Willow King

by Chris Platt

  “Here he comes, Katie.”

  As King trotted back to the winner’s circle, his sides were heaving and sweat dripped from his body. He held his head proudly and looked every bit the winner he was.

  “Grab him and lead him into the winner’s circle while I get everyone herded into there,” John instructed.

  They posed for the win photo, and Katie was sure that all they would be able to see of her would be a big set of teeth. She was smiling so hard, her face hurt. After the picture was taken, she waited for the jockey to undo King’s saddle. She noticed the man who had given her a dirty look talking to the jockey of Raging Wind. He still didn’t look very happy. After a short discussion, he took the second-place horse by the reins and led him back to the stable. Katie quickly put him out of her mind. She had a winner to cool down and a celebration to start. Now was not the time for dark thoughts.

  Jason met her at the barn with a bucket of warm water and King’s cooling-out blanket. “John says we’ve got to go to the test barn. Grab King’s halter and let’s go. We’ll bathe him there.”

  Katie took the halter and lead rope and followed Jason to the test barn. This was where the horses were tested to make sure they ran legally, without any drugs in their systems.

  Katie and Jason showed their identification to the guard at the gate, then entered the area. The afternoon was cooling down and steam rose from the colt’s sweat-soaked body. In the distance, the bugle sounded, calling the horses to the post for the next race. Tired as he was, King pricked his ears and listened, then pawed the ground and snorted.

  “Looks like he’s ready to go again!” Jason said.

  Katie laughed as she dunked the sponge into the warm water and squeezed it over King’s coat. “He may be ready to go again, but I don’t think I could handle the pressure. I was so nervous during the race. When he ran into trouble on the last turn, I almost died! I’m glad we’ve got another couple of weeks before we have to do this again.”

  Jason patted her shoulder. “You better get used to it, kid. I think we’ll be doing a lot more of this in the future. How about if we all go out for pizza tonight to celebrate the win? I’m buying.”

  “That would be great. I’ll ask my mom and Jan.”

  A radio played in the background and the chords of Jason’s favorite country song drifted across the test barn. He looked at her, but she immediately turned away, reaching for the scraper to remove the excess water from King’s coat. She despised herself for being such a chicken. She knew the dance. There was nobody watching. What was her problem?

  “You know you owe me a dance,” Jason said.

  “I know,” she said quietly. “And someday I’ll do it, just not now. You know … with King and all…”

  “That’s okay, Katie. I’m a patient guy. And my foot’s almost healed,” he teased.

  Katie laughed and prepared to throw the sponge at him, but the smile froze on her face. Standing just past Jason’s shoulder outside the test barn stood the tall man with the beady eyes who had given her such a sour look.

  “What’s the matter, Katie? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” He turned to look at the barn opposite the test area, but there was no one there.

  “It’s nothing,” she said as she forced a smile to her lips. It was probably all in her imagination. The man just had an unpleasant face, and it only seemed like he was glaring at her. She put him out of her mind. “Let’s talk about that pizza.”

  Fourteen

  The next morning, King was clamoring for his breakfast. “That’s a good sign,” John said. “The race didn’t take too much out of him or he’d be off his feed.”

  Katie mixed the grain while King bobbed his head and nickered, pawing at the ground for emphasis. “I think he would like to eat his food and everyone else’s, too.” She laughed as she dumped the grain into his bucket. “So when exactly does he race next?”

  “Patience, missy. I don’t like running these young horses any closer than three or four weeks apart, but the Futurity is only a month away, and I’d like to get one more start into him before then. I guess two weeks from now would be a good time.”

  “Is he coming home tomorrow?”

  Old John tipped his hat back on his head. “I’ve been thinking on that. The colt’s been doing pretty good here. I hate hauling them back and forth if it’s not necessary. He’s your horse, but my advice is to leave him here at the track. I can bring you up with me on the weekends if you like.”

