by Toni Leland
After parking her car in the only remaining space on the street, she entered the lobby of the Knight’s Horse Theater. Soft lighting and warmth from the wood stove changed the atmosphere dramatically from her visit the previous day. Several large framed posters filled strategic spots, vivid production playbills for past events. One in particular caught Kim’s eye – Natalie Danseur’s striking resemblance to Audrey Hepburn. Dark eyes, short black hair, gamine face.
A few moments later, a young man in a snappy blue and gold uniform took Kim’s credit card and smiled as he told her about the evening’s schedule.
“We’ll be serving the first course in about twenty minutes, so you’ll have some time to look around.”
As Kim entered the arena area, she was again amazed by how different everything looked under full lights. Two-thirds of the seats were occupied and the level of laughter and pleasant chatter was moderately loud. Kim’s seat provided a good view of the arena and she settled back to enjoy the evening. As she tasted the first spoonful of soup, the lights dimmed and a man’s deep voice boomed from the overhead speakers.
“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the Knight’s Horse Theater. We hope you are enjoying the delicious fare provided by our chefs. Tonight marks the tenth season of The Legend of Sleepy Hollow, and we’re pleased to introduce our newest troupe member, Sophia Barevsky, who portrays Katrina Van Tassel. Miss Barevsky comes to us from Ukraine where she enjoyed an illustrious career as an equestrian acrobat. Now, sit back, enjoy your meal, and let yourselves be carried away by the performance.”
Kim gazed at the circular arena, now bathed in soft colored lights. A new performer, most likely Natalie’s replacement. Sure wish I knew what that “difference of professional opinion” meant.
Moments later, the lights dimmed, then the room darkened completely. Music began softly, then became louder and a spotlight shone into the center of the ring. One by one, beautiful horses entered the lighted area, moving in perfect cadence with the music, first slow, then fast, then slow again to fit the mood of the story.
For the next hour, the sights and sounds unfolding in the arena below mesmerized Kim. Three main characters in eighteenth century costume moved through scenes from the legendary tale of horror. A huge black stallion bore the Headless Horseman, while Ichabod Crane urged his chestnut-colored horse after the monster. The music was stirring, the lighting perfect, and the visual effects amazing. Kim held her breath as the final act ended with the ultimate defeat of evil.
Late that night, Kim fell into bed, exhausted but delighted by the evening’s entertainment. The soaring music, lights, costumes, horses, riders – a fantastic show. As she closed her eyes, the phone chimed and she frowned, wondering who would call at such a late hour. An international number appeared on the screen – that of her dear friend in Egypt.
“Shareen! Hello, how are you?”
Her friend’s voice didn’t hold its usual softness. “I am well, Insha’Allah. And you?”
Kim sat up in the bed. “I’m fine, thank you. Is everything okay? You sound...well, tired.”
“Kim, we must ask you not to come to Cairo in December. It is too dangerous.”
“Really? Is the rioting close to you?”
“Not at the moment, but the tide of dissent is strong and my country is on the verge of collapse. The new president is not as popular as when he took office, and...” Her voice cracked. “It is horrible, Kim.”
“Shareen, I’m so sorry. Are you and Albert safe?”
“Who knows? The situation changes from day to day. And I am so sorry to withdraw our invitation to you–”
“No, no, I understand. I suspect that travel to the Middle East might be restricted anyway.” Kim tried to sound optimistic. “Maybe I can come see you at the Scottsdale Arabian Show in February.”
“Insha’Allah, we will be there. Stay well, my friend.”
Kim set the phone aside, worry gnawing a hole in her mind. From what she’d seen on the news, Egypt was indeed a volatile hotbed of danger and turmoil, changing daily. She hoped that her friends were far enough away to avoid the rioting. Kim’s own disappointment at the turn of events managed to sneak in. How she’d looked forward to the trip of a lifetime, the dream of seeing ancient wonders, the Pyramids, the land of the Pharaohs. Sadness filled her heart at the thought that the ancient city might never again be safely accessible to the outside world.
The next morning, Kim pulled out of the parking garage and headed north. According to the map, Natalie’s theater building was only a few blocks from Knight’s. As Kim maneuvered through the light traffic, she made some mental comparisons between Natalie Danseur and Sophia Barevsky. Natalie was petite, lithe, and elegant. Barevsky was well endowed and muscular, but beautiful in an earthy way. The Ukrainian acrobat had stunned the audience with both her beauty and prowess on horseback – the white stallion galloping full speed around the circular arena with Sophia hanging upside down, her head inches from the ground. A recipe for disaster with only one misstep by her mount. A performance Kim wouldn’t soon forget, but to be fair, she should also see Natalie in action. The petite dancer would have to be at least as talented in order to justify the huge investment she’d made in her career move.
But Natalie’s sick horses might destroy that new career before it began.
The Dream Horse Ballet theater building sat on a corner, its commanding front façade making a distinctive statement in red brick and granite blocks. Stone steps fronted an arched entrance, and four huge windows rose from street level to the second story. Kim pulled down the side street a few yards and parked near a loading dock. She rang the service bell and a few minutes later, the door rumbled up.
