by Toni Leland
Liz could hear his husky voice saying those words.
Interviewer: "Do you start training your horses very young?"
DeVallio: "Absolutely. I never let them get started with nipping and biting, especially the colts. They learn right away that I'm the boss, and they accept that. A horse has to respect you, or you can't teach him anything."
Interviewer: "What about horses that are already trained?"
DeVallio: "Same thing. Respect. If you're having a problem, you have to go back and figure out what happened before you got the horse. What kind of training has it had, and how can you reverse the bad habits. It all goes back to a trainer's attitude. The horse knows. He feels everything you think through the lead rope."
Liz grinned, remembering his skill with Karma.
Interviewer: "Anything else important to training?"
DeVallio: "Always let your horse know when he does it right. Praise him, pet him...He'll want to repeat it. You want the horse to respond because he wants to, not because he's afraid not to."
The end of the article listed Kurt's long list of important wins with Arabians, including several national championships the year before, and predictions for his future as one of the nation's top horse trainers. Anticipating the end of the story, she eagerly picked up the November issue. Six hundred pages glistened with lavish photographs, show results, and congratulatory advertisements for all the champions of the national show that year. Forty minutes later, Liz dropped the book back onto the pile. Not one word about Kurt, not even a small picture. It was as though he'd ceased to exist.
Liz's busy schedule had pushed her anxiety about Kurt's silence to the farthest recesses of her brain. However, in quiet moments, and at night when she wrestled with sleep, her misgivings muscled their way into the forefront. Researching his past didn't help her frame of mind, either, only reinforcing her admiration for his skill and his deep understanding of horses.
Recalling the look on his face before he'd left her, and the quick surge of panic she'd felt, a cold fear of abandonment crept into her heart.
47
Kurt lounged against the polished mahogany doorjamb of the office, watching a tall woman leaf through papers in a file cabinet in the corner.
"Hello, Della."
She wheeled around, her tanned face wide with unpleasant surprise. "What are you doing here?"
He stepped into the familiar surroundings and offered a humorless smile.
"It's time to play truth or consequences."
She snapped the file drawer shut, then moved briskly to the desk to shuffle some papers.
"I can't imagine what you're talking about. What do you want?"
"I've been talking to some of the locals. There are a few who would like to see you go down in flames."
She said nothing, but her face tightened with tension.
Kurt continued. "I need you to clear my name with the show board, and let me pick up the pieces of my life. You're the only one who can do that, and I'm asking you politely."
He moved to the trophy case that housed only a third of the honors he'd won for the farm. The remaining trophies were lavishly displayed in the big house. His heart twanged at the thought of how close he'd come to real success as a professional trainer. He'd been within a few months of going out on his own, never again forced to answer to anyone but himself. His only crime had been wanting to have a normal life, a warm and loving relationship with Dottie.
Della's voice broke into the distant thoughts.
"You are kidding, of course? Your illegal activities nearly cost me my reputation."
He stepped up close, his eyes almost level with hers.
"Your reputation? Who do you think you're kidding?"
A curtain of apathy descended over Della's features. "I'm not kidding anyone. Now please leave my property."
He stepped back, keeping his tone level. "Okay. If you won't help me, I'll find someone who will."
He turned and left the room, walking down the aisle of the elegant, pretentious barn, through the open doors, and into the thin October sunshine.
After three weeks had passed with no word, Liz began to worry that Kurt wouldn't be coming back. She swallowed her pride and called Aliqua.
A male voice answered. "Hello, Aliqua."
"Is Kurt there?"
"Nope. Don't work here no more."
Her heart slammed against her ribs, her breath stilled.
The man spoke again. "Do ya wanna talk to the boss?"
She exhaled sharply. "No, that's all right. I - "
She quickly hung up the phone.
He'd left her.
For weeks after that call, Liz's sadness filled every waking minute. Finally, she'd accepted the reality, and plunged into her work with all her strength, keeping her innermost thoughts at bay, thinking of nothing but her work and her horses.
