Just Horsing Around (Willow Bay Witches 3) Read online

  Just Horsing Around (Willow Bay Witches 3)

  Samantha Silver

  Blueberry Books Press

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Also by Samantha Silver

  About the Author

  Chapter 1

  “But what if I trip coming back from the bathroom, faceplant straight into our table, knock everything off it, and come up with a plateful of spaghetti on my face?” I asked my best friend Sophie while I prepared the vaccines for the litter of kittens coming in for their first shots later on today.

  “I think you should replay that sentence in your head and ask yourself if maybe, just maybe, you’re considering scenarios with a zero percent chance of actually playing out,” Sophie replied, helping me with the vaccines.

  “There is so a chance of that happening,” I retorted.

  “Seeing as the diner, which is where you’re going for dinner, doesn’t actually serve anything with spaghetti in it, no, there isn’t.”

  Ok, fine, she had me there.

  The reason for my slight panic attack was my first date in a long, long time. It had been a few years, at least. When I opened the Happy Paws vet clinic after graduating from veterinary school three years ago, it turned out that opening a business took up approximately 150 percent of my time. Unfortunately, that led to very little in terms of time for a personal life. Not to mention, Willow Bay isn’t exactly a thriving metropolis with thousands of potential fish in the sea. It’s more like a goldfish bowl.

  But the real crazy part of this was my scheduled date was with none other than Jason Black, the infuriating but also super-hot journalist who’d recently moved to Willow Bay after his father’s murder. I’d actually spent most of that time thinking Jason was the murderer.

  We clashed like crazy, but somehow, inexplicably, when Jason asked me out after I’d been kidnapped at gunpoint by a drug ring leader, I’d said yes. I still didn’t know why. Maybe it was that perfect smile of his.

  And now I was definitely in panic mode.

  “Can you call him and say I’ve disappeared?” I asked Sophie, who laughed.

  “I’m so not doing that. Besides, you’re just panicking because you like him so much.”

  “No, I’m panicking because I haven’t been on a date since forever and because I actually can’t stand Jason.”

  “Please. You just pretend you can’t stand him because it’s easier than admitting you think he’s gorgeous and amazing, which, by the way, you are totally obvious about.”

  I rolled my eyes as I filled another vial with one of the kitten vaccines.

  “So not true,” I muttered as Sophie laughed.

  “You could not be more obvious about it if you tried. Watching the two of you was like watching the first like four seasons of The Office where you just knew Jim and Pam were totally going to get together eventually, but you couldn’t do anything about it until it finally happened.”

  I felt a bit of a blush creeping up my face, and hoped Sophie didn’t notice. “Besides,” she continued, “you deserve a chance to relax a bit. After all, you’re running a business at the same time as you’ve solved two murders on the side.”

  I laughed hollowly. Sophie certainly wasn’t wrong, but it wasn’t like it was a cakewalk. Three months ago Sophie, my sister Charlotte and I were almost killed by Zoe Wright, the head of a project to build a mega resort in Willow Bay. She’d killed a man named Tony Nyman, and decided we’d gotten too close to the truth for comfort, and that she had to do away with us as well.

  It was only thanks to my cat, Bee, that the three of us survived.

  Then a week earlier, when trying to solve another murder in town, I was kidnapped at gunpoint and only just managed to escape. I spent a couple days in hospital, despite not having many physical wounds from that encounter. But the day of rest did me good, knowing someone has shot a gun at you with the intention of ending your life is definitely the sort of thing that messes with your brain. Believe me.

  It was then, when I was sitting in the hospital, that Jason asked me out. I still don’t know why I agreed. After all, while he was attractive, he was also so… frustrating. Jason had grown up in New York and had that confident, almost cocky feel about him. That idea that he was always right, and the ability to give back to me as much crap as I gave him. I’d never met any guy like him, and I’d actually convinced myself that I hated him.

  And yet, when he asked me out, my mouth still agreed, while my brain was going ‘nope nope nope’.

  Now my brain was still saying nope, but at a record speed. This was so a terrible idea. This date was going to go terribly.

  “Remember though, you have to go up to Gibson Farm after this,” Sophie reminded me.

  I sighed. I was going to spend most of the afternoon surrounded by horses, then have to make it home and shower in time for my date with Jason. Or maybe I shouldn’t shower, and show up smelling like a stable. At least that was one way to guarantee there was never going to be a second date.

  “Yeah, I had forgotten about that,” I told Sophie.

  “What’s a best friend for?” she replied as Karen, the receptionist, stuck her head in the room.

  “Sorry to interrupt, but when you’re ready the kittens are in exam room 1, waiting for you.”

  “Thanks,” I told her, shooting Karen a smile. She was a few years younger than Sophie and I, in her early 20s, but she was a hard worker and always dependable, and about a thousand times more organized than I was. If it wasn’t for Karen I knew Happy Paws wouldn’t be nearly as successful as it was becoming.

  Sophie and I made our way to the exam room, where a nice young couple in their mid-20s had a crate with three little black kittens.