Natalie stepped out of the dark interior. “Come in. I’m sorry it’s so cold in here, I got a late start this morning.”
Kim glanced around at what appeared to be the storage area. “This is a beautiful old building. You were lucky to find it.”
Natalie looked startled for a moment. “Yes, it had all the right specifications, but needed a lot of modification to accommodate the performance area.”
Kim decided to be bold. “Do you rent?”
Natalie’s eyes narrowed. “Is that pertinent to your article?”
“No, I’m just curious. This is a big building.”
A slight pause, then, “No, I own it. My great-grandfather’s business started here.” She turned toward a door marked staff only. “I’ll show you around, then I have to get back to the barn.”
Kim nodded. Natalie Danseur clearly had more background than simply ballet, and Kim wanted to know what it was. She clicked off a couple of quick shots of the room, then followed.
Natalie turned on the lights. “This is the stall area. The horses come in early on the day of performance.” She pointed to a corner. “We have a full wash rack and grooming area.”
Kim took pictures while she asked questions. “This is the ground level, right? So how do you get the horses up to the theater floor?”
Natalie smiled for the first time since they’d met. “Ingenious design, that’s how.” Then a brief shadow crossed her face. “A brilliant architect designed a ramp around the interior walls of the building. The ramp rises to the first floor gradually, opening onto the back stage.”
“How clever. I figured you’d just use a freight elevator.”
“These horses are far too valuable to take a chance on one of them getting hurt in one of those contraptions.”
Natalie’s features softened as she talked about the horses, and Kim realized that there were several layers to this woman. And Natalie’s brief show of emotion as she described the architectural design also seemed to point to something. A relationship gone sour? Kim swallowed hard. She certainly knew something about that subject.
Natalie walked toward another door at the end of the room. “This leads to the ramp. You should be able to get some good pictures from several angles.”
The other portion of the ground floor functioned as a park
ing area for vehicles and trailers. A wide overhead door on the far side probably opened onto another street. Kim gazed up at the ingenious ramp mounted on the brick walls. What would it have cost to build? Certainly a lot more than simply installing a decent elevator that would accommodate large animals. Was the ramp one of those things that seemed like a great idea at the time, mostly because the person designing and building it was close to Natalie’s heart? Kim had to admit that the ramp was unique with its high railings and strong iron supports underneath. Plus more than one horse could be moved at a time, unlike with an elevator.
Natalie’s phone rang and she moved quickly ahead, her voice only a murmur.
Suddenly she stopped. “No! Just fix it, I can’t–”
Her shoulders slumped, she mumbled something and pocketed the phone. Taking a deep breath, she turned and shook her head.
“I’m really sorry, but I have to cut this short. There’s a problem back at the barn.”
“Sick horses?”
The dark eyes widened and panic flooded her face. “No, why would you think that?”
Kim stepped up closer and softened her tone. “I saw the runny noses. They’re all infected with something, aren’t they?”
Natalie’s voice broke. “Strangles. Every one of them.”
Chapter 7
Kim felt helpless, seeing Natalie’s distress. The young woman had let her guard down for only a moment and now seemed unable to compose herself again.
“Natalie, I’m so sorry. Is your veterinarian treating the horses aggressively?”
Natalie let out a shuddery sigh. “He has them on antibiotics, but the earliest cases are not responding well. I didn’t worry too much about a couple of runny noses, but by the time I called the vet, they were all infected.”
Kim thought for a moment. “I’ve heard of strangles, but don’t know much about it. What, exactly, is it?”
Natalie spoke slowly. “Horse distemper – one of the most contagious equine diseases known.”
“Any idea how it got into your barn?”
“I think it came from one of the race barns, maybe a transfer from a groom or stall cleaner. All it takes is sharing a contaminated bucket, or working with both affected and unaffected horses, and it spreads like wildfire.” Her face darkened with anger. “Someone over there had the nerve to say that it started here, and now they’re all worried that the incoming racehorses will get it.”
Kim nodded. “A genuine concern, if the disease is as virulent as you say. I noticed the state vehicle yesterday. Wouldn’t they have to be notified of this?”
Natalie’s shoulders slumped. “That was my last phone call. The vet has to report the diagnosis to the quarantine officials. God only knows how long we’ll be out of commission.” She squared her shoulders and pointed to a door at the top of the ramp. “Let’s go up and I’ll give you a quick tour of the theater, but then I really do have to leave.”
The performance arena was as distinctive as the suspension ramp. The largest portion of the main level of the building had been transformed into an indoor coliseum, with decor reminiscent of ancient structures in Greece and Italy. Towering Ionic columns defined the circular arena, their scroll-like tops not supporting anything, but rather draped with startlingly blue gauzy fabric that wafted gently with whatever small air currents moved through the upper regions of the room.
Around this circular stage, seating climbed in tiers of what looked like marble. Kim rapped her knuckles on the material, eliciting a hollow sound.
Natalie explained, “These spectator sections are constructed of industrial grade resin. It looks and feels like stone, but without the weight.”
