by Toni Leland
Kim exhaled softly and rubbed her neck. Her eyes felt grainy and hot, and she was weary to the bone. She hadn’t slept well the night before, her dreams filled with images of the turmoil in the streets of Cairo. It must have been terrifying for Shareen and Albert to hear the explosions, and see the red aura in the sky over the city, wondering when the danger would arrive at their front door. And the worry about their precious horses – how that must have taken a toll on their emotions.
The plane bumped down on the runway and taxied for quite a distance before pulling up to the jet-way. Kim just sat in her seat and waited. No point in jumping up to stand in a line that was going nowhere for a while. She gazed out the window at the bustle of the terminal support system, thinking how nice it would be to have a regular job with regular hours and a regular paycheck. The line of passengers began to move quickly up the aisle toward the exit. Kim gathered her purse and camera bag, then stood up to join them. Ten minutes later, she entered the waiting area and glanced around.
Shareen’s handsome husband, Albert, stepped out the crowd, waving to catch her attention.
“Welcome to Arizona.”
He kissed her lightly on both cheeks, then stepped back. “You had a good flight?”
“Long, but otherwise good. How are you?”
“We are well, but of course, missing our home. But sometimes life doesn’t play fairly.”
Kim glanced at him as they walked. The distinguished-looking Dutchman was the picture of propriety and, unless one knew him, seemed aloof and unfriendly. But Kim knew better. Albert would give the shirt off his back to help a friend, and Kim could understand why he and Shareen were so good together.
“Shareen is at home. She was baking something when I left, so she couldn’t ride along.” He flashed a magnificent smile. “She is so excited to see you.”
“I’m thrilled to be here, finally. And I want to hear all the details about your ordeal.”
Albert’s smile faded and he nodded. “Yes, we will tell you everything.”
After retrieving Kim’s suitcase, they left the airport. As she stepped outside, Kim released a long sigh. The air was warm, a gentle breeze ruffled her hair, and her winter-weary body welcomed the change.
The ride to Scottsdale took about twenty-five minutes and, while he drove, Albert talked about various points of interest.
“Scottsdale is still a Mecca for horse owners, but once upon a time, this was the heart of the Arabian horse industry. In the mid- to late seventies, Arabian horses were the darlings of the horse world, sought after by anyone with a love for the beauty of these creatures that were referred to as “living art.” Albert shook his head and his tone changed, tinged with sadness. At some point, greed took over.”
Kim glanced at him, wondering at the sudden change in his expression. He looked over at her, then turned onto a wide, double lane street.
“Let me show you something.”
Kim looked out the window at the shopping malls and apartment complexes that lined both sides of the street, wondering where they were headed.
Albert braked lightly, then pulled over to the curb and gestured toward the buildings. “At the peak of popularity of the Arabian horse, this road was lined with huge, magnificent horse ranches, each bigger and more elaborate than the last. The famous Chauncey Arabian Horse Center was unbelievable, with air-conditioned barns, chandeliers, custom wood stalls and hand-wrought ironwork.” He smiled wryly. “The tack room was the size of most mansions.” He put the car in gear again and pulled away from the curb.
Kim blinked. She didn’t see any indication that the area had ever been ranching country.
“Several big breeders began importing Polish and Russian horses, adding to the gene pool. A U.S. tax loophole allowed a horse owner to deduct business expenses as long as they made a profit in two out of seven years, which made for an attractive tax shelter for people with money. Thousands of Arabian horses were sold during that time. Pyramid schemes cropped up everywhere – one of the most renowned was the syndication of an imported stallion named Padron for 11 million dollars.”
Kim gasped. “You’re kidding!”
“No, I am not. The Arabian industry here was so huge and so successful that the city began construction of West World. Horse shows had always been held at Paradise Park on Bell Road, but the shows were outgrowing the space.”
Kim gestured toward the expanse of commercial buildings that stretched as far as the eye could see. “What happened?”
