Melrose feigned astonishment. “But that’s a vast estate. I passed it on my way to the village.”

“It’s been in the family for decades. My great-grandmother passed it to my grandmother, then to my aunt. I’m next in line, I expect.”

It seemed to be put as a question, and she looked at Melrose as if he were the estate attorney who had come to discuss her inheritance. “Well, there’d be your mother first.”

“She’s dead. I don’t think Aggrieved needs front shoes. These seem fine.” Aggrieved’s hoof was returned to the ground and his right rear leg lifted into Sydney’s aproned lap.

“Your father, then?”

At first she didn’t respond. “You mean Dan Cooke? He wasn’t my father. He was … Mum’s second husband.”

“Oh.” It sounded as if she wanted to disavow any relation to the man.

In another half an hour, she had set down the horse’s rear foot, and now, rose. “Aggrieved, you have nice new shoes.”

Aggrieved was stomping his rear hooves.

“You can see he’s pleased. I wouldn’t be surprised if that old shoe was hurting.” She frowned.

“Oh, Lord, I hope not.”

“Who looks after him?”

“An idiot.”

She laughed. “Well, then—”

“The situation is being corrected.”

“Good.” Sydney turned and looked about the barn. “Well, you’re my last customer, so I’ll pack up and go home. We can get Aggrieved into his trailer … I wonder, though. Would you like to come and have a look at my horse and stable?”

Melrose was surprised by this invitation. “I would, yes. Very much.”

“Come on, then. You can follow my truck. The house is only a mile or so.”

Aggrieved went into the horse box as easily as he’d come out of it. Melrose got into the cab as Sydney got into her small truck, and he followed her to the main road.

They drove through a wide expanse of technicolor—green grass along a smooth dirt road at the end of which was a stone house, large but not imposing. Off to the right, on a narrow side road, stood the barn and stables. Melrose pulled up beside Sydney’s truck.

“We’ll get Aggrieved out, don’t you think? We’ve a ring, right over there.” She nodded beyond the stable. “Would you like to ride Aggrieved, Mr. Plant, now he’s reshod?”

He had secretly known this would come up in some form. “Uh, no; my leg has been bothering me lately. Actually, the horse threw me the other day.”

Not only did Sydney look at him in disbelief, but Aggrieved turned his head and looked, if a horse could, outraged. “No, he couldn’t have done …”

Afraid perhaps he’d blown his cover, or Aggrieved’s, Melrose said, “Well, I admit I kind of did the throwing. We were jumping a low hedge and I—”