to say I wasn’t the one who
asked the question. Lindsay’s father was her biggest fan and had helped Lindsay
to keep in the riding circuit, even when the family’s financial situation
looked shaky. Lindsay had been hoping to qualify for a riding scholarship at
the regionals, which were only a few months away.
“She won’t be riding for a while,” the
doctor said. “I know you’re supposed to get right back up on the horse, but her
head injury puts her at serious risk. If she were my daughter, I wouldn’t put
her on a horse until at least the fall.” He winced and amended, “The autumn.”
Lindsay’s father sank back into the
plastic-padded waiting room chair while his wife, who had said little in the
exchange, turned to me with enormous eyes.
“How could this happen?” she asked in a
haunted whisper. “How could this happen again?”
She might as well have been reading my
mind.
Chapter
9:
Aunt Susanna asked the same question when
I came home a few hours later. She had a sandwich and a cup of hot cocoa
waiting when I walked in. I was too upset to eat, too nervous to do anything
more than toy with my drink as we talked. My hands shook as I explained about
the accident, so much that I had to let go of the mug until the story was over.
My feeling of guilt was nearly overwhelming, but there was nothing accusatory
in Aunt Susanna’s tone when she spoke.
“How could this happen again? What would
they be looking for?” she asked. “There isn’t anything out there.”
“I know, I know,” I said, rubbing my
forehead. I couldn’t get the picture of the crumbled Lindsay and her broken arm
only yards from the abandoned treasure dig out of my mind. And playing round and
a round, like a broken record for a soundtrack, was Professor Randall’s soft
voice demanding, Tell me, has that letter
stopped anyone from trespassing on your land?
Self-recriminations joined in the chorus. I
should have known, I should have checked. Didn’t I run that part of the paths
this morning? Or was it yesterday? How did I miss it?
Aunt Susanna’s voice broke through the
clamor in my head. “….And I thought this was done when we found that letter. I
thought it proved that there was no treasure, that Michael had been wrong...”
I looked at her sharply, but she was
staring into her half-empty mug, her knuckles white on her elegantly lacquered
hands. I noticed the deeply imprinted lines on her face. She suddenly looked
old and hard. Something about her expression alerted me.
“It did,” I said, pushing myself out of my
slouch and into a sitting position. “It proved it beyond a shadow of a doubt.”
“No, it didn’t. We’ve got to close off the
riding trails.”
I gasped in surprise. “We can’t do that,
Aunt Susanna. We need them to exercise the horses – half of our boarders are
here because of the trails.”
“Do you really think they’re going to use
them after tonight?” she asked. “Once word of this gets around, they won’t go
near the trails, and I don’t blame them. No matter what we do, word is going to
get out. People are going to notice when Lindsay isn’t there.”
She was right. Lindsay was an integral
part of the day-to-day operations. The damage from this accident was going to
be considerable.
“It’s going to be bad for business,” I
said.
Aunt Susanna snapped, “What are you, made
of stone? Lindsay was nearly killed today. This isn’t about business.
It’s about people.”
“Don’t you think I know that? I’m the one who had to bring her to the hospital and explain it to her parents.
She’s my friend too, you know.”
“I know.” She was silent for a moment,
then she went on. “I won’t have anyone else hurt, Maddie. We’re lucky, and only
lucky, that Lindsay is all right.”
“I know. Lord, don’t I know it.”
“We’re closing off the riding trails,” she
said firmly, but her voice was softer. “I don’t blame you for what happened, of
course, but
asked the question. Lindsay’s father was her biggest fan and had helped Lindsay
to keep in the riding circuit, even when the family’s financial situation
looked shaky. Lindsay had been hoping to qualify for a riding scholarship at
the regionals, which were only a few months away.
“She won’t be riding for a while,” the
doctor said. “I know you’re supposed to get right back up on the horse, but her
head injury puts her at serious risk. If she were my daughter, I wouldn’t put
her on a horse until at least the fall.” He winced and amended, “The autumn.”
Lindsay’s father sank back into the
plastic-padded waiting room chair while his wife, who had said little in the
exchange, turned to me with enormous eyes.
“How could this happen?” she asked in a
haunted whisper. “How could this happen again?”
She might as well have been reading my
mind.
Chapter
9:
Aunt Susanna asked the same question when
I came home a few hours later. She had a sandwich and a cup of hot cocoa
waiting when I walked in. I was too upset to eat, too nervous to do anything
more than toy with my drink as we talked. My hands shook as I explained about
the accident, so much that I had to let go of the mug until the story was over.
My feeling of guilt was nearly overwhelming, but there was nothing accusatory
in Aunt Susanna’s tone when she spoke.
“How could this happen again? What would
they be looking for?” she asked. “There isn’t anything out there.”
“I know, I know,” I said, rubbing my
forehead. I couldn’t get the picture of the crumbled Lindsay and her broken arm
only yards from the abandoned treasure dig out of my mind. And playing round and
a round, like a broken record for a soundtrack, was Professor Randall’s soft
voice demanding, Tell me, has that letter
stopped anyone from trespassing on your land?
Self-recriminations joined in the chorus. I
should have known, I should have checked. Didn’t I run that part of the paths
this morning? Or was it yesterday? How did I miss it?
Aunt Susanna’s voice broke through the
clamor in my head. “….And I thought this was done when we found that letter. I
thought it proved that there was no treasure, that Michael had been wrong...”
I looked at her sharply, but she was
staring into her half-empty mug, her knuckles white on her elegantly lacquered
hands. I noticed the deeply imprinted lines on her face. She suddenly looked
old and hard. Something about her expression alerted me.
“It did,” I said, pushing myself out of my
slouch and into a sitting position. “It proved it beyond a shadow of a doubt.”
“No, it didn’t. We’ve got to close off the
riding trails.”
I gasped in surprise. “We can’t do that,
Aunt Susanna. We need them to exercise the horses – half of our boarders are
here because of the trails.”
“Do you really think they’re going to use
them after tonight?” she asked. “Once word of this gets around, they won’t go
near the trails, and I don’t blame them. No matter what we do, word is going to
get out. People are going to notice when Lindsay isn’t there.”
She was right. Lindsay was an integral
part of the day-to-day operations. The damage from this accident was going to
be considerable.
“It’s going to be bad for business,” I
said.
Aunt Susanna snapped, “What are you, made
of stone? Lindsay was nearly killed today. This isn’t about business.
It’s about people.”
“Don’t you think I know that? I’m the one who had to bring her to the hospital and explain it to her parents.
She’s my friend too, you know.”
“I know.” She was silent for a moment,
then she went on. “I won’t have anyone else hurt, Maddie. We’re lucky, and only
lucky, that Lindsay is all right.”
“I know. Lord, don’t I know it.”
“We’re closing off the riding trails,” she
said firmly, but her voice was softer. “I don’t blame you for what happened, of
course, but
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