by Leigh Hutton
The vet arrived and ushered the girls away from Monster’s side. Marcus was there, and told Ebony not to worry, that he would look after everything.
‘I’ve got cameras everywhere,’ he said, hugging her tightly, and kissed the top of her head. ‘We’ll catch the sicko, I promise you.’
Ebony headed back to Annika’s. Winnie and Abia pleaded for her to stay, but she had to get away. Everything here reminded her of him, and of Gallant, and Cecile, and of her own parents she would never know; everything was taken away. She had to fight to keep her mind from slipping into the darkness, and needed to be alone.
Annika’s house was quiet and cold as always. She paused at the stairs, not keen to enter her room, where the picture of Monster would mock her from her otherwise empty walls. She needed a distraction, and fast — the darkness and panic were gripping her chest, stealing her breath, threatening to flood her mind.
She headed to a room she hardly ventured: Annika’s cinema room. It was pitch dark with the curtains drawn, and for some reason, felt like where she needed to be. She felt her way for the sectional leather lounge and curled up in the middle, staring at the blank screen of the massive flat screen TV, suspended on the wall. She curled into the lounge, closed her eyes, and laid still, listening to her breathing and trying to still her thoughts, and clear her mind. She wasn’t sure how much time had passed before she opened her eyes. She let them adjust to the light, then she spotted the remotes for the TV, on the glass coffee table in front of her.
It was tuned to the afternoon news bulletin. The newsreader was blonde and groomed as well as any show horse she’d ever seen. Ebony watched her red lips, moving as she spoke, not registering any of her words, until she heard his name. When his headshot flashed up on the screen, Ebony sat up and reached for the largest remote, cranking the volume, to watch the story …
‘Calgarian millionaire and CEO of Enerco, Scott Prince, is being sought for questioning following allegations of tax fraud and theft,’ the newsreader said.
‘The fifty-six-year-old is expected to file for personal bankruptcy after his struggling company went into receivership this morning. Let’s cross live to Quinn Waters, who’s on scene at one of Mr. Prince’s city mansions …’
A wind blown brunette appeared on screen:
‘Thank you, Kenny,’ she said. ‘Well it’s unclear whether Mr. Prince is aware of the charges that have been laid against him, as he allegedly fled the country several weeks ago with girlfriend, Annika Scott Harris.
‘Ms. Scott Harris is the sister of socialite and well-known businesswoman, the late Cecile Scott Harris, who was found dead last August at her Millarville home.
‘Ms. Scott Harris is also wanted for questioning as the forty-one-year-old has allegedly been involved in a number of Mr. Prince’s recent business dealings, and, according to Revenue Canada, filed for bankruptcy herself from overseas one week ago.
‘The pair will be extradited to Canada to face trial.’
Ebony’s heart raced as the camera panned across the scene, showing items being carried from the mansion, cars from the six-car garage being loaded onto a flat bed truck and a life-sized painting of a black horse being carried by two men into a box van.
‘Meanwhile,’ the journalist continued, ‘as you can see behind me, detectives and officials from the tax department and the Royal Bank of Canada have started the process of seizing Mr. Prince’s assets. They are thought to be moving on Annika Scott Harris shortly, in the hope of paying back at least some of the merchants whom she owes money. Please tune in to our six pm bulletin for the full story.’
Ebony was gasping for breath as the newsreader came back on. Her serious expression was replaced with a forced smile when pictures of chimpanzees at the zoo replaced Mr. Prince’s former household.
She sat up, her knees to her chest, gasping for air, as thoughts and dots connected in her brain. When a name formulated, it was like it smacked her in the forehead, and she jumped up, and ran for her car.
As it turned out, she did have more to lose, and there was no way Ebony was going to let them take the final love that she had left.
She drove fast, her hands gripping the steering wheel to keep the car from losing it on the rain-soaked bitumen. When her mobile rang, she knew she had to answer. She let off the gas pedal and clicked her phone onto hands free.
It was Dallas.
‘I can’t really talk right now,’ she said. Her voice was strained from the tight, hot stress, pain, pulsing behind her forehead.
