by Toni Leland
Liz nodded, and the woman handed her a card.
"If anyone comes around your stalls, acting suspicious, call this number. The patrolman will get right over to you. Maybe you'll get lucky and catch whoever did it. I'll give the sheriff's office a call right now."
Liz thanked her and left, mulling over the new batch of information. If the patrolman made it to a certain location three times in six hours, then there were several two-hour periods when the horses were unprotected. Plenty of time for someone to slip into a stall and do whatever ugly deed they'd planned. She shuddered at the vision of someone sneaking through the night and plunging a needle into Karma.
She pushed the dark thoughts from her mind, and headed toward the barn to prepare for Ashiiqah's class. As she approached her stalls, she saw two men standing in the aisle. She strode toward them, anxiety gnawing at her gut.
"May I help you?"
"Doctor Barnett, I'm James Gibbson, the show manager. This is Dr. Franklin from U.S. Equestrian Equine Drugs and Medication Program."
Liz thought she'd throw up. The nightmare was about to get worse.
The fresh-faced young vet smiled. "How ya doin'? He gestured toward Ashiiqah's stall. "Would you bring that mare out, please?"
While Dr. Franklin drew blood, Gibbson said, "The results of these tests will be available before the championship classes on Saturday. If there's a problem, we'll let you know."
A few minutes later, Liz watched the two men walk away. Her legs began to wobble and she dropped onto the tack trunk, her thoughts flying. Man, random really means random. He could just as easily have asked for Karma.
Kurt moved through the next two classes like a robot. He'd lost the exhilaration of being in the ring, the excitement he'd always loved when showing horses. It wasn't the same when you were there because you'd been commanded - no, bribed - to win. Twice, he'd left the ring with a second place ribbon. Not much to crow about, but the points counted enough to qualify the horses for the Nationals. Ebony's classes were the only ones that mattered to Kurt.
His thoughts returned to the current state of chaos. If his suspicions were correct, Eve had committed an act that could ruin her. He hadn't yet decided whether he'd throw his job away and follow his heart, but he was coming close.
With a few hours before his next class, he might try to approach Liz again. He'd checked her stalls earlier, but the area had been deserted, except for an old guy sitting on a chair outside the tack stall, the same man who'd been talking to Liz earlier. She's probably afraid something will happen to her other two horses.
He felt terrible, knowing the only target at Legacy Arabians had already been hit.
Later in the afternoon, Liz struggled to stay focused on her class, feeling completely undone by the disastrous morning. She glanced at Ashiiquah as they entered the ring. As usual, the lovely mare pranced in an animated and regal attitude, attended to Liz's commands, and created a fabulous picture. Liz led her horse to their place in the line, and let her mind wander for a moment as she looked around the ring at the other exhibitors. Could the culprit be there in the ring with her? An icy finger ran down her spine. She scrutinized every exhibitor in the line-up. Two women and three men she'd never seen before, plus Sean, Kurt, and Bill Benton.
Kurt was the next handler to go before the judge. Watching him, her heart faltered in a familiar, sweetly painful way. He directed all his attention to his mare, keeping the animal alert and positioned properly. A second later, he moved forward and followed the judge's instructions, posing the chestnut beauty to show off her faultless conformation. He trotted the mare out, staying close to her shoulder, the two of them in perfect cadence. Kurt's expert movements and smooth transitions from one command to the next impressed her. I could learn so much just from watching him.
A slight commotion off to the right caught her attention, and she turned in time to see Bill Benton struggling with a rearing mare. The animal's eyes rolled with fear and her nostrils flared. Liz's chest tightened. She hadn't cared much for Bill Benton the first time she'd met him, and things hadn't changed much. He had an arrogance about him, a core of selfishness, and he'd revealed his true nature the night she'd visited the skybox. She watched with disgust as he yanked hard on the mare's lead, bringing her back to all fours. Throwing a quick glance over his shoulder at the judge, Benton smacked his crop sharply on the mare's tender underbelly. The animal leapt sideways, then stood still, quivering.
