“That’s the frog. It can be sensitive on some horses.”
“It looks more like an arrowhead.”
He nodded. “I’ve often thought the same thing. Just try to keep the file from scrubbing against it too hard.”
“That’s right, sweetie,” shouted Andre. “Careful not to scrub it too hard.”
Rather than offer a warning, Tanner stepped back from the crowd and circled in behind the big man. He stopped when he was a few feet behind him, determined that Andre’s next outburst would be his last.
Samantha slid the rasp across the bottom of the hoof wall, testing the hoof with her fingertips after every few strokes. When it was finally smooth, she tilted the hoof out toward Gus.
“What do you think? Is that good enough?”
He leaned over and rubbed his palm across the hoof.
“It’s perfect. Now we’re ready to shoe the horse.”
Andre snickered. “I bet she’ll hear that more than once.”
Without warning, Tanner kicked straight up between the man’s legs. The blow was as underhanded as it was effective. Andre stumbled forward and collapsed to the ground, his face narrowly missing a pile of horse dung. That, however, was to be the only break he would catch. The blow had dislocated one of his testicles, driving it up into his abdomen and impacting it against the pubic bone. The pain was so great that he began to heave uncontrollably. As the pressure built, lunch finally bubbled up, and a huge pile of chunky meat and carrots spilled out onto the dirt. He tried to push himself up, but before he got to his knees, his eyes glazed over, and he collapsed into the puddle of puke.
The crowd turned to Tanner. A few nodded or smiled, but most stared at him with a mix of shock and uncertainty. He said nothing, offering neither explanation nor apology. Really, what was there to say? The situation was over as quickly as it had started.
Gus cleared his throat. “When you’re shoeing a horse,” he continued, hoping to pull the audience back in, “it’s important to find a shoe that fits.” He looked down at Samantha. “You wouldn’t want to wear your father’s shoes, now would you?”
Samantha glanced over at Tanner.
“Have you seen his feet?”
Everyone instinctively looked down at Tanner’s boots, the same boots that had just turned Andre into a countertenor.
Gus grabbed a horseshoe from his cart and leaned down to place it against the flat of the animal’s hoof.
“With a little fitting, this one should work.” He set the horseshoe on his anvil, held it with a pair of metal tongs, and gave the shoe a few careful strikes with his hammer. When he was satisfied, he set it back on the hoof. This time, it lay almost perfectly flat. “I think that’ll do just fine.”
“Do we glue it on?”
“You can, but most of the time we use special nails.”
She looked concerned. “You hammer nails into his foot?”
“Just through the hoof wall. And as long we do it right, it won’t hurt him a bit. Watch here.” Gus squeezed in closer and used a small hammer to tap the first nail into place. “The important thing is to drive it through the hoof wall at an outward angle. That way we stay clear of the sensitive portion of the hoof.”
“I see,” she said. “But what do you do with the points of the nails poking through the sides?”
Gus grabbed a claw hammer and carefully bent the nail tip. Then he took a pair of nippers and clipped it off, leaving about an eighth of an inch pointing toward the toe.
“Now, you try one,” he said, handing her the hammer and a nail.
Samantha mimicked what he had done, careful to maintain the same angle when tapping in the nail. Once she had it flush, she bent the tip and snipped off the excess. She repeated the process four more times. By the time she finished, sweat was rolling down her face and neck.
“Are we done?” she groaned. “My back is killing me.”
“Almost. The last step is to file off any rough spots on the outside of the hoof wall.” He handed her the rasp. “You want the hoof to be nice and smooth. That way the horse can’t hurt himself.”
Samantha took her time, carefully filing the tips of the nails and any rough patches on the hoof wall. When she was finished, she gently rubbed her palm over the outside of the hoof. It felt hard and smooth. Without asking, she lowered the foot down to the ground and slid out from beneath the horse. Her lower back felt like it was on fire.
