The Silence of the Llamas Page 3

  Maggie’s quiet words caught Lucy’s interest. But Maggie didn’t elaborate. Now that Maggie mentioned it, Lucy did remember Sweet Meadow hand-spun products in the shop, but she hadn’t noticed when the yarns had disappeared.

  “She’s a sharp cookie. Or thinks she is. Never mind that Mother Earth act,” Ellie added. “I think there’s plenty of room in the basket for everyone’s boutique yarns. But Angelica is very competitive. She seems to think only one of us can survive and thrive.”

  “A little advice, if you don’t mind,” Maggie replied. “Don’t get caught up in that game. Focus on your own business and the rest will take care of itself.”

  “My mother always told me, ‘Just hoe your own row.’ That seems to apply double since you’re on a farm,” Suzanne added.

  “Maggie’s right. Don’t engage,” Dana advised. “She’ll eventually lose interest. I can almost guarantee that.”

  Lucy didn’t have any wise words to offer. She did know that Maggie’s advice came from her own experience. She’d had a fierce rival in town at one time and had let the emotions of the situation get the best of her. Unfortunately, when the rival store owner was found dead, the police looked at Maggie as the prime suspect.

  “Thanks for the advice and for listening. I’ll keep it all in mind.” Ellie glanced at her watch. “I think it’s time for your demonstration, Maggie. Do you need any help setting up?”

  “Phoebe and I prepared everything a while ago. I just need my stool. It’s behind the back table somewhere.”

  Maggie left to fetch her stool while Lucy and her friends stepped over to the spinning wheel for prime viewing spots.

  Ellie stepped out into the path and called out to those passing by, “Spinning demonstration at the Black Sheep tent, starting in two minutes. Come and see some expert spinning. Maggie Messina, the owner of the Black Sheep Knitting Shop, is about to begin her demonstration in a just a few minutes . . .”

  The fiddlers had stopped for a while but now started up again. Ellie had to shout to be heard over the noise but managed to pull in a large audience.

  Maggie set her stool down and took her place at the back of the wheel. She briefly showed the group a handful of fur, clipped from one of Ellie’s llamas, known as roving. Then she showed how the fibers were combed out and set on the spindle.

  She put her feet on the pedals, explaining each step of the process, and began to work the delicate thread of fiber that slipped from the wheel.

  Lucy and her friends stepped aside to give others a better view. Maggie had been right. They had all seen this performance in the shop many times before, though Lucy still found it fascinating to watch the wad of animal fur spun into a thin strand of yarn.

  “So you can see here a lovely smooth strand of yarn is forming . . .” Maggie paused to show the group her handiwork.

  Lucy suddenly heard a high-pitched voice shouting in the crowd, not far from Maggie’s tent. At first she thought it was a child having a meltdown. But as the shouts got closer, she realized it was Phoebe and she was in trouble.

  “Help . . . somebody! Please. . . . The llamas . . . out in the pasture. . . . They’ve been hurt. . . . Oh, it’s horrible . . .”

  Lucy turned to see their young friend running toward them as fast as her high-tops would carry her. People walking on the path between the tents parted to let her through, their expressions confused and disturbed.

  Phoebe’s arms waved wildly in alarm, her eyeliner and mascara running down her face in tiny rivers of black tears.

  “It’s so awful. . . . The poor animals . . .” she sobbed, gasping for breath. Dana ran toward her, and Phoebe practically collapsed in her arms.

  “Phoebe, please. Slow down. Take a few deep breaths. What happened, honey? Why are you so upset?”

  “The herding show was over and I was just heading back here,” Phoebe finally managed. “We all heard a loud noise . . . like firecrackers. A pop-pop sound? The llamas started running around like crazy in the field and making this horrible sound. I ran over to the meadow to see what was going on. They were running in all directions and . . . and a few of them are hurt. It looks like someone . . . someone . . . shot them.”

  “Shot at them? I can’t believe it!” Ellie looked horrified. Her eyes widened with panic and disbelief.

  “It wasn’t a real gun,” Phoebe quickly added. “It must have been a paint gun. Or something like that. The first llama that was hit was streaked with red. But the next one was blue. So it must have been paint, right? That’s twisted enough, if you ask me.”