  “That’s fine. I trust your judgment. At least I’ll get to see him on the weekend. Jason’s offered to drive me, too.” At John’s smirk, she blushed. “He’s just a friend.” She quickly changed the subject. “Who’s that guy?” She pointed at a tall figure across the barn. It was the same man who had stared so angrily at her the night before.

  “That’s the trainer of Raging Wind.”

  “The horse we beat yesterday?”

  “Yes. The man’s name is Orlin Caldwell. He’s also the colt’s owner. He’s not too happy with us today. He’d been bragging around that his colt couldn’t be beat. He’s got Derby plans for that horse, and it doesn’t look good for him to get beat by a colt that’s come out of the blue.”

  “He gave me a dirty look yesterday,” she said.

  “Better steer clear of that one, Katie girl. He’s a bad seed. He was ruled off the track for a year. They caught him doping his horse before a race. It’s too bad the likes of him has got his hands on such a nice colt.”

  The two weeks before King’s next race passed in a blur. Soon, Jason was picking her and her mother up for the drive to Portland. When they arrived, it was still early, but already the track was a hive of activity.

  John handed her the grooming tools as soon as she walked down the shed row. “You might as well go see if you can scrub the rest of the hair off him,” he teased.

  Jason held King while she ran the rubber curry over his body. He twitched and acted as if he wanted to nip her, but he knew better. When she was done with the curry, she threw it into his feed bucket, intending to start with the soft brush, but her attention was drawn to the bucket.

  “Look at this,” she said as she tipped the bucket so Jason could see. “He’s got a lot of grain left here. Call John and ask him if he gave King some extra grain.”

  When the old trainer stepped into the stall, he examined the contents of the bucket. “King cleaned up his grain this morning. Someone’s put this here since then.”

  “This may not be a nice thing to say, but has Cindy been here?” Katie asked.

  “No, I think her dad’s grounded her for life,” Jason said.

  John inspected the grain a little closer, rolling the oats around in his palm. “Why, look here! See this white stuff?”

  Katie saw the small chunks of white. It reminded her of aspirin. John put one of the pieces to his tongue and made a face at the taste of it.

  “It’s bute. Someone’s slipped this horse some bute.”

  “You mean the painkiller?” Jason asked.

  “Yes, and in Oregon, it’s illegal to run a horse on that medication unless the track vet has put the horse on the bute list. King isn’t on that list.”

  “What do we do now?” Katie asked.

  John wiped his hands on his trousers and shook his head. “We don’t know if King’s eaten any of this or not. We’ll have to report it to the track stewards and scratch him from the race.”

  “Scratch him? But there’s not another race we can get him in before the Futurity!” Katie exclaimed.

  “I know that, missy, but we can’t take the chance. If he wins the race, we’ll have to go to the test barn. If the bute shows up in his urine, they’ll take the purse away. And I’ll lose my license. We don’t know for sure if he’s eaten any of this. We can’t take that chance.”

  “But why would somebody do this?” Katie could feel tears burning the backs of her eyes.

  “It looks like somebody didn’t want this horse to win. They probably figured K
ing would eat all of the food—and we’d have a bad test and get the race taken away from us. Either that, or they counted on us pulling out of the race,” John said. “Looks like they got their wish.”

  Two hours later, after reporting the incident to the track authorities for investigation, they sat in the stands and watched Raging Wind win King’s race by six lengths.

  “We could have beat him again,” Katie said. “King ran a much faster time.”

  “Sorry to hear about your horse, John,” Orlin Caldwell said after walking his horse from the winner’s circle.

  “I just bet you are,” Katie muttered under her breath. But she had no proof that Orlin Caldwell was to blame for the bute, only a gut feeling.

  That night, they shipped King back to Willow Run Farm. He wasn’t safe at the track anymore. Katie was glad to have him home. Because of the missed race, King would have to work extra hard to get in shape for the one-mile Futurity.