One afternoon, she received an envelope from the attorney's office. She'd almost forgotten her feeble attempt to compromise Eve. Liz read quickly, hoping for positive news. The lawyer had contacted Aliqua, outlined the complaint, and described the consequences of being convicted of "intentional damage of property."
"...Unfortunately, Dr. Barnett, while your evidence is strong, it is purely circumstantial. Without an eyewitness to the crime, I don't hold much hope of bluffing Ms. Aliqua into clearing your record.
If you wish to pursue the matter, I'd suggest contacting everyone you can find who might have been in the barn area that night. Someone may have seen something you can use...."
The pain of the past few months welled up, fresh as it's beginnings, and Liz wept.
The weather in Taos remained balmy in late fall, at least during the day. The sun warmed Kurt's back as he strolled along the sidewalk, taking in the familiar sights. The huge, annual art and pottery festival had kicked off that day, and the town was jammed with tourists. He'd loved living in the rustic old town that had survived the ravages of the modern age. Hundreds of artists made their homes in the area, inspired by the magnificent scenery and crisp, clean light.
Stopping in front of one of the galleries, Kurt admired a small clay Pueblo bowl, steeped with the magnificent colors of the native earth. I should buy that for Liz. He closed his eyes for a minute. She'd been on his mind almost constantly since he'd left California. The intimacy of the few days when he'd cared for her had awakened old memories - painful memories that he'd suppressed for almost ten years. Gradually, those memories had been replaced with fresh, vibrant experiences with Liz that gave new meaning to his life. I have to get myself straightened out. I can't drift around in Never-Never-Land forever.
He glanced at his watch. Only ten minutes to get to Leona's Café. His future depended on this meeting with Buddy Carroll, and he didn't want to chance missing it. He'd return to the gallery later. For the moment, he'd sideline thoughts of Liz so he could concentrate on his bold plan to expose Della's treachery.
As he'd nosed around his old stomping grounds over the previous two days, he'd learned from some of the locals that rumors had flown wildly after he'd left town. His instinct told him that if he pressed hard enough and looked long enough, he'd find answers. Sure enough, Buddy Carroll, a former assistant trainer at one of the big Arabian farms in the next town, had telephoned Kurt, promising to reveal critical information about the scandal.
As Kurt approached the door to the café, his heart thumped. The guy might be nothing more than another sleazy, wannabe trainer trying to act important.
In the far corner of the room, a small, wiry man rose and waved. Kurt shook his hand, then slid into the booth. Buddy's unkempt hair and wrinkled shirt gave him a down-on-his-luck appearance. Not a good sign.
Kurt spoke first. "So, what do you have to tell me?"
As Buddy started to answer, a waitress appeared beside the table, holding up a coffee pot and smiling invitingly at Kurt.
"Can I get you anything?"
"Just coffee. Thanks."
The girl poured the coffee and moved o
ff to another table, and Kurt returned his attention to Buddy.
"Your information?"
The man hesitated, appeared nervous, as though he'd lost his nerve. "Well, I heard you were trying to find something to bring down Della Cortland."
Kurt remained silent and Buddy continued.
"When you were working for her, my boss, Stan Wilson, was... uh..."
Buddy stopped talking. Worry creased his forehead, as though he feared his revelation might jeopardize his own personal safety.
Kurt pushed his coffee to one side and leaned forward, arms resting on the table. He tried to keep his tone level and non-threatening.
"Go on."
"Stan was courting Della - and her money." He hesitated, looked closely at Kurt, then continued. "One night, Stan came into town for something, and he saw you and that real estate girl. What was her name?" He stopped, thought for a minute, then shrugged.
"Anyway, I think Stan suspected that Della was sleeping with you, which didn't fit in with his plans to combine the two farms. I guess he wanted you out of the way."
