The Girl with the Broken Heart

by Lurlene McDaniel

  The day’s sweltering heat had not deterred the crowds from coming to the fairgrounds. Austin found a parking space amid scores of cars, trucks, and horse trailers in a dusty field, and they made the long walk to the main rodeo arena, its fence peppered with colorful pennant flags hanging listless in the heat. Giant canopies shielded outdoor bleachers and attendees from the sun, but around several smaller show rings, people held up umbrellas to ward off the relentless sun. “Place is packed,” Austin said as they wove their way toward the fairground’s giant barn.

  “You should see Shelbyville in late August. The show lasts eleven days and draws two thousand horses and about a quarter million people.”

  Austin gave a low whistle. “I guess you’ve been to that show?”

  “Not for years.” Nearing the oversized barn, she stopped. “Wait, take this. We need IDs to get inside the competitor’s barn.” She handed him a badge that read EXHIBITOR.

  “But we don’t have a horse in the competition.” He stood his ground, examining the official-looking badges. “Where did you get these?”

  Anxious to get moving but knowing Austin could be like a dog chasing a stick, she heaved a sigh. “I called and asked my father for them, and he was only too happy to supply us with the badges.”

  Austin tipped up the straw brim of his cowboy hat, studying her. “So you’re talking to your dad again?”

  “Only when necessary.” She lifted her chin.

  “How about your mother? How’s she doing?”

  “I’m not neglecting her, if that’s what you’re wondering. We talk and email, and she says she likes her new therapist. I believe her because she sounds more upbeat. She’s still sad, but she’s doing things with old friends again. You know, lunch, playing golf, a little shopping.”

  Kenzie turned, but he stepped in front of her. “Good to hear. In my opinion, you’re good medicine for her.”

  She wore a plain blue ball cap, with a walking horse emblem on it, and had pulled her long braid through the gap at the back. She edged around him. “Back to today’s business.”

  “And just what is today’s business? Why do we need to go inside the barn?”

  “Because that’s where the truth lies.”

  They halted at the table set up in front of the barn and showed their badges. A teenage girl searched a list of names on a clipboard, found theirs, and checked them off. “Have a good competition,” she said cheerfully.

  “Count on it.” Kenzie blasted a sunny smile that quickly faded when the girl looked away.

  Inside, Austin saw a hodgepodge of roomy stalls and pens built to hold broncos and bull-riding steers competing in rodeo events, but instead housed Tennessee walkers of all sizes and colors. Men and women wearing numbers pinned to the backs of their shirts congregated in clusters, many riders in Western gear, others dressed for riding English.

  Kenzie strode past most of the stalls, heading toward the back end of the barn. Midway, she stopped. “Wait. Close your eyes and tell me what you smell.”

  Austin obliged, breathed deeply, opened one eye, and glanced down at Kenzie. “Horses and sweaty people.”

  “What else? The odor is subtle, but it’s in the air. Try again.”

  He concentrated, hoping he could deliver. It took a minute, but mingled with the aromas of horses, sweat, and saddle leather came a scent like fumes from a lawn mower. He opened his eyes, saw Kenzie standing in front of him, arms crossed, her expression expectant. “Gasoline?” he ventured.

  “Close. It’s kerosene.”

  He went on alert, his gaze darting every which way. “A fire?”

  She waved off his question. “No. But it means some people have rubbed kerosene on the forelegs of their horses before coming today to compete.”

  He stared down the corridor of full and empty stalls, remembering what he’d seen in the videos about soring. “But you told me it’s illegal.”

  “So’s drunk driving, but people still do it.”

  “How do they get away with it? You said this competition had high standards. Aren’t there inspectors?”

  She rolled her eyes at his naiveté. “Private inspectors are all that the law requires these days. And not all inspectors are honest. They look the other way, or…” She paused, waiting for him to fill in the blank.

  “Or take a bribe.”

  “A smaller venue competition like this one isn’t as well ‘inspected’ as a national show.” She used air quotes.

