The Payback Man

“I think so. Will you?”

“I beg your pardon?” Eleanor asked.

“Pretty obvious this isn’t what you thought it was going to be. So, are you going to pack it in or stick it out?”

Eleanor didn’t answer her right away. Instead, she headed out to her truck, Selma right behind her. Part of her wanted to leave this place and never come back, even though it meant finding another place to live. At least she wouldn’t be faced with Steve Chadwick every day. She wouldn’t have feelings she didn’t want to admit to herself, nor would she have to worry whether he was innocent or guilty. And if he really was innocent, what on earth could she do about it?

She slid into the front seat of her truck. Selma stood outside the door, hands on her ample hips. Finally Eleanor leaned out the window. “I’ll be here tomorrow and the next day and the next. I’m not quitting.”

“Good,” Selma said, then laid her hand on Eleanor’s arm. “Remember, if you want to keep your peace of mind, keep your distance from the men—all the men.”

CHAPTER FOUR

ELEANOR FELT HER FACE FLAME as she drove out through the farm gates toward Creature Comfort. She should have realized Selma would know that something out of the ordinary had happened between her and Steve.

He was plausible, good-looking, charming and intelligent. Of course, he might also be a sociopath and a liar. He probably had a dozen women writing him fan letters and coming to see him on visiting days. She sure did not intend to be one of them.

When she drove into the Creature Comfort staff parking lot, Jack Renfro, the ex-jockey and veterinary technician, and her boss, Sarah Scott, met her before she had a chance to climb out of her truck.

“Guess what you’re going to do this afternoon?” Sarah said. “You like sheep?”

“Not one of my favorite of God’s creatures.”

“I’m sure you’ll learn to love them before the afternoon’s out. You’ve got to vaccinate a herd of about thirty and oversee dipping them.”

Eleanor stared at Sarah. “You’re not going with us, are you? The last thing a pregnant woman needs is to be around all those chemicals.”

“Nope, you and Jack are on your own. You’ve got coveralls and rubber boots in the truck, haven’t you?”

“Of course.”

“Took time to persuade her to stay out of it,” Jack grumbled. “Sheep kick and butt like goats. I’ll not have you putting my godson in danger.”

“I do miss going out on calls,” Sarah said wistfully. “My stomach’s finally settling. I’m only three months pregnant, and I’m already starting to get cabin fever.” She looked down at the top of Jack’s head. “And your god-child is a she, not a he.”

“Not certain yet, are you? I’ll spot you eight to five on a boy.” Despite his years of riding racehorses in the United States and Canada, and his wife from Marion, Arkansas, Jack had traces of his Cockney accent, although overlaid with an Arkansas drawl and an occasional “y’all.”

“You’re just bored, Sarah,” Eleanor said. “Go help Bill Chumley with his exotics or Rick with the cats and dogs. Come on, Jack. Ah, the odor of sheep-dip on the balmy October air—my favorite perfume.”

They drove out before Sarah could change her mind.

“Jack, I have a very strange and terribly personal question to ask you,” Eleanor said after a few minutes on the road. “Tell me to stuff it if you like. I won’t take offense.”

“Takes a lot to offend me, Eleanor. Go ahead and ask.”

“Did you ever know anybody in prison?”

Jack sat up. “This side of the pond or the other?”

“Either.”

“Couple of what I believe are called ‘domestic disputes,’ a couple of public drunkenness cases among my friends when I was riding. Jockeys can come all over bad-tempered when they’ve had a drop too much or too many losses in a row. Small men, you know.”

“Not some overnight thing in the county jail. Real prison. For a long stretch.”

“Oh. Then, no.”

“Darn. I was hoping you could give me some advice. I don’t seem to be handling my new job very well.”