Winning Ways (21 page)

He stepped up close, his voice low and menacing.

"Liz, let me tell you something. No matter what my past record says I did, I have never in my life abused a horse, or given drugs, or done anything artificial or illegal to win a class. When I win, it's because I'm the best - and because I have the best horse. I did not drug Karma. I wouldn't need to do that to beat you."

He turned on his heel to leave, then spun back. "But you know what else? The saddest thing about this whole mess is that I believe your colt could have beaten mine, hands down, but I'd prepared myself for a good fight. I really looked forward to facing you in the ring. But I guess you can't see who I really am. Only what people think I am."

He turned and strode away, his long legs covering the ground rapidly.

She started after him. She had to salvage the situation, try to explain. She stopped. What could she say to him? Her obvious discomfort had already made him think she'd considered him a suspect. Didn't matter, she had to try.

He disappeared around the end row of stalls, and she had to run to catch up to him.

"Kurt, wait!"

He didn't stop. She closed the distance between them, and grabbed his arm. He stopped short and glared down at her, sending her pulse into a frenzied, erratic rhythm. Not one hint of interest or caring colored his expression. She faltered, suddenly afraid to say anything. She let go of his arm and stepped back.

"Kurt, please let me explain."

"Liz, there's nothing to explain. Your opinion is pretty clear."

"But - "

"Not now, Liz. Maybe later, but not now."

He turned and disappeared into his tack stall.

Her shoulders sagged, and she walked dejectedly back to her stalls. A soft nicker greeted her. Ashiiqah stood patiently in the crossties, waiting to be put into her stall.

Adrenaline pumped through Kurt's system, fueling his pain and anger. He dropped onto a bale of hay in the tack stall and put his head in his hands. So much for the support of a good woman. She didn't even hesitate to think I did it. The small, dark enclosure felt close and suffocating. He peeked through the drape to make sure she'd gone, then left the barn, striding out into the bright sunlight. He headed toward a rodeo arena located on the far side of the exercise pen.

From the top row of the bleachers, he viewed the expansive grounds of the Cow Palace. On the horizon, the ever-present thin fog hung over San Francisco Bay. The fresh air and solitude of the empty arena calmed him a little, and his pulse slowed. He sucked in a deep breath to clear his head. He needed to repair the damage of the day.

I can't blame her for suspecting me. I did tell her all the gory details about New Mexico. Except the important part, the rumor that Della had paid someone to drug the horse. A sharp jab of derision ran through him. And I was too torn up to defend myself. He exhaled to lighten the weight in his chest, remembering the despair that had consumed him after that debacle. All his hard work, his determination to quell the grief, sidestep the mourning process, had distracted him from the ruthlessness of his employer. When everything fell apart, all he'd wanted was to die. He looked up into the pale blue expanse of sky above the arena, remembering the hollow feeling of helplessness.

A large hawk caught his eye, as it circled, floating effortlessly on the air currents, scanning the ground below for prey. Kurt watched the bird for a few moments, letting the distraction soothe him. He dropped his gaze to the dusty ground below the bleachers and his anger passed, leaving him empty and exhausted.

Months ago, he'd accepted the fact that too much time had elapsed for him to do anything about correcting the New Mexico fiasco. However, today's events were déjà vu. Now, he had to rectify both situations - his and Liz's.

Sitting on a bale of hay in the quiet, dimly lit tack stall, Liz took some time to think. All she wanted to do was pack up her horses and go home. I've had enough fun for one day. Her practical nature told her she might as well salvage the efforts of the past week, take Ashiiqah back into the ring for the championship class that night, but she couldn't muster much enthusiasm for the idea. Depression settled into her bones. What's the point? There's no way I'll ever find out who destroyed a full year's work and my reputation.

Amy's class was scheduled for the next day, and Benton's taunt eased into her thoughts. What, exactly, is the purpose of showing a broodmare? Amy's foals were exquisite. Her outstanding pedigree spoke for itself - Karma was a perfect example. The atmosphere of the Fire Stone party, and Benton's casual references to the exorbitant prices people paid for Arabians, contributed to Liz's feelings of isolation.

I don't need to show Amy to sell her foals. She suddenly felt foolish, and shook her head. So far, I've resisted selling any of my horses, or even Marilyn's, for that matter. The simplicity of the situation surprised her. I'm on the wrong track for the wrong reason. Maybe I just wanted to show off a little, feel like I belong somewhere. The events of the past six hours had painfully clarified her naiveté, and made her sharply aware that she was embroiled in a world she didn't like.

"I'm here to scratch an entry."

The entry clerk looked up from his computer, sighed, and rose to his feet. He pulled a two-inch-thick sheaf of computer printouts from beneath the counter. "Name?"

"Elizabeth Barnett. BB Amy's Pride."

He removed the entries, and attached a scratch form to fill out and sign. When she'd finished, the man replaced the ledger, and turned back to his desk without looking at her. Liz's cheeks warmed, his attitude making her feel a little like a criminal.

However, on the way back to the barn, her step acquired a little bounce. This is the right thing to do. I can concentrate on building my practice, and just enjoy my horses. Her springy step faltered. She'd still have to find a way to turn this mess around. It was the sort of taint that would give her a bad name as a horsewoman and as a vet, and the black cloud certainly wouldn't help her convince the locals of her competence to care for their animals.

Kurt was the only person she knew who might have helped her figure out what to do, and she'd ruined her chances there. Her light mood sank at the realization she'd have to wait until Kurt felt ready to talk to her.

She took Karma out of his stall, and started grooming him, trying to take her mind off her problems.

"I'm so sorry, Baby. You missed your chance at stardom, and it's all my fault."