  We introduced ourselves, then looked at the little darlings in the crate.

  “We found them abandoned in a box outside of her work,” said Tom, a tall, lanky guy with an easy smile and friendly eyes.

  “They were so small, and crying, they obviously missed their mom,” Cassie continued, her eyes looking down at the kittens sympathetically. “They would have died if I didn’t take them, so we brought them home and looked up how to take care of them.”

  “We knew the odds weren’t good that they’d all survive, but they did, and now they’re old enough for their first shots.”

  I smiled at Cassie and Tom. They had definitely saved the lives of the three little kittens.

  “They’re definitely healthy looking at first glance,” I said as I let them out of the crate. Two of the cats came piling out, playing with each other, paws flying, while the third immediately jumped from the exam table onto the floor and began exploring, climbing onto the chair and then onto the counter where we kept the computer and the treats. I picked her up gently and got a loud meow in my ear for my troubles while Sophie set about separating the two playful boys.

  Happy little kitties were definitely one of the best parts of being a vet.

  Twenty minutes later, with the help of Cassie, Tom and Sophie and a handful of cat treats, all the kittens had gotten their shots and a basic checkup to find that they were perfectly healthy kittens, and directions to come back for their next
set of shots in a few weeks. I told Karen to give them a discount for being awesome human beings (maybe it wasn’t good business, but I loved animals enough that a young couple who saved kittens from certain death deserved a break) and then got ready to make my way over to Gibson Farms.

  “I love it when we get new kittens,” Sophie said as she helped clean the room when they left.

  “Agreed,” I said, smiling.

  “Now get out of here. I can handle cleaning, but you’ve got to be at Gibson Farms in a little bit, and I saw what they’re paying you. You absolutely don’t want to be late.”

  I laughed. “Thanks, Sophie. You’re right, I’m going to head off now.”

  Gibson Farms was actually one of the most famous farms in all of Oregon. They didn’t raise cattle or sheep or anything, they were a horse racing farm. The Gibson family, and especially the head of it, Caroline Gibson, were pretty much royalty in that sport. The Gibson family had owned the horse who won the Kentucky Derby last year, and they had even been featured in mainstream magazines like Time.

  And yesterday they’d called me asking to come and look at one of their horses. This was definitely my highest-profile client ever. I left the room and grabbed my things, including a bowler bag filled with everything a vet in the field could need, telling Karen she and Sophie could lock up and go home as soon as Sophie was finished.

  Chapter 2

  The drive to Gibson farms took a little over twenty minutes; technically the farm wasn’t in Willow Bay, but just outside of it, down a nameless rural road surrounded by pine trees and forest so thick that the further I followed the instructions my phone’s map app was spitting out, the more I wondered if I wasn’t going to end up horribly lost.

  But eventually I pulled in front of a small clearing, where an old-school wooden fence blocked the entrance, with a large wooden sign above announced that I was, in fact, at Gibson Farms. I pulled slowly up to the entrance and found an electronic communication system. I had barely rolled my window down before I heard a voice over the intercom.

  “Please state your business at Gibson Farms,” ordered a female voice with a clipped English accent.

  “Uh, yeah, hi, I’m Angela Wright, the vet that was called.”

  There was a pause, then the wooden fence in front of me began to open automatically.

  “Please drive to the main house and wait in the car, someone will be out to meet you momentarily,” came the instructions from the same efficient voice. I felt like this was the 1800s or something, that I had gone back in time. Was this really how the other half lived?

  I pulled the car through and made my way up the driveway, which had to be at least a quarter mile long. It eventually ended in a big loop in front of a huge rancher, the biggest house I’d ever seen. It was modern, obviously built in the last fifteen years, made with light wooden logs, with stone hedges. The grounds were immaculately manicured; it felt like I was at a show home.

  The grounds were enormous; it seemed like as far as the eye could see in any direction was part of the Gibson Farms estate. Yes, estate was really the only word that fit. As I drove up in my old Corolla, I felt so incredibly out of place, and briefly thought to myself that maybe I should have rented a Bentley just for this appointment.

  I pulled up to the front of the house, and a woman who I assumed was the one on the intercom was standing at attention outside the door, waiting for me. Tall and thin, with blonde hair pulled tightly back into a ponytail and wearing a black suit with high heels, she looked like she belonged on Wall Street rather than a farm. She motioned for me to park in front of the house, and I did so, turned off the car, and grabbed my bag.

  “Doctor Wright, welcome,” she told me, already standing next to me as I took my bag out. “My name is Susan, I’m the head of the household here at Gibson Farms.”

  Head of the household? I thought to myself. Where was I, nineteenth century England?

  “Before we continue, I need you to sign this non-disclosure agreement,” she said, handing me a contract on a clipboard. To be honest, I had kind of expect this part, at least. The Gibsons were one of the most famous families in the horse racing world, there was no way they were going to let me get close to their practically priceless horses without making me swear I wouldn’t tell. I glanced over the contract quickly, and signed it.