Liz turned away, unable to stomach the cruelty. And he wants to handle my horses. Like hell! The display fostered another thought. I suspect he would be capable of doing something to a horse to keep it from winning. Well, Mr. Benton, if it was you, you've certainly succeeded. And I intend to find out!
She glanced at the man next to her and gave him a sorrowful look.
He shook his head and spoke in a low voice. "He's such a jerk, always yanking and snatching his horses. I don't know why Celia keeps him on."
The comment caused Liz to think again about Kurt's assessment of the Arabian industry, and what made it tick. Her own situation seemed to confirm that he was right. The blood test on Ashiiqah would come back negative, she was certain of that. Clearly, Karma had been the only target, which meant someone was out to win the championship, no matter what it took.
She looked over at Kurt again, watching him pose his horse and pay strict attention to the class. She smiled, amused by her thoughts. Here we are, competing against each other, and I'm not even nervous. Her smile faded. She needed to talk to him. He might have some ideas that would help her sort out the mess.
"Step up, please."
Liz woke up with a jolt. The judge was looking directly at her with an expectant expression. Oh, Lord, how long has he been waiting for me to come forward?
She went through her routine, but the voice in her head told her she'd probably blown the class by not paying attention. The judge scribbled on his clipboard, then motioned for her to trot the horse away. Ashiiqah floated above the ground, appearing to move in slow motion. Liz concentrated on her horse, putting all other thoughts out of her head.
As they returned to the line-up to wait for the results, she caught Kurt's eye. He nodded and smiled, sending hope through her heart. Five more exhibitors performed before the judge turned in his decisions. Liz felt like a spectator. She hadn't connected with the class, her mind lost on other things. It will probably cost me, and even if I win something, I could lose it again. Why am I even bothering? Feelings of defeat weighed heavily on her shoulders. She glanced at Kurt again, but he concentrated on keeping his mare looking good. He'll stand out in everyone's mind when they think about this class. I guess that's one of the differences between a professional and an amateur.
The loudspeaker crackled, and while the announcer's voice droned on, Liz's mouth grew dry. I'll probably get the gate. She smirked when Benton took a fourth. Nervous excitement grew in the pit of her stomach, a queasy, unpleasant feeling. Kurt's name hadn't been called yet, either.
"In second place, number three-eighty-five, Aliqua Anika, owned by Eve Aliqua, and shown by Kurt DeVallio!"
Kurt trotted the mare over to accept the red ribbon, his face showing neither pleasure nor disappointment. As he left the ring, she heard the announcement. "...owned and shown by Elizabeth Barnett!"
Her stomach pitched. I can't believe it! We won a class against big name trainers! As she circled the arena with her mare, the little voice in her head scolded her: Ashiiqah won the class, not you.
Kurt waited for her at the out-gate, a tentative smile brightening his distinctive features.
"Well done, Liz!"
Her eyes burned with the wide range of emotions raging through her.
She lowered her voice. "I really didn't deserve that win. I couldn't concentrate for more than two seconds at a time."
He chuckled and patted her shoulder. "Your mare is a natural. She knows what she's supposed to do, and obviously loves doing it."
Liz looked up at him, suddenly feeli
ng brave. "Could I talk to you? I need - "
"Yes, that's why I waited for you. I need to talk to you, too."
He slipped his arm around her shoulders and gave her a quick hug. In comfortable silence, they walked their horses toward the barn.
At the door, Kurt turned toward his own stalls, calling over his shoulder, "I'll be there in a few minutes."
34
Liz put Ashiiqah in the crossties, then turned to Patrick. "Everything okay?"
She moved over to Karma's stall and looked inside. The colt seemed to have recovered from his ordeal. His eyes were bright, and he whinnied a long greeting.
Patrick stepped up beside her. "He snapped out of it pretty good. Whatever he got wasn't very strong."
"Doctor Barnett?"
Liz turned to face a stocky man in a brown uniform. He tipped his wide-brimmed hat.