  “A paint gun? That’s awful!” Ellie pulled out her walkie-talkie. “Ben . . . Dot . . . can anyone hear me?”

  They all listened for an answer but only heard an annoying crackling sound.

  “I’d better get down there . . .” Ellie stashed the walkie-talkie in her pocket and took off, headed for the pasture.

  “I’m going to help her.” Dana glanced at her friends.

  “I’ll go, too,” Lucy said.

  “Me, too,” Suzanne agreed.

  “Go ahead. I’d better stay here with Phoebe,” Maggie offered.

  Seeing the llamas attacked would be distressful for anyone but especially for Phoebe, Lucy thought. She loved animals and seemed to have a deep connection with four-legged creatures. Phoebe talked tough but was really a very tender soul.

  As Lucy ran to catch up with her friends, she saw Maggie hand Phoebe a wad of tissues and a bottle of water, then lead her to the back of the booth. Lucy tried to catch sight of Ellie and Dana up ahead. She couldn’t find them in the crowd as the flow of visitors now moved toward the parking area—seniors clutching their purchases and knitting totes, parents dragging squirming children by the hand.

  The entire mood of the event had changed in an instant, as if a dark cloud had slipped over the sun.

  Lucy worried about what they would find in the meadow. She hated to see animals in pain. Even though it wasn’t a real gun, a paint gun was still a weapon and could cause injuries, especially when fired at close range. The llamas could have broken bones or have internal bleeding. She wondered if Ellie or Ben had called Matt yet, then decided to take the initiative. She pulled out her cell phone, and quickly hit Matt’s number.

  He answered on the first ring. “Hi, honey, what’s up? How’s the fair?”

  “Not so good. Can you come out here? The llamas have been attacked. They need your help.”

  Chapter Two

  Look at them! The poor creatures! Who did this? Who could be so cruel?”

  Ellie yanked the gate open and ran out in the meadow. She crouched next to a llama that knelt on its front knees, making a painful bleating sound.

  The llama was splashed with red paint from its ears to its tail, and every few moments, it gave its head a hard shake, like a wet dog trying to shake off the rain. One eye was swollen shut, and Lucy felt her stomach lurch. She quickly looked away, reminding herself it was just paint, though the effect was still gruesome.

  “How awful. I can hardly bear to look.” Dana came to stand beside Lucy at the gate. “Quite a few look hurt. But maybe they’re just stunned?”

  “Maybe,” Suzanne said quietly. “That one is limping. Looks like its leg was hit. Poor thing. . . . What should we do?” Suzanne’s voice verged on tears. Lucy felt frustrated, too. It was like coming upon the scene of a multicar accident, with so many victims wandering about, dazed and injured.

  She saw a man out in the meadow, trying to clamp a lead to one of the llamas that had been hit. He wore jeans and a yellow T-shirt that had been made up for the festival. Ellie suddenly called out, and Lucy knew it was her husband.

  “Ben . . . come and help me. I think Buttercup is unconscious. . . . I can hardly hear her breathing.” Ellie’s llama was prostrate on the ground now, lying on its side.

  “I’ll be right there, Ellie. I have my hands full over here. Where’s Dot?” He looked around as the animal he tended began to gag, jerking out its long neck. The sound was loud and
disturbing.

  “Oh, for pity’s sake . . . what the . . .” Ben just managed to jump out of the way as the llama finally expelled the contents of its stomach, a mixture of partly digested hay and bright red mucus.

  Internal injuries? Or just more paint? Probably the latter, Lucy thought. She’d noticed the llama licking its fur, trying to get the mess off. Lucy hoped the paint wasn’t toxic—that would really be a disaster.

  “I’ll help Ellie. One of you help Ben,” Dana suggested as she left them.

  “I’ll go,” Lucy said. “I just called Matt. He wasn’t far. He’s already on his way.”

  Suzanne followed her out into the meadow. “Good idea. I wonder if they’ve called the police.”