  Austin inhaled again. “Apparently not.” He remembered the scarring on Blue’s forelegs, spots where hair would never regrow, and now, after weeks of working with the horse to undo the damage to his body and spirit, he got angry. He glanced around at the competitors’ nonchalance. Surely they could smell the same things he and Kenzie did. “Do these people know what’s going on here?”

  “Some do. But the Big Lick events are crowd pleasers, and there are owners who believe that doing away with it at competitions means people will stop coming to shows. And that could affect the popularity of the breed. And breeders like my father will suffer economically.”

  “And big crowds mean big money, right?” She nodded. “Sounds like a vicious cycle.”

  “It is. I personally don’t think the walking horse will ever fall out of favor. They’re great saddle horses. But that high step is eye candy, so it’s doubtful it will totally go away. Rules are in place to make training stricter.” She shook her head. “I still don’t like it. We’ll go up in the stands later and watch a few Big Lick events, and you can judge it for yourself.”

  “But that kerosene smell is a sign that not everybody’s playing fair.”

  “I know inspectors are here. But it’s common to train however you want, then try and mask your training methods days before a show.”

  “In other words, cheat.”

  “I owe you a merit badge.”

  He grinned just as an announcement called a class of riders to the show ring. He and Kenzie sidestepped horses and people, a short parade of beautifully groomed horses, some with manes crimped into waves and smartly styled. He kept checking to see if the passing horses were wearing stack shoes, and none were.

  “The groups are divided up. Judges determine winners in each group; then those winners will return, be judged, and receive prizes.”

  “Long day,” Austin said.

  “A long two days. There are a lot of events.”

  Austin saw the big picture now. As he’d suspected when she’d asked him to come with her, Kenzie had a reason for being here. And he was certain that he was going to play a role in her plan. He asked the question he knew she wanted to hear. “Can you show me horses you suspect have been sored?”

  “Be happy to.”

  * * *

  —

  The barn’s entire back area was less populated. There were stalls, but also empty pens and cages used during 4-H events to hold calves, pigs, prize chickens, and other farm animals. The kerosene odor was also more potent. A few stalls held horses. “Are these the sored horses?”

  “No, most belong to the workers helping with the show who chose to come on horseback rather than trailer in. You saw the parking lot. Much easier to ride in if you live close enough to the fairgrounds.”

  Kenzie stopped in front of a stall, crouched, and peered through the openings in the slats. Austin joined her. “What do you see?”

  “A horse, a mare, lying down.” The smell of kerosene was stronger. He didn’t have to guess why.

  “Welcome to the dark side of the mirror.” Kenzie and Austin stood in a single fluid movement.

  “Is she supposed to compete today?”

  “I’m sure her owner expects her to compete.”

  “Can she?”

  “That’s why we’re here—to make sure she doesn’t.”

  “Do you know this owner?
”

  From behind them a voice thundered, “Who are you? And why the hell are you back here looking at my horse? Get out!”

  Austin spun to face a short, wiry man, close to him in age. His expression was hostile, and his fists balled. Austin fisted his own hands, kept them at his sides, on the ready. Only Kenzie stood unflappable, her back still toward the man. She slowly turned, gave him a hard, cold stare, and said, “Hello, Billy. Austin, meet Bill Hixson the Third.”

  “Austin Boyd.” He nodded but didn’t offer a handshake.

  The man’s eyes trained on Kenzie, widened, went hot. “If it isn’t the bitch who helped destroy my grandfather.”

  Austin moved lightning fast to insert himself between Kenzie and the angry Billy. “Now wait a minute! You can’t speak to Kenzie that way.”

  “What are you, her flunky?” Billy edged closer. “You’re both trespassin’. Get out.”

  Kenzie tried to push her way around Austin, but he stood solid as a wall. “It’s all right,” she insisted. “I can take care of myself. I’m not afraid of him. Not now. Not back then.”

