The Magnum Equation

by Lisa Wysocky

  I heaved a sigh of relief that sensible Annie was with me, rather than, say, effusive and emotional Agnes. That would have been a nightmare.

  “We need a big truck with a gooseneck hitch,” I said.

  “Well, as luck would have it, Tony and I happen to have one of those,” Annie replied.

  I couldn’t believe how calm Annie seemed when she stepped out of the truck to call her husband. I wanted to check on Darcy and the horses, but I needed a few more minutes to get my sea legs back. I took a few deep breaths.

  All I could hear of the call were snatches of Annie’s side of the conversation, and the tone and volume of her voice made their way into my brain more clearly than her words.

  After what seemed like an eon, Annie stepped back into the truck.

  “Tony was sitting with Jon and a few others in front of your stalls,” she said. “Sounded like those huge fans you have in your aisle were keeping a lot of people cool.”

  Good for Jon, I thought. With so many people there, chances of an accident happening to one of my horses or my crew were very slim. And, I was glad that Jon and Tony could stand to be in the same aisle with each other, even if it took the cool breeze of a fan to make it happen.

  “Tony is on his way, but all I knew was to tell him to take I-24 east, toward Nashville. You need to call him with directions,” Annie said. “Oh, and you’ll need to call Jon, too. Jon is, understandably, very worried.

  I gave the cross streets to Tony over the phone, along with directions.

  “Do you have GPS on your phone or in your truck?” I asked.

  “Both.”

  “If you plug in the cross streets it might help route you through traffic, although it seems to be thinning now.”

  The freeway roar had dropped by a noticeable number of decibels, and the volume of traffic on the frontage road next to us was almost residential. It made me mad, though, that not one of the hundreds of cars that had passed us, had stopped to see if we needed help. In Ashland City, less than thirty miles away, we’d have started a traffic jam with all of the people who did offer to help. Big difference between city people and country folk.

  My next call was to Jon.

  “What happened?” he asked before I could even say hello. I could hear his footfalls as he paced, presumably up and down our aisle.

  “I don’t know. The truck was serviced a few weeks ago. It’s never had trouble. You know that. Then we headed down the hill on I-40, right by the White Bridge Road exit. There was a traffic jam ahead. Cars were at a standstill. I put my foot on the brake and nothing happened, then I pushed harder and the pedal went all the way to the floor.”

  I realized I was crying again. We could all have been killed. After assuring Jon that everyone, horses included, were okay, he asked what I was going to do with the truck.

  “Ironically, we stopped right next to an auto repair shop,” I said, “but their sign says they only work on import autos. I think I should take the truck up to Sadler Car Care, the place on Fifty-First and Charlotte. We’ve had it serviced there before and they put new brakes on, what, last fall?”

  “Something like that. But how will you get the truck there, Cat? You have no brakes, remember?”

  “The shop is only a few blocks away. If I drive in low gear very slowly I should be okay.”

  “No, it’s too dangerous. We should get it towed. I, ah, don’t suppose you filled out that membership to AAA that’s been on your desk for months?”

  I shook my head, even though Jon couldn’t see me. It didn’t matter anyway. The question was rhetorical. Jon knew I hadn’t.

  “Jon, I’ve got to go. Tony is calling in.”

  Darcy and I had just unloaded Gigi and Reddi when Tony’s truck appeared from a corner behind us. I was glad to see the familiar gray Chevy, as both girls were skittish due to the near-crash and the unfamiliar, noisy surroundings. Gigi in particular was quite bug-eyed. My mood darkened, however, as soon as I saw that Tony had brought someone with him. Cam.

  Rats! Of all the people to bring. The only person lower on my list would have been Hill Henley. While Tony hugged Annie and made sure she truly was okay, I handed Gigi’s lead to Cam.

  “Don’t let go––under any circumstance.”

  Then I busied myself with the business of unhooking my truck from the trailer. When I moved to get into the truck to pull it away, however, Tony disengaged himself from Annie and stepped in instead. I was perfectly capable of putting the truck in gear and tapping the gas gently to let it roll forward, but I know Tony wanted, needed, to help. He had almost lost Annie twice in the last few days. He needed to do something constructive.