Kurt leaned back in the booth, Buddy's words stampeding through his brain. Della was sleeping with someone else the whole time? If that's the case, why would she care about my friendship with Dottie?
Buddy's voice interrupted Kurt's mental turmoil.
"I know the rumor went around that Della drugged her horse out of jealousy, but it was really Stan who did it."
Kurt spoke for the first time during the story.
"How do you know this for sure?"
Grim fury etched Buddy's weathered face. "Because I was there, and saw him. It was late at night, I was headed for the can, and just happened to see him come out of your horse's stall. He went the other direction and I followed him. He tossed something into the trashcan and left the barn. I looked in the barrel and there was a syringe layin' right on top of the rubbish."
Kurt reeled at Buddy's account of the drugging incident. Anger boiled up, almost choking him, and he leaned forward again, glowering at the man sitting across the table.
"Why the hell didn't you ever come forward? Do you have any idea what my life has been like since that show?"
Buddy shook his head sadly. "You have no idea what my life has been like since that show."
48
As time passed, Liz accepted Colleen's assessment of Kurt's actions. Whether out of a sense of responsibility or remorse, or something else, he must have felt the need to come to her aid after Muscala's attack. The shoulder had healed well, but her heart still ached, an open wound.
On a crisp, fall Sunday afternoon, she relaxed in her study, leafing through the latest issue of The Arab Horse. The magazine was thick and heavy, filled with the recent Arabian National Show results from Albuquerque. She idly looked through the pictures, feeling totally disconnected from that world. A full-page photograph drew her attention.
Bill Benton posed beside a magnificent black horse, the ground in front of them lined with trophies. The print below the picture read, "National Grand Champion Stallion, Aliqua Ebony, owned and shown by Bill Benton." Liz's jaw tightened, thinking about the price she'd paid, so that Bill Benton could show a national champion. The magazine dropped into her lap and she thought about Eve's bribe. Pain and anger percolated into Liz's mind. I guess Kurt just took the commission and split.
Images of the handsome cowboy had haunted her for weeks, sneaking up on her when she least expected it. When she cleaned stalls, the video loop in her brain clicked on. The memory of him leaning against the door, watching her on that afternoon so long ago, replayed itself repeatedly. Alone in the quiet barn, her thoughts would inevitably return to the magical night they'd shared in Tahoe. In self-defense, she'd finally locked her emotions away into a dark place, deep inside where they couldn't hurt her anymore.
Now, without warning, the lock popped open and her feelings bubbled to the surface, as fresh as when they'd been stashed. Face it. You are so in love with the man, you'd forgive him everything if he asked. She looked down at the picture, now blurred by her tears.
Colleen came down with a cold, which turned into pneumonia, and Liz made the trip to Placerville to visit her sick friend in the hospital. Pale and small against the crisp hospital sheets, Colleen attempted a smile, but it came across as a small shadow of her usual bright countenance.
"Ain't this the pits?" she croaked.
"I thought you might be trying to burn the candle at both ends."
Colleen struggled to sit up. "Yeah, well, you know me, I gotta do it all. What's new?"
Liz told her the story of the rancher and his calves. Colleen hooted with laughter, sending herself into a coughing fit.
A frowning nurse stuck her head in. "You all right?" She turned her focus to Liz. "Don't tire her out. She needs a lot of rest."
The head disappeared and Colleen made a face. "That's not my favorite nurse, believe me. Now, go on with your story. I'll try not to breathe."
Liz finished the story, then thought for a minute. "Did you see the picture of Bill Benton and his new champion?"
Colleen nodded, but remained quiet, wariness creeping into her expression.
Liz probed a little. "Did you know Kurt doesn't work at Aliqua any more?"
Colleen nodded and looked embarrassed. "Yeah, but I didn't want to be the one to tell ya, since I've done nothing but put him down since ya fell for him."
"Any idea where he might have gone?"
Colleen looked very sad. "No...I sure wish I did."
