The Trojan Colt by Mike Resnick

of affairs.
    â€œOkay, that’s all I needed to ask,” I said.
    â€œWhat does it mean?” replied Sanders. “You’ve clearly learned something about Tony.”
    â€œI’m hoping that I haven’t,” I said.
    He stared at me questioningly. “I don’t understand,” he said at last.
    â€œThere are two possibilities,” I explained. “One is that, for whatever reason, he’s left town and could be anywhere in, or even out of, the country. The other is that he hasn’t left town. That’s the possibility I’m looking into first, since it saves you the expense of flying me all over the country.”
    â€œI see,” he said.
    â€œAnd if he’s in town, there are two possibilities,” I said. “Either he’s alive or he’s not.”
    There was a sharp intake of breath from Mrs. Sanders, but she continued staring right at me.
    â€œI don’t mean to upset you, ma’am,” I continued. “But I’d be remiss if I didn’t explain what I was doing and why.”
    â€œI understand,” she said. “Please go on.”
    â€œNo one’s seen him since the night before the sale. His girlfriend—”
    â€œHe doesn’t have one, not anymore,” she interrupted.
    â€œHe’s been seeing her regularly, ma’am,” I said. “Anyway, she hasn’t seen him since before the sale, hasn’t heard from him. He mentioned nothing about leaving or any future plans.” I paused while it sank in that Tony was still seeing Nanette. “If there was any foul play, or the promise of foul play such that Tony had to vanish without a word to anyone, it almost certainly originates in some way at Mill Creek Farm. He spent the last month living there, and from what I can understand Travis Bigelow is in serious financial trouble.”
    â€œBigelow?” scoffed Sanders. “My god, he’s a millionaire!”
    â€œWell, a million doesn’t go as far as it used to,” I replied. “If there was a problem for Tony, it had to have originated at the farm. I haven’t turned anything up so far. I may never. So I thought I should come over, fill you in, and ask you: do you want me to keep working on the case? At this point, I couldn’t swear that he isn’t sunning himself in Malibu, I can’t swear that whatever was bothering him that last night was real or meaningful, and I can’t even swear that he’s alive. I’ll keep looking as long as you want, but I warn you that it can get very expensive.”
    â€œLet’s go at least a few more days,” said Sanders. “If in a week you’re no further along, maybe we’ll have to reconsider. But damn it, he’s our son, our only one!”
    â€œAre you in agreement, Mrs. Sanders?” I asked, turning to her. “I can step outside if you want to discuss it.”
    She seemed about to say something, then straightened her back and stared into my eyes.
    â€œFind my boy,” she said.

I took another look around Mill Creek, but I couldn’t find anything that might have suggested what happened to either groom. Standish escorted me around; he seemed friendly enough, but I gathered visitors weren’t allowed to go wandering on their own. Hard times for Bigelow or not, there was still some valuable horseflesh on the property.
    â€œSo, have you turned anything up yet?”
    I shook my head. “Not really. Did Billy Paulson ever give you the idea that he was in trouble?”
    â€œNo. He seemed a happy, hardworking kid.” He frowned. “But I thought you were supposed to be looking for Tony Sanders.”
    â€œI am. But when two kids vanish a month apart from the same place, in fact from the very same job, it makes sense to see if there’s a connection. Did Paulson live here?”
    â€œJust about all the younger grooms do,” answered Standish. “But the cops took all