Page 102 of You'll Find Out
Ominous gray clouds darkened the sky over the buildings of Starlight Breeding Farm. It hadn’t changed much since the last time Brig had visited. A quick glance at the buildings told him that only the most critically needed repairs had been completed in the last six years. All in all, the grounds were in sad shape. Brig had to grit his teeth together when he noticed the chipped paint on the two-storied farmhouse and the broken hinge on the gate. With a knowledgeable eye, he surveyed the stables. It seemed as if the whitewashed barns were in better shape than the living quarters; a tribute to Rebecca’s sense of priority. A windmill supporting several broken blades groaned painfully against a sudden rush of air blowing down the valley. Brittle dry leaves danced in the wind before fluttering to rest against the weathered boards of a sagging wooden fence.
It was glaringly apparent that because of Sentimental Lady’s short racing career and the fact that Rebecca hadn’t owned another decent Thoroughbred, she wasn’t able to make enough money to run the farm properly. That much was evidenced in the overgrown shrubbery, the rusted gutters, and the sagging roofline of the house. It would take a great deal of cash to get the buildings back into shape, money Rebecca was sadly lacking. It was no wonder she had been forced to go to Jason for a loan. No banker in his right mind would loan money to a has-been horse breeder with only a run-down breeding farm as collateral. Guilt, like a razor-sharp blade, twisted in his conscience.
Brig made his way up the uneven steps of the porch and knocked soundly on the door. His face was set in a grim mask of determination. No matter what had happened between himself and Rebecca, he couldn’t allow her to live like this! No one answered his knock. He pressed the doorbell and wasn’t surprised when he didn’t hear the sound of a chime inside the house. After one last loud knock, he turned toward the stables. Several vehicles parked near the barns indicated that someone had to be on the property.
Rather than explore the stables, he decided to walk through the familiar maze of paddocks surrounding the barns. The first paddock had once held broodmares. Today it was empty. With the exception of a few animals, the paddocks were vacant.The last time Brig had walked through these gates, the stables had been filled to capacity with exceptional Thoroughbreds. But many of the horses were only boarded at Becca’s farm, and when the scandal over Sentimental Lady had cast doubt on Becca’s reputation, most of the animals were removed by conscientious owners.
Becca had never recaptured her reputation as being a responsible, successful horse breeder. A muscle in the corner of Brig’s jaw worked and his eyes darkened as he wondered how much of Rebecca’s misfortune was his fault. Had he truly, as she had once claimed, destroyed her reputation and her business with his unfounded accusations? How much of her burden was his?
Unconsciously he walked toward the most removed pasture, a corner paddock with the single sequoia standing guard over it. That particular field, with its lush grass and slightly raised view of the rest of the farm, had been Sentimental Lady’s home when she hadn’t been on the racing circuit.
As Brig neared the paddock he stopped dead in his tracks, barely believing what he saw. The first drops of rain had begun to fall from the darkened sky, but it wasn’t the cool water that chilled his blood or made him curse silently to himself. Color drained from his face as he watched the coffee-colored horse lift her black tail and run the length of the far fence. She stopped at the corner, impeded in her efforts to run from the stranger. She stood as far from Brig as was possible, flattened her ebony ears against her head, and snorted disdainfully.
“Sentimental Lady,” Brig whispered to himself, leaning against the top rail of the fence and watching the frightened horse intently. “I’ll be damned.” There was no doubt in his mind that this horse was Gypsy Wind.
He ran an appreciative eye from her shoulders to her tail. She was a near-perfect Thoroughbred, almost a carbon copy of Sentimental Lady. For a fleeting moment Brig thought the two horses were identical, but slowly, as his expert gaze traveled over the horse, he noted the differences. The most obvious was the lack of white markings on Gypsy Wind. Sentimental Lady had been marked with an off-center star; this dark filly bore none. But that wasn’t important, at least not to Brig. Coloring didn’t make the horse.
The most impressive dissimilarity between the two animals was the slight variation in build and body structure. Both horses were barrel-chested, but Gypsy Wind seemed to be slightly shorter than her sister and her long legs appeared heavier. That didn’t necessarily mean that Gypsy Wind’s legs were stronger, but Brig hoped they were for the nervous filly’s sake.
The shower increased and Brig wondered why Becca would allow her Thoroughbred to stand unattended in the early autumn rain. It wasn’t like Becca. She had always been meticulous in her care of Thoroughbreds, a careful breeder cautious for her horses’ health. That was what had puzzled Brig and it made it difficult for him to believe that Becca was responsible for harming Sentimental Lady . . . unless she was protecting someone.