  As if she hadn’t spoken, Austin told Billy, “Step away.” Billy stood unfazed, glaring. He leaned into a boxer’s stance, raised his fists.

  Austin said, “Don’t.”

  The quiet delivery of the single word seemed to make an impression. Billy measured Austin with a look, snarled, uncurled his fingers, and lowered his hands.

  Kenzie attempted to step in front of Austin again, but his arm shot out, rock hard and immovable. She pushed. “Will you stop it! I have something to say to him, and you’re in my way. Move!”

  Austin obliged by lowering his arm, allowing her to slip in front of him while he remained solidly behind her.

  “You can’t show that horse, Billy. What you’re doing, what you’ve done, to her is wrong.”

  “It’s my horse. Butt out.”

  “She’s been sored, and you didn’t back off her soring soon enough. Look at her. She can’t even stand up.”

  Billy peered over Kenzie’s shoulder. “She’s just lazy.”

  “She’s hurt!” She lunged forward, but Austin’s hands caught her shoulders, immobilizing her. She tried to shake him off, couldn’t.

  Billy went inside the stall and coaxed the horse to her feet. The mare rose and staggered a bit, but remained upright. “See,” Billy flung over his shoulder. “She’s just fine. Now get!”

  Before Kenzie could say another word, Austin caught her around the waist. “Let’s go.”

  Kenzie struggled briefly in his iron hold but couldn’t break free. Midway up the aisle, and into foot traffic, he released her. She stalked off toward the front of the barn, Austin close behind.

  Finally, she whirled on him, tears of fury brimming in her eyes. “Why did you stop me? You saw how crippled the horse was!”

  “What were you going to do, Kenzie? Attack Billy? Swat him like a fly? And what should I have done? Beat the crap out of him? Is that why you brought me with you? Because you expected me to handle the guy and maybe hurt him?”

  Without warning, her heart began to pound out of control. A black haze floated across her eyes; then dizziness struck, swirling, tossing her toward the dark. She shuddered a breath and reached behind her to grab hold of something solid to keep from pitching forward.

  In a fluid motion, Austin pulled her into an embrace that appeared like a casual boyfriend hug but was meant to keep her from falling.

  His voice, urgent with concern, sounded through the fog in her brain. “What can I do to help?”

  “Get me outside.”

  He looped his arm around her waist, and holding her upright, nuzzled her shoulder against his. “Can you walk?”

  “Think…so…”

  “One foot in front of the other,” he whispered, leading her around groups of people congregated in the barn. “We look just like two people who can’t keep their hands off each other. No one is taking notice of us. Keep moving.”

  Her legs felt like jelly, but the strength of his arms helped her move forward. Soon they were in the daylight. Fresh air and sunlight began to revive her.

  Austin saw a lone tree around the side of the barn, guided her, and lowered her so that her back was braced on the tree’s trunk. He crouched in front of her. “Let me get you a bottle of water.”

  “No. Don’t leave.” She took deep breaths, waiting for the episode to pass. “I’m okay, just got a little overstressed.” The look of concern on his face made her wince. “Don’t look so worried. It’s happened before, whenever my blood pressure goes wacko. But I’m top of it now.”

  Memory jerked her back in time.

  She was barely sixteen. A summer day…riding Princess bareback, hearing a horse in distress from the barn where Bill and Billy trained. Peeking inside, seeing Bill beating a terrified horse, chains around its front forelegs. Running into her father’s den. “Daddy! Bill’s hurting our horses! I saw him with my own eyes! Stop him!”

  Her father’s face reddening. “Did you go down to the training barn I expressly told you to stay away from?”

  The truth slamming her. He knew. Her daddy knew! “Don’t make this about me! This is about what Bill’s doing to our horses!”

  “Now calm down, honey. You know it’s not good for you to get in a lather.”

  Her heart was doing cartwheels, the room spinning, and her father’s voice sounding as if coming through a tunnel, the room going dark…waking in her daddy’s arms, seeing tears in his eyes. “Sorry, Kenz…so sorry, baby. I love you, honey girl….I didn’t mean to upset you. Forgive me…please, forgive me.”

