by Toni Leland
"I'm here to scratch an entry."
The entry clerk looked up from his computer, sighed, and rose to his feet. He pulled a two-inch-thick sheaf of computer printouts from beneath the counter. "Name?"
"Elizabeth Barnett. BB Amy's Pride."
He removed the entries, and attached a scratch form to fill out and sign. When she'd finished, the man replaced the ledger, and turned back to his desk without looking at her. Liz's cheeks warmed, his attitude making her feel a little like a criminal.
However, on the way back to the barn, her step acquired a little bounce. This is the right thing to do. I can concentrate on building my practice, and just enjoy my horses. Her springy step faltered. She'd still have to find a way to turn this mess around. It was the sort of taint that would give her a bad name as a horsewoman and as a vet, and the black cloud certainly wouldn't help her convince the locals of her competence to care for their animals.
Kurt was the only person she knew who might have helped her figure out what to do, and she'd ruined her chances there. Her light mood sank at the realization she'd have to wait until Kurt felt ready to talk to her.
She took Karma out of his stall, and started grooming him, trying to take her mind off her problems.
"I'm so sorry, Baby. You missed your chance at stardom, and it's all my fault."
She pulled the shavings from his tangled tail, her mind turning over ways in which she might have prevented the attack. How can you fight an enemy, if you don't know you have one? Kurt had warned her, and she hadn't taken him seriously. As she worked, she recalled every detail of the previous twenty-four hours, trying to find some small clue in the mystery. Karma had been fine at nine-thirty. Patrick had seen Kurt at the stall around eleven. Karma had been heavily drugged when Liz had found him at five-thirty. Heavily drugged. Damn! That's it!
She racked her brain for a minute, finally dredging up her pharmacology course from vet school. Most tranquilizers absorbed rapidly, with peak blood levels at the one- to two-hour mark. The injection couldn't have been given at eleven, because the drug would have almost worn off by the time she'd awakened. That meant the dose was probably given sometime after three a.m. She almost wept as she mentally completely exonerated Kurt from any wrongdoing.
Karma shifted restlessly in the crossties and pawed the ground, annoyed with Liz's distraction. Cooped up since late the day before, he had a lot of excess energy singing through his young body. Liz tossed the currycomb into the tack stall, and took the colt out to the exercise pen.
As she lunged him, her spirits lifted.
Later, while Liz visited with Shelly, the loudspeaker crackled overhead. "Kurt DeVallio, you have a phone call at the show office. Kurt DeVallio."
Shelly chuckled. "Mmm, Mr. Gorgeous. He certainly is the mystery trainer."
Liz gave her a puzzled look, and the woman shrugged.
"No one knows much about him. He's obviously a great trainer - always in the ribbons - but there he is, working for some nobody out in the middle of nowhere. With his talent, he should be working for one of the top barns, making tons of money."
Liz recalled Kurt's sad story, knowing the reason he was working for "some nobody."
Shelly giggled. "Oh, jeez, I just remembered...you beat him in the two-year-old class. How did that feel?"
"Pretty darn good, but I only won because my horse stayed tuned in. I was a wreck! All I could think about was this morning's fiasco, wondering if the villain stood there in the ring with me."
"Yeah, that must have been tough. What are you going to do?"
Liz's smile faded. "I'm not sure there's anything I can do. The sheriff is looking into it, but he didn't sound optimistic that they'd turn up anything. In order to clear my name, I'd have to know who did it. That's a pretty long shot, don't you think?"
Shelly nodded in solemn agreement.
Kurt relaxed in the truck, mulling over Eve's telephone call. Interestingly enough, she'd already heard that Ebony had won the colt class that morning, smugly informing him that she'd cleared a spot in the display case for the championship trophy. Her bold tone had raised his hackles. He hadn't yet figured out how he would trap her into an admission of responsibility for the drugging, but he'd eventually think of something.
He stared through the dusty windshield, feeling something akin to despair. I need to find Liz and apologize for this morning. I can't blame her for suspecting me. After all, I am a complete stranger, regardless of our night together.
