Billie noticed that as he did this, he was also watching the inspectors at work behind him. At a moment when they became especially busy looking at other horses, she saw him mouth to Eudora, “Okay, now.”
Eudora bent to adjust the chains around the horse’s legs. Billie saw her slip a screwdriver from her pocket and use it to tighten the metal bands holding the stacked shoes onto the hooves. Almost instantly, the horse shifted its weight from foot to foot. Eudora looked up at Sylvie and nodded. Sylvie gathered the reins, sat tall, and set her spurs into the horse’s flanks. It leaped forward, scattering handlers and inspectors.
Sylvie spotted Billie and pointed. Eudora darted at her like a snake striking. Billie ducked, tried to run, but the crowds blocked her.
“Coming through!” She slipped into the stream of spectators and allowed it to carry her deeper into the viewing areas around the arena then up a flight of metal stairs into the grandstand.
The bleachers were packed. She climbed over the benches below the walkway and sat down, looking toward the inspection area, then the food kiosks. Her heart banged in her throat, and she gasped for breath.
“You okay?” the elderly man seated in front of her had turned and was staring. Billie realized she was breathing quick, audible gasps.
She nodded. “It’s hot!”
“Need a doctor?”
She shook her head no. “I’ll be okay in a minute. Thanks.”
She thought she felt her phone vibrate in her pocket and pulled it out to answer, but its screen was still blank, the glass a spiderweb of cracks.
“I think it’s broken,” the man in front of her said.
She nodded then turned back to look at the crowd. She didn’t see anyone following her, but they’d come soon. They couldn’t let her escape to charge them with kidnapping. And if they caught her, she was dead.
She tapped the old man’s shoulder. “Can I borrow your phone? Just for a moment?”
He handed her an ancient flip phone and she thanked him.
She got Frank’s voice mail. “I’m at the Big Show—the big horse show championship. I was kidnapped and locked up. I got free. I’m hurt but I’m going back. Dale Thornton did it to me. He’s in the news for soring horses. Just telling you in case I don’t get out. Start by looking at him.”
She slapped the phone shut and handed it back to the old man, who was staring at her. “You need help?”
She tried to smile. “I’m okay.”
“You don’t sound it.”
Quickly, she stood and thanked him again. She headed back down to the warm-up area.
“Ladies and gentlemen!” the announcer rejoiced. “Put your hands together and welcome the best of the best of the walking horse breed. Vying for this year’s world grand champion title!”
A groom pushed past Billie as she made her way toward the in-gate. A brown and white spotted horse, rider up, surrounded by crew, loomed ahead of her. Behind them, a dozen or more horses milled around or stood tied or held by grooms in the final moments of preparation before going into the ring. She recognized Sylvie’s golden ponytail at the back of the group in the warm-up area and ducked behind a pillar in case she turned.
“…from Rocky Top, Tennessee riding, well, Rocky Top!”
Billie realized she’d only been half listening to the blaring announcer. At the name Rocky Top, the rider in front charged his brown and white stallion through the chute toward the arena. His crew ran alongside, whooping and whipping the horse’s belly and flanks. Despite the pain in his feet and legs, the stallion moved faster and faster, spurred forward into a solid wall of hoots, cheers, stomping, and clapping from the audience.
A hand fell heavily onto Billie’s shoulder. Would anyone hear her scream in the din? She spun, ready to fight for her life.
“Hey you!” Simeon still held the reins of the horse he’d tried to sell her. “If you’d bought him, you’d be on your way to glory tonight!”
She had to fight for his meaning, that he was talking not about her danger but about the shrieking audience, the brilliant lights, and the trembling horse he held.
“Get your fat ass over here, Royal,” he shouted to his son. In full dress riding clothes, his shiny black pants legs folded up to stay clean, bowler hat crammed onto his head and sweat pouring from beneath its brim, Royal shuffled over. He nodded to Billie and, grunting, heaved himself into the saddle. Jazz sagged then recovered.
Stressed though she was, Billie noticed how well Royal sat the horse, as if he’d left a hundred pounds behind him.
“When do you go in?” she asked.
“He’s next to last,” his father answered for him.
“How are you feeling?”
“Like barfing.” Royal answered for himself.
“You’ll be fine,” she told him. She glanced over toward Sylvie, who still seemed unaware of her.
“I know! But you asked how I feel and that’s how I feel. Doesn’t mean I will barf, just that I could.”
She stepped back against the wall and wished she could call Frank again. If only she had a working phone. He might answer. He might even be calling her now…
She heard her name and turned. Richard embraced her.
“How great to see you!” His arms tightened around her, rigid as metal strapping. “I’ve got people I want you to meet after the show.”
She tried to wrench away but he held her. “Come with me,” he said loudly. “How’s things in Arizona? I sure do miss it there.”
His arm around her, he guided her toward the chute, held her in waiting behind the next horse to enter, then shoved her along behind. “Come sit with me while we watch Sylvie,” he roared. “Won’t be long now.” He pushed her forward, up the stairs to the lowest tier of benches then to a stretch of empty seats. He shoved her into one and sat beside her, never letting go.
“What the fuck is going on?” she