  “Thank you,” Elizabeth replied, quickly taking a photo of the contract with her phone. “Now, follow me, and I will take you to see Touch of Frost.”

  Despite myself, my heart began to skip a beat. Touch of Frost was the most famous racing horse in the world a few years ago. He’d won the Kentucky Derby four times, and had famously been retired after that final win, at seven years old. He was one of the most famous race horses in the country, and had even once been featured, along with his jockey, on the cover of Sports Illustrated. Everyone knew Touch of Frost, and when Karen told me that I’d been asked to do a house call at Gibson Farms, I immediately thought of Touch of Frost. But of course, I had never dreamed that I might actually get to treat that same horse.

  “Caroline Gibson thanks you for coming on such short notice,” Susan told me as she led the way down a cobblestoned path that wound its way around the side of the enormous house. I waved away the thanks. After all, with what Karen told me they’d offered to pay, I probably would have cut off an arm to make this appointment. “We have two in-house vets, of course. But one of our horses became unexpectedly sick at Belmont, and they had to fly out to New York yesterday. Then of course, this morning there was a problem with Touch of Frost, and we had to make alternate arrangements. You must understand the need for secrecy. There are thousands of people who would give their lives to see this property and the happenings on it.”

  “I can only imagine,” I replied. The Gibson horses were worth millions of dollars.

  “We have taken precautions, of course. You were chosen as the vet since you’re local, and have been your whole life. Plus we asked around, and while you’re not a specialist in farm animals, we were told that you are the most capable vet in the area.”

  “Oh, thank you,” I said, not expecting that kind of praise.

  “The property is surrounded by ten foot high fences, and every inch of the fence is covered by CCTV footage, and there are motion sensors just inside the fence. It’s practically impossible for anyone to enter the property without us being made aware of it immediately. Plus, the stables are locked with a state-of-the-art fingerprinting system. The only two people on the planet who can enter are Caroline Gibson and the stable head, Cory.”

  “Wow,” I said, duly impressed.

  “The stables also have a custom sprinkler system set up in case of fire, and an individual alarm system in case of break in. And of course, there are some more security features that I’m not authorized to tell you about. In fact, I’m not sure if I’ve even been told what they all are, and I’ve been working for the Gibson family for nine years.”

  “So what you’re telling me is access to Touch of Frost is harder than getting access to the President,” I joked, and Susan’s thin mouth dared curve into a small smile for the first time. Before she could reply, however, I heard a voice calling to her from the house.

  “Susan! Wait there, Susan!” someone ordered. Susan froze in place, and the two of us turned to see a woman stomping towards us. She was short, probably just a shade over five feet tall, and squat enough that she gave the impression of looking a lot like Humpty Dumpty. Her brown hair was up in a bun, with wisps of hair having come loose. Wearing tight jeans and a blazer over a polo shirt, the woman looked like a walking plus-size Ralph Lauren catalogue.

  Following after her, almost at a jog despite being taller and thinner, came a nervous looking girl who looked to be in her early 20s, with the exact same shade of brown hair as the other woman, and big brown doe eyes. Despite the size difference, there was absolutely no doubt. This was mother and daughter. And I’d seen the mother in countless articles in both newspapers and magazines before. T
his was Caroline Gibson.

  She moved quickly for her size, and after a moment she stood directly in front of the two of us.

  “Well?” the woman snapped. Susan rushed forward apologetically.

  “My apologies, ma’am,” she replied. “Mrs. Gibson, please allow me to introduce Doctor Angela Wright, the local vet whom we have employed to look after Touch of Frost.”

  I held out my hand, but instead of taking it, Caroline looked me up and down, just as her daughter caught up to us, out of breath.

  “Goodness, Ellie,” Caroline chided. “You’d think you just ran a marathon. There are quadriplegics in better shape than you.”

  “Sorry, mother,” the young lady panted meekly as I tried to hide my surprise at the comment. I knew Caroline Gibson had a reputation for being tough, but that comment was something else!

  “I suppose you’ll do,” Caroline continued, turning back to me. “I’m told you know what you’re doing. That had better be true.”

  “I am an excellent veterinarian,” I replied, trying to sound as confident as possible. Caroline Gibson snorted.

  “Sure you are. No one under thirty is an excellent veterinarian. But I don’t think there’s anything seriously wrong with Touch of Frost, so even you should be able to do an adequate job.”

  My face flushed with anger at the sheer rudeness of this woman. I forced myself to think of the mid-four figure fee I was getting for this callout though, and forced a smile on my face.

  “I’m sure I will be able to help Touch of Frost.”

  “Good. Go with her, Ellie. I want you to pay attention to what the woman does.” Caroline turned to me once more.

  “Ellie’s a little bit slow when it comes to dealing with animals. She doesn’t have the natural instincts of a Gibson, so I’m working on training her into it. After all, I don’t want to leave everything to a total moron who’s going to run this farm into the ground.”

  “Mom!” Ellie protested faintly.