“Linnet Ellery?”
“Speaking.”
“This is Sam with Equine Transporters. I just wanted to let you know that I’m about thirty minutes out from the Equestrian Center. I’ve informed the trainer, but the shipper thought you might like to be on hand to help unload the horse.”
“Right. Yes. Absolutely. I’ll be there.”
Sam hung up. I scraped the hair off my face, and peered at the time. Four a.m. It was a law of nature that haulers either picked up or dropped off a horse at ugh o’clock. I snapped on a light and realized that water was washing down the outside of windows. And it was raining. Perfect.
I scrambled into jeans, boots, and a hoodie and headed out to the car. Horrifyingly, there were already a few people getting into their vehicles, and judging by the clothes and briefcases they were heading to work. They had to have the commute from hell. I got into the car and headed down rain-slick streets toward the Equestrian Center. I hadn’t actually gotten to the facility since Jolly’s call had come, but a Google map gave me what I needed.
What I hadn’t expected was to drive past the Disney Studio on my left and a weirdly shaped building on my right. It was all glass and wood like the gondola of a dirigible. Above the entrance to the building was a giant blue wizard’s hat covered with stars and a moon. I recognized it as the hat Mickey Mouse wore when he was the sorcerer’s apprentice in
Then I was a few blocks past the studio. I entered into a pretty residential neighborhood. A street sign showed the outline of a horse and rider, which I thought was encouraging. The road curved lazily along and then on my right the large white gate of the LA Equestrian Center appeared. Turning in I drove past a grass jump arena on my left, then what looked like retail space and a clubhouse. Behind the low buildings the darker shadow of an indoor arena showed against pale clouds. On my right was more grass, a little house, a dressage arena, and then three barns with parking out front.
There weren’t a lot of cars. There was the familiar shape of a vet’s truck parked near one barn, and I knew someone was having a stressful night. I shivered with sympathy. There was nothing worse than needing a vet in the wee small hours for your horse. The only other vehicle was an SUV. The interior light was on, and I saw someone inside. She appeared to be texting. I pulled up next to her and cut the headlights. We eyed each other through rain-washed car windows.
What I saw was a young woman around my age with a mane of thick black hair. We both stepped out of our cars and pulled up our hoods against the persistent rain. She was taller than me (of course), with really long legs. No matter how you sliced it I was short, and short is hard when you ride dressage.
“Why don’t we wait in the breezeway?” she suggested and pointed at the wide doorway into the first barn.
“Sounds like a plan.”
We ran inside. There were the sounds of shifting hooves in sawdust, a soft
“Hi, I’m Natalie Ogden. You must be Linnet.”
“Yep.” We smiled at each other.
“Well, at least he didn’t arrive at two a.m.,” Natalie said. “I’d be getting up at five anyway, so this wasn’t too bad.”
“Wow, you’re hard-core. I get up at six,” I said
“I’m at the gym by five thirty because my first lesson is at seven.”
“So, what is the plan? What did Jolly … Mr. Bryce arrange?”
“I’ll work the horse when you can’t, and if you want coaching that’s included,” she said.
“Oh, that would be great. Eyes on the ground.”
“What level do you ride?” Natalie asked.
“I’ve ridden the Grand Prix, but then I lost my horse and just haven’t had much heart for it. Vento is a joy. He’s third level right now, but he’ll go up the levels really quickly. But you’ll see.”
Small talk, punctuated by more than a few yawns filled the minutes until we heard the deep-throated rumble of a diesel engine. We stepped to the door of the barn as a giant semi pulled down the road. It went past us and into a large dirt area where it carefully turned around. We braved the rain as the haulers jumped out of the cab and began pulling down the ramp on the side of the truck and putting safety rails in place. There were plaintive whinnies from inside the giant rig, which set off a chorus of neighs, whinnies, bugles, and whickers from across the Equestrian Center. I realized there were more barns on the other side of the facility, and in front of me was a galloping track and another big jump arena. It was an impressive setup.
I moved up to the edge of the ramp. In the front end of the truck were four yearling Clydesdales looking nervous and alarmed. Across from them was a box stall. One of the haulers pulled open the gate, and Vento stepped out. The baby Clydesdales were as large as my boy, but it didn’t matter. He was perfect in my eyes. His expression was curious but soft. No sign of alarm or nerves. The man brought him down the ramp, and put the lead rope in my hand. While the driver got Natalie to sign the shipping order indicating we’d received the horse, the hauler said to me, “Nicest horse I’ve ever hauled. Nothing bothers him. I swear I kept expecting him to talk.”
I patted Vento’s neck. “He is great, isn’t he.”
“Oh, there’s a blanket for him.” He ran back up the ramp and emerged with a bulging black plastic garbage sack.
Natalie led us to his stall. Vento paced around, inspecting his surroundings, pawed the shavings, lay down, and had a good roll. He then stood and shook, sending shavings flying. It made him look like a fantasy horse figure in the center of a shaken snow globe. He then paced to the front of the stall and studied me carefully.
I went off and prepared a bran mash mixed with carrots and apples and moistened with corn oil and hot water. Natalie and I watched as he ate, though he paused after every couple of bites to gaze at me.
“I can see why you’re so crazy about him. It’s like he thinks that you’re his rather than the other way around, and he’s making sure you’re all right,” Natalie said.
“Yep. He’s special. Look, how about if we meet tomorrow and get him out for a ride.” I dug into my purse for my card case. I was still carrying the one that had been dented by a killer’s bullet. It was a good reminder. Of what I wasn’t exactly sure, but I just felt I needed to keep it, and not replace the case. I gave Natalie my card. “My cell phone number and email address are on there. We’ll coordinate a time.”
“Good.” She checked her watch. “Well, off to the club.”
“Well, back to bed,” I said and we exchanged smiles.
I wasn’t meeting Maslin until ten a.m. Plenty of time to catch another few hours of sleep. Back in the car I checked the time. Five thirty. Which put it at—I did sleep-deprived calculation—eight thirty in New York. Jolly would want to know his horse had arrived safely. I dug out my phone and called. He answered on the first ring.
“Hi, Jolly, the boy arrived. Looking calm and collected and fresh as a daisy. I fixed him up with a bran mash, and I’ll give him today to rest.”
“Excellent. I’ve been following the news reports about this shooting. Bound to make your situation more complicated.” He had one of those teeth-aching, upper-class English accents that made you think of PBS and
“Yes, you can definitely say that … especially since I was there for the gunfest.”
Joylon audibly gasped. “Were you hurt?”
“No. Well, I got cut by a piece of broken glass, but I avoided being a bullet magnet.” My hand was slick with sweat and I realized I was shaking. “It was really scary.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“Not really, no.”