“Sorry, but one shoe is enough for me,” she said, holding the file out to Gus.
He smiled and turned back to the crowd.
“Let’s give a hand to Hillsville’s newest farrier.”
The crowd clapped, and a couple of people even patted Tanner on the back. Perhaps it was to congratulate him on raising such an industrious daughter. More likely, it was to thank him for dropping the big oaf who was still lying in his own vomit.
After Tanner had traded for a bottle of Granny’s fine Ball Busting Chow Chow, he and Samantha began to make their way out of the flea market.
“Shoeing horses is hard work,” she said, rubbing her back.
“Next time, you’ll know better than to volunteer.”
She shrugged. “No one else was going to do it. Besides, I like animals, and I figured that someday maybe I’ll have a horse or two.”
“First, you’re getting married, and now you’re raising horses. What else is going on in that brain of yours?”
“If I told you all the things in my brain, you’d think I was really weird.”
Tanner bit his lip, reluctant to take the bait.
An orange tabby suddenly darted out from between two stalls and dashed away into the crowd. An instant later, one of the twin sisters who had been preparing the blackened meat raced after it.
“Grab it!” she screamed.
No one moved to lend a hand, and Samantha watched as they disappeared behind a tent.
“Should we help her catch her cat?”
Tanner turned to her with a sly grin.
“Darlin’, that wasn’t her cat.”
“What do you mean?” Before he could answer, her eyes grew wide. “You don’t think…”
He shrugged. “What does it matter? Meat is meat.”
She held her stomach and let out a small burp.
“Hairball?”
“Please, no,” she pleaded.
He patted her on the shoulder.
“Don’t worry about it. People have been eating cats and dogs for ages.”
“Barbarians, maybe!”
He laughed.
“Have you ever eaten a cat?” she asked in a soft probing tone.
“No way. That’s disgusting.”
“Oh, man,” she groaned, bending at the waist. “I’m definitely going to be sick.”
Despite willing it to happen, Samantha couldn’t quite make herself throw up. She finally spat a few times and accepted the fact that this was all she could manage. With nothing left to do, she straightened up, and they continued toward the Hummer.
“It’s official,” she said. “I’m an animal.”
“We’re all animals.”
“You know what I mean. A wild animal.”
“Nah. It’s like I told you before—survivalists eat whatever they need to in order to stay alive. Believe me, people have eaten a lot worse than a little cat.”
“You think it was little?”
He grinned. “What I’m saying is that you should be thankful that it was just a cat. One day you might have to eat or drink something really disgusting in order to survive.”
“What could be worse than a cat?”
“I once saw a self-proclaimed survivalist squeeze water from elephant dung.” Tanner held his hands over his head like he was wringing out a huge sponge. “There were literally pieces of green elephant poop falling into this guy’s mouth.”
Samantha turned and retched.
As she stood doubled over, letting the last bit of spittle drip from her lips, he stepped closer and put his hand on her
shoulder.
“You can thank me later.”
“Thank you?” she choked. “For what?”
“For helping you to be cat free, of course.”
She wiped at her mouth.
“I’m never eating another animal as long as I live.”
“Other than chicken, pork chops, bacon, and hamburgers, you mean.”
She nodded. “Other than those.”
He smiled. “Come on, kiddo. Let’s get back on the road.”
They left the flea market and crossed the street toward the Hummer. As Tanner reached into his pocket for the keys, someone shoved him from behind. He stumbled forward and wheeled around with his hands up. When he turned, he saw Andre standing ten feet away, leaning forward and ready to charge like Bodacious the Bull. His face was flushed with anger, and pieces of vomit still clung to his overalls.
“They told me you’re the bastard who kicked me.”
Tanner squared himself, making a fist with the tips of the keys poking between his fingers.
“Tanner,” she cautioned, “we don’t need this right now.”
He glanced over and saw the pleading look in Samantha’s eyes as she mouthed the word please. Tanner took a deep breath and let it out slowly as he turned his attention back to the big man.
