Chapter 24

I sit in the medical tent with my thoughts for a while. The medical staff, after discussing it, have decided that a trip to the hospital is unnecessary, though if I develop even the slightest twinge of new pain, I’m to report to the ER at once.

True to my promise to Mr. Carver, I remain in the medical tent. One of the medical staff has turned on the radio, so I at least have some music to keep my intrusive thoughts at bay.

I’m still trying to chase away thoughts of Miles, and Miles and Amber.

Blessedly, the crackle of a loudspeaker is what finally pulls me away from my downward spiral.

“If you would allow me the pleasure of naming the winner of today’s mounted shooting competition,” Mr. Carver’s voice came through. “If I could have your attention, please. Yes, that’s right. Gather round.”

From my vantage point, I can see only the fields and none of the award ceremony happening up at the clubhouse. So I grip the chair beside me and yank myself up to my feet. I hobble more than walk, my ankle hurting fiercely, even with the pain medicine in my system, but eventually I make it to the edge of the tent and can see up to the clubhouse.

There, Mr. Carver has finally calmed down the crowd. “The winner of today’s event… Representative Hamilton. If you could come up here please.”

Miles began walking through the gathered crowd. Many people clapped for him. Others stepped to the side to allow him to walk on through.

“Perhaps you noticed that many of our targets had a hold through the bullseye,” Mr. Carver continues. “This is simply because Representative Hamilton, as a member of the first group, fired straight and true before anyone else could even reach the targets.”

So Miles was the one to hit the targets. I wondered…

“It’s also thanks to this fine marksmanship that today’s unfortunate event did not become a tragedy. Representative Hamilton saved a life today,” Mr. Carver says. “And I, for one, cannot think of a man more deserving of this honor.”

Miles is nearly to the stage when Amber pops up beside him. At once, she throws her arms around him and pulls him into a tight hug. His arm moves around her waist to reciprocate.

A stab of pain slices through my chest. I condemn it at once, recognizing it as jealousy. What do I have to be jealous about? Miles and I shared a night of passion, but that didn’t tie us together. I’m still married, among many other reasons we couldn’t be together.

Miles is free to date – and hug – whoever he wishes.

Even so, I don’t want to watch anymore, so I turn away. I glance back at my spot in the medical tent but I really hesitate returning there. My thoughts and pain are so loud. To sit with them would only hurt worse.

I need a distraction… but what?

I let my gaze drift, checking over the landscape. My gaze snags on the stables.

Did Sparkle Heart make it back okay?

Resolved to check on her, I begin the long and treacherous twenty yard trek to the stables. I nearly lose my balance on the slight hill between the stables and the field, but with a quick weight redistribution I’m able to keep myself upright. Basically, I flailed my arms.

Inside the stables, most of the horses are being fed. Sparkle Heart is there, safe and secure in her paddock. The poor thing looks as tired as I feel. For good reason too, she’s had a long day.

Nearby are a bag of sugar cubes, treats for the horses. I snag two and walk to Sparkle Heart. She whinnies lightly at my arrival, recognizing me.

“It’s alright, girl,” I say, and hold the treat out in the flat palm of my hand. She immediately seeks it out and guzzles it down. I pat her neck gently. “Good girl getting yourself out of harm’s way. We’re both safe. Rest now.”

She seems okay, but I’m not satisfied until I get into the paddock with her and inspect her for injuries. Other than being tired, she seems none the worse for wear, thank God. All of this could have been so much worse.

Thoughts of the boar still plague the back of my mind. Where did it come from?

As crazed as it was, it could have just wandered its way onto the country club grounds, even having not been a local species. It could have escaped from someone’s farm, or wandered up through the woods.

But I couldn’t shake the feeling that there’s more to this than what appears on the surface.

We as staff of the country club took precautions to keep this kind of thing from happening. How was this animal able to bypass these safeguards, especially as crazed and wild as it was? It wasn’t exactly stealthy when it traipsed through the woods.

I notice a stablehand nearby, and recognize him as one of the members of the stable staff who has been around for quite some time. Derek, I believe his name is, though I can’t recall his last name. He’s near the far end of the stable, righting equipment and cleaning here and there.

Leaving Sparkle Heart, I make my way over to him.

He lifts his head, spotting me as I draw closer. “Oh. Mrs. Graham. How nice to see you up and about. When Sparkle Heart came back without a rider, well… we all feared the worse.”

I thank him for his kind words, but quickly redirect the conversation. “Derek, have you ever heard of any wild boars in the area?”

“It’s the first I’ve heard of it,” Derek says. “We always keep our ears out for those kind of things, you know. I’ve heard that boars can be hell for the lawns. The dig to eat, I think. Nasty bastards.” His eyes widen slightly at his words. He clears his throat a moment later. “Forgive my language, ma’am.”

“That boar almost killed me,” I say. “He certainly was a nasty bastard.”

Derek smiles. “Yes, ma’am.”

So there were no reports of wild boars in the area. And if there had been one nearby, the staff would have been able to tell from the damage to the grass.

“Derek, did you notice anything unusual today?” Since I’m not totally sure what I’m looking for, I can’t ask anything more specific than that.

“I did see one thing, but truth be told, I might be misremembering.”

I would hear anything Derek has to say. Even if it turns out to be a false lead, that’s better than the leads I have now. Which are none.

“You remember how the guests were bringing their horses in all morning on their trailers?” Derek asks. At my nod, he continues, “I was key in helping that flow smoothly. Write down names. Assign trailers. That sort of thing.”

I remember. He’d been very confident that he could do a good job, when the position had been suggested, and as far as I knew, he succeeded.

“Well, it’s the damnedest thing,” he says. “I was keeping track. Writing everything down. And I swear I counted more trailers than horses.”