“My student, Corrine, bought Rocky as a trail horse for her daughter, Samantha. When they went to test ride the horse, he had already been taken out of stall, and appeared to be fine. He was comfortable to ride and his price was very reasonable, so she bought him. The first sign of trouble came when they came back a few days later to pick him up, and it took them two hours to load him in their trailer. Finally, the seller took a large whip and chased him into the trailer. When they got him home, other signs of trouble showed up.
It became clear that the sellers had drugged Rocky so he behaved calmly while being ridden. In reality, he is fearful of being touched, and threatens to bite or kick anyone who comes into his stall unless he is distracted by either another person, with an offering of an apple, carrot or other treat. It’s clear that his previous owners abused him. In addition, the horse has no confidence or trust in his rider, and is dangerous to ride. On trail rides, if a rabbit jumps out, or a plastic bag blows across the trail, he bolts away at a dead run, and can’t be controlled. Corrine is ready to have him put down, but I talked her into allowing you to look at him and see if there’s anything you can do.”
Lionel felt rage building within him as he listened to Michael’s description of the behaviors Rocky exhibited. “The bastards should be shot for treating a sensitive animal that way. I definitely want to see if there’s anything I can do to help. I’ll do it gladly.”
“Excellent!” Michael said. “I’ll contact Corrine and let her know you’ll be working with Rocky for the next few weeks. She’ll be thrilled, especially if you can make some progress with him.”
“Don’t get her hopes up too high, mate,” Lionel cautioned. “Fear is a powerful emotion, and Rocky has been ruled by fear for quite some time. It will take a great deal of time and patience to convince him he doesn’t have anything to be afraid of. You have a round pen I can use, don’t you?”
“Yes. You’re welcome to use it any time,” Michael replied. “Will you be staying here, or will you be driving back and forth from your farm?”
“If possible, I’d like to stay here for the first few days, to really get to know Rocky. Do you have a place for me?”
“Actually, I do. Herr Mendelssohn left to go back to Germany, so you can use his room while you’re here. Jessica is actually the only other person staying here right now. Her trainer, Liz Randall, had to go back to the States for a personal emergency. Jessica is communicating with her via YouTube and Skype right now.”
“Really,” Lionel said. “That’s a new development. What’s the ‘personal emergency?’”
“I’m really not at liberty to say, Lionel,” Michael said. “Suffice it to say that it’s more important for Liz to be in the U.S. than here for the time being.”
“All right,” Lionel said. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to spend a few minutes alone here with Rocky, and see just exactly what we have here. Then, maybe we can go to the pub for dinner?”
“Actually, Lionel, I was planning to take Jessica out for dinner tonight,” Michael said, clearly chagrined at sharing this information with Lionel before he had a chance to ask Jessica. He reluctantly added, “I suppose you could come along, though.”
Lionel smiled to himself at the grudging manner in which Michael had, only out of sheer politeness, asked Lionel to accompany him and Jessica for dinner. Feigning ignorance of Michael’s discomfort, Lionel enthusiastically responded. “Of course. I’d love to join you. It will give me an opportunity to learn more about Jessica, especially since I’ll be staying here at the manor for a few days. If you don’t mind, though, I’d like to drive separately. I have a couple of errands to run while I’m out.”
“No problem. We’ll look forward to it,” Michael responded, less than enthusiastically, as he made his way back to the house.
Lionel, finally on his own, made his way to the stable, and immediately looked not for Rocky, but for Tempest’s stall. It wasn’t hard to find. Michael had fashioned a larger than normal-sized box stall for Tempest, with more than the usual stall accouterments, including a beautiful leather halter with shiny brass hardware and his name engraved in gold plate on the cheek strap hanging on the front of the stall. A brass nameplate with his name engraved along with his breed logo graced the stall door.
The stallion himself looked up at Lionel’s approach and graced him with a curious but guarded expression. Lionel approached with a measure of caution. He had worked with stallions before, and they could be unpredictable and frequently aggressive. Not to mention that he was, to this stallion, a stranger. He needn’t have worried, however. This stallion had never in his life experienced even one incident of abuse, and was accustomed to being handled by professionals whose primary interest was keeping him content. His general trust in and comfort around people overcame any fear that a sudden appearance by a stranger at his stall might otherwise provoke.
“My boy, you are a beauty.” Lionel found himself in awe at this magnificent horse. “It’s too bad your interests and mine are at odds. I would love to see you shown by someone who knows what they’re doing, and Michael is absolutely that person.” Feeling more than a slight twinge of regret at what he had to do, Lionel looked around the stable to see if there was any way he might arrange for a small accident for Tempest that would impair both Michael and Jessica’s ability to ride him for the next few weeks. In Lionel’s estimation, such an accident would be all it would take to convince Herr Mendelssohn that neither Michael nor Jessica were to be trusted with his precious stallion, and Mendelssohn would take him home to Germany to look for another match.