"I'm Officer Stanton from the San Mateo Countywide Security Unit. Fairgrounds called, said there was an attack on your horse."
Liz nodded and gestured toward Karma. "Yes, he was drugged sometime during the night."
"Is the horse valuable?"
"He's valuable to me."
A brief flicker of scorn crossed the officer's face at her sentimental response.
"I understand. Why would someone drug him?"
"The only thing I can think of is that someone was afraid I'd win the stallion class this morning."
"Ahh. Eliminating the competition, huh?"
Stanton scribbled something in his notebook, then looked up.
"Any idea who might want to sabotage you?"
She took a deep breath. "Well, this is an important show. Anyone who wants to get to the nationals would be interested in a win."
"Do you know who was in the class?"
Liz shifted uneasily. Did she dare make accusations without proof?
"The exhibitor list for that class is posted in the show office."
Patrick's voice interrupted. "Hey! There's the guy that was hangin' around the stalls last night!"
Kurt stepped up to the group, a confused and wary expression darkening his face.
Liz's heart thumped against her ribcage. Oh, God Patrick! She hastened to defuse the situation.
"This is my friend, Kurt DeVallio."
Patrick turned back to his own area, clearly disappointed that he hadn't caught the villain.
Officer Stanton addressed Kurt. "You were here last night? What time?"
Kurt's face revealed nothing. "Late, past eleven. I came through on my way to my own stalls. No one was around."
Liz frowned. Where was I when he came by? How long would it take someone to slip into the stall, give the injection, and slip away? Liz held her breath to slow her racing heart. Five to seven minutes would be plenty of time.
Officer Stanton threw another question at Kurt.
"Was the horse okay when you saw him?"
Kurt's face had turned to stone. "He was fine. I scratched his chin and left."
"How do you spell your name, Mr. DeVallio?"
A minute later, the deputy put away his notebook, and shook his head. "These crimes are hard to track down, but I'll check around, see if anyone saw anything, talk to the other exhibitors in that class."
Liz watched Stanton walk toward the doors. Taking a deep breath, she looked at Kurt squarely, hoping her voice wouldn't betray her feelings, her hope that his visit the night before had been to see her.
"What were you doing here last night?"
He didn't smile. "I was looking for my stall assignments, and just happened down this aisle. The colt came to the door and wanted some attention. That's all. I saw a magazine and thermos by the chair, figured you were over at the restroom."
Before she could respond, his eyes narrowed. "You think I did it, don't you?"
The question was too direct, and Liz faltered. "Well, no..."
He took two steps away and looked up at the barn roof, the rigid set of his shoulders proof that he fought to control his anger.
When he turned back, his soft voice had turned to steel. "Well, of course you do! After all, I have a past reputation for drugging my horses. I guess I can't assume we're close enough that you don't suspect me."
His face clouded with emotion and anger. Liz's heart was beating too fast, and she couldn't think. Things were headed in the wrong direction. He might have helped her, and she'd just insulted him.
"No, Kurt. That's not the way - "
Her roller-coaster thoughts were impossible to explain, and pain tightened her throat.
Kurt's usually pleasant face had assumed an ominous look, his fine features carved into hard edges. His sensuous mouth had drawn into a straight, thin line, shadowed by his moustache. However, the worst change reflected in his eyes. The deep brown pools - always warm, inviting, flirtatious - had lost their sparkle, and now looked like pieces of obsidian lying in murky waters.
He stepped up close, his voice low and menacing.
"Liz, let me tell you something. No matter what my past record says I did, I have never in my life abused a horse, or given drugs, or done anything artificial or illegal to win a class. When I win, it's because I'm the best - and because I have the best horse. I did not drug Karma. I wouldn't need to do that to beat you."
He turned on his heel to leave, then spun back. "But you know what else? The saddest thing about this whole mess is that I believe your colt could have beaten mine, hands down, but I'd prepared myself for a good fight. I really looked forward to facing you in the ring. But I guess you can't see who I really am. Only what people think I am."
