Whirlwind Read online

  ALSO BY ALISON HART

  Shadow Horse

  Horse Diaries #2: Bell’s Star

  This book is dedicated to all those

  who use their time and energy to foster and

  advocate for animals and children.

  Contents

  Other Books by This Author

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Copyright

  Prologue

  June

  Jasmine slid the hoof pick into her back pocket, picked up the grooming box, and headed for Whirlwind’s stall. It was later than usual—she’d had a ton of homework—but she wanted to ride before dinner.

  She hurried down the aisle of the barn. Whirlwind wasn’t in her stall, so Jas grabbed a lead line and headed for the mare’s paddock. She waved to her grandfather, who was trimming bushes around the Robicheaux mansion.

  Jas whistled for Whirlwind, surprised when there was no answering whinny. Even weirder, she didn’t see the mare at all.

  An ugly thought filled her. Had Hugh Robicheaux sold Whirlwind without telling her? The mare had gotten a lot of attention at the Devon Horse Show. Money ruled Hugh’s decisions. If the price was right, he wouldn’t hesitate to sell Jas’s favorite horse. Even if it broke her heart.

  “Whirlwind?” Jas called as she hurried toward the paddock. By now, the mare should be hanging her head over the fence, whickering furiously.

  Something was wrong.

  Jas broke into a run. She spotted the mare, lying on her side in the middle of the paddock; one eye was open, staring emptily at the sky.

  “Grandfather!” Jas hollered. Dropping the grooming box, she slammed open the gate and ran to the downed horse. “It’s Whirlwind!”

  Falling to her knees, Jas laid her palm against the mare’s neck. It felt cold. Hugh and Grandfather came running.

  “Hurry!” she screamed. “Something’s horribly wrong!”

  Grandfather bent and checked the mare’s pulse under the lower jaw. His face fell. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered.

  Tears streamed down Jas’s cheeks. “I don’t understand. How …?”

  “This is how.” Stooping, Hugh picked up an evergreen branch. “It’s yew. What’s this doing in the paddock, Karl?” he demanded. “Do you have an explanation?”

  Slowly, Jas’s grandfather stood up. “No, Mr. Robicheaux. I don’t. I know how poisonous yew is.”

  “You were the only one trimming the hedges this morning.”

  “Sir, I’d never be so careless. You can’t blame me for killing Whirlwind.”

  “Who else could have done it?” Hugh’s accusing glare swung to Jas.

  Startled, she swiped away her tears. “No, sir, it wasn’t Ja—” Suddenly, Grandfather clutched his head. His face twisted with pain.

  “Grandfather?” Jas awkwardly caught him as he slumped to the ground. Kneeling beside him, she grabbed his hand. “What’s wrong?”

  Hugh whipped out his cell phone. “I’m calling the police.”

  Jas looked up at him, stunned. “The police?”

  “I have a dead horse here, thanks to your grandfather.”

  “You can’t be serious.” She gaped at him. “You know he didn’t kill Whirlwind!”

  “The evidence speaks for itself.”

  As Hugh put the cell phone to his ear, his gaze slid toward Jas, and she saw a glint in his eyes. The same glint she’d seen when he had sold a $50,000 filly for $100,000. The same glint when the favored rival at Devon suddenly went lame.

  She sprang to her feet. “You did this.”

  “Oh, really?” He arched one brow, his attention shifting to the phone. “Hello. I have a police emergency.”

  Fury replaced Jas’s tears. “You killed Whirlwind.” With trembling fingers, she yanked the hoof pick from her back pocket. “And you’re not getting away with it by blaming my grandfather!” Holding the pick like a weapon, the curved point aimed at Hugh’s face, Jas lunged.

  One

  August

  “OW! THAT HURT!” JASMINE SCHULER SCOLDED the huge chestnut horse she was grooming. Shadow pricked his ears gleefully. Quickly Jas curled her fingers into pretend teeth. When Shadow swung around to nip her again, she “bit” him on the side of his mouth.

  Throwing up his head, the gelding stared at her in surprise.