“Let me ask you something.”
“If you’re going to ask for mercy, don’t bother. You’re getting a beating, one way or the other.”
“I don’t ask for mercy, and I don’t give any either. I just had a question.”
“What?” he sneered.
“When you were lying on the ground, what went through your head?”
“What kind of bullshit question is that?”
“What I mean is, wasn’t there some small part of you that thought you had that coming?”
“Screw you.” Andre’s fists tightened, and his feet shifted around as he prepared for a swing.
“If you come at me,” warned Tanner, “the time for talking will be over.”
“Believe me,” said Samantha, “you’re better off talking.”
The big man settled back on his heels.
“You didn’t have no cause for kickin’ me in the nuts.”
Hearing the man’s change in tone, Tanner thought he would try another tack.
“You got any kids?”
The question caught Andre by surprise, and his face twisted with pain.
“Don’t you talk about my li’l girl.”
“I was only wondering if you knew what it was like to be a father.”
Andre took a moment to answer.
“I used to know,” he said, choking up a little.
Tanner nodded. “I’m sorry.”
“Ain’t none o’ yer damn business.”
“You’re right, it isn’t. But this girl is my business.” He motioned toward Samantha. “She’s all I’ve got in this whole godforsaken world, just like your little girl was all you had.”
Andre looked at Samantha with a faraway look in his eyes, perhaps imagining her as someone else.
“If a man had made vulgar comments to your daughter, what would you have done?”
Andre didn’t answer.
“The way I see it, you had a good kick in the nuts coming. Nothing more, nothing less.”
Andre stared at him, still quiet.
“If you disagree and want to come at me for what I did, that’s up to you. I’m good either way.” Tanner rolled his head from side to side and squatted slightly, ready for whatever the man might do next.
Andre let out a breath, nodded once, and then turned and stomped back toward the market.
After he had disappeared into the crowd, Samantha patted Tanner on the back.
“I’m so proud of you.”
“Yeah, I’m turning over a whole new leaf. Now, let’s hurry up and get the hell out of here.”
“Why? He’s obviously decided not to fight you.”
“For now, yes. But once he starts pissing blood, he might think better of that decision.”
Chapter 5
President Lincoln Pike knew better than to assume that everything would go according to plan. Every action he had taken, whether it was the gassing of the marshals at Glynco, the transporting of weapons to Lenny Bruce, or the attempt on General Carr’s life, all had resulted in undesired consequences. No doubt the effort to clear President Glass from the Greenbrier bunker would also suffer similar setbacks. But for the first time in quite a while, Pike allowed himself to feel comforted by the fact that a plan was finally in place to put his house back in order. Cards were being dealt, one hand, winner take all, and he was feeling pretty good about his chances.
Yumi Tanaka, an apparition that only he could see, also seemed to be feeling reassured. She had returned to her more corporeal form, her skin once again taking on its normal shade and hue. Together, she and Pike had spent the better part of a day working out the details of how best to respond to the damning allegations that had been broadcast all over the country. While the identity of the broadcaster had not yet been confirmed, Pike was convinced that it was Rosalyn Glass, coming back from the grave to rob him of his rightful place. He also had little doubt that if the accusations could ever be proven, he and General Hood would end up swinging from the gallows.
A knock sounded on the door to his office.
“Enter.”
Yumi had been pacing back and forth in front of the door, but she quickly stepped aside to let it swing inward. Despite her ghostly appearance, she was careful to avoid physical contact with earthly objects. She could inflict both pain and pleasure on Pike, but she made no attempt to affect their surroundings. As an artifact in his mind, he was convinced that objects would simply pass through her, but oddly, she seemed reluctant to put his theory to the test.
Vice President Andrew Stinson stepped into the room.
“Mr. President.”