Unfortunately, Michael kept an immaculate stable, and there was nothing lying around that would cause an injury such as Lionel might need for his purposes. Lionel noted the grain room was just down the aisle from Tempest’s stall, and when he tried the door, it was unlocked. Brilliant! All I have to do is open the grain room door, ensure a grain bin is left open, and unlatch Tempest’s stall door. In that way, once Tempest smelled the unmistakable odor of molasses, and realized the grain was available for the taking, he would be able to easily open his stall door, and make his way to the grain to feast to his heart’s content. Better yet, there wouldn’t be any clear evidence of wrongdoing.
The fact that Tempest’s stall was left unlatched could easily be blamed on a careless barn worker. To ensure that Tempest didn’t eat so much grain that the damage would be life-threatening, he would wake up within an hour of retiring, ostensibly having heard a noise, and discovered Tempest in time to save his life. His timely “discovery” would ensure that the horse got enough grain in him to only cause a mild if any, colic, or a mild case of laminitis, an inflammation of the feet caused by too much rich feed hitting his system in a short period of time. The only treatment for such an affliction was stall rest in deep footing and inactivity for as long as the inflammation persists. The plan was set. “I’ll be back to see you later tonight, boy,” Lionel said with a grin. “I hope you’ll be hungry.”
Later that evening, as Michael was driving Jessica back to the manor from the pub where he, Jessica and Lionel had partaken of a somewhat strained dinner, he realized that Jessica hadn’t said a word since they left the pub. He glanced over at her as she sat next to him in the passenger seat, and noticed that she was staring out of the side window, but her gaze wasn’t focused, and he could tell that she was mentally miles away. “You’re very quiet this evening, Jess. Is something wrong?”
Michael’s attempt at conversation had startled Jessica out of her reverie, and she looked guiltily over at Michael, flushing with embarrassment that he had caught her daydreaming. “It’s nothing, really,” Jessica said. “I’m just worried about Hailey. I’ve been trying to contact her physical therapist and doctor to get recommendations for physicians and therapists here in the UK so that she can continue her fitness and rehabilitation, but they’re not returning my calls. It’s very frustra
ting, and there’s nothing I can do about it when I’m over here, four thousand miles away.”
“Does it have to be done right now?” Michael asked. “After all, we can always look into those possibilities once Hailey gets here. In fact, it might be better if she meets with the potential doctors and therapists before committing to anyone to make sure they’re compatible.”
“We?” Jessica asked, suddenly irritated that Michael was taking it upon himself to assume part of a responsibility that had been Jessica’s, and Jessica’s alone, for the past 5 years. “Michael, this isn’t your obligation, it’s mine. And yes, it does have to be done now. I would rather have arrangements made up front, before Hailey gets here so she won’t miss any therapy. It’s critical for her long-term progress that she continue being active and that she maintain a constant level of care.” Jessica felt the anger rising within her, and her next statement was laced with sarcasm. “Of course, not having ever had to experience something like this, you wouldn’t know that.” Seeing the stricken look on Michael’s face after that statement, Jessica immediately regretted her angry reaction, and softened in response, “Please, Michael, I know you mean well, but this is none of your business.”
Michael was taken aback by the vehemence of Jessica’s reaction to his offer to help, and to what he considered to be a common-sense solution to her problem. He realized that there was more to Jessica’s relationship with Hailey and her injuries than what appeared on the surface. He resolved to discover what it was that made Jessica so very protective and determined to “fix” Hailey. He wondered if there was any way for him to really help her, or if she would have to resolve those issues herself. What he did know was that she couldn’t continue to allow Hailey’s condition to rule her own life. At some point, probably very soon, Hailey would be old enough to be on her own, and Jessica would have to let her go. For now, though, it was time to change the subject.
“Lionel said he had some errands to run, then he would be back to the house. Are you comfortable with him staying here for a few days?”
“Michael, it’s your home, and Lionel is your friend. I should have no say in whether he stays or goes, but since you’re asking me, I’m fine with him being here. I do have to admit, though, that he makes me uncomfortable, but I can’t for the life of me tell you why.”
“He’s had a hard life, but I’ve known him for years, and trust him. I think he’s Rocky’s last chance at redemption. I’m very much hoping he can find a way to bring that poor horse back and make him a decent riding horse.”
“For Rocky’s sake, I agree with you. No horse deserves to be abused.”
Chapter 14
It was midnight when Lionel drove up to the house, and saw that every window was dark. No one stirred. This was the perfect time to implement his plan. He quietly entered the barn, and made his way to the grain room. Thankfully, the room was still unlocked, and the sweet feed easily accessed. He propped the lid of the large dustbin sized container, at least half-filled with grain, and left the room, door ajar. He made his way to Tempest’s stall and unhooked the latch keeping the door closed.
Tempest watched Lionel’s movements with interest, but didn’t immediately move to test the stall door. “Just wait until you get a whiff of that good, sweet grain, and you’ll be desperate to get there. I’ve just made it easier for you to have what you want, my boy. Enjoy!” Lionel smiled to himself as he left the barn, and quietly entered the manor. He moved up the stairs as silently as possible and made his way to his assigned bedroom. There, he undressed, and tucked himself in to prepare to wake in an hour or so to “find” Tempest and save him.