‘Are you okay?’ Dallas asked.
‘Not really. Sorry, can I call you later?’
‘Jesus, Ebony what’s up?’
‘I really can’t talk.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Dallas said. ‘But I can’t meet up later. I was hoping to speak now.’
Her stomach flipped at his tone, and she tasted bile. The last thing she needed was trouble with Dallas. This isn’t happening!
‘Sorry, I’ve been wanting to do this right and tell you sooner, but I wanted to make sure everything was finalised first.’
‘What, Dallas?’ She asked, even though she didn’t want to know. Her mind was already at the barn, trying to save Johnny.
‘You sure you can’t meet me now?’ he asked.
‘Yep!’
‘Crap. Well, I’m sorry.’
‘For what?’ she said. ‘You didn’t kill my horse, did you?’ Tears flooded her cheeks and the road went blurry. She gritted her teeth, running a sleeve across her eyes.
‘Oh God,’ Dallas said. ‘Tell me what’s wrong, Eb.’
‘I can’t!’
‘I’m so sorry, please, let me come help you!’ he pleaded. ‘I don’t want you hearing anything from someone else I was offered a deal in the NCAA.’
Ebony didn’t register what he was saying. Her foot was back on the gas pedal; she’d just taken the turn onto the gravel road to Marcus’s barn.
‘Um … I said no,’ he said.
‘What?’
Dallas cleared his throat. ‘They wanted me in Alaska, but I knocked it back.’
‘Why the hell would you do a freakin’ stupid thing like that?!’
‘I was hoping you’d be happy.’
‘There’s no way in hell I’m gonna let you throw away your dream, Dallas.’
‘I thought you’d want me to stay with you!’
‘You’d better not! I know how hard you’ve worked for this — as if you can say no. Opportunities don’t come everyday!’ Ebony wiped her eyes and nose with the sleeve of her hoodie, and realised she was yelling, but she couldn’t stop herself.
‘Ebony,’ he said. ‘I’m going to try and get on with the Flames.’
‘Haven’t you already tried that?’
‘They might reconsider now—’
‘Seriously, Dallas, I can’t deal with this right now! Life isn’t fair, it’s about time you accepted that! Go and do what you’ve got to do and freaking well forget about me!’ She hung up the phone. That’s life for freaks like me, she whispered to herself. We lose the things we love. She chucked her phone at the passenger door.
The bitumen of Marcus’s road came into view, and she accelerated hard.
Life might be determined to steal everything I’ve ever cherished, Ebony thought, swinging hard onto Marcus’s drive. But it’s going to stop at Johnny Cash!
Ebony skidded to a stop behind a bushy spruce tree, before the driveway could level out and sweep down to the barn. She kept just inside the tree line, out of sight, and ran around the back of the complex, past the horse paddocks, and through the groom’s entrance to the barn.
There was a green horse transporter and a black Mercedes parked out front, and she knew who it was. They were here to take Johnny away.
She was relieved to find the groom’s kitchen empty, and crept down the narrow hallway, towards the stalls of the main barn. She paused at the entrance to the main corridor, and listened. A few of Marcus’s grooms were chatting away as they mucked out
stalls.
‘According to Marcus,’ one said, ‘it was definitely poisoning.’
‘He thinks it was Luther, which I just can’t believe — he’s such a nice guy.’
‘I know, right? But he does hate Ebony.’
They both laughed.
Ebony had to bite her tongue, to keep from screaming. She would have driven straight to Luther’s, if she didn’t have Johnny to save. For some reason, she trusted Marcus to bring him to justice. He owed her.
‘Marcus will catch him, if it was,’ the first one said. ‘Did you know he had cameras installed, all over the place?’
‘I only knew about the ones in the lounge, for his own personal use!’ The girls giggled.
Ebony peeked out into the hall. The girls were moving on, with their buckets and pitchforks in hand, down and out of sight. There was no sign of anyone else, and no other voices in the barn. Cool, fresh air swept in through the open doors. The sky was dark and full of fury, ready to pour down. It wouldn’t be long until the first snow of the year; the grass was already dead and brown, and the leaves of the poplars had turned to their brilliant autumn colours.