  The Saturday before the big race, Katie got up before sunrise to help John feed. She got there a few minutes ahead of the trainer, so she measured out the grain for each horse, then grabbed a carrot to slip King before the morning feed. Each horse poked his head over the stall door and nickered to her as she passed.

  King’s stall was quiet when she got to it. Was it possible he was still sleeping? She opened the door and saw his dark shape lying in the middle of the stall. “Time to get up, you lazy bum.” As she reached for the light switch, a pain-filled groan came from the horse. Katie rushed to King’s side and knelt in the straw. She reached out to touch his coat and cringed when she felt the cold sweat covering his body. She jumped up and quickly turned on the light.

  The pale electric bulb penetrated the dark corners of the box stall, revealing signs of a struggle. The stall was in total disarray from where King had pawed the floor, mixing the dank earth with his straw bedding. He had obviously rolled many times, and the mixture of dirt and straw clung to his wet coat. In the corner, a partial flake of extremely moldy alfalfa lay beneath some half-eaten grass hay.

  King pulled his head around, trying to nip at his sides, then tucked his legs and attempted to roll again. Colic! Willow King had colic!

  Katie ran from the barn and sped to John’s little house at the edge of the stable yard. A light was on in his kitchen. She pounded frantically at the door until he answered.

  “Katie…?”

  “Call the vet, John! King has colic really bad!”

  “Throw a light blanket on him and get him up and walking. Don’t let him roll, or he could twist a gut and we’ll lose him,” John ordered as he grabbed the phone. “Let’s hope we’re not too late. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

  Katie’s heart was in her throat. Lose him. She prayed they were not too late. Grabbing a halter from the tack room, she ran to King’s stall and fastened it on his head. “Come on, boy. You’ve got to get up.” She tugged on the rope, but King refused to budge. He uttered a groan and tried to roll again.

  “No!” she screamed as she took the end of the lead rope and brought it down hard against his flank. She had never whipped King before, but now it seemed the only way to save his life. “Get up!” she hollered and slapped the rope across his hindquarters. That got his attention, and he scrambled to get to his feet. “Attaboy,” she encouraged him as he stood and swayed. “Good boy, King.”

  She opened the stall door and pulled him into the shed row. The sun was coming up, and the early morning light showed the pain etched on King’s noble face. “You’ll be okay,” she crooned as they walked slowly down the way.

  The stable’s grooms trickled in one by one, and word spread quickly that the colt was ill. The veterinarian arrived within twenty minutes and immediately set to work on the colicky horse.

  “Will he be all right?” Katie asked as Dr. Marvin put the stethoscope to King’s belly.

  “There’s a lot of rumbling in there, but it sounds like his intestines are functioning. I don’t think anything’s been twisted. I’m going to give him something to relax him, then run a little bit of oil into his gut to see if we can’t get rid of that bad hay. He should be back to normal in a day or two.”

  She heaved a sigh of relief. King was going to be okay.

  John came out of King’s stall with the half-eaten flake of moldy hay. “Did you bring this from home, Katie?”

  “No, I thought somebody from here must have accidentally fed it to him.”

  “This was no accident. All our hay goes in the hay nets. This flake was on the ground, and it’s not even the same kind of alfalfa we use. See here? Look at how big the stems are. Our hay is a lot finer.”

  “You mean somebody came on this property and purposely fed King bad hay?” She sat down hard on a bale of straw, the implication of what John said sinking into her confused brain. “What about Cindy? Could she have done it?”

  “Not likely. The whole family’s gone this weekend.” John tossed the bad hay into the trash can. “Last week it was bute, now moldy hay. I’d say someone on the outside doesn’t want us running this colt.”

  “So what do we do?” At the moment, she felt so helpless.

  “First, we see how this colt bounces back. This is going to cost us a couple of days of training, and that’s not good. When he’s ready to train again, we’ve got to decide if we’re going to run him or if we’re going to knuckle under to this type of dirty work.”