  After pulling ahead, Tony put my truck in park, then got into his vehicle as I directed him through the process of backing his truck underneath the gooseneck of my trailer. As soon as the hitch was secured, Darcy and Cam loaded the girls, who both seemed eager to get back into the relative safety of the trailer. If only they knew how close they had come to injury. On second thought, no, I was glad they didn’t.

  Only then did the arguing begin. Tony, Cam, and I all felt we should be the one to drive the truck the several blocks to the service station. I didn’t want Cam to do it because I didn’t trust him not to be a showboat and end up crashing into something. I didn’t want Tony to do it because I loved him and Annie, and did not want to risk him getting hurt. After several minutes of heated discussion, I just got into my truck and locked the doors. It was as simple as that.

  Tony and Annie got into their truck but Cam insisted on walking a hundred or so feet ahead of my truck and me, to be sure other cars did not get in the way. After some visible indecision, Darcy joined Cam. I was going to have to talk to that girl. What was she thinking?

  I hate to say it, but having Cam and Darcy in front of me helped. A lot. They were able to stop some traffic and direct other vehicles around me. It was a tense few blocks, but in the end, we all ended up safely at the car care center. They were closed by this time, of course. It was almost seven. But I left a note on their door and hid the key to the truck. I’d call them first thing in the morning.

  My next challenge was where to sit inside Tony’s truck. Tony and Annie had the club seats up front, which left Cam, Darcy, and now me, in the back. It was not practical for Cam, at six-foot-one, to sit in the center of the bench seat, and one look at Darcy said volumes about her opinion on the matter, so we ended up with Darcy behind Tony, me in the center, and Cam behind Annie.

  We hadn’t even hit the freeway before Cam slung his left arm across the back of the seat and pulled me closer to him. I was about to say something when Annie turned around and squeezed my hand. If the squeeze was a little too hard, well, that was just Annie’s way of telling me to hold my Irish temper––at least until we got the horses back into their stalls on the show grounds.

  I wasn’t perfect during the trip, but I did my best.

  Cat’s Horse Tip #17

  “A horse’s successes and failures are a good reflection of her human’s ability.”

  25

  ON THE DRIVE BACK, ANNIE and Tony discussed every detail of the incident. The way they held hands was touching and I wondered if Brent and I would ever have that kind of care and concern for one another.

  I didn’t, however, want to relive one of the most harrowing few minutes of my life quite so soon, so I turned to Darcy. She was scooched as close to the door as she could get without falling out, as if Cam had the plague and I, by virtue of sitting next to Cam, was also contagious. That left Cam and me to make small talk. Wow, my favorite thing: having polite conversation with a guy who had publicly humiliated me.

  Cam squeezed my shoulder again and I tried to fling his arm back across the seat, but he just held on tighter. I put my head into my hands in frustration.

  “You hanging in there, Kitten?” he asked.

  “You know I never liked that name,” I said. “In fact, pretty much everything about you irritates me.”

  “Now, Cat,” sa
id Tony. “Cam was kind enough to take time to help. The least you could do is be decent to him.”

  Tony’s words reprimanded me, but I looked into the rear-view mirror and saw the twinkle in his eye. I couldn’t believe it. Tony was enjoying my discomfort.

  “It’s only, like, another forty minutes until we get there,” said Darcy.

  I made a sound that was halfway between a laugh and a whimper.

  It turned out that once Cam reclaimed his arm, the ride wasn’t all bad. We began to discuss the new equine grooming products that were on the market and the discussion then moved to equine ulcer treatments, the best makes of saddles, and alternative beddings for stalls.

  It was typical chatter for horse people, and for that I was grateful. I needed normalcy. I realized that I did not want to continually look over my shoulder, or be on the lookout for someone or something that was out of place.