  Lucy wondered about that, too. But they probably hadn’t had a chance to do that yet, she thought. As Lucy jogged over to Ellie and the felled llama, another woman pulled the gate open and ran toward them. She carried a plastic bucket of water that sloshed from side to side in one hand, and held a bucket of rags in the other. She was moving surprisingly fast, considering the load and her age, Lucy thought, which was probably somewhere in her late sixties or even early seventies, judging from her white hair and short, stout body.

  “Buttercup is badly hurt, Dot. Please take a look at her,” Ellie called out.

  Dot reached them and dropped her buckets. She was panting a bit, her round face flushed. She had pale white skin and small blue eyes, and her hair, wound in a knot at the back of her head, fell loose around her face as she bent to examine the llama.

  “She looks bad. That pellet got her right in the head. Poor girl. Half an inch lower and her eye would be out.”

  Lucy took in a sharp breath at the description.

  “It’s bad enough as it is.” Ellie gently stroked the llama’s head, careful not to touch the red spot. “Poor Buttercup,” she murmured.

  The animal kept her eyes closed, breathing heavily. Then she suddenly began to shiver and jerk. Her limbs stiffened, and her eyes opened and rolled back in her head.

  Ellie jumped back. “What’s happening? What’s wrong with her?”

  “She’s having a seizure from the head injury,” Dot replied quietly. “We have to be calm. The more we react, the worse it will be for her. Can you give me something to put under her head?”

  Ellie pulled off her vest. The old woman wadded it up and slipped it under the llama’s head as a pillow.

  The llama continued to jerk spasmodically, her hooves flicking and back legs kicking dust up on the ground. Dot took a position at the animal’s head, out of the way of her legs.

  Ellie rose to her feet and stepped back, then stood beside Lucy. “Is that it? Is that all we can do for her?”

  Dot glanced up at her a moment. “That’s all for now. It will pass soon. At least she’s not up, wandering around. I’ve seen horses with focal convulsions. They try to kick out of the stall. It’s better that she’s on the ground,” Dot said as she stroked the llama’s neck. “It should be over in a little while.”

  “There, there. It’s all right, Buttercup. We’re right here with you,” Dot crooned lovingly.

  The llama’s body went slack. Her eyes closed. For a moment, Lucy thought she had died. But the animal’s chest still rose and fell with shallow breaths. Her mouth hung open, and her big tongue flopped to one side, hanging over Ellie’s sweater.

  “The seizure is over. She’s coming around. But she might convulse again. We have to watch her.” Dot came slowly to her feet.

  She wasn’t very tall, Lucy realized, though her assertive presence gave the impression of a taller, bigger woman. Her apple-shaped figure was covered by a large plaid flannel shirt. She wore baggy jeans underneath and dark green, knee-high rubber boots.

  Ben appeared. He had taken a few llamas back to the barn and come through the gate again. “What’s going on? How’s Buttercup?”

  “She had a seizure. But it finally stopped,” Ellie reported. She looked up at her husband. Her face was pale and frightened. “How about the others? What should we do?” She looked overwhelmed. “How can we take care of them all? What about the festival? There are people out there, expecting activities, demonstrations . . .”

  “The event has to be called off. Everyone has to go. This is an emergency, Ellie. Have you called the vet?”

  “Me . . . ? When did I have a chance to call him?” Ellie stared at him. “You were here first. I thought you must have done that . . .”

  Lucy felt awkward interrupting their marital dispute but knew she could help. “Matt told me that you have been using his practice. I called him a few minutes ago, and he’s on his way over. I hope you don’t mind. It just seemed like the right thing to do,” she added.

  “Mind? Of course not. At least someone was thinking clearly,” Ellie answered. “These animals need some medical attention.”

  Ben nodded at Lucy but didn’t say anything. He glanced back at his wife—getting a grip on his anger, Lucy guessed.

  It was a very stressful situation, and they’d both lost their temper. That was understandable, Lucy thought. It didn’t mean anything was wrong with their marriage.

  “How long do you think it will take him to get here?” Ben asked. “Is he coming from town?”

  “He should be here any minute. He was out in this area making house calls.” Horse calls, actually. He had several equestrian patients. “I told him what happened and he’s coming right over.”

  “Good. . . . I just hope none of these animals have to be . . . put down.”

  Ben’s tone was somber.

