Next I make scrambled eggs with cheese, onions, and ham. I put everything on a tray and cover the eggs with another dish to keep them warm.
The stairs creak as I mount them, carrying the tray. I set it on a chair near the bed, then head downstairs to fill a coffee cup for myself as well.
I’d like to do some of the chores before Marlowe gets up, but I’m not sure that’s a good idea. Even though I helped Tess yesterday, I was under supervision. I’ve got no experience caring for horses. It’s probably best to wait until Marlowe can give me directions about what should be done.
After pulling my boots on, I walk out onto the porch and stand there, sipping my coffee, breathing the fresh, chilly air coming off the sea.
One of the horses is making a lot of noise. Do horses whinny around dawn, like roosters crow? Except it doesn’t sound like an announcement of the day’s arrival. Sounds more like a warning or a call. Like the horse is trying to get someone’s attention. And it doesn’t sound like it’s coming from the barn.
I walk to the end of the porch and look toward the stable. That’s where the horses should be, but they’re out. Some of them are standing in the pasture. Two of them are farther away, near the back fence, lying in the grass. I squint, trying to see their shapes better. Something about their position is wrong.
My heart drops into my boots.
Everything about this is wrong, from the prone shapes in the grass to the lone horse that stands nearest to the fence. It’s Atreides, the gelding I connected with yesterday. I thought he was calling for Marlowe—but maybe he was calling for me. Calling for help.
I set my coffee on the windowsill and run inside. Up the stairs, down the hall, into the bedroom, not sure how to tell her.
“Marlowe.” I grasp her shoulder. She’s still deeply asleep, her cheeks rosy. It takes a couple minutes of gently shaking her and calling her name before she rouses.
She unveils those startling aqua eyes and blinks long, dark lashes at me. “Hi there.”
“Marlowe, baby… I think you should get up.”
She frowns. “Is something wrong?” She sits up, the sheet slipping down to reveal her perfect breasts. I hate that I’m noticing them at this moment.Not the right time, Rick.
I start to speak, but Marlowe’s head whips to the side like she’s listening. Listening to the cries of the horse by the fence.
Alarm leaps into her gaze, and she jumps out of the bed. She pulls on her tank top and shorts, races past the breakfast I made her, thunders down the steps. I’m right on her heels. I steady her while she pulls on her boots.
She’s half-sobbing as we run toward the pasture. “It’s her, Rick. I can smell her.”
“Your sister.”
Marlowe fumbles with the gate latch and screams when she can’t undo it fast enough. I take over, swing it open, and close it behind us.
She runs toward the two prone figures. Drops to her knees.
It’s the two new mares, the rescues she brought in with Atreides. I crouch beside her while she confirms that they’re gone.
When she turns to me for comfort, I grab her in both arms. She doesn’t cry, just clutches me with frenzied strength.
“Why didn’t I hear them?” she chokes out.
“You said your father used to sing to horses to make them stay quiet. Maybe he taught your sister the same trick.”
“You’re right. Fuck.” Marlowe shoves me away and stands up. She stalks back toward the gate, white-faced and tearless. “I need my phone. I need to call Art Stanwick. He takes care of things like this. I lost one of my rescues once, and he helped with the body.”
“It’s okay to take a second to grieve.”
“I can’t.” She whirls on me, her eyes blazing. “Not yet. I can’t let myself feel it yet, do you understand?”
“Okay.”
“I need to board the other horses somewhere else until this is over.” She strides toward the nearest mare. “I need to see if any stables in this area have room. I have to protect the horses until I can kill my sister.”
I clear my throat. “So that’s the plan? Not judging, just wondering if you should take a second—”
“I can’t!” she snaps. “She broke our law. She killedhorses. She probably tried to get into town last night, and when she couldn’t, she didthis.” Marlowe’s jaw clenches and she looks away. “They didn’t try to run, call for me, or fight back. Not that they’d have stood a chance against her anyway. And while it was happening I was withyou.”
