Chapter Four
“You told me she was the next best thing to Monty Roberts in this part of the panhandle. That she’s got a gentle touch and can straighten out Storm, find out what the horse’s problem is, but the only thing I’m seeing is an uptight broad with a pole shoved too far up her ass. She hasn’t changed one bit from school,” Joe said as he slammed his fist on the pressboard counter at the feed store.
Stan Jerow and his wife, Hazel, were the hub of Post Falls. Well into their seventies, they knew everything about everyone. Stan had been close friends with Carl Spick, Margaret’s crotchety old grandfather. He frowned from behind his bifocals. “Now, I think you’re misreading things a bit there. She’s a hard-nose, but Margaret’s got a heart of gold.”
“Yeah, gold, my ass. More like gold-di