Pike looked up, barely able to hide his contempt. Stinson was an incompetent worm, hardly worthy of holding the office of city mayor, let alone the vice presidency of the United States. He was, however, harmless. And for that, Pike was thankful.
“What is it, Andrew?”
“Everything’s in place, sir. You’re scheduled to address the Congressional Body at three this afternoon. Are you certain you don’t want any help with your speech?”
“That won’t be necessary,” he said, looking down at the pages. “It’s almost ready.”
Stinson couldn’t help but tip forward as he tried to sneak a peek.
Pike rested his hands on top of the pages, more to frustrate Stinson than to cover any undisclosed announcement.
“Is there anything else?”
“I, um, I just wanted to tell you that I think you’re doing the right thing. Better to get out in front of it, right?” He offered a tentative smile.
Pike met the smile with one of his own. No doubt Stinson was praying each and every hour that the scandal would force Pike to step down, leaving him at the helm. That, Pike vowed, would never happen. Even if he had to murder the sickly bastard with his own two hands, Andrew Stinson would never be president.
“Thank you, Andrew. I’m sure it will all settle out.”
“Yes, sir.” He hesitated, and then turned and quietly retreated from the room.
As soon as the door closed, Yumi said, “Why is it that every time I see that man, I want to choke the life out of him?”
Pike grinned. “Because you’re a woman who likes to use her hands.”
She smiled. “That I do.” She moved to sit on the edge of his desk. “Are you ready?”
He nodded.
The plan was simple, as every good plan is. Pike would get out into the light, rather than skulk about like a robber who had something to hide. He had demanded an appearance in front of the Congressional Body and the Joint Chiefs, not to clear his name but to get to the bottom of things. His guilt, or lack thereof, would not be allowed to be called into question. Rather, he would discount the allegations
as either a sham or a criminal undermining of his government.
While Pike took the necessary steps to reassure everyone that a murderous plot had not fueled his rise to power, General Hood would remove all traces of Rosalyn Glass and her co-conspirators. They would simply vanish. Poof! Gone. Never to be seen again. A few hardcore supporters might continue to question the mysterious broadcast, but most would let it fade away, thankful that it had proven no more lasting than a bad dream.
The country had bigger worries, not the least of which was preparing for a winter without gas or electricity. People had grown soft. Trying to survive sub-freezing temperatures would test even the strongest of those who remained. Many would undoubtedly migrate to the New Colonies with the hopes of finding heating oil, food, and clean water. But even with those basic necessities, a hard cold winter would be reminiscent of the Pilgrims’ settling of Plymouth Bay.
Those hardships were precisely what President Pike was counting on. Once a chill came into the air and people found themselves in need, they would be quick to forget baseless charges. Instead, they would embrace anyone who could help to relieve their suffering. Provide a woman and her children with a blanket and a warm meal, and she would be the first to sing a politician’s praises. History had shown this to be the case, and Pike had full confidence that it would be so again.
General Hood tossed his rucksack into the back of the UH-60 helicopter and scrambled in after it. As soon as he stepped aboard, the craft lifted into the air and turned south toward Fort Bragg, North Carolina. The trip was roughly three hundred miles, but he expected to be there before evening chow. After the virus hit, much of the fort had been cordoned off due to the loss of personnel. They had, however, managed to maintain the viability of both the US Army Airborne and Special Operations forces. The US Army Forces Command (FORSCOM) also remained headquartered there, a group responsible for providing land forces to combatant commanders all over the globe. They were, of course, but a shadow of their prior strength, but critical mass had been preserved, and they now handled nearly all troop deployments.
It was at Fort Bragg that General Hood would meet up with a Special Forces unit known as the Black Dogs. As the head of Special Operations Warfare, not to mention the likely successor to the Secretary of Defense, Hood had grown to consider the unit to be his personal commandos. They had already conducted a handful of sensitive missions on his behalf, and even with their modest numbers, had proven capable of conducting intelligence gathering, raids, and targeted assassinations.
Finest Hour Page 5