“In 1986, a tax reform act closed up the lucrative loophole and within a year or so, the big-money owners began dumping horses. The sales market crashed and the bankruptcies began.” Albert let out a long sigh and shook his head. “When Shareen and I came to Scottsdale in 1990, all those ranches I told you about were abandoned, overgrown with weeds, and covered in graffiti. We found it hard to imagine that they were the same estates we’d seen in the photographs. It was a heartbreaking sight. The Chauncey ranch is now a used car lot. Brusally Ranch’s original 168-acres is now the site of the Scottsdale Country Club.”
Kim swallowed hard. Thousands of Arabian horses. Where had they all ended up? She couldn’t think about the answer to that.
Albert reached over and patted her hand. “Sorry to be so morbid. There are other wonderful things to do and see here. You should especially take a day to see the Grand Canyon.”
Kim nodded, but didn’t reply. It seemed to her that the exquisite creatures that captured her soul and those of so many others, had been victimized since before the days of the horse and buggy. Breed didn’t seem to matter – unscrupulous people would find a way to make a buck.
Albert’s tone was normal again. “The West World complex is off to your right. That’s where the show is held. We’ll take a ride over after supper.”
“Do you live far from the show grounds?”
“Our little farm is north of all the activity.” He grinned. “We don’t have to deal with the traffic and the tourists.”
A short time later, Albert pulled the car into a paved driveway that ran past a small Spanish style house. Pastures bordered both sides of the drive, and a medium-sized barn sat at the end of the driveway.
Shareen rushed down the front steps and embraced Kim. “I am so happy to see you! But come in, you must be exhausted from such a long day.”
Albert carried Kim’s suitcase into the house and Shareen linked her arm through Kim’s. “Come, sit. We will have a glass of wine before supper.”
She led Kim through the charming, cool interior of the house. A spacious living room featured tile floor, soft leather furniture, and warm wood trim around the windows. The adobe walls cast a soft glow over everything. Kim caught a glimpse of a spacious kitchen as they moved into an elegant solarium. Arched windows on three walls gave view to the gardens, and skylights bathed the room in daylight.
Shareen stopped briefly. “We love this room in the winter, but it is much too hot in summer.” She chuckled. “Even for us.”
At the back of the solarium, French doors opened onto a terrace of marble and polished black tile. Cushioned patio furniture nestled in front of an open fireplace.
“Nights are cold in the desert, but being out under the stars is a wonderful experience. It reminds me so much of home.”
Kim sucked in a breath at the view of the magnificent Superstition Mountains to the east.
“Beautiful, yes?” said Shareen, lifting a bottle of white wine from a bucket of ice.
“I’ve heard the Southwest described, and seen photographs, but nothing compares to being here.”
Shareen’s dark eyes glowed. “I am so happy to see you, Kim. This will be such a special visit, Insha’Allah.”
Albert leaned through the open door. “I am going over to the barn for a few minutes. Save some wine for me.” He winked, then disappeared back into the house.
Kim set her glass on the small mosaic table between them. “Shareen, I am so sorry about all the trouble and you having to leave you
r home.”
Shareen looked down at her hands, her voice soft. “It was so hard to do. And the decision to leave horses behind was most difficult.” She looked up and nodded. “Thanking Allah that we knew far ahead of time that it could happen and had time to prepare.”
Kim wanted to ask so many questions, but now they all seemed too invasive of Shareen’s privacy. The wounds were still so fresh, it seemed inappropriate to ask questions about the house staff, or had there been any rioting close by, or had any of their family been involved.
Shareen straightened up in her chair and smiled. “So, enough of that. Tell me how you are able to come to visit us.”
Kim rolled her eyes, then proceeded to describe the chain of events that led to an unusable airplane ticket and time on her hands.
“That is terrible! But at least here you can relax and see the sights.” A sly smile. “And take more pictures of my beautiful horses.”
Kim smiled back, wondering if now would be the time to ask questions about Vivica Wheeler, then thought better of it. Too soon. Get a look at the Wheeler setup at the show first.
“Shareen, you remember that horse that was stolen last summer? The valuable show jumper, Talisman?”
