He climbed back into his vehicle and stared at the kennel through the windshield.
His own divorce had been low-key, but he recognized in hindsight that it had left a mark. He’d been depressed for years afterward. He’d thrown himself into work but had been unmotivated to improve his personal life. Until he’d met Cady last winter.
He’d wanted to ask her out in the spring, but she’d nearly died at the hands of a killer. He’d decided to wait until she’d recovered. But the waiting had backfired, and he feared he’d been friend-zoned. Now, he didn’t know how to move forward, and his tongue froze every time he saw her.
He started the engine and pulled away. He’d be swimming a lot more, that was for sure. By the time the IRONMAN ran next summer, he’d be Aquaman.
Until then, back to work.
He passed Camilla’s place and turned at the mailbox that read JOHNSON. Homer’s farm was in better repair than Camilla’s. The house was large, white, and freshly painted. A half dozen outbuildings clustered behind a gigantic brown barn. Horses grazed in multiple pastures.
The battered pickup truck sitting in front of the barn told him Homer was at home. Todd parked. No one answered his knock on the front door, so he wandered around the house.
The barn doors stood wide open. He stepped into the cool interior and spied Homer through the back door, hosing the leg of a big bay horse. As Todd approached, the horse startled. The big animal flew backward. Homer tried to hold on to the lead rope but couldn’t control twelve hundred pounds of wild-eyed horse. The bay whirled and thundered down the aisle—directly at Todd.
His heart stuttered.
“Get out of the way!” Homer shouted.
But if the horse made it out the front door of the barn, it was a straight, open lane to the road. Todd didn’t want it to get hurt. He was the one who’d scared it. He balanced on the balls of his feet, poised to dive out of the way at the last minute, just in case.
Then he raised his arms as the horse galloped toward him. “Whoa there. Whoa.” He prepared to leap sideways, but the horse slid to a stop a dozen feet short of him, snorting and pawing at the dirt aisle.
“There’s a good boy,” he murmured in a soft voice.
The horse arched its neck and snorted like a dragon.
“You are a beauty.” He walked up to it and picked up the lead rope.
Homer hustled up the aisle and took the rope from him. “Thanks.” He turned to the horse, which looked not at all sorry. “You’re a big dope,” Homer said, but his voice was filled with affection. “You’d better not have busted your stitches.”
“I’m sorry I startled him.” Todd moved out of the way.
“You act like you know horses.”
“I grew up out here in the country. My best friend’s family had horses. We rode all the time. Fell off as much as we stayed on. Can’t decide if we were brave or stupid.”
“Probably a bit of both.” Homer crouched to examine the horse’s front leg. A row of stitches closed a cut in the muscle just above the knee. “He’s OK. He’s not spooky. He’s just fired up from being cooped up in his stall for the past few days. Normally, my son works the vinegar out of him every day. Stall rest is a bitch with a horse that has more energy than sense.”
“He’s gorgeous.” Todd stroked the animal’s neck and swore it preened at the compliments. He introduced himself.
The old man gave him a nod and motioned toward the horse. “This is Speed, which is short for Mr. Lightspeed Pilot.”
“Dad! Are you OK?” a voice called from the entrance.
“I’m fine.” Homer rubbed the horse’s forehead. “This big idiot was just looking for another way to hurt himself.” He gestured toward the younger man hurrying down the aisle toward them. “And that is my son, Evan.”
Evan slowed his steps as he approached. “I told you a stud was too much for you to handle.”
Homer gave his son a look. “I breed and train horses. It’s what I do. It’s what I’ve always done. If I don’t do that, I’m nothing. In that case, you can take me out back and shoot me.”
“I told you I’d take care of his leg when I got here.” Evan sounded tired.
“My horse. My responsibility.” Homer huffed.
Evan massaged the back of his neck. “When are you going to trust me to handle the business?”
“When I’m dead.” Homer spit in the dirt. “The only way I’m leaving this place is in a pine box.”
Evan sighed. He was fortysomething, with the tanned skin and deep crow’s-feet of a man who spent his days outdoors. “Stubborn old man.”
“You know it.” Homer nodded.
The words were heated, but Todd sensed concern and affection, not anger, behind them. He turned to Homer. “I need to ask you a few questions about your neighbor, Camilla.”
Homer grimaced, then with a huge sigh, handed the lead rope to his son. “His leg needs another ten minutes of hosing before being rebandaged.”
“Dad, I’ve got this.” Evan took the rope. “You’d think he’d trust me after all these years of working together.”
Matt suspected Homer wasn’t afraid of his son not being capable of handling operations, but instead feared not being needed.
Evan led the horse back toward the rear of the barn.
Watching them, Homer crossed his arms over his chest. “He’s not limping.” He dropped his hands. “I don’t know why I worry so much. Speed is retired. All he has to do is court the ladies now.”
“How long have you had him?” Todd asked.
“I snagged his mama at an auction fifteen years ago. It’s almost unbelievable that a horse with her pedigree was this close to being shipped off to slaughter.” Homer pinched his fingers in the air. “I didn’t know she was in foal for another month. I watched Speed come into this world. This guy won quite a few races in his day,” Homer said with pride. “Now, what did you come here to ask me?”
“I was curious about the value of Camilla’s farm and thought you might have some information on that.”
Homer scratched his chin. “A few months ago, a developer was sniffing around here, trying to buy up the land for a development of fancy mini estates.” He said estates as if the word were distasteful. “The offer for my place was decent, but I’m still making money. I was surprised Camilla didn’t consider selling. She was barely paying the bills. But then, she’s never lived anywhere else. I don’t know where she’d go.”
“Tax records show Camilla owned the farm for twenty years.”
Homer nodded. “That’s when her daddy passed and left the place to her.” He whistled. “Her brother was so mad, he sued the estate to challenge the will in court.” Disapproval dragged the corners of his mouth down. “The old man had the right to leave his farm to whoever he pleased, especially since Camilla was the one who took care of him. Bernard moved to Scarlet Falls and raised his family there. Camilla stayed on the farm with hers, but Bernard still thought he was entitled to his share anyway.”
“I assume he lost the court battle?” Todd asked.
“Yep.” Homer gave him a tight-lipped nod. “The court had no time for his nonsense. Camilla earned that farm the hard way.”
“So there was tension between Camilla and Bernard?”
“There was,” Homer answered. “Recently, it seemed Bernard was trying to mend fences. He came up for Camilla’s birthday last month. Brought his girls and grandkids too. Camilla was excited about it. She loved those kids.” Homer frowned again.
Todd sensed an impending but the size of an eighteen-wheeler.
“But it turned out they all showed up just to ask her for money.” Homer shook his head. “Camilla laughed when she told me because she didn’t have any money. All she had was the farm. They suggested she sell it. Said her life would be easier if she downsized. But she refused to give up her home. It’s been her whole life. What would she do without it?” He pondered his own question for a few seconds, clearly comparing Camilla’s predicament to his own.
Todd prompted, “Was Camilla angry?”
Homer considered the question. “No. Not angry.” His brow furrowed into a thousand wrinkles. “She was disappointed, and maybe a little bitter.”