That memory stirred up the desire lurking deep inside him and, for a moment, he wanted to throw away his old dreams and make new ones, with Liz as a part of his life. Shaking his head at the silly, sentimental notion, he headed back to his stalls to prepare Ebony for the championship class that evening.
36
Late that afternoon, Officer Stanton returned to Liz's area with the report on his investigation. He'd questioned the other exhibitors in the colt class, but no one had seen anything.
Liz pushed a little. "What about Bill Benton?"
The deputy gave her a curious look. "Do you think he's the one?"
She gulped. "Well, he's been trying to buy my colt, or get him in training. Seems like - "
"He's clear, Dr. Barnett. He has an alibi for the entire night."
She cocked her head. "What is it?"
Stanton smiled. "I'm not at liberty to reveal his whereabouts, but the alibi checked out."
She was confused. What could the big secret be? Oh! He's probably sleeping with Celia. How could I be so dense?
Stanton closed the notebook and shook his head. "Sorry. Wish I had better news. I'm not sure what else to suggest. I'll file the report, and if anything else comes to light, I'll let you know."
That evening, exhilarated by a strong class and bursting with pride, Liz walked Ashiiqah back to the barn. Legacy Ashiiqah: Regional Reserve Champion Mare. Liz looked at the large tri-colored rosette and gleaming silver trophy in her hand, feeling a shiver of pleasure at her victory. Every first place winner from all the filly/mare divisions had been in the class. A field of ten. The best of the best. The champion had been Kurt's entry, a four-year-old gray, straight Egyptian horse. If I have to take second place to Kurt DeVallio, that's fine by me, but Ashiiqah and I held our own out there.
She did a quick replay of the class. Kurt had looked absolutely gorgeous in his tuxedo, wearing the formal attire with the ease and confidence of a professional. Her own sequined jacket and black satin trousers made her feel very glamorous, very much a part of the high society of the ring.
She slipped out of the elegant garment and looked around her stall area. It was finally over. She'd leave the disappointment and pain of this place, and go home where she belonged. Thoughts of being back on her lovely farm filled her with excitement. I'll pack tonight, get some rest, and leave early.
She began collecting all the items strewn around the tack stall, tossing them into the open trunk. Seeing her sleeping bag, she shivered. The thought of being all-alone in the deserted barn with an unsavory character roaming the night was more than a little unsettling. She checked the battery on the cell phone, then placed it on the sleeping bag beside the card with the emergency number.
"Patrick! You busy?"
Ebony had sailed through the championship class, his performance breathtaking and perfect, but the win felt hollow for Kurt. Too much had been sacrificed for the sake of a title and a price tag.
As he walked toward the barn, Bill Benton fell into step beside him, his movie-star teeth gleaming through a pompous grin.
"Well, Kurt, I see you pulled it off. Pretty clever."
Kurt stopped abruptly and glowered.
"What exactly does that mean?"
Benton's eyes glittered with malice, his expression mocking.
"Come on! You know what I mean. Pretty clever to sedate Liz's colt to keep him from making the class this morning."
Kurt lunged forward, nearly knocking the man off his feet.
"Benton, that's a
damned lie, and if I find out you're spreading it around, I'll break your scrawny neck!"
The trainer backed out of Kurt's reach, and threw out one last barb.
"You take good care of my horse, ya hear?"
Kurt watched him saunter off, astonished that the trainer had been so bold in his accusations. Of course! It's a perfect cover for whoever did it, since my past record is already tainted.
He stowed Ebony's trophy in the tack trunk, and angrily flung the exhibitor card into the corner. He was now damned sure that Eve Aliqua and Bill Benton were conspirators.
He took a deep breath and started down the aisle. He'd rehearsed over and over what he would say to Liz, but nevertheless, his stomach tightened at the prospect of apologizing. He'd done a helluva lot of it since meeting her. When he walked into her stall area, his heart fell. The old man was there, which meant that Liz wasn't.
