Barnstorming (Gail Mccarthy Mysteries) Read Online Free

a way to avoid talking to Jonah, I would have been glad to take it. But the man had spotted me and pulled his horse up. Tipping his black cowboy hat—of course he would wear a black felt Stetson—he invited me to pass by.
    I’d met Jonah before, but I could see by his face that he didn’t recognize me. This was just fine with me. I smiled a small smile in his general direction, and clucked to Sunny. Obligingly Sunny stepped forward quietly, ready to pass the other horse. But the buckskin danced and skittered sideways towards us, determined to greet this newcomer. Jonah, who was wearing a long duster that went perfectly with the black hat—that is, if you like an affected wannabe cowboy style—allowed his horse to sidle up to Sunny and sniff his nose.
    “He’s just a baby,” he said.
    Right. I kept my opinion that he should make his baby mind to myself. Sunny ignored the buckskin, except to tip his ears backward. I bumped Sunny’s face with my hand and his sides with my leg, and my steady little horse made to go on by.
    “I wouldn’t let him pin his ears like that,” Jonah said.
    Now this was a bit much. I had ignored his horse’s genuinely bad manners and he felt free to criticize me for my horse’s very mild response. Call me bad-tempered and hasty, but I couldn’t quite keep my mouth shut.
    “Is that right?” I said. “If I were you, I wouldn’t allow my colt to nuzzle strange horses. If they don’t happen to be as well broke as Sunny, your baby could get kicked.” I smiled sweetly.
    Jonah bared his teeth in a white flash that passed for a smile in return, but he didn’t look pleased. “I’m a horse trainer,” he said. Again he flashed the smile, no doubt sure that I would be both charmed and impressed. After all, he had a whole herd of middle-aged women who looked just like me and they all thought he was a big deal.
    Unfortunately his quite handsome face cut no ice with me. I’ve never been all that impressed with handsome men, and I wasn’t getting any more so in my old age.
    “You’re a trainer?” I said innocently. “I wouldn’t have guessed it. Do you mind keeping your colt under control while I ride by. I don’t need my good horse kicked.” And, once more, I asked Sunny to step by the buckskin.
    Sunny complied. Jonah didn’t seem to know what to say to this. Although obviously nettled, he reined the prancing buckskin to the side. Just as I cleared him and made to head off down the pretty trail, he called after me. “Do you know Ross Hart?”
    “Guy who trains at the Red Barn?” I said, pulling Sunny up once more.
    “Yeah. I saw him down below, running his horse at warp speed. Looked like he was headed this way. You might want to keep an eye out.”
    “Right,” I said. “Did you hear that shot?”
    “What shot?” Jonah Wakefield sounded puzzled.
    “I heard a shot. A minute or so ago. From down there somewhere.” I waved my hand in a downhill direction.
    “Nope. Didn’t hear a thing.” Jonah’s horse was dancing with impatience and he gave up trying to control it. “See ya,” and he flashed me a meant-to-be charming smile at the same moment that he let the buckskin whirl around and resume careering up the hill. I watched his retreating form and shrugged.
    Sunny and I continued down the pretty trail, with me quite earnestly hoping I was done encountering people for the day. But I’d only rounded one corner when an angry buzz in the distance made me flinch. I knew that buzz; I knew what it meant. And it was rapidly approaching.
    Somewhat desperately I searched the terrain around me, looking for a safe spot. I didn’t have much time. That slope up ahead next to the curve would have to do. I kicked Sunny up to the trot, reached the wide spot, and reined him up the hill and off the trail. Sunny complied calmly; the approaching mechanical snarl didn’t seem to bother him.
    In another second it was visible, engine roaring as it blasted up the hill, a little motorcycle of