon.
“Who was the first to put a sink in their tack room, you or Spence Bridger?” She glanced over her shoulder at her uncle, who was scrolling through pictures he’d taken of Banjo, who had a worrisome scab on his heel.
“Spence. But I was the one who thought of adding a mirror.”
“It’s a nice perk.” Peering into it, she took off her cap, finger combed her hair and pulled it back through the cap’s opening. Then she backed away to let her uncle use the sink.
Putting away his phone, he washed his hands, splashed water on his face and reached for the towel hanging on a small rack. “The sink was the important part, though. Spence was always dreaming up ways to make things better and more convenient. Like the electronic gates.”
“They’re snazzy, all right.”
“Raquel hated them.” He replaced the towel, pulled off his hat and took a comb from his back pocket.
“Really? Why?” She got a kick out of Uncle Graham fussing with his thick white hair, his only sign of male vanity.
“She didn’t like the look of those keypad posts.” He tucked the comb away before settling the hat back on his head. “Thought they were too modern, like this was some kind of gated community in the suburbs.”
“But he put them in against her wishes? That doesn’t sound like the guy you’ve described to me.”
“He eventually sweet-talked her into it. The code is her birthday.”
“Nice.” The more she heard about Spence the more she wished she could have met him.
“Ready to go?”
“Sure am. I’m hungry.” She followed him out of the tack room. “Bye-bye, horsies. See you in six weeks.”
“Or two days. You can pay ’em a visit when we come out for Monty’s party on Saturday.”
“That’s right, I could.” She had mixed emotions about that party now that she knew her uncle had hoped she and Monty would hit it off. Asking for his help with Speckles was the right thing for her horse. A celebration of his birthday was the wrong thing for her sanity. But Tex would love it.
She glanced over at her uncle. “Any ideas about what we can get him?”
“I’ll ask Raquel if he has the latest Rance McLintock book. It just came out, so he might not have bought it yet.”
“Isn’t that the author who wrote Tequila Shots in the Dark? M.R. Morrison’s son?”
“It is. You’ve read that one?”
“Sure have. And all of hers, too. Mari and I tried to get to their signing in Apple Grove last year, but we couldn’t make it happen.”
“I didn’t know you and Mari were fans.”
“We are, but we don’t keep up like we should. I didn’t know Rance had another book out. What’s this one called?”
“A Bullet Through the Beer Keg.”
She laughed. “I’d love to meet that guy. I’ll bet he’s a hoot.”
“You’re in luck. Once the new road’s done, they’ll make it over more often.”
“Rance and his mom?”
“The whole fam-damnly. Several of them were involved in renovating that purple Victorian outside of town so they could put in the bookstore.”
“No kidding. That’s a beautiful old house. I haven’t made time to pop in, but I want to.”