“Oh yes, I do remember. I wanted to ask if you ever followed up on the horse that the sheik purchased. I would be quite surprised if it was not the one you were looking for.”
“We didn’t check that out, mostly because of the international issue. We wouldn’t be able to do anything about it, even if we could prove it.”
“But surely Interpol or some such international agency would be willing to help.”
Kim shook her head sadly. “Unfortunately, animals are often at the bottom of priority lists, even in this country. I mean, look at what’s happening with the wild horses on government land.”
Kim was immediately sorry she’d brought it up. Shareen’s expression implied that she didn’t know the story, and Kim sure didn’t want to describe it. But she’d started it, she better finish it. At the end of an abbreviated tale of the Bureau of Land Management’s horrific helicopter roundups and stampede deaths, Shareen’s lovely dark eyes glistened with tears.
“Allah did not intend for us to be so cruel. I do not understand these things.”
Albert stepped out onto the terrace, then looked perplexed. “Why the long faces? This is a celebration!”
He poured a glass of wine, then turned to his wife. “Something smells wonderful in the kitchen, my dear. And I am certain that our guest is hungry after her long journey.”
Shareen rose from her chair and laid a hand on his broad chest. “Shokran, habibi.” She turned to Kim. “Relax and enjoy my husband’s company. We shall have supper shortly.”
Albert watched her disappear into the house, then shook his head lightly. “She is having a difficult time adapting to this new situation. I am so glad you could come. It will be a comfort to her to have your friendship close for a while.”
Chapter 24
Kim settled into the backseat of Albert’s car and sighed. “Shareen, that was the most fabulous meal I’ve ever had.”
“Thank you. I wanted to fix a selection of food from my homeland because you were not able to visit us there. I am glad you enjoyed it. Did you have enough to eat?”
Kim laughed. “Oh my, yes. I actually ate too much, but I couldn’t help myself.”
Kim gazed out the window at the scenery, thinking about the meal she’d just shared with her friends. Roasted quail, several fresh vegetables smothered in some wonderful seasoning, a dish made with some sort of small pasta and lentils, aromatic rice, and sweet buns slathered with butter. She’d passed on the dessert, promising to have it when they returned from the show grounds.
Albert turned into the road to West World. A massive bronze sculpture of three wild horses marked the entrance. Two horses galloped, heels kicked high, while one horse reared, pawing the air, his mane and tail flying. Cacti grew randomly around the animals and, silhouetted against the evening sky, the horses almost looked as if they might come alive and disappear into the hills.
A few minutes later, Albert parked by one of the barns decorated with Shareen’s farm colors. The entrance was enclosed with heavy red canvas drapes and adorned with large gold tassels and Egyptian tapestries. Several chairs were arranged invitingly in the corner near a table with complimentary snacks and beverages.
Kim turned to Shareen. “Have you had any classes yet?”
“Just one qualifier for the English Pleasure mares. We did well. Our mare will compete in the first class on Friday.”
They entered the barn and Kim slowed her step in order to look at every horse in every stall. As usual, the Arabians were inquisitive and interested in the visitors. At the end of the aisle, Shareen stepped up to one of the stalls and crooned to a chestnut horse with a small white star on its forehead.
“This little girl will have her day in the ring tomorrow. She is a two-year-old, and I have great hopes for her. She has some of the greatest Arabian horses in history scattered through the first three generations of her pedigree. She will someday be one of our foundation broodmares.”
Kim gazed at the beautiful filly. The Van Khotens seemed to spare no expense to have the finest horses available, and they were dedicated to taking their horses to the top.
“I expect you’ll do well at this show.”
Shareen nodded, but a shadow crossed her soft features. “Yes, we usually do well, but in the past few years, a newcomer has been taking a larger part of the spotlight. We know nothing about them, just that they seem to have the best horses and unlimited amounts of money to promote them.” She shook her head. “They appear at every important show.”
“Really? Are they here now?”
“Yes, they have been here since last weekend. They always arrive early from Indiana to set up.”
Kim’s radar came on. “Who are they, anyway?”
