The Fault In Reality

Chapter Fourteen

For a moment I don't so much as twitch, staring unseeingly into the distance. Then the moment passes and I leap to my feet, trying to overcome the horror that makes my world reel.

"Dad!" I shriek. My voice carries down the stairs, and the distant clatter of the sink halts in the wake of my desperate words.

"Era?" comes Pat's tentative voice.

I hurtle down the stairs, pushing past her to meet the screen door with furious hands. The porch quivers under my steps as I run. My lungs burn in my chest ... pebbles dig into my feet...

But the corral is already empty, and the sky blue truck is halfway down the lane. I push myself even faster, head ducked and vision blurred by what must be tears.

"Era, stop your foolishness!" calls my father.

"You - don't - understand!" I scream between gasps. The sky blue truck and trailer are accelerating down the road. Devany's frightened whinnies and kicks can just barely be heard over the rumble of the engine, and all the while I force myself faster and faster.

But it's hopeless. As the trailer grows smaller I look past my tears and the haze of exhaust to discern the faint blue numbers on the license plate.

I repeat the numbers and letters in my head, determined to memorize them. The truck and trailer disappears around a bend in the road. I find myself doubled over, studying the cement at my feet and sucking in air as fast as I can.

My father comes up behind me, his shadow pulled taut over the dark road. I can see he has his hands planted firmly on his hips, and I'm willing to bet anything he's got a stern expression to match.

Anything but Devany.

"Dad," I say, slowly. "I need you to believe me."

"What is it, Era?"

I turn slowly to face him, trying to ignore my own quivering lip. With half-hearted efforts I brush a blend of hair and tears out of my eyes, but end up smudging it further more than anything else.

"That man doesn't want Devany for racing. I've seen him before. He's... he's a kill buyer."

My father frowns, and his face folds into a maze of creases.

"That's a bit dramatic Era, I'm specifically checked Devany wouldn't be used for anything of that sort-"

"Then he lied. Please, dad, please just trust me."

Our eyes lock, and tension rattles between us. A strand of hair sweeps over my vision. I struggle to not blink.

"Well technically the ownership hasn't been fully transferred, so I guess it couldn't hurt to have a look..."

Even with the weariness that weighs down my every limb, I launch myself forward. My arms go around his side, my cheek presses his into shirt. Tentatively he pats my hair, and it feels so good for once to be comforted, rather than the comforter.

"Thank you, dad." I murmur.

We head back to the house together. I pace the kitchen nervously while my dad fiddles with the phone and some coffee-stained papers.

"I know it's here somewhere," he mutters. He punches in a few numbers, listens intently for a few seconds, then hangs up and tries again.

"I don't understand," he finally says. "The number he gave me - it's not in service."

"That's because he's a dirty, stinking, greedy old kill buyer!"

Pat casts my father a worried glance from her position by the couch.

"You have to admit, it is kind of suspicious," she says.

I let out a long breath and run a hand through my tangled hair. Chase chooses this moment to appear at the doorway, the russet dog at his heels.

"Dad, Rascal is limping - I think he needs to go to the vet."

Indeed the dog seems to be favouring one paw, holding it crookedly over the floor. He gives a pitiful whimper and wags his plumy tail, panting slightly.

"I'll have John look at him after he's done with the deworming," my father promises, giving 'Rascal' an affectionate pat on the head and nudging him towards a plush dog bed.

I let out a growl of frustration, mind racing. My mind whirls, and comes to land on a single ledge of hope.

Maybe Devany isn't the only horse that git tried to buy off. Maybe, just maybe, the sky blue truck is parked at the neighbor's this very instant.

I quickly relay my idea to my father, and though he's doubtful he agrees.

"I have the license plate number," I suddenly pipe in.

My father arches one eyebrow, frowning.

"Why didn't you say so?"

"I-I forgot," I shiver and close my eyes, quickly rattling off what I can only hope is the right combination. My father pens it down on his tattered sheets of paper, then picks up the phone one last time.

Chase looks completely confused. As my father begins to speak with someone over the other end of the line, I decide to fill him in. His expression furrows as I explain, until he looks as mad as I feel.

"Thanks Bill," says my father, and lays the phone back in its cradle. "Our culprit is a Mr. Turnel. Apparently he keeps a bunch of horses in a corral just out of town."

"What are we waiting for?" I cry, ready to take off.

"Wait, Era. We need to talk. Of course I have no intention of letting Devany be killed for meat, but you need to understand we had a verbal agreement, and however untruthful he may have been I do have morales -"

"I understand," I interrupt, even though I don't. I'll argue my opinion later, however. For now, there's no time.

A/N: I'm sorry for the lack of updates, and for this short chapter. I don't really have an excuse, but as always thanks for reading! Don't be afraid to be honest with your comments, as I could really use some (constructive) criticism! Enjoy :)