  Until now, I hadn’t realized what a toll the events of the competition had put on me. When we turned off I-24 and spent about ten seconds on I-840 before exiting to Thompson Lane, I blew out some air. I needed to relax.

  “Hey,” I said quietly to Cam. “I haven’t meant to be rude. Guess I’m more wound up than I thought. You, ah … you did a nice thing, coming to help.”

  Sorry to say, but I’m not sure I would have done the same for him. In fact, I am pretty certain if our situations had been reversed that I would have left him stranded. I didn’t like what that said about me. Maybe Brent was right and I did have unresolved feelings for Cam––and for Noah. Maybe he had picked up on something with regard to those two that I wasn’t aware of, as compared to my schoolgirl crush on Keith Carson.

  No. I dug deeper. My feelings for Noah were definitely of friendship, and for Cam, well, I was still just plain mad. He was one of those people you bring into your life, then when they abuse your trust, you want to kick them out and not ever bring them back in.

  Unfortunately, I had to see Cam regularly at horse shows, even if he did live several states away. For the first time I realized I was waiting for an apology that would never come, because it wasn’t in the man to give. I was going to have to get past my anger another way. I didn’t know what way that was just yet, but I’d figure it out.

  “You sure that place you left the truck will do right by you?” he asked.

  “Sadler Car Care? Yeah. I’ve had the truck in there before. They’re good people.”

  I almost added, “unlike other people I know.” But I didn’t, because I was trying to get past his betrayal. And, I realized that I was no longer as mad at Cam as a mule chewing on a bumblebee, as my grandmother would have said. Instead I was … confused. No, disappointed. Okay, both.

  “Good,” said Cam before I had time to think further. “I had the oil changed in my truck today and I’m always leery of dealing with strangers. I hope they did a good job, but I won’t really know until my truck either starts losing oil, or doesn’t.”

  I was saved from having to reply as we had pulled up next to our barn. I was greeted with hugs from Jon and Noah, who had been awaiting our arrival. Hank greeted me carrying a stick the size of a large cigar. I looked around. No trees were anywhere close by. Where did Hank keep finding these sticks? I reached down to give him a pat and his tail began to wag so fast I thought he might fall over. It was a good thing that he was built low to the ground.

  While Jon and Darcy unloaded the girls, Noah pulled me aside.

  “The police have taken Debra Dudley in for questioning.”

  “You’re serious?”

  “Very. They left about an hour ago. It doesn’t mean they are going to arrest her, but it could lead to that.”

  I was stunned by the news. I just couldn’t see Debra as a killer. Then again, what did a killer look like? It wasn’t as if there was a standard physical description for the job.

  Cam headed our direction and Noah pulled me farther down the aisle.

  “It’s not a secret, but I want to respect Debra’s privacy, so don’t say anything.” Noah glanced at Cam. “The news will break fast enough by itself.”

  I nodded, then turned away when Jon asked me a question about the wraps on Gigi’s legs. “Let’s leave them on for a while,” I said. “The trip might have put extra strain on her legs. Maybe the wraps will prevent swelling.”

  “Then I’ll hose her legs later this evening, and re-wrap after,” said Jon as he joined Tony and Annie to return my trailer to the facility’s massive, and full, parking lot.

  Re-parking the trailer in its original spot on the grounds was going to be tough. I hoped they could manage it because it was in a location that was convenient to our stalls. If we needed something, the trailer was a short walk away, versus fifty acres away. When I had parked the trailer last Thursday, there were no trailers on either side. Now, our spot was crowded on three sides: left, right, and rear. It had been tricky to pull the trailer out this morning without scraping any of the other rigs. Doing it in reverse would be even tougher.

  Noah picked up where Jon left off and helped Darcy fill water buckets. I had already started in their direction when Cam touched my arm.

  “Can I interest you in dinner?” he asked. “Anywhere you like.”

  I smiled. A year ago my heart would have done a happy dance. But today? Today I really had no interest.

  “Sorry Cam, I already have plans.”

  I didn’t, but he didn’t have to know that.

  “Maybe I can join you.”