Ebony’s skin froze to her bones when she heard a woman’s voice echoing from the client bathrooms, which were at the end of the hall, opposite the staff entrance.
‘Where is this horse?’ the woman was saying. ‘I’ve been kept waiting long enough!’
Ebony crept forward, craning her neck to see Johnny’s stall. The tips of his black ears could be seen, just above his stall door.
‘One more min’nute, Señora!’ It was Winnie. ‘Ebony not answer her phone. She ees thee only one who know where Johnny ees turned out!’
‘You expect me to believe that the horse’s own groom doesn’t even know where he is? Get me Marcus.’
‘Senore Frank ees not here.’
‘Get him on the phone, then!’ There were footsteps, away, up the stairs to the lounge. ‘The rest of Mr. Prince’s assets have been seized and I’m on a deadline for this one loose end. Snap to it!’
Their footsteps went faint, a door slammed, and Ebony was alone in the hallway.
Her heart was thumping hard in her chest, and her hands were freezing cold, shaking. She’d only have a few minutes until the wicked woman would figure out where Johnny was, she was sure of it. She had to act fast.
Before Ebony could think another thought, she was sprinting down the hall. She ran to her tack room, grabbed a bridle, saddle, pad and girth, before running to Johnny’s stall. His head flew up in surprise, and she had to pull his nose out of his feed bucket. Winnie always made sure he got a late afternoon snack, especially when the weather was too miserable for him to spend any time outside.
Ebony chucked the saddle on and got the girth done tight before forcing Johnny to relinquish the last few bites of his oats for the cold bit to be threaded into his mouth.
She led him from his stall, cringing at the clip clop sound of his shod feet on the concrete floor. The woman’s voice rang out from the end of the corridor, and a man, two men, were arguing with Winnie.
In a flash, Ebony’s foot was in the stirrup — she grabbed a chunk of mane, and pulled herself up on to Johnny’s back. His ears shot back and he resisted a trot, clearly confused, but she kicked him hard in the sides. ‘We have to go now, Johnny!’ She had no other way to save him, this was it.
Up into a canter and they swung right, out the front doors and into the dim light of day; it hit her eyes like razor blades, and her body shook with freezing cold, and the first haze of rain. Across the bitumen, then the gravel, and Johnny’s feet sunk into the wet, partially frozen earth — she kicked him on.
‘HEY!’ The woman yelled after them.
Ebony glanced back, and saw her bulky figure in the doorway. A man appeared next to her and a fat man was running after them — he fell hard on his face in the mud.
Ebony smiled and kicked Johnny on, past the rows of horse paddocks, down the road to Marcus’s jumper field, along the rail, and out into the surrounding foothills, towards the mountains. She’d never taken Johnny here before, but it was the only way she knew to escape. There was only one place in the world where Ebony felt safe, and this track could get them there.
They galloped along the ridge, Johnny now thrilled with this exciting turn of events, his head and tail up, bounding over the uneven ground. Through the funnel of green Spruce and poplar trees turning red, orange and yellow with their autumn leaves, down into the glorious meadow, which was brown with dead summer grasses cringing against the threat of winter’s ice and snow.
A thick, grey fog fell from the angry sky, and freezing rain started to fall. Sheets of rain, blowing hard in their faces. Johnny slowed, and tried to turn back, as they reached the trail on the other side of the meadow, to make their way down to the gravel road … The spot Ebony had met Dallas, on her wonderful ride with Monster … Tears froze on her cheeks and she had to reach forward, and grab Johnny’s mane, to keep steady on his back. This is crazy, she thought. The wind was howling through the trees, so strong, like it could blow them over. Johnny’s ears pinned back and he stopped dead when they reached the gravel, and spun around, to head home. Only, it wasn’t his home. They had no home.
‘NO! ’ Ebony yelled, kicking him hard in the sides. She wasn’t going to let them win. Life had already taken enough from her and from Johnny, and she knew what happened to those who nobody wanted, the horrible places you’d end up. She couldn’t bear the thought of Johnny at the mercy of a princess like Mantina.