He turned and strode away, his long legs covering the ground rapidly.
She started after him. She had to salvage the situation, try to explain. She stopped. What could she say to him? Her obvious discomfort had already made him think she'd considered him a suspect. Didn't matter, she had to try.
He disappeared around the end row of stalls, and she had to run to catch up to him.
"Kurt, wait!"
He didn't stop. She closed the distance between them, and grabbed his arm. He stopped short and glared down at her, sending her pulse into a frenzied, erratic rhythm. Not one hint of interest or caring colored his expression. She faltered, suddenly afraid to say anything. She let go of his arm and stepped back.
"Kurt, please let me explain."
"Liz, there's nothing to explain. Your opinion is pretty clear."
"But - "
"Not now, Liz. Maybe later, but not now."
He turned and disappeared into his tack stall.
Her shoulders sagged, and she walked dejectedly back to her stalls. A soft nicker greeted her. Ashiiqah stood patiently in the crossties, waiting to be put into her stall.
35
Adrenaline pumped through Kurt's system, fueling his pain and anger. He dropped onto a bale of hay in the tack stall and put his head in his hands. So much for the support of a good woman. She didn't even hesitate to think I did it. The small, dark enclosure felt close and suffocating. He peeked through the drape to make sure she'd gone, then left the barn, striding out into the bright sunlight. He headed toward a rodeo arena located on the far side of the exercise pen.
From the top row of the bleachers, he viewed the expansive grounds of the Cow Palace. On the horizon, the ever-present thin fog hung over San Francisco Bay. The fresh air and solitude of the empty arena calmed him a little, and his pulse slowed. He sucked in a deep breath to clear his head. He needed to repair the damage of the day.
I can't blame her for suspecting me. I did tell her all the gory details about New Mexico. Except the important part, the rumor that Della had paid someone to drug the horse. A sharp jab of derision ran through him. And I was too torn up to defend myself. He exhaled to lighten the weight in his chest, remembering the despair that had consumed him after that debacle. All his hard work, his determination to quell the grief, sidestep the mourning process, had distracted him from the ruthlessness of his employer. When everything fell apart, all he'd w
anted was to die. He looked up into the pale blue expanse of sky above the arena, remembering the hollow feeling of helplessness.
A large hawk caught his eye, as it circled, floating effortlessly on the air currents, scanning the ground below for prey. Kurt watched the bird for a few moments, letting the distraction soothe him. He dropped his gaze to the dusty ground below the bleachers and his anger passed, leaving him empty and exhausted.
Months ago, he'd accepted the fact that too much time had elapsed for him to do anything about correcting the New Mexico fiasco. However, today's events were déjà vu. Now, he had to rectify both situations - his and Liz's.
Sitting on a bale of hay in the quiet, dimly lit tack stall, Liz took some time to think. All she wanted to do was pack up her horses and go home. I've had enough fun for one day. Her practical nature told her she might as well salvage the efforts of the past week, take Ashiiqah back into the ring for the championship class that night, but she couldn't muster much enthusiasm for the idea. Depression settled into her bones. What's the point? There's no way I'll ever find out who destroyed a full year's work and my reputation.
Amy's class was scheduled for the next day, and Benton's taunt eased into her thoughts. What, exactly, is the purpose of showing a broodmare? Amy's foals were exquisite. Her outstanding pedigree spoke for itself - Karma was a perfect example. The atmosphere of the Fire Stone party, and Benton's casual references to the exorbitant prices people paid for Arabians, contributed to Liz's feelings of isolation.
I don't need to show Amy to sell her foals. She suddenly felt foolish, and shook her head. So far, I've resisted selling any of my horses, or even Marilyn's, for that matter. The simplicity of the situation surprised her. I'm on the wrong track for the wrong reason. Maybe I just wanted to show off a little, feel like I belong somewhere. The events of the past six hours had painfully clarified her naiveté, and made her sharply aware that she was embroiled in a world she didn't like.