  “Not tonight, Cam. Sorry.” Noah jumped in to rescue me. “Cat and I are having dinner to re-hash old times. You know, we met as students here. Lots of great memories.”

  Cam nodded, checked his watch, and said a hasty goodnight. Probably wanted to find another female companion before the evening got too late. My bet was that the lady’s first name began with the letter S.

  Noah and I actually did go to dinner.

  “I haven’t eaten a meal off the grounds since I got here,” he said. “I know you may have other plans, but I’d love to go to The Apple Tree and eat something other than a burger.”

  We found ready parking and both ordered apple salads. I’d had the feeling for a number of hours that I had eaten one too many sweet potato fries that afternoon. Counteracting it with a lot of green stuff might help my stomach. Or maybe my stomach was protesting the fact its life had almost ended earlier today.

  We were waiting for our meal when Noah said, “I spoke with the lead investigator today and he gave me some news.”

  “This is separate from Debra being taken in?”

  “Yes. I may be compromising the investigation, as I was sworn to secrecy, but I have to tell someone. You’re the only person I trust.”

  I looked into his worried, turquoise eyes and nodded for him to continue.

  “The investigator didn’t give me information outright, but by the questions he asked I could easily put two and two together,” he said.

  Noah stopped talking as a pale young waitress with blonde eyebrows and pitch-black hair placed huge bowls of greenery on our table. Mine was topped with salmon, onions, dill, tomatoes, and feta cheese. Noah’s had steak strips, bacon crumbles, mushrooms, ginger, and avocado. My salad looked good, but Noah’s looked better. Why do I always want whatever the other people at my table are eating?

  “Anyway,” continued Noah after we’d both had our first mouthful. “Reed Northbrook has some big financial obligations that he apparently can’t meet. He lost his main sponsor earlier this year and there was thought that he’d pick up some of Rory Swenson’s clients, but that didn’t happen.”

  In decades past, Rory had ridden on countless US Olympic teams, but he had died last winter at the ripe old age of ninetytwo. He’d still been teaching and training, sometimes from his power wheelchair outside the arena, but mostly via Skype or video.

  “But,” I took a sip of water, “none of the horses that were hurt were competing in any of Reed’s events.”

  “I know. Not sure how it all fits u
nless he was going for the leading trainer bonus and tried to wipe out competition.”

  I pondered that while I ate a bite of salmon.

  “Then,” said Noah, “there’s Sloan Peters. She’s in the middle of a messy divorce.”

  “That might explain the ongoing game of sucky-face that she’s playing with Cam,” I said.

  Noah gave me a look.

  “What?”

  Noah shook his head, then continued. “A lot of the English riders, like Reed and Sloan, have corporate sponsors. Otherwise they could not afford to compete. Well, Sloan’s sponsorship is with a soft drink company. And guess who the CEO is?”

  “Her husband?”

  “Close. Her soon to be ex-brother-in-law. The husband’s an attorney.”

  “Not good,” I said. “From Sloan’s perspective anyway.”

  “Then, the reason Mike Lansing wants to start a side business is that his dad had a stroke a few months back. He needs to go into long-term assisted living, but the kind of facility the dad’s insurance will cover is apparently pretty crappy. Mike wants to either bring his dad home and help pay for home health care, or put his dad in a better facility.”

  “Either could be expensive,” I said.

  When my grandmother passed away she’d had a massive heart attack and, boom, she was gone. While it was traumatic for me, at least Grandma had been spared a nursing home and declining health––and the expense and indignity that came with both.

  “Absolutely,” agreed Noah. “And, the list of financial woes go on. Just about everyone at the show seems to be in trouble. Including you.”

  I dropped my fork.

  “Me!”

  “According to the police. First off, you drive a truck that is almost old enough to go to college––”

  “Come on, Noah. It’s thirteen. It’s not that old.”

  “And you need a new roof on your barn.”

  “Who told the police that?”

  “It’s common knowledge, Cat. You talk about it all the time.”

  Well, maybe I did.

  “Then there are the Zinners,” said Noah.