Patrick looked up, a frown spreading across his weathered face, his tone possessive.
"What'er you doin' here?"
Kurt's smile faded and he glowered at the belligerent old man.
"I came to see Dr. Barnett."
Patrick turned his attention back to his magazine.
"She's over watchin' classes."
The pleasure driving class had just started, and a large crowd of spectators filled the arena. Kurt scanned the seats on both sides of the ring, but didn't see Liz. She's probably not very interested in performance classes. After looking around once more, he headed back to his stalls, his thoughts turning to another woman.
Eve seemed pretty damned sure of herself about the outcome of this show. Thinking about Benton's veiled accusation, anger rushed in, but common sense told Kurt that his original notion was valid: Bill Benton would not jeopardize his career for Eve Aliqua, no matter how much he wanted Ebony. Kurt came to terms with the suspicion that his boss really was the culprit. Now, how to prove it?
Liz emerged from the restrooms in time to see Kurt leave the arena. Her pulse jumped. Was he looking for me? She started after him, then hesitated, unsure she wanted to face him. Maybe he was in the arena for some other reason. He'd very likely still be angry. If she apologized, would he even accept it? Probably not. She'd badly bruised his ego by doubting his honesty, and that would be hard to repair with a man as strong as Kurt.
The Native Costume class had just entered the ring, and Liz stared, fascinated by the elaborate and expensive costumes of horses and riders. The native trappings of the Middle East magnificently enhanced the classic beauty of the Arabian horse. The riders in the ring below had obviously researched the customs and raiment from many of those countries, coming up with exotic outfits that sparkled under the lights and flowed on the air currents generated by the cantering horses. Liz watched the entire class, the gorgeous display transporting her to distant lands, her problems forgotten.
By the time she headed back to the barn, it was late. Kurt hadn't returned, reaffirming her suspicion that he'd been in the arena by coincidence. She said goodnight to Patrick, and retired to the tack stall, exhausted and unable to think of anything but ending the day. The barn lights dimmed and the noise level dropped to a distant hum. She squirmed, trying to get comfortable on the hard bales of hay. Checking the phone once more to be sure it was working, she exhaled and gazed up at the dim angles of the barn rafters. The tension eased out of her muscles, and she drifted into a hazy, half-conscious state.
In an instant, she came fully alert, her pulse racing. Footsteps? Raising herself up on an elbow, she listened hard, trying to filter out the sound of her own heart crashing against her ribs. A shadow fell across the doorway.
"Liz?"
Kurt stepped into the stall, and she fell back against the hay, closing her eyes, fighting a sickening wave of fright.
She struggled to sit up. "You frightened me nearly out of my wits!"
He sat down next to her on the bale, his face even with hers. His features were soft and Liz searched them for a hint of his feelings. He reached over and stroked her hair, concern shadowing his face. His shirt cuff brushed her cheek and she inhaled deeply, the scent bringing back the memory of their night together. A familiar longing came over her, and she leaned her head into his hand, savoring the warmth of his touch. His voice caressed her mind.
"Listen, you go to sleep. I'll stay up with the horses."
She felt deeply moved by his efforts to make amends. Now's my chance to tell him how wrong I was. She raised her eyes, but Kurt was looking at the ground.
"Liz, I have something to tell you. You'll probably hate me forever, but I owe it to you."
The warm feelings disappeared, and a chill blew through her chest. She watched his face closely as he struggled to begin.
"When I told you about my past, I neglected one important detail."
As he looked at her, a rosy glow crept over his cheeks.
"A few months after my suspension, I heard a rumor that my boss had hired someone to drug that horse. She'd been so jealous of my girlfriend that she'd set out to destroy me. And she succeeded. I had suppressed my grief, tried so hard to push the past aside. When everything came crashing down, I no longer cared about anything. Everything I'd touched had crumbled, without exception. I never tried to get my record cleared. I just let Della get away with it. I was paralyzed."