Slowly moving along the fence so as not to startle the horse, Brig called to her. She eyed him nervously as he approached. With the same high spirit as her sister, Gypsy Wind tossed her intelligent head and stamped her right foreleg impatiently.Just like Lady.The resemblance between the two horses was eerie. Brig felt his stomach knot in apprehension. He couldn’t help but remember the last time he had seen Sentimental Lady alive. It was a nightmare that still set his teeth on edge. He remembered it as clearly as if it had just happened.
Sentimental Lady had virtually been lifted into her stall by Ian O’Riley and his assistants. She tried to lie down, but was forced to stay on her feet by a team of four veterinarians. A horse resting on its side for too long might develop paralysis.
Her pain was deadened with ice while the chief veterinarian managed to sedate the frantic animal. She was led to the operating room where she nearly died, but was kept alive by artificial respiration and stimulants. Brig concentrated on the slow expansion and contraction of her chest. He and Rebecca had agreed with the veterinarians. They had no choice but to operate because of the contamination in the dirt-filled wound. Though the anxious horse needed no further trauma, there were no other options to save her.
Brig watched in silent horror as the veterinarian removed the fragments of chipped bone and tried to repair the severely torn ligaments. After flushing the wound with antibiotics and saline solutions, drains were inserted in the leg. Finally an orthopedist fit a special shoe and cast onto Sentimental Lady’s damaged foreleg. At that moment, the operation appeared to be successful.
The agonizing minutes ticked by as Sentimental Lady was eased out of anesthesia. When she regained control of her body she awoke in a frenzy. She struck out and knocked down the veterinarian who was with her. As her hoof kicked against the side of the stall, she broke off her specially constructed shoe. Within minutes, while Ian tried vainly to calm her, the flailing horse had torn her cast to shreds and her hemorrhaging and swelling had increased. Blood splattered against the sides of the stall.
“It’s no use,” Ian had told Brig. “She was too excited from the race and the pain—they’ll never be able to control her again. It’s her damned temperament that’s killing her!” He turned back to the horse. “Slow down, Lady! Slow down.” For his efforts he was rewarded with a kick in the leg.
“Get him out of there!” the veterinarian ordered, and Dean helped Ian from the stall. “I don’t think there’s anything we can do for her.”
The options had run out. All four veterinarians agreed that Sentimental Lady couldn’t withstand another operation. Even if she were stable, it would be difficult. In her current state of frenzied pain, it was impossible. An artificial limb was out of the question, as was a supportive sling: Sentimental Lady’s high-strung temperament wouldn’t allow her to convalesce.
Brig walked back to the waiting room where Rebecca sat with Martha. Her green eyes were shadowed in silent agony as she waited for the prognosis on her horse. Brig took one of her hands in his as he explained the options to Rebecca. Her small shoulders slumped and tears pooled in her eyes.
“But she’s so beautiful,” she murmured, letting the tears run down her cheeks to fall onto the shoulders of her blood-stained linen suit. “It can’t be . . .”
“This is your decision,” he said quietly. Martha put a steadying arm over Becca’s shoulders.
“I want to see her.” Becca rose and walked hesitantly to the other room, where she could observe Lady. One look at the terrified horse and the splintered cast confirmed Brig’s tragic opinion. “I can’t let her suffer anymore,” Becca whispered, closing her eyes against the terrible scene. She lowered her head and in a small voice that was barely audible repeated, “It’s all my fault . . .”
Sentimental Lady’s death had been the beginning of the end for Rebecca and Brig. He couldn’t forget her claims that she had been responsible for the catastrophe, and hadn’t fully understood what she meant until the postmortem examination had revealed that there were traces of Dexamethasone in Sentimental Lady’s body. Dexamethasone was a steroid that hadn’t been used in the surgery. Someone had intentionally drugged the horse and perhaps contributed to her death.
Because of Rebecca’s remorse and the guilt she claimed, Brig assumed that she knew of the culprit. The thought that a woman with whom he had shared so much love could betray her horse so cruelly had ripped him apart. He tried to deny her part in the tragedy, but couldn’t ignore her own admission of guilt.
The next day, when he read the newspaper reports of the event, the quote that wouldn’t leave him was that of his father as Winsome had galloped home to a hollow victory. “We threw a fast pace at the bitch and she just broke down,” Jason Chambers had claimed in the aftermath and shock of the accident. The cold-blooded statement cut Brig to the bone.
That had been six years ago, and with the passage of time, Brig had sworn never to become involved with Rebecca Peters again. And yet, here he was, in the pouring rain, attempting to capture a horse whose similarities to Sentimental Lady made him shudder. He was more of a fool than he would like to admit.
“Come here, Gypsy,” he summoned, extending his hand to touch the horse’s wet muzzle. “Let me take you inside.”
Gypsy Wind stepped backward and shook her head menacingly.
“Come on, girl. Don’t you have enough sense to come in out of the rain?” He clucked gently at the nervous filly.