“Wheeler Arabians.”
Chapter 25
Though caught off guard, Kim managed to control her expression.
“Really. I can’t imagine anyone having better horses than yours.”
Shareen gave her a wry look. “They are not better, just more of them. You must watch tomorrow. You will see.” She picked up a magazine from a tack trunk. “Here, I saved you a program.”
Kim took the glossy publication, wanting to immediately pore through it and locate Wheeler’s stalls. Instead, she tucked it under her arm and grinned.
“I’ll have to find their stalls and check them out.”
Shareen frowned. “You won’t have to look far. They are in the next barn. Long-time, regular exhibitors have always had first choice on stall assignments in the main barns. We have been stalled in this barn for over ten years, but somehow the Wheeler people secured premium stalls after only a couple of years.”
“Money speaks volumes, unfortunately.”
Kim couldn’t help but recall Albert’s description of the heyday of the Arabian horse and the tragic ending to that era.
Albert called to Shareen from down the aisle and she excused herself to hurry toward him. Kim let out a slow breath. This could be a serious problem. How she would keep a low profile and stay under Vivica Wheeler’s radar, she didn’t know. Being in the same close vicinity was an unfortunate circumstance. Kim glanced down the aisle to where Albert and Shareen stood talking.
“Shareen,” she called out. “I’m going to walk around a bit. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
Her friends waved, and Kim set off slowly down the aisle toward the entrance. There weren’t many people around at that hour. Evening classes didn’t start in earnest until Friday, and most folks were out enjoying the nightlife the area offered. Kim’s step slowed. If she wasn’t careful, she could run smack into Vivica Wheeler. If she planned to play at undercover, she’d better find a way to change her looks for the next few days.
A moment later, she stood stock still, disbelief surging through her head. The Wheeler
Arabians barn was decorated with elaborate midnight blue drapes trimmed with metallic silver. Expensive bronze statuary figured prominently in the arrangements. Real turf had been set around the entrance, and elegant chairs and couches beckoned foot-weary visitors. Glossy photos of beautiful horses wearing championship ribbons adorned the wall behind a self-serve bar that offered several wines, cold beer, and cocktails. Beside it, two large trophies formed the centerpiece of a table laden with beautifully presented snacks and a tower of fresh fruit. A sign read, “Please help yourself. Courtesy of Wheeler Arabians.”
Kim hadn’t brought her full-sized camera along, but she had a mini digital in her purse. She snapped off several shots of the arrangements, then feeling a little intimidated, she stepped through the entrance to the stall aisle. Wheeler horses inhabited both sides of the twelve-stall aisle, and every one of the animals was gorgeous. As she walked, she heard loud voices echoed from somewhere at the end of the aisle. Someone was extremely unhappy about something. A woman’s shrill voice echoed through the evening air.
“You do it my way, or you’re history. Do you understand?”
The answering voice was definitely masculine, but Kim couldn’t make out the words. Another few steps and Kim decided the risk was too great. She had a feeling that she was hearing Wheeler’s voice. Turning quickly on her heel, Kim made her way back to the Van Khoten barn, arriving just as Shareen and Albert stepped out of the doorway.
Shareen made a face. “Did you see their setup?”
“Yes, but there was a bit of an altercation going on, so I didn’t stay.”
Albert shook his head in disgust. “They are always fighting. Such ill manners in public.”
Kim climbed into the car and gazed at the barn as they pulled away. Parked next to the side door sat the same luxurious motor home she’d seen at the horse farm. This church mouse definitely had something else going on.
Late that evening, tired as she was, Kim couldn’t fall asleep. She climbed out of bed and walked to the large window that looked out over the pastures behind the house. The inky sky sparkled with stars and a half moon hung over the silhouetted mountains. Dark shadows moved about the pasture, horses nibbling their way through the night, basking in the cooler temperatures. How different it must be to live in such a quiet and rural place. She’d become accustomed to the background din of living in the city, but if she tried really hard, she could remember nights like this on her grandfather’s farm with nothing but the sounds of the night animals and the wind in the trees.