Liz spoke softly. "Why are you telling me this? I already know you weren't responsible for what happened this morning."
He took a deep breath. "Because I think I know who drugged your colt."
Her voice cracked. "Who!"
His hands came up defensively. "Hold on, I might not be able to prove it, but I'm almost positive Eve had something to do with it."
Liz said nothing, her insides turning to lead. Why would Eve do something like that? In the next instant, an answer slammed into her brain. She rose and stalked over to the stall door, trying to suppress the urge to scream insults at him. She took a deep breath and turned back to face him.
"So, you've been sleeping with Eve to keep your job. Just like New Mexico. Is that what you're saying? That when you made love to me, it was just recreation?"
He rose to his feet, visibly shaken. "No! Liz, please sit down and hear me out. You're on the wrong track."
She crossed her arms over her chest. "I can hear you just fine from here."
He took a deep breath. "First of all, I haven't been sleeping with Eve. I learned my lesson good on that one."
A small twinge of relief sneaked through Liz's anger.
Kurt continued. "Bill Benton offered Eve a huge amount of money for Ebony, on one condition - that the colt win the regional title so Bill could take him to the nationals."
Liz narrowed her eyes. Bill Benton, again.
Kurt walked to the side of the stall and absent-mindedly fingered a lead rope hanging there.
"Eve offered me a double commission on the sale. A lot of money, Liz...my big break."
The emotions scrambling through her brain made her dizzy, but she felt mostly despair, followed by anger.
"So, all your attention over the past couple of months has only been about business. You were spying on me?"
He shook his head. "In the beginning, yes, but I - "
She didn't let him finish. "You gave Eve the ammunition she needed to remove Karma from the class. To ruin me."
She felt used and naïve. Both Kurt and Eve had taken advantage of her.
Kurt stood quietly until she'd finished her tirade, then came to stand directly in front of her. He searched her face with his sad, dark eyes.
"Liz, I never dreamed she'd go to such lengths. I'd planned to try to win the class fair and square. Our horses were perfectly matched, it would have been thrilling." He looked down at the floor. "I've made a real mess of my life, and as a result, you've caught some of the backlash."
He looked up again, directly into her eyes. "But I promise you, I'm going to get to the bottom of this, and clear your name."
She didn't even try to keep the contempt from her voi
ce.
"Just get out!"
37
"My treasures do not chink or glitter,
They gleam in the sun and neigh in the night."
- Old Arab Proverb
Liz stood in the center of her cozy kitchen, soaking up the rich warmth of the oak barn-board paneling that glowed with the late afternoon sun streaming through the window. The comfort of being back home wrapped around her like the security of a cocoon. The events of the past few days had drained and saddened her. She felt as though she never wanted to venture out again.
Through the window, her beloved red barn was a bright spot against the brittle, late-summer colors. Legacy was her treasure, and she had the control to make it as large or small as she desired.
I'll never again let shallow ambition bring harm to my beautiful horses.
In her mind, Liz had left the business of showing Arabians. During the drive home from San Francisco, she'd thought long and hard about that decision. At first, she'd questioned herself about cowardice, about being a quitter. However, the longer she thought about it, the more convinced she became that it would be possible to breed and sell fine quality horses without putting them through the rigors of the show ring. She didn't need to prove anything to anyone. More importantly, she did not want to be one of the desperate players in the risky winning game.
The sun dropped behind the mountains, casting soft shadows over the land as she walked toward the barn. Heads popped over stall doors, eager for supper, and Liz beamed at her stable of beauties.
"You'll all live like royalty. I promise."
Later that day, the woman who'd cared for the horses during Liz's absence stopped by to pick up her check. Her uneasy manner told Liz something was wrong.
"Hi, Mandy. You don't look very happy."
"I'm tellin' you, that gray mare is a piece of work. First, she pinned her ears at me when I went into the stall to feed her. That made me kinda nervous. Then, the next day, out in the pasture, she wouldn't come, and wouldn't let me catch her to bring her in."