The Magnum Equation

by Lisa Wysocky

  Jon and Tony met us at the out-gate, as did Doc Williams. Doc was one of a few who not only knew I didn’t like to be interrupted before a class; he also respected my feelings.

  “You guys were awesome,” he said enthusiastically. I also did not have many owners who were ecstatic over a sixth place ribbon. But that was Doc. “Hey,” he added, “heard you had a fall. You okay?”

  “Yeah,” I smiled, because I was.

  “If that changes, let me know. I’ll squeeze you in. No need for an x-ray or anything then? MRI?”

  “No Doc, but thanks.”

  We moved into the flurry of activity that came both after a class and at the end of the day. Several times I caught Tony looking at me. But, there were horses to walk and feed, water buckets to fill, legs to wrap, and bedding to fluff. I let Doc walk and care for Bob. Doc wasn’t a horseman by any sense of the word, but I knew Bob would bring Doc back to the stalls in one piece.

  After Doc left we moved to Tony’s stalls and did the same for his horses. Hank stayed with Ambrose and our horses, but Mickey followed us to his show home. Agnes and Lars had not joined us, because the next morning at dawn she was going to sail down a zip line at a local adventure attraction, and needed her rest. Lars rolled his eyes as he led Agnes, giddy with excitement, to the parking lot. That man must have the patience of Job.

  When we were done Tony pulled me aside, and I waved Jon, Doc, Brent, Martin, and Darcy on their way. “I’ll catch up with you in a minute,” I called. Then I turned to Tony. “You’ve been itching to say something all evening, so don’t torture yourself any longer. What is it?”

  Tony sat on a bale of hay in his tack room and rested his forearms on his thighs. Mickey moved to sit between Tony’s legs. Tony patted the dog and looked about as sad as a person could look. “We are a little closer to finding out what happened to Star and Temptation––and to Annie,” he said in a low voice.

  “And?”

  “All three had a very high amount of tannic acid in their urine.”

  “Tannic acid? What’s that?” I was confused and intrigued at the same time.

  “It’s what makes your stomach upset if you drink too much coffee.”

  “So Temptation died from an overdose of coffee?”

  “No. Well, I don’t think so. I got a call from a veterinarian at Tennessee Equine Hospital this afternoon who gave me the results of testing they did on both colts. Just after that I got a call from Annie who said her doctor at the hospital told her basically the same thing. It probably wasn’t coffee, though.”

  Tony explained that tannic acid is found in many foods and that it was a very concentrated form of it that had killed Temptation, and sidelined Annie and Star.

  “But that means someone intentionally tried to hurt Annie,” I said, new horror washing over me. “Tony, we have to go. We all have to pack up and go home. A competition is not worth this kind of risk. You and Annie are too important to me. Come on.”

  It was amazing how quickly my mind had flipflopped. Hours previously I had resolved to stay the course and see the competition through to the end. But now, all I wanted to do was leave. All I wanted was to go home, lock the door, and snuggle into my down comforter. I tugged at Tony’s arm, but he tugged right back.

  “No,” said Tony. “I am not going to let some sociopath run me off. I am not going to be afraid for the rest of my life that someone is going to hurt me, or you, or Annie. I’m going to stay here and help Noah, the police, and whoever else will help us find out who is doing this. If we leave now, it may never stop. None of us will ever feel safe.”

  I felt deflated. Tony was right. Only while everyone was gathered here, together at this show, could we find out who— and why.

  “Okay,” I said finally, “so it wasn’t coffee. How did Annie and the horses get the tannic acid?”

  “The vet thinks it was in a powdered form that was added to their water.”

  “Must have been mixed with something that tasted good then, or the horses wouldn’t have given it the time of day. Flavored electrolytes maybe. Or sugar?”

  “Annie thinks it was in her iced tea. She said it tasted funny but just thought it was a bad batch. She got it from the fountain at that convenience store up the street from the hotel.”

  “Has anyone contacted the convenience store?” I asked.

