Page 70 of Adam's Rising

“Have you been helping her, Rusty?” Clara Mae asked.

Rusty scrunched up his face, shaking his head. “Weather’s too nice. You know how that girl is.”

“Neither girls showed up for dinner,” Edna continued, her loud voice on the verge of tears. “No calls. No notes. It’s just not like Claire to not come home without letting me know. I gotta call the Bedards.”

“Call us back, Edna!” Clara Mae said quickly before the woman hung up.

“I will…” There was a long pause. “Clara Mae, I know we’ve had our differences, but my Claire is a good girl, isn’t she? I’m not being naïve. She’s a good girl. She wouldn’t just not call.”

Clara Mae rested a hand on her heart. “Claire’s a wonderful girl. The best. She would never make you worry.” She hung up the phone then walked back to the table. She pushed back her plate then looked up at Peter. “Did Claire and Esmerelda ride home from school together?”

Peter gulped. “No, Ma’am. It was just Claire and me, as always.”

Adam had heard enough. He charged out of the house, shuffling down the flight of stairs so quickly he nearly fell in his haste.

What if something happened in the stall? Buttercup loved Claire, but even the sweetest and tamest horse could spook, bucking upward and backward, then landing on the owner.

He didn’t swap his tennis shoes for the rubber boots, just charged across the property to get to the barn.

Adam had gotten so comfortable with Claire coming and going that he didn’t always see her leave. Often, if he was working on the back forty and Claire was dropping off Peter, she would just wave.

He skidded to a stop in front of Buttercup’s stall. The gentle horse walked toward him, affectionate and elegant as ever. Claire kept her brushed, which made her creamy coat glisten.

Buttercup was completely fine, but no Claire.

Claire’s grandmother and Clara Mae were both correct. Claire would never not come home without letting someone know — she was one of the most responsible people Adam knew.

* * *

By morning,according to Clara Mae, Claire was still gone. Lala and the Blazer, too.

Adam slammed his fist against the wall of the tack room, rattling the row of bridles.

He turned to Rusty. “She didn’t run away.”

“I know Claire’s a great girl, but…” Rusty stood in the doorway, arms crossed, expression grim. “Girls’re known to bolt when things get messy.”

Adam turned slowly, breathing steadily to keep his emotions intact. “Claire’s not that kind of girl. You know that.”

Rusty didn’t argue. Instead, he stepped aside as Clara Mae entered, her boots crunching on the fresh wood chips he’d thrown down yesterday.

“I checked with her grandmother again,” she said. “Jean hasn’t heard from her either.”

Adam’s stomach churned. “She was fine yesterday. Rushed to get to school, complained about all her upcoming exams, but she still wanted to go riding this morning.”

Clara Mae’s eyes held his. “Has someone seen you two together?”

“We’ve been careful. She shows up before the sun even does, and then we barely talk in the afternoons. She drops off Peter, then races home to study.” He caught his breath. “She was hoping that once school ended —”

Peter burst into the barn, hair a mess, clothes wrinkled, eyes bloodshot. “She still hasn’t shown up?”

Adam nodded. “Did she say anything to you yesterday? Mention going somewhere with Lala?”

Peter shook his head. “She told me to get my act together. That was it. Threatened that if I made her late, I’d have to walk to school or muck out the stalls for a living if I quit.”

Sounds like Claire, Adam thought.

Clara Mae looked Peter over, sniffed. “Smells like you spent the night in someone’s ditch. Have you been hanging out with the bad ones down the street?”

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