  “Who would do such a thing?” she asked, but already a picture of the tall man with the angry face loomed in her mind. She looked at John and knew he was thinking the same thing. Katie stood with hands on hips, her mouth set in a determined line. “I say we fight this thing!”

  “I was hoping you would say that.” John smiled and slapped her on the shoulder. “Call Jason and Jan and see if they’ll help. We’re going to have to set up watches around the clock. I don’t want this colt left alone for one minute. No one relaxes until we’ve won the Futurity!”

  Fifteen

  “I can’t believe anyone could stoop so low!” Jason grumbled as he ran his hand over King’s sleek coat. “He could have killed this colt.”

  “We’re not sure it was Orlin,” Katie said, but it was a weak protest. She was almost positive it was the creepy trainer of Raging Wind.

  “Who else could it be? King’s his main competition,” Jason argued. “I mean, sure, there’re some other nice colts here, but King is the toughest competition for Raging Wind. If King’s out of the way, Caldwell’s colt will have a much easier time winning the Futurity.”

  Katie nodded. “I just wish we had some proof, but John says Orlin is too smart for that. The only thing we can do is keep an eye on King around the clock.”

  “Well, you can count on me.” Jason grabbed his sleeping bag and threw it into the tack room. “You and Jan can split the day shift, and John and I will take the night watch.”

  “Thanks, Jason.” Katie smiled at him. “You’ve been a real friend. I don’t know what King and I would have done without you.”

  Jason gave her a brilliant smile. “I’m glad you didn’t have to find out.” He reached out and brushed a stray lock of hair from Katie’s face. “You’re special, Katie Durham. I’m glad we’re friends.”

  When race day arrived, Katie woke with the thousand butterflies in her stomach again. True to Dr. Marvin’s prediction, King had quickly come back to his normal self and had been eager to train. They had pushed him hard to ready him for the grueling race, but John still worried that the horse might not be fit enough to compete in top form.

  Another worry was the lineup of horses for the race. Orlin Caldwell had two horses running in the Futurity. Although Raging Wind was going to be tough to beat, the other horse didn’t even belong in the race.

  “He’s just a cheap claimer that Orlin’s put in to give us trouble,” John said. “He drew the hole next to ours. If he boxes us in, we’re going to be hurtin’.”

  At first Caldwell had seemed surprised to see King back at the track. But he
smiled his oily smile at Katie and went back to work. She couldn’t prove he had sabotaged King. The only way to get her revenge was to beat him fair and square.

  A half-hour before the call to the gate, Katie entered King’s stall and set to work. “You’re going to look like royalty,” she said as she wove purple ribbons and carnations into his mane and tail.

  “You’re going to make him look like a sissy,” Jason teased from outside the stall.

  “You hush,” Katie replied. “I want him to look beautiful for the win picture.” She picked out his hooves and brushed his coat until it gleamed in the sunlight. This was only King’s second race, but by now he had figured out what was happening, and he fidgeted, eager to be on with the business at hand.

  They announced the call to the paddock. Katie waited for John’s signal before she led King out to the pony horse. Orlin Caldwell walked by with Raging Wind and tipped his hat in their direction, a mischievous smile playing about his lips.

  “Good luck, folks. May the best horse win.” He laughed and walked on.

  “Don’t let him get to you,” Jason said as he stepped up to grab her hand and give it a squeeze. “You’ve got the best horse, and he knows it. He wouldn’t dare try anything in the race.”

  “Don’t be so sure of that,” John cautioned. “But, whatever he does, we’ll be ready for him. I’ve already talked to our jockey. He knows to be on the lookout for trouble.”

  King pranced about the paddock, showing off for the public. In the post parade, he bowed his neck and strutted. The people remembered him from his last performance, and the odds on King dropped dramatically.

  “Looks like the public has picked him to win,” Jason said as he came to stand beside her. “Come on. We’re supposed to meet everybody up in the Turf Club. John wants to watch the race from up there.”