  “I’m sure the police have by now. But the tannic acid was probably added later. Annie had been sipping on it for most of the day, you know. She’d put her drink down, go work a horse, then come back to it. Anyone could have slipped something into her cup.”

  I thought for a minute then asked how tannic acid worked. “I don’t have specifics, but the vet told me that in heavy doses it can make your stomach very upset, hence the colic, and it can also lower your blood pressure. That’s why Annie fainted and why Dr. Carruthers thought for a moment there that Star was gone. His blood pressure was so low he might as well have been.”

  I thought again. “Who knows that Annie has high blood pressure? With the combination of medication to lower it plus the tannic acid, it could have killed her.”

  Tears leaked from Tony’s eyes. “I know.”

  I put my arms around him as he sobbed out all of his fear. “I wanted to talk to you privately, and only you,” Tony said when he was done, “because you are the one person here at this show who I know could not be behind this. The only one.”

  “But you can’t suspect Darcy, or Agnes, or Jon, or––”

  “Everyone except you,” he said. “I suspect everyone but you. Agnes, probably not, but what do we know of Lars? Anything we tell her will go straight to him.”

  “But they didn’t arrive until after Star got sick,” I reminded him.

  “Well, maybe not them, but it could be anyone. That’s why you cannot tell a soul. I have to trust you with this information, so please respect my request, no, my insistence, that it remain between just us.”

  I looked him in the eye. “Of course. I won’t tell anyone.”

  “Not even Brent. Or that brother of his. The cop. Not yet.”

  “I promise. I won’t.”

  I left Tony in his tack room and hurried back to our stalls. I had been gone far longer than I intended. I had been afraid that everyone would have left me to get something to eat, but they were all chatting like old friends. I looked at them, this group of people who were my friends. Could they? Would they? No. It was impossible. Wasn’t it?

  Hank greeted me with a short, fat stick in his mouth and I pasted on a smile as I joined my little group. Minutes later I walked Martin and Brent to Brent’s truck. The Giles brothers had to head home, as both were on duty in the morning–– Martin in Ashland City with the sheriff ’s department, and Brent in Clarksville at the vet clinic. It had been a long day and it seemed as if they had been there forever.

  “Before you and Honeycakes here do the mushy face thing, I wanted to let you know I spent most of the day asking questions and listening,” Martin said in his slow drawl.

  “I know and I am so grateful,” I said. “Were you able to pick up on anything?”

  “Maybe,” he said. “But what’s most relevant is that the cops, campus and county, are grasping at straws. They have lots of leads and are following them orderly like, just as they should. But if they had to arrest someone, they’d go for your boy, Noah.”

  “Noah!”

  “Yes’m. He’s the one with the most opportunity. They’ve done background checks on the key players here and found that Noah has had a bit of trouble with gambling losses. Online stuff. Mostly sports. They think he could either be taking a payoff from someone to sabotage the show, or have taken out a large illegal bet, maybe even a private bet, on the results of the yearling stallion class. Maybe he just wants to hedge his bet a little.”

  “No, Martin,” I said as I grabbed Brent’s hand. “The police are way off base. Noah is not the one.”

  “You may be right. Don’t go after me, I’m just the messenger, but that’s
what they’re thinking.”

  I had no idea that Noah gambled, but even though we were old friends, we were no longer as close as we once were. Life had pulled us away from each other. So what if Noah gambled? That did not mean he was a murderer. Then Tony’s words popped into my brain. Trust no one. Not even Noah. I sighed and leaned into Brent.

  “You’re exhausted, Bumpkins,” he said, giving me a peck on the forehead. “Why don’t you go back to the hotel and take a long soak in the tub? I’ll call you tomorrow.”

  Before I knew it, he and Martin had driven away and I was standing alone in the middle of the parking lot. In addition to missing out on the mushy face thing, I felt as if everything I knew to be true had just tilted sideways.

  Cat’s Horse Tip #12

  “Many horses will not drink water that tastes unusual to them, so trainers mask the taste at shows by mixing electrolytes, sports drinks, or molasses into the water.”