  “Ben, please. Don’t even say such a thing.” Ellie’s response was quick and sharp. “It’s just another prank. We can’t let it get us all unhinged. That’s just what they want to see.”

  Another prank? What did she mean by that? Who was trying to get them unhinged? Had the animals been harassed before? Lucy wondered.

  But she didn’t think it was the right moment to ask those questions. She barely knew the couple and didn’t feel comfortable probing. She did wonder why the Kruegers had not mentioned calling the police. Wasn’t this act just as bad as, say, someone breaking into a house? Or vandalizing a car or other valuable property?

  Ellie stood near Buttercup, stroking her muzzle. The llama was back on her feet but looking dazed and weak. “What should we do with Buttercup, Dot? Do you think she can walk to the barn, or should we just wait for the doctor?”

  Dot was checking other animals that had been hit, gently examining their bodies—searching for bruises and broken bones, Lucy assumed. Dot tethered a few up and started to lead them to the barn. “I think it’s best to leave the injured ones here for now. I don’t think we should move any of them.”

  Dana called out to her, “Dot, what can we do to help you?”

  Dot looked over her shoulder and smiled, looking grateful for the offer. “I need to wash them. I think the paint is making them sick. You can come to the barn and help. If you don’t mind getting wet and dirty.”

  “I can do that. I don’t mind,” Dana answered as she followed Dot.

  “I don’t mind, either,” Lucy offered.

  “I’ll help, too. Unless you’d rather I stay out here and help you and Ben?” Suzanne asked Ellie.

  “I really need someone to go back out there and call off the fair,” Ellie said sadly. “Could you help me do that?”

  Suzanne nodded. “Sure, no problem.”

  Lucy had a feeling that Suzanne would have preferred washing all the animals in Noah’s Ark to being the official “fun sucker” and calling an abrupt end to the party. But this was an emergency and they all had to help.

  Ellie brushed off her clothes, then picked her vest up off the ground. She seemed so sad and deflated. No wonder, Lucy thought. After all her hard work and the expense of putting on the festival, it was ending so abruptly, on such a strange, violent note.

  Suzanne and Ellie walked through the gate, heading back to the tents to deliver the bad news. Lucy saw a young woman rush up
to them. “Sorry to bother you. I’m Jessica Newton, with the Plum Harbor Times. You must be Ellie Krueger. I’m here to cover the festival.”

  “That’s me. I’m sorry. You’re a little late. The festival is . . . winding down a little earlier than scheduled,” Ellie said vaguely. She was trying hard to summon up her professional persona. But Lucy could see it was a struggle.

  “Oh, too bad. I got held up on another story. But looks like you have something going on out here. Someone said the llamas were shot? Is that true?”

  Ellie’s eyes widened with alarm. “Shot with paint. A paint gun. It was probably just a bad joke, I’m sure—”

  “Yes, I see. When did this happen? Just now?”

  “We’re not sure. I really don’t have anything to say about this situation. We’d prefer not to have it in the paper.”

  “Sure, I understand. Mind if I take a few pictures?” The young woman had taken out a camera and had it positioned in front of her face before Ellie could answer.

  “I do mind.” Ellie took a step and blocked her view. “Did you hear a word I just said? It was probably just a stupid joke. Write about the festival and the farm, the positive side of the event. That’s the only story we’re giving out today.”

  She held her hand up so the picture would be ruined, but Lucy wasn’t sure that she’d succeeded. Jessica Newton seemed persistent on breaking this hot news. There wasn’t much excitement in Plum Harbor. This was a real scoop, from her point of view.

  “I’ll cover the fair, don’t worry,” the reporter promised. “But you can’t keep this out of the paper, Mrs. Krueger. People are already talking about it. Once the police get involved, it will be on the blotter, public record.”

  The police had not been called. Yet. But Ellie didn’t tell that to the reporter. She drew in a deep breath.

  “Look, young lady, I asked you politely not to put this in the paper. If we see an article, your publisher will hear from our attorney. Please leave. This is private property. Is that clear?”

  The reporter finally seemed to pay attention and cast Ellie an admonished look. Or was faking it just to keep the peace, Lucy thought.