She pulled the shavings from his tangled tail, her mind turning over ways in which she might have prevented the attack. How can you fight an enemy, if you don't know you have one? Kurt had warned her, and she hadn't taken him seriously. As she worked, she recalled every detail of the previous twenty-four hours, trying to find some small clue in the mystery. Karma had been fine at nine-thirty. Patrick had seen Kurt at the stall around eleven. Karma had been heavily drugged when Liz had found him at five-thirty. Heavily drugged. Damn! That's it!

She racked her brain for a minute, finally dredging up her pharmacology course from vet school. Most tranquilizers absorbed rapidly, with peak blood levels at the one- to two-hour mark. The injection couldn't have been given at eleven, because the drug would have almost worn off by the time she'd awakened. That meant the dose was probably given sometime after three a.m. She almost wept as she mentally completely exonerated Kurt from any wrongdoing.

Karma shifted restlessly in the crossties and pawed the ground, annoyed with Liz's distraction. Cooped up since late the day before, he had a lot of excess energy singing through his young body. Liz tossed the currycomb into the tack stall, and took the colt out to the exercise pen.

As she lunged him, her spirits lifted.

Later, while Liz visited with Shelly, the loudspeaker crackled overhead. "Kurt DeVallio, you have a phone call at the show office. Kurt DeVallio."

Shelly chuckled. "Mmm, Mr. Gorgeous. He certainly is the mystery trainer."

Liz gave her a puzzled look, and the woman shrugged.

"No one knows much about him. He's obviously a great trainer - always in the ribbons - but there he is, working for some nobody out in the middle of nowhere. With his talent, he should be working for one of the top barns, making tons of money."

Liz recalled Kurt's sad story, knowing the reason he was working for "some nobody."

Shelly giggled. "Oh, jeez, I just remembered...you beat him in the two-year-old class. How did that feel?"

"Pretty darn good, but I only won because my horse stayed tuned in. I was a wreck! All I could think about was this morning's fiasco, wondering if the villain stood there in the ring with me."

"Yeah, that must have been tough. What are you going to do?"

Liz's smile faded. "I'm not sure there's anything I can do. The sheriff is looking into it, but he didn't sound optimistic that they'd turn up anything. In order to clear my name, I'd have to know who did it. That's a pretty long shot, don't you think?"

Shelly nodded in solemn agreement.

Kurt relaxed in the truck, mulling over Eve's telephone call. Interestingly enough, she'd already heard that Ebony had won the colt class that morning, smugly informing him that she'd cleared a spot in the display case for the championship trophy. Her bold tone had raised his hackles. He hadn't yet figured out how he would trap her into an admission of responsibility for the drugging, but he'd eventually think of something.

He stared through the dusty windshield, feeling something akin to despair. I need to find Liz and apologize for this morning. I can't blame her for suspecting me. After all, I am a complete stranger, regardless of our night together.

That memory stirred up the desire lurking deep inside him and, for a moment, he wanted to throw away his old dreams and make new ones, with Liz as a part of his life. Shaking his head at the silly, sentimental notion, he headed back to his stalls to prepare Ebony for the championship class that evening.

Late that afternoon, Officer Stanton returned to Liz's area with the report on his investigation. He'd questioned the other exhibitors in the colt class, but no one had seen anything.

Liz pushed a little. "What about Bill Benton?"

The deputy gave her a curious look. "Do you think he's the one?"

She gulped. "Well, he's been trying to buy my colt, or get him in training. Seems like - "

"He's clear, Dr. Barnett. He has an alibi for the entire night."

She cocked her head. "What is it?"

Stanton smiled. "I'm not at liberty to reveal his whereabouts, but the alibi checked out."

She was confused. What could the big secret be? Oh! He's probably sleeping with Celia. How could I be so dense?

Stanton closed the notebook and shook his head. "Sorry. Wish I had better news. I'm not sure what else to suggest. I'll file the report, and if anything else comes to light, I'll let you know."

That evening, exhilarated by a strong class and bursting with pride, Liz walked Ashiiqah back to the barn. Legacy Ashiiqah: Regional Reserve Champion Mare. Liz looked at the large tri-colored rosette and gleaming silver trophy in her hand, feeling a shiver of pleasure at her victory. Every first place winner from all the filly/mare divisions had been in the class. A field of ten. The best of the best. The champion had been Kurt's entry, a four-year-old gray, straight Egyptian horse. If I have to take second place to Kurt DeVallio, that's fine by me, but Ashiiqah and I held our own out there.

She did a quick replay of the class. Kurt had looked absolutely gorgeous in his tuxedo, wearing the formal attire with the ease and confidence of a professional. Her own sequined jacket and black satin trousers made her feel very glamorous, very much a part of the high society of the ring.

 She slipped out of the elegant garment and looked around her stall area. It was finally over. She'd leave the disappointment and pain of this place, and go home where she belonged. Thoughts of being back on her lovely farm filled her with excitement. I'll pack tonight, get some rest, and leave early.

She began collecting all the items strewn around the tack stall, tossing them into the open trunk. Seeing her sleeping bag, she shivered. The thought of being all-alone in the deserted barn with an unsavory character roaming the night was more than a little unsettling. She checked the battery on the cell phone, then placed it on the sleeping bag beside the card with the emergency number.

"Patrick! You busy?"

Ebony had sailed through the championship class, his performance breathtaking and perfect, but the win felt hollow for Kurt. Too much had been sacrificed for the sake of a title and a price tag.

As he walked toward the barn, Bill Benton fell into step beside him, his movie-star teeth gleaming through a pompous grin.

"Well, Kurt, I see you pulled it off. Pretty clever."

Kurt stopped abruptly and glowered.

"What exactly does that mean?"

Benton's eyes glittered with malice, his expression mocking.