  20

  I MUST HAVE BEEN EXHAUSTED, for I slept like a log. Early Monday morning I arrived at the barn stiff and sore, but refreshed and in good spirits only to find Jon and Tony were arguing–– again. To add to the chaos, Hank was howling.

  “Once more, Jon and I are having a difference of opinion,” said Tony. I couldn’t remember when I had seen such tension in the man. “But this time we’re arguing about you.”

  “Tony thinks we need to adopt that buddy system Darcy talked about at the meeting. He thinks that you––that none of us––need to be on the grounds alone,” said Jon. “But it’s not practical. Who’s going to volunteer to sleep in the tack room with me, for example? And, there aren’t enough of us. What if we’re at the in-gate and need something at the stalls? We can’t all run back here or we’ll miss the class. It’s just not a good idea.”

  “And getting killed is?” yelled Tony.

  Before Jon could jump back in, I held up my hands. “Can’t you two even share an idea without having a shouting match?”

  To their credit, both men looked chagrined. By this time Darcy was there, so I suggested that Jon and Tony each run their thoughts calmly by her. Then I went into the tack room to bang my head against the wall. Darcy’s voice drifted in as she said she liked Tony’s idea, but that Jon was right, too. Wow, our little girl was turning into a diplomat. Whoever would have thought?

  “Maybe” Darcy said, “people could buddy-up voluntarily. At least it would slow the killer down, or make him think before he––or she––acted again. It might even keep the killer from hurting someone else.”

  When Darcy trotted off to present the idea to Noah, I came out of the tack room to pat Hank and to establish peace.

  “I’m not doing another thing until you two shake hands,” I said.

  Jon and Tony both glared at me, then at each other. But when I held my ground Tony reluctantly extended his hand, and Jon, just as reluctantly, shook it. Briefly. It was interesting that Tony always seemed to be the one who made the first effort. Maybe rather than try to figure out what it was between them through Jon, I should talk to Tony. Before I could think more about that, though, Darcy came bounding back and the loudspeaker clicked on with a reminder announcement about the voluntary buddy system.

  “Noah said he hadn’t followed up on it after the meeting, but it was a good idea regardless of what was going on. Anyone could get hurt or need help at any time,” she said.

  A muscle in Jon’s jaw popped, a sure sign that he was angry, but we had no time for that. We all had a busy day of classes ahead. Jon needed to get Wheeler ready for Amanda’s showmanship class, and Darcy and I needed to prep Petey for her class.

  Showmanship at halter is judged on the handler’s ability to present the horse from the ground. Both horse and handler have to be impeccably turned out, and the handler has to be able to lead the horse in a straight line, and sometimes in a pattern of circles, turns, serpentines, and backing posted by the judge(s) before the class. Every move needs to be executed with precision and smoothness while the handler exhibits poise, confidence, and correct body posture.

  The handler also has to be able to set the horse up with the horse’s four legs perfectly square underneath his body, and be acutely aware of where the judge is––and which horse he or she is looking at. When the judge comes to inspect the horse, the handler has to move around the horse so he or she does not get in the way of the judge’s inspection. The handler also has to position herself so she can maintain eye contact with the judge, if needed.

  Showmanship was perfect for Darcy’s sense of the dramatic, but because she was short and Petey was tall, she had to be creative about where she positioned herself. Farther from the horse gave her a better visual of the judge, but could also be considered a safety issue. Amanda did not have that problem, as she and Wheeler were a better physical match, but Amanda really had to dig deep to find enough inner confidence to pull off a showmanship win.

  Jon and I busied ourselves in the barn and finally escorted Amanda and Wheeler to the main arena, followed by Darcy. Here’s where we were a little short on staff. Ideally, a Cat Enright Stables staff person would have stayed with Petey after his bath to be sure that he did not roll in the nice comfy shavings that bedded his stall. But Jon needed to be near the in-and out-gates and I needed to watch the class from the stands. Darcy, whose showmanship class immediately followed Amanda’s, needed to watch at least some of Amanda’s class so she could see which horses and handlers were getting the most attention. A competitor could learn a lot about how to present herself in the show ring by watching the judges.