  Her heart fluttering, her eyes shut, hearing his words, knowing he was sorry about her passing out, not sorry about Bill’s “training” methods.

  On that day in his den, something had broken between herself and her father that had never mended.

  She returned to the sunlight, to Austin’s worried eyes. “I have to stop Billy.”

  Austin put his hand on her shoulder. “Wait. Your teammate is calling a temporary time-out.” He thought fast. “When was the last time you ate?”

  She attempted to stand. “Breakfast?”

  “Well, it’s after three. You need to eat something.”

  “I don’t want to eat. I want to stop Billy from riding that poor horse today.”

  As her color returned and her breathing normalized, “truculent Kenzie” appeared. “Come on, a short change of course is all I’m asking. Can’t go into battle on empty stomachs. Plus, I’m hungry too,” he confessed good-naturedly. “I saw a line of food trucks when we were walking across the field. Let’s grab a bite.”

  “I have to stop him now.”

  “No, you don’t. We have time, Kenzie. Let’s take care of us first. You need a plan, not another fight with Billy.” He snapped his fingers, diverting her stony stare. “Hey, I saw an ice cream truck too. How about some ice cream? I mean, who doesn’t like ice cream? It can fix a lot of things that go wrong.”

  His familiar half-smile, his persuasive blue-green eyes, softened her resolve. She did feel weak. He was right. She needed nourishment to finish her battle. “Okay…I’ll go for ice cream.”

  “And fries? There were burger and taco trucks out there too.”

  She struggled upright, swatting away Austin’s help. “You sure managed to see a lot just walking in from the parking lot this morning. I never saw the food trucks.”

  “A guy thing.”

  “I’m not giving up, Austin. I will stop Billy.”

  “I never doubted.”

  At the conclave of food trucks, he bought her two scoops of chocolate-mint ice cream in a sugar cone and himself two scoops of butter pecan. He also bought fries and a burger from another vendor. They walked into a tented area with tables and chairs set up for food truck patrons. He saw a few
other people sitting and eating, but for the most part, Kenzie and Austin had the tent to themselves. They chose chairs across from each other at a square table near the back of the tent.

  “This is melting faster than I can lick it.” She chased drips down the cone with her tongue.

  “Amateur,” he joked, devouring his cone in a few bites. He started on the burger. She finished her ice cream, filched a few salty fries from his plate. “Do you want your own?”

  “Of course not. Don’t you know food always tastes better off someone else’s plate?”

  Seeing that she was once again in full control, he dropped several fries on a napkin and pushed it in front of her. After a minute of silence, he said, “So tell me more about this Billy dude.”

  “He showed up during the summers to ‘help’ his grandfather train Dad’s horses.” She scowled. “Billy learned everything he knows about soring from Granddaddy Bill.”

  “Okay, I get that you hate Billy because of soring, but during today’s shouting match, you said you weren’t afraid of him…not now, not back then. What did you mean?”

  She balled her napkin, not recalling the words, but the look of keen interest on Austin’s face gave her no reason to doubt she’d said them. Billy was a side note, a wart on her personal history and of little consequence, but Austin had stepped into the fray for her. “If you must know, Billy was grabby. Billy liked to touch without asking permission.”

  Austin’s pulse accelerated. “Go on.”

  “Billy was the first guy to ever kiss me.”

  “And you regret kissing him? We all make mistakes.”

  “I didn’t say I gave him a kiss. He took a kiss from me. Big difference. I was thirteen; he was eighteen. He was always staring at me whenever he came to help Bill. Really, leering better describes it. I avoided him, but one day I was in our family stable saddling Princess for a ride, and he came up behind me, started rubbing my shoulders, telling me he thought I was pretty. I froze. He said other stuff, too, sexy stuff things I didn’t understand at the time. I was freaking out.”