Dark brown hair fell over his creased brow, nearly hiding his matching eyes. Everything about Wes was dark, from his hair to his sun-baked leathery skin.
“I have a buyer coming in from Kentucky in the next few days to look at Storm Wind. He’ll want you to be available in case he has any questions.” Wes had a bad habit of disappearing whenever buyers arrived.
“I’ll have her ready.” Wes shifted nervously as he usually did whenever he talked to anyone other than the horses.
“Make sure you’re here with her, Wes,” he ordered. “Disappear on me again and we’re going to have words.”
Wes blinked back at him. “I’ll be here, sir.”
“Good.” He nodded as he stared around the neat stalls and the glossy, well-cared-for animals.
Wes was a stickler for keeping the stables in perfect condition. He frowned on anyone messing around in them, even Mac.
“Is that all, sir?” Wes asked. “I was cleaning tack in the back room, if you don’t need anything else.”
“That should be all.” Mac nodded shortly as he stepped over to the stall that held his favorite mare and rubbed her neck gently.
Grace had been his first buy, and her first foal had made him a mint. She was graceful, fast as the wind, and as graceful as her name implied.
“Mr. McCoy, have you noticed any strange goin’-ons around here?” Wes asked nervously as he started to turn back to the tack room.
Mac paused, his palm pressing against Grace’s neck as he frowned back at the trainer.
“Such as?”
Wes scratched at his grizzled cheek. “Well, that dog of yours, Pappy?”
Mac frowned. Pappy was the farm dog, a mutt of undetermined heritage who had made the farm his home just after he and Keiley had taken up residence. Mac suspected there was some shepherd in the rangy animal, but he couldn’t be certain.
He glanced out the door of the stables to where he had seen the dog earlier. Pappy was still laying in his usual spot in the spot just outside the backyard.
Mac turned back to the trainer. “What about him?”
“Well, last coupla weeks, I’ve come in to find him cowerin’ here in the stables. Pappy’s always slept on the porch till daybreak, ain’t he?”
That had to be the most Wes had ever spoken to him. But he was right; Pappy had always slept on the porch.
“An’ I noticed, too, he don’t like being petted like he used to. Used to let me rough him up whenever I had time. Now he shies away from me.”
“I’ll check him out.” Mac nodded in concern. “Thanks for letting me know.”
Wes shrugged. “Just missed having him trail after me sometimes.”
“Have you noticed anything else out of the ordinary?” Mac asked him then, feeling a warning tension growing within him.
Wes paused again. “Well, Grace’s stall bein’ opened a time or two when I come in of the morning. Just little things that could be nothin’ other than that.”
Little things. Coincidences. Mac felt the hair on the back of his neck tingle.
“Is there anything missing?” he asked.
He had wondered where the stalker was now. He could be closer than Mac imagined.
Wes shook his head. “No. Nothin’ missin’. Just the animals actin’ a little funny and Grace’s stall being unlocked. Just thought I’d ask about it.”’
Wes ducked his head and shuffled his feet again.
“I’ll check Grace’s stall of the evenings before I go in.” Mac nodded. “Let me know if you notice anything else.”