  Jas stifled a laugh. Shadow was special, because she’d helped rescue him from a killer auction. He’d had an untreated thyroid condition and had been in bad shape. Now that the horse was healthy, he’d turned into a brat who needed to learn proper manners.

  Shadow inspected his feed tub, licking it for leftover grain instead of trying to bite her again. “That’s better,” Jas praised.

  When Shadow had arrived at Second Chance Farm, an animal rescue facility, Jas had turned him out with Jinx, a quiet quarter horse. Jinx used flattened ears and his teeth to put the bigger gelding in his place. Jas was trying to do the same, and it was starting to work.

  As a reward for good behavior, she massaged the crest of his neck. Horse massage. Jas had been riding from the time she could walk. Yet, since living at the rescue farm, her foster home, she’d learned so many new things about animals.

  While Jas brushed Shadow’s springy mane, she thought about how her life had changed. Less than two months ago, she’d been living at High Meadows, a premier horse farm. Her grandfather, Karl, was the resident caretaker. She had worked there, too, grooming and riding the farm’s top-rated show horses. Then the owner, Hugh Robicheaux, had accused Grandfather of killing Jas’s favorite horse, a beautiful chestnut Thoroughbred named Whirlwind. Grandfather had been so distraught that he’d had a stroke. He’d gone to the hospital, then a nursing home. Jas had been so angry she’d attacked Hugh. She’d ended up in court, then in foster care.

  Foster care. Jas yanked at a tangle in Shadow’s mane. When she’d first arrived at Second Chance Farm, she’d been miserable. Now she loved it here. But soon her grandfather was getting out of the nursing home. Foster care would end. Originally, her social worker had arranged for Jas and Grandfather to live in an apartment, which meant that Jas wouldn’t be able to take care of Shadow. Miss Hahn, her foster mom, had arranged for the big horse to be adopted.

  Even now, Jas’s heart twisted at the thought of losing Shadow. And not just because she’d lost so much already. She loved the giant goof of a horse.

  But at the last minute, Miss Hahn had decided against adopting out Shadow. She had asked Jas and Grandfather to live with her at the farm. Jas would continue caring for Shadow and the other animals, and Grandfather would work as a caretaker. It was a second chance for both of them.

  Jas hugged Shadow, her arms barely reaching around his huge neck. “You’re still mine to love,” she told him. So why am I not totally happy?

  Whirlwind. Jas slid the worn photo from the back pocket of her jeans. The mare’s head was high, her ears pricked for the camera. A tricolored ribbon hung from her bridle. Jas sat in the saddle, posing for the camera, too. Her expression was triumphant, sparkling. The picture had been taken last May after they’d won a champions
hip at Devon.

  Now the mare was gone.

  A chorus of honking and clucking announced the arrival of Miss Hahn. Jas stuck the photo back in her pocket. She peered from the stall just as her foster mother strode into the barn, her stiff leg swinging. Trotting after her was an entourage of animals: geese, cats, and chickens. Jas had nicknamed them “the underfoot gang,” because they always got in the way. Old Sam, a German shepherd, and Rose, the farm’s potbellied pig, had been patiently waiting for Jas outside Shadow’s stall. But when they spotted Miss Hahn, they rushed toward her, tails wagging furiously.

  “They’re like paparazzi stampeding a celebrity,” Jas said to her foster mother. “All you need is a red carpet and evening gown instead of a dirt floor and overalls.” Her light mood faded when she saw the solemn look on Miss Hahn’s face.

  “Officer Lacey from Animal Control called. We have an emergency,” Miss Hahn said. “The trailer’s hitched and ready. Chase isn’t here yet, and I’d like some help. You still have time before lockdown. How about it?”

  As part of her sentence for assaulting Hugh, Jas wore a transmitter around her ankle. It kept track of her whereabouts. She wasn’t allowed to leave the house except for preset times.

  “Um …” Jas chewed her bottom lip. While living at the farm, she’d worked with many of the animals that were recovering from abuse. But except for a trip to a horse auction, she’d never been on an actual rescue, although she’d heard the gut-wrenching stories from Chase and the other volunteers.

  “It’s your choice,” Miss Hahn said. “Not everyone has the interest—or the stomach.”

