Page 60 of Trickster King

“That’s a good plan.”

“What’s the deal with the sored horse?”

“Some idiots from another kingdom decided to sore a horse that naturally high steps. Stupidity. It’s just blatant stupidity.”

Jerrod sighed. “That happens a lot in the horse world. I’ve lost count of the number of idiot owners who dumped a horse just because they didn’t feel they’d get first place out of the gate. Maybe I should work with Hawkins to pull out a Grand Prix contender from the auction on the cheap, then you can try for the Grand Prix on numerous cheap horses.”

That would be the ultimate slap in the face to a bunch of asshole owners who cared more about their purses than the horses in their care. “Consider that a plan. Hawkins pitched seven hundred for good, young horses.”

“That’s a solid number. The auction house won’t lose much, they’ll get paid more than the meat market offers, and you’ll get first crack at good horses up for sale. It won’t stop the general auctions, but the animals won’t go to the meat market.”

“Exactly. I can’t stop the meat market from taking horses, but at least I can give the young ones a chance at a good life. And the ones with severe defects? The choice is ultimately cremation, a hole in the ground, or the meat market. The horse is going to likely die anyway. At least the horse’s death serves a purpose.”

“And that’s a lot coming from you, as you fought to keep both your horses from being sent to the meat market.” Jerrod led me back to Hawkins, who brought out the next horse in the line, a pale mare as gaunt as the stallion.

I cooed to her, introduced myself, and did my best to comfort her as she struggled to walk. “Aren’t you just the prettiest little thing?” Determined to keep the animal from detecting my anger over her condition, I kept my tone gentle and my movements slow. Taking the lead from Hawkins, I resumed the slow process of guiding her to the trailer.

“Hawkins, I’m going to bring the trailer right into the barn if you’ve got the clearance.”

“I’ve got the clearance. I’ll get the doors open and make space. That’s probably for the best. They’re tired.”

Tired was one way to put it. With the help of the ramp, we got her loaded without much of a fuss. The ramp helped.

I doubted she would have been able to climb in otherwise.

After a discussion with Randy, Jerrod, and Hawkins, I got nominated to be the poor bastard to maneuver the trailer into the barn. My years as a skittish driver afraid of the speed limit doomed me to handle the rig.

Despite having learned many tricks, I remained gentle on the gas, and the last thing the horses needed was rough handling. Backing the trailer with two sickly horses inside tested my nerves, but the barn had more than ample space, and the majority of my job involved keeping the truck straight.

Once parked, I got out and went to Randy. “I think I deserve more stunt courses.”

“I can agree to that, and I’ll warn Charlie you need something to take the edge off. I’ll see if he’s got any cars up for crushing. I think a round with some construction equipment would do you a world