  I might have roped in Agnes and Lars, but they were doing their zip line thing. Amanda’s family, of course, wanted to watch her compete and besides, I didn’t want the troublesome twins anywhere near my stalls. That left Ambrose, the least horsey person on the grounds, to keep Petey entertained until Darcy could get back to collect him. It was way beyond his job description, but I knew he’d give it his best. Besides, Hank would help.

  Jon and I pumped Amanda up at the in-gate, then Darcy and I walked up the stairs into the stands. Or we tried to. Debra Dudley, tears streaming down her face, almost bowled us over as she flew down the same set of stairs. Sloan Peters and Reed Northbrook, who were imploring Debra to wait for them, followed––as did Bubba.

  I turned to Darcy, concerned, but she whirled me back around and gently pushed me toward the next step. “Later. You need to watch Amanda, and I need to figure out what is going to impress the judges,” she said.

  Darcy was right. Amanda was my only concern at this moment. Performing all of the class requirements with ease was necessary to win, but competitors also knew that judging was subjective. One judge might like a handler with flair and mojo, another might prefer a more natural presentation. In these next few minutes Darcy hoped to learn enough about the judges so she could fine-tune her approach to the competition.

  Because of her prenatal stroke, Amanda had difficulty holding the length of her leather lead in her weakened left hand, so she used one that was shorter than average. It gave her less to manage but she still had nightmares that she would drop it. Amanda and I had done a lot of visualization exercises together that led her through the competition with the lead line firmly held. I prayed that the sessions would pay off.

  I saw Amanda’s family on the other side of the arena and waved. When it was Amanda’s turn to work the pattern she and Wheeler did so without flaw, although the performance was also without flair. Not that Amanda didn’t contribute, but Wheeler understood his job so well that once he knew the move he was supposed to do, he did it without much help from his handler. The judges might fault her for that––if they picked up on it.

  “See the English judge over there? The one wearing breeches?” Darcy asked. “I think Petey and I will do well with him. He’s taking a second look at the horses who trotted faster during their pattern.”

  Darcy was right. I had been so focused on Amanda, I had missed that.

  “Good catch,” I said, easing t
o a standing position. My back and ribs were still sore from the fall. “You should probably get Petey. I’ll meet you in the holding pen after Jon and I meet Amanda at the out-gate.”

  When the class was over Amanda met Jon and me with a huge grin and a fourth place ribbon. She was most proud, though, that she had kept hold of the lead in her left hand. I gave her a hug and sent her back to the stalls with Jon. Then I went to the warm-up arena to give Darcy and Petey a final dusting. When Judy Lansing finished the same task with Melanie, I moseyed on over.

  “Where’s your safety buddy?” Judy asked.

  “I guess that would be Darcy,” I said. “Jon is over at the stalls. We’re going to follow the buddy rule as much as we can, but… .”

  “Same here. I love the concept, but we can’t always put it in play.”

  Darcy and Melanie each moved through the in-gate, and Judy and I moved into the stands. Melanie looked fabulous in a light blue western suit with a cropped jacket. Her copper chestnut mare was in show mode and I knew they would be tough to beat––until Melanie stumbled at the trot. For a second I thought Melanie was going to fall flat on her face, but she righted herself and kept going.

  “Ooohh, what a shame,” I said to Judy. And it was, but inside my mind I was doing wheelies. I wished I could be more empathetic, but I so wanted Darcy to do well that I’d take any small gift that helped us along.

  When the class lined up and the non-placing horses and handlers were excused, Judy and I went to the out-gate. Despite the stumble, Melanie was still in contention, but not for long. She exited in tears with a sixth place ribbon. In the show business, I have learned that sometimes life happens. It is what you do with it that counts. I hoped Judy could turn the stumble into a positive life lesson for Melanie.

  Fifth, fourth, third. Darcy was hanging in there. I held my breath and felt, more than saw, a presence next to me. I turned to find Reed staring intently at the remaining two exhibitors. Only then did I realize that the other competitor still in contention was his son, Hunter.