  “I’ll go,” Jas said. “Rescuing is important, and I want to help.”

  “Good. Grab a halter, a lead line, and a bucket of oats. I’ll let Officer Lacey know we’re on our way.” Without waiting for a reply, Miss Hahn strode from the barn.

  Jas patted Shadow. “Don’t think for a minute this means no ride today. It’ll just have to wait until this afternoon.” She gave him one more swipe with the brush, then laid her cheek against his sleek neck. Oh, how she loved this horse. Thank heavens she hadn’t lost him, too.

  “Jas, I’ll meet you in the truck!” Miss Hahn’s voice rang from the office trailer. Hastily, Jas picked up the grooming box. When she opened the stall door, Sam leaped to his feet. Rose waddled after her to the supply room, grunting excitedly.

  “You’re on a diet. Vegetables only, remember?” Jas said as she unbolted the pig-proof latch on the door. Rose squealed, her eyes barely visible in her folds of fat. Ignoring the pig’s demands, Jas slipped inside. She grabbed a halter and lead rope and dumped a cup of oats into a bucket. When Jas opened the door again, Rose stomped her stubby legs and cried, “Feed me, feed me, FEED ME!”

  Jas sprinkled a few oats on the dirt floor before hurrying from the barn. Mr. Muggins, a new volunteer, was tossing cracked corn to the geese. Earl the rooster strutted around his legs.

  Jas waved to Mr. Muggins as she crossed the stable yard. The area around the barns and office was fenced with woven mesh to keep the underfoot gang and other animals safely contained. But the dogs were allowed out the gate. Jas shut it securely behind Sam and wound around the pass-through built into a board fence, which circled the yard and the house. Miss Hahn was waiting in the pickup.

  Four more farm dogs met her at the back door of the house. She let all five inside the kitchen, found her baseball cap, and ran to the truck. She stuck the bucket into the truck bed, slid into the passenger’s seat, and shut the door. Tucking her light brown hair behind her ears, she put on the cap.

  “Here’s the situation,” Miss Hahn said as she drove down the rutted drive. “Planner’s Bank foreclosed on a small farm about five miles from here. The place was owned by a man convicted of making and selling meth. When he landed in jail, his wife couldn’t make the mortgage payments. Two weeks ago, she took off. Yesterday the bank’s loan officer inspected the property and discovered a horse behind the house. It was in a small paddock with no shelter, food, or water.”

  Jas blinked in disbelief. “She just left it?”

  “Abandoned it without a thought. Like it was a piece of trash or a sofa. I take that back—she took the sofa.”

  “What condition is it in?”

  “Officer Lacey’s exact words were ‘it brought tears to my eyes,’ and he’s seen some grim situations.”

  Jas’s stomach knotted. Maybe coming was a mistake.

  Miss Hahn turned off the main road onto a dirt lane. “I haven’t been back here for years,” she said. “Sure is run-down. Though not much worse than our place,” she admitted as the truck bumped down the lane, which wound through cedars and locust to a brick ranch house. “Hay prices are sky-high because of the drought. That doesn’t leave much for maintenance.” She gave a worried sigh. “I’ll be glad when your grandfather moves in to help.”

  She pulled the trailer around a loop and parked under an oak. Jas rolled down the window. The place was eerily silent.

  “We must have beat Officer Lacey here,” Miss Hahn said. “He’s bringing permission from the bank to remove the horse.” Draping one arm on the back of the seat, she faced Jas, her mouth set in a line.

  “While we’re waiting, I have some news.” Miss Hahn’s gaze darted to the windshield.

  Jas tensed. Her foster mother’s hesitation signaled one thing: bad news.

  “Mr. Jenkins called. He’s the president of the company that insured Hugh’s horses. The company’s lawyers are putting together a case against Hugh for insurance fraud. As expected, Hugh’s hired a big-name defense lawyer. It’s going to be tough to nail him.”

  Jas gripped the halter, too angry to speak. Whirlwind was gone—but Hugh hadn’t killed her. The dead horse in the paddock had been a look-alike that Hugh had poisoned. Then he’d claimed it was Whirlwind in order to collect the insurance money.