"I've really made a mess of it, Colleen. What can I do to fix this? I don't even know where to start looking for him. When he left that day, he said he had to go somewhere on business. I just figured it was for Eve. Apparently, he went somewhere else, and my damned pride kept me from calling Aliqua soon enough to find out."
Silence dominated the room for a few moments, then Liz sighed. "I guess I'll just have to live with my mistakes, unless he shows up again. If he does, you'd better believe I won't let him get away this time." She stood up. "I'll get out of here now, before ol' Nurse Brutus returns. Be back in a couple of days."
Colleen smiled. "I'd like that. In the meantime, instead of just mopin' around, why don'tcha see if ya can figure out a way to track down your man, and bring him home?"
Kurt stole a sideways look at the small man walking beside him. "I really appreciate your help, Buddy. After all this time, I wasn't sure I'd be able to find any evidence to clear my record."
"Yeah, well, I'll never clear mine. Wilson blackballed me in the whole area, made my life miserable. I'd like to see him pay for his treachery. I sure don't have anything to lose."
Kurt pushed open the heavy glass door to the Taos Community Bank, and the two men stepped inside. Buddy pointed toward a small Notary Public sign perched on a desk in the corner. Fifteen minutes later, they stepped back out onto the sidewalk.
Kurt folded the sheet of paper and tucked it into his jacket. "I'm headed out first thing in the morning. Why don't you meet me for breakfast at the Leona's?"
The following morning, Kurt finished his second cup of coffee and glanced at the clock. I guess he decided to pass on breakfast. Not that I blame him. Dragging up all the old crap couldn't have been very pleasant.
According to Buddy, he'd approached Stan Wilson and hinted that he knew the whole story, hoping to improve his own position at the farm. Stan had given him a large raise, with the understanding that the subject would never come up again. As soon as the furor had died down, he'd been fired.
Kurt shook his head, feeling a familiar bond with the down-and-out trainer, knowing how it felt to be discarded like yesterday's hero. But poor Buddy had been out of work for over six years, subsisting on odd jobs and seasonal work. Stan Wilson had spread lies about the man, making it impossible for him to find another training job.
A shadow darkened the table, and Buddy slid into the booth.
He looked embarrassed. "Truck wouldn't start. You already eat?"
"Nope, be
en nursing my coffee while I waited."
Kurt deliberately refrained from mentioning their previous conversation, instead, making small talk about the town and how it hadn't changed much. Breakfast arrived, and the two men ate in companionable silence.
When the dishes had been cleared and the check paid, Kurt pulled an envelope from his pocket and laid it on the table in front of Buddy.
"It isn't much, but it might be enough to get you out of Taos and into another area where you can find work. Competent horse trainers are hard to come by. I'm sure there'll be something out there for you."
Tears welled up in Buddy's eyes, and his shoulders sagged with gratitude as he stared at the envelope.
His voice broke as he picked it up. "Thanks. I hope you can fix your life, too."
As he drove out of town, Kurt remembered the clay bowl in the gallery window. He turned the truck around and headed back toward the shopping district, mentally reviewing the events of the last two days.
He shook his head. The power of money. I took the hit for the drugging, and all this time, I've thought it was Della. No wonder she acted so obnoxious when I showed up here.
Twenty minutes later, he was back on the road. He glanced at the package on the floor and smiled, picturing Liz's face when he presented her with the beautiful bowl. The smile faded abruptly. Why did he think she'd even speak to him, let alone be thrilled with a gift? He'd been away for almost two months, and hadn't even called her. Not that he hadn't picked up the phone every other day, desperately wanting to hear her voice. I deserve whatever wrath she's going to hand out.
Buddy's notarized testimony was tucked safely into the duffel bag, along with the money from Kurt's old savings account - fifty thousand dollars. The sales commission on Ebony would have been nice, but this'll be enough to get me started, maybe a down payment on a place of my own.