Johnny shuddered and hesitated, looking back at Ebony for reassurance. She nudged him on, and he sighed deeply, but stepped forward, into the wall of fog, his eyes closed against the wind and his hooves making loud sucking noises as he pulled them from the earth.
‘Good boy,’ Ebony said, patting him hard on the neck. ‘That’s my good boy!’ She gathered the reins and ducked down low, to keep out of the wind, and steered him to the right hand side of the road, which was sheltered slightly by a bank. Her hands were numb and she couldn’t feel her fingers, her thin hoodie and jeans drenched and clinging to her frozen skin. Gravel crunched beneath Johnny’s feet, and Ebony searched the road for cars. There was little light, the sun must have been setting behind the storm, and the shadows from the forest on either side of the road were creeping up on them. She urged Johnny into a trot; they’d have to get moving if they’d make home before nightfall.
It was pitch dark well before Ebony and Johnny could make it to the front gate of Cecile’s country house. Ebony clung to his mane, teeth knocking together from the freezing cold. Her body was drenched from the rain and cold sweat, her long hair stuck to her neck and down her back. Her hands had gone so white they were nearly blue, and locked in position, keeping her on Johnny’s back. Her legs were numb, but she kept her heels in his sides. He was puffing hard, and needed rest — they’d cantered as long as they could on the gravel, ducking into the ditch whenever they saw a car. Luckily, the roads were quiet.
Johnny’s footfalls were loud now; they were on the highway, passing Millarville. A car came towards them, and slowed. Ebony raised a hand and waved, forcing with her last remaining ounce of strength a smile onto her face.
The car crept past.
She kicked Johnny into a trot, and made it to the little-used gravel road. It wasn’t far now. She had no energy left to keep her eyes open, and her mind slipped into the darkness, and the world went black. When a car honked, she woke with a start; they were in the ditch, Johnny had stopped, and she was sliding off. She scrambled back up, grabbing for the saddle or reins or mane, anything to keep her on board and the pair on track.
A truck passed, with guys yelling and waving beer cans out the windows. Ebony sat for a minute, literally frozen. Everything spent. But she had to keep going.
Her legs tensed, and she managed a kick. Johnny hesitated, then leapt forward, and into a trot. She curled into a ball, her thighs locked into position, and managed to steer him to Cecile’s fron
t gate.
The fog and the rain had cleared and a full moon cast its silvery light down the driveway, past the house and to the pond. Ebony and Johnny paused for a moment, taking it all in, until a siren wailed within her mind and she knew they had to hide. The gate was locked, so she swung Johnny around, kicked as hard as her frozen legs could managed, and aimed him at the fence beside the gate.
Johnny cleared it, and she clung on for dear life in the air, but the jolt of landing nearly shattered her frozen bones. Johnny cantered towards the barn, Ebony sliding from his back. Her tailbone connected with hard bitumen, the same spot she’d injured with Johnny when they were attempting Marcus’s Devil’s Dyke, and she screamed out in pain. Red flooded her eyes, and she wasn’t sure how much time passed … When she managed to force her eyes open and push herself up onto her elbows, Johnny was standing beside her, sniffing her face.
She couldn’t speak, or stand, but she closed her frozen hands around his reins and crawled towards the closest paddock. Her skin stuck to the latch of the gate, and she ripped it off, instant blood. They needed to find shelter. She dragged herself, and Johnny followed, into the corner of the square paddock, to the horse shelter. There was still some straw, old though it was, from when she and Cecile had kept Gallant here for short vacations between seasons. She let Johnny drink from a puddle of rainwater beside the shelter, then led him inside, dragged herself to the straw, and was pulled into the darkness.
Cecile’s angel was with her. She wasn’t sure how close, but she could see her face. Her angel was crying, tears, not blood, and speaking softly. But Ebony couldn’t hear. She screamed for the angel to speak up, but she was drifting away, her wings outstretched. Whispers. Ebony opened her mouth, but she couldn’t call out, yelling, but she couldn’t hear her voice.