~ ~ ~
He was walking down a hot dusty street in Helmand province, southern Afghanistan. His SAS unit was stationed at Camp Bastion, a sprawling military installation complete with airfield that had at one time housed almost 10,000 British troops, but now housed about 2,000. They were closing the base soon, and he would be home. Thank God! Now, however, he was on a routine patrol with several of the men in his unit looking for Taliban fighters rumored to be in the area.
Suddenly, sniper fire rang out from the rooftop of a nearby building, and the man next to him fell to the ground, killed instantly by a bullet in the head. “Get down! Get down!” he shouted to the rest of his troops. “Take cover! Anywhere you can find it!” He quickly scrambled to shelter in the doorway of a nearby home that had been long deserted, and searched the streets for the rest of his unit. More shots rang out and bullets raised puffs of dust near his feet. He could see the rest of his men were also pinned down by gunfire, and there didn’t seem to be any specific target they could shoot back at. It was time to call in some air support. He located his communication device, and notified Camp Bastion that they were under attack. He provided their coordinates and requested backup and air support, either helicopter or even drone support. They just needed to know where the enemy was so they could take them out.
Eventually, a chopper arrived, and easily dispatched the three or four snipers that had pinned them down. He noticed his best friend, Neil McCauley, sauntering over to him as if he hadn’t a care in the world.
“You bloody stupid bugger!” Ian shouted. “Be careful. You don’t know for sure if they got them all yet.” As soon as the words left his mouth, a shot rang out, and Neil clutched at the gaping wound that had opened his throat.
“No! No! No!” Ian cried. “Neil!” He ran over to Neil’s lifeless body as the last of his life blood spilled out on the dusty ground. “My God, no!” For the first time since he had arrived in Afghanistan, Ian cried like a baby. He was still sobbing Neil’s name as they dragged him away from the body.
“No!” Ian threw off the covers and sat up in bed as he awoke from his nightmare, the same nightmare that had repeated itself over and over again every night without fail since he returned home from Afghanistan. The doctors kept telling him that it would get better with time, but it had been almost a year, and the nightmare, although occurring less frequently, was still as vivid as ever. He had sought solace in alcohol, but even that didn’t prevent the recurrence. Sighing and looking at the clock, he saw it was a little past midnight, and since he wasn’t going to go back to sleep anytime soon, Ian decided to go for a walk in the barn. For some reason, the peaceful presence of the horses calmed him like nothing else could, and he could use the serenity. He pulled on a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt, donned his athletic shoes, and left the house.
Once at the barn, Ian noticed right away that the horses were much more agitated than that usually were at this hour. As he approached the grain room, he noticed there was horse inside, greedily helping himself to the sweet feed. It was Tempest. “Jesus, horse, you’re not supposed to be in there!” Ian knew right away this was trouble, and ran immediately back to the house to get Michael.
“Mike! Mike! Wake up!” Ian shook Michael until he finally woke from what appeared to be a very deep sleep.
“What? Ian? What’s the matter? Why are you up? Is it another nightmare?”
“Yes. I had a nightmare, but that’s not why I’m here. It’s Tempest. He’s gotten out of his stall, and is eating the grain in the grain room like there’s no tomorrow.”
Michael’s face paled. “Oh my God! I’ve got to stop him. He’ll make himself sick. Come along and help me. I may need another set of hands to get him out of there.”
Michael quickly changed into jeans, a T-shirt, and athletic shoes and both he and Ian ran back out to the barn. Sure enough, Tempest was enjoying the sweet feed at an alarming rate. Michael grabbed the stallion’s halter from his stall and approached him slowly. “Easy now, boy, you have to come with me. That stuff’s bad for you in large quantities, and I don’t want you to get a belly ache. That wouldn’t be at all pleasant.” Instead of trying to put the halter on, Michael looped the lead rope around Tempest’s neck and attempted to lead him away from the grain that way. Than
kfully, Tempest didn’t put up much of a fight, and allowed himself to be led back to his stall.
“Ian, please call the vet and ask him to get over here immediately. I’ll check the grain room and see if I can figure out just how much grain he ate before you found him.” Ian nodded and moved back toward the house. “By the way, brother, I owe you a debt of gratitude. If you hadn’t been here to stop him, Tempest may have eaten all that grain. If he foundered after that it might have been too serious to remedy and we might have had to put him down. You saved his life, Ian.”
Ian smiled. This was the first time he could think of that he was thankful for his nightmares.
When Ian entered the house, Jessica was making her way down the staircase, yawning and clearly just awakened. “I heard some commotion. What’s going on, Ian? Is everything all right?”
“It’s Tempest, Jessica. I have to call the vet right away.” Ian found Michael’s cell phone, located the vet’s number in his contacts, and placed the call. After what must have been several rings, Ian told the vet to come right over. Jessica listened intently as Ian explained to the vet what had apparently happened. “I discovered the stallion in the grain room eating as much grain as he could get.” Ian paused, listening to the vet’s question. “I don’t know exactly how much he ate, but we know he was in his stall when Michael did his night check at 10 PM. I found him at 12:30 AM.” Ian paused again then responded. “Fine. We’ll see you when you get here. Thank you!”
Dressage Dreaming (Horses Heal Hearts Book 1) Page 12