  It had only been a week ago, during an unexpected encounter with Hugh, that Jas had discovered the truth.

  Whirlwind’s not dead, is she? You killed another horse, a ringer. Then you sold her to someone else.

  That’s right, Jas. It took me a while to find Whirlwind’s twin. But I obviously did a good job, since even you never suspected it wasn’t her lying dead in that paddock.

  You’re evil, Hugh. You may not have killed Whirlwind, but you killed a horse and then made it look like it was Grandfather’s fault. And for what?

  Money, Jas thought bitterly. The insurance company had paid Hugh $50,000 for a dead horse they thought was Whirlwind.

  “Unfortunately, since they have no proof the mare is alive, Mr. Jenkins says the company can’t pursue a case against Hugh for Whirlwind,” Miss Hahn said, breaking into Jas’s thoughts.

  “Unless I can find her,” Jas said.

  A rumble of tires signaled the arrival of Officer Lacey.

  “How?” Miss Hahn asked as she opened the truck door. “Hugh’s too smart to tell anybody where she is, which means the odds of locating her aren’t good. I’m sorry, Jas.” Before climbing out of the truck, Miss Hahn asked, “Are you okay?”

  Jas nodded, although she wasn’t okay. That day when she’d been alone with Hugh, he’d confessed that Whirlwind was alive. But it was only her word against his. When the insurance company took him to court, he would admit nothing. That meant she had to find Whirlwind. Finding her alive would be solid proof that Hugh had committed insurance fraud.

  Jas pictured Hugh’s arrogant, mocking face. You’ll never find her, Jas. Never.

  “Only I will find her,” she whispered fiercely. Then a thought made her shiver. Hugh would be determined to keep her from finding Whirlwind. How determined? Ruthlessly determined. After all, he’d already murdered two horses.

  Two

  NOT ONLY HAD HUGH KILLED WHIRLWIND’S twin, but he’d also murdered a second horse.

  Five years ago, Hugh had killed a horse that was a look-alike for his talented jumper, a Dutch Warmblood named Aladdin, and had collected $30,000 in insurance mo
ney. Then he’d sold the real Aladdin for big money. When Aladdin had gotten sick and was no longer able to perform, he’d ended up at a killer auction. That’s where Jas had found the skinny, listless horse she’d named Shadow. She had saved him and later discovered he was Aladdin. Now she needed to save Whirlwind.

  However, Jas knew the odds of finding the mare weren’t good. And Hugh would be determined to stop her. But giving up was not an option.

  Jas bolted from the truck, her heart pound ing. She caught up to Miss Hahn and Officer Lacey as they walked around the house to the trash-littered backyard. A tumbledown garage, its open double doors sagging, was the lone building behind the house. She followed them to a dirt pen fenced in by rusted barbed wire and stacked packing crates.

  An animal stood in the middle of the pen. Jas stared, not sure if it was a horse or simply the skeleton of a horse. Its hip bones, spine, and ribs seemed held together only by its hide.

  “I don’t know how long it’s been without food and water,” Officer Lacey said. “But the poor thing has eaten the bark off every tree and started peeling wood from the crates.”

  At the sound of his voice, the horse turned its head. It was covered with sores. Flies rose from its body in a black, buzzing cloud.

  “Oh, sweet heaven,” Miss Hahn murmured.

  Bile rose in Jas’s throat. She thrust the halter at Miss Hahn. Clapping her hand over her mouth, she ran to the front of the garage. She grimaced, glad that Chase hadn’t come along. He’d be razzing her big-time about being so squeamish.

  Jas vowed that this time she would handle it. Dropping her hands, she took deep breaths. Her stomach quit churning. Behind her, something rattled. She peered into the garage, but it was too dark to see. Again she heard the sound. A skunk? Raccoon?

  Whatever it was, it was dragging something metal—like a chain. She peered closer and heard a whimper.

  A dog. Whirling, Jas ran to the truck. Reaching through the open window, she pulled a flashlight from the glove box and raced back. Several feet from the garage, she slowed. If it was a dog, she didn’t want to scare it to death. Flicking on the light, she shined it toward the back.