Kim took a long shot of one of the rows, wondering how much that idea had cost. Then she turned her lens toward the performance area. Dark brown hard-packed earth formed a solid footing for the horses. Overhead lights with lenses of many colors spanned the entire arena.
Kim snapped off a half-dozen shots, then smiled. “Very impressive.”
Natalie gazed out over the silent stage. “I want this to be more than entertainment – it will be an unforgettable experience.” Her voice faltered. “If I ever get back on schedule.” Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out a CD and handed it to Kim. “This should give you an idea what we do here.”
Walking with Kim to the lobby of the building, Natalie pointed out some of the interesting architectural features of the Victorian structure. At the door, she offered her hand and an apologetic smile.
“I’m sorry we met under such unpleasant circumstances. I hope you can slant your article in a positive way because I will succeed with this. Failure is not an option.”
Kim wished her good luck, then walked down the steps to street level. Looking back at the elegant building, she thought about the inevitability of Fate. Even all the money in the world couldn’t prevent disaster if it was determined to prevail.
Late that afternoon, back home in Ohio, Kim pulled into the parking spot in front of her condo. Dixie’s Franklin County K-9 Unit patrol car sat in its usual place, which meant she must have had the day off. Kim let herself into her own house and greeted the cream-colored cat bounding into the hallway.
“Miss Kitty, did you miss me?”
She scooped up the small creature and cuddled it against her cheek, loving the rumbling purr that vibrated every part of the cat’s body. Stroking the silky fur, Kim walked through the living room to gaze out the deck door. October was almost over. The large maple trees lining the drive had burst into blazes of color, but now dripped leaves all over the ground. The air sharpened each day as the sun sank lower, and thoughts of the holidays followed. Melancholy set in and Kim tried not to think about the change in her December plans.
A light knock on the door and Dixie’s voice rang in the hallway. “Anybody home?”
“Just got here, come on in.”
Dixie stepped inside, but didn’t close the door. “I have cold beer and hot nachos. Come over when you’re ready.” Her electric blue eyes sparkled. “I have news to share.”
Dixie’s condo floor plan was a mirror image of Kim’s, but the decor was totally different. Kim rather liked her own mismatched assortment of furniture and knickknacks. Though Dixie’s brown leather sofa and chair, glass-topped tables, and chrome lamps were modern and elegant, they didn’t fit Kim’s personality. But they were a perfect reflection of crisp, sparkling Dixie. Soft jazz drifted from a stereo beneath a flat-screen television. The fireplace held a large wicker basket of dried hydrangea blooms, unlike Kim’s, which was ablaze all the time when she was at home. A large dog crate took up one full corner of the room and, on the floor next to it, Dixie’s magnificent police dog lounged on a large cushion. His black ears were up and he gazed at Kim without blinking. He actually made her a little nervous, but as long as Dixie was around, he was the picture of docility.
“Hello, Saskia,” said Kim.
His tail thumped once and he looked over at Dixie.
She nodded. “Okay.”
The dog rose to his feet and walked over to Kim, nosed her hand with a cold, wet nose, then sat down to put his head in a better position to be scratched.
Kim turned to Dixie. “And what is your news to share?”
“Promotion! You’re looking at Sergeant Dixie Davis.”
Kim wrapped her arms around Dixie and squeezed. “That’s fabulous. Congratulations!” She stepped back. “Does that mean more pay?”
“A little, but mostly more responsibility.” She glanced down at Saskia. “We’ll be involved with some training, nothing too exciting. So, tell me all about Chicago. Did you get mugged or anything?”
Kim chuckled. “No, but I was certainly aware of the possibility when I was out driving around at night.” She took a swallow of beer. “When did I turn into such a wimp?”
“Not a wimp, just smart. We live in a different world now. You did have your gun with you, right?”
“Yes, of course.” Kim writhed inside, hoping that Dixie wouldn�
�t see the lie. “Chicago is an interesting city, though I didn’t spend much time sightseeing.” She shook her head. “This darn leg still hurts if I do much walking.” Not to mention chasing runaway horses – which I probably shouldn’t share.
A timer in the kitchen went off and Dixie jumped up. “You just need to be patient. Being pistol-whipped doesn’t go away overnight. You’re still doing physical therapy, aren’t you?”
“No, I had my last insurance session just before the trip. I have to personally pay for any more, which is a problem. But I can just do the exercises on my own.”
Dixie set a tray of nachos on the coffee table. “Yes, but will you?”
“I want to start riding Bandit, so I think that will help.” She crunched a nacho chip, swiping at the drool of cheese that threatened her chin. “Thought I’d go see him tomorrow.”
“You should call Garrett, invite him to meet you at the barn.”
“I’m not ready to do that. I’d like to be steadier on my feet.”
Dixie gave her a long look. “I understand.”
Kim looked away. Did Dixie understand? For Kim, watching Quaid interact with Bandit would be painful – seeing his deep attachment to the horse he’d cared for during those long months of her recuperation, understanding that incredible, priceless bond between horse and human, and how painful it felt to lose it. No, she definitely wasn’t ready to see Quaid yet.
