Page 72 of Trickster King

“What’s wrong?” Jessica answered.

“Nothing, babe. I broke my phone falling into a puddle at the new ranch. It turns out there were unmarked mine shafts, and some were filled with water. On the surface, it looked like a puddle. Next step? I’m swimming, my phone is dead, and Randy’s making fun of me.”

As desired, my wife laughed. “That explains the little jolt among the RPS earlier. Your alarm must have gone off.”

“I think it did, but Randy was quick to notify everyone my phone had taken a bath. I need to get a new one tonight. I wanted to drop you a warning: word has already hit the media about the horses. We pulled a severely injured mare out of the one ranch. We had to airlift her to the animal hospital.”

My wife started cursing. “How bad?”

“It looks worse than it is. Infection and a sprain, maybe a torn muscle or two. The hospital is handling the work at supplies cost. They’re getting me good on the other horses, so they took pity on me. I gave Eddie one of the rescues because we were down to the decision about euthanasia. He wanted to take over the horse’s care if that made the difference, and I took him up on the offer. The hospital worked a few miracles. He’s got a spiral fracture, but he’ll pull through.”

Sucking in a breath, my wife spewed more curses.

I smiled at her antics, which implied the children were off being entertained by either a babysitter or in RPS training. “His name is Black Sand, and I’ll handle making sure he’s kept with Eddie. I’ll contact the school once my phone is replaced and bully them into it.”

“And the others?”

“It looks like, at least for the moment, we’re escaping without any fatalities. We got lucky on the filly. Black Sand was the most questionable one of the lot.”

“I’m glad they’re going to make it. All right. So the media is onto the situation. What’s the problem?”

“They got pictures of Black Sand, the filly, and the mare I had lifted out of the ranch today—and they got a picture of me coming to the animal hospital absolutely covered in mud from head to toe. And we did a photoshoot of us playing with the hose. I’ve been told they’re going to be swinging the articles to make us look good. Well, as good as I get while drenched in mud.”

“I take it your puddle was more of a mud bog?”

“Not quite.”

“What did you do, Patrick Laycal?”

“I found a mud pit, it had something sparkling in it, and I decided to go down to have a look. Now my pockets are filled with things that sparkle.”

My wife’s curses turned to giggles. “Pyrite?”

“Nope.”

“Mica?”

“Nope.” I grinned like a maniac at her incorrect guesses.

“You didn’t find actual gold, did you?”

“Randy bit it and said it seemed to be gold. We’re in the right area for there to be gold. We just didn’t find it in an expected location. Someone had, and judging from the state of the tunnels, it was mined before the war. Once we have the place made safer, it’ll be fun to bring the kids.”

“To play in the mud?”

“Yes.”

She snorted, reminding me of a horse unwilling to put up with my bullshit. “You want to play in the mud.”

“Yes.”

“Only after earthweavers confirm the site is safe. The death puddles will be addressed before the kids go anywhere near that ranch.”

“That is fair.”

“And I demand to see evidence of this gold.”

Digging my hand into my pocket, I pulled out a few nuggets, took a picture with the phone, and texted it to her. “Evidence has been provided.”

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