Pammie


His name is not Gelding or Golden, Pammie thought to herself as she traipsed through the forest trail picking up Bounder’s droppings so Maxim wouldn’t complain his “woods are soiled.” Besides, what kind of psychic had a blinking neon crystal ball in the window of his Monopoly house? And a parrot named Goob? Mr. Vladimir was clearly a scam artist, in spite of his predictions about Uncle Paul and the cleaning woman.

She pushed aside the fronds of a Common Horsetail Fern and scooped up a sizable load. Ever since their dinner at the old Steak Shack on Highway 90—a night she’s officially christened the best night of her life, Gelden had been distant. But it hadn’t deterred her. Her mother always said as soon as a man confesses his feelings to a woman—even one with Grandma Gert’s genes, he becomes terrified, vulnerable.

It was Pammie’s job, as a woman, to assure Gelden his feelings were safe with her. Another thing that was safe with her—should it ever be confirmed by someone other than her mother’s psychic—was Gelden’s involvement in Tesla’s disappearance. If it turned out to have been Gelden’s doing, she could only assume he had good reason. She would do what any self-respecting woman-in-love would do. She’d take the blame for the love of her life.

Looking for a place to dump her plastic baggies of Bounder leavings, Pammie followed the path toward the old shack beyond the property line. She fought her way through thick bushes and climbed over the moss-covered split rail fence and walked toward a green metal garbage can by the shed door. After dumping her malodorous load, curious, she pushed open the door and peered inside.

Nothing but an empty stall and, outside the stall door, a metal desk and chair and a few bags of grain and moldy carrot stubs. Spying a gleaming leather halter on a rusty nail, Pammie crossed the room and picked it up. She didn’t have to read the brass nameplate to know this halter, she recognized the smell instantly—the halter belonged to Tessa!

At that moment, the shed door swung open and Janine walked in, followed by Hillary and the glorious Gelden. Hillary gasped when she saw Pammie.

“Look!” said Pammie. “It’s hers. It’s Tesla’s bridle!”

“Oh my God,” said Janine. “I knew it. You took Tesla!”

Pammie’s eyes met Gelden’s. He stared at her, blinking back something—but what? His love for her? Or his hope that she doesn’t turn him in? He looked so beautiful in the dim light of the filthy, cobweb-covered window. Soft but strong. Brave yet scared.

Slowly, Pammie nodded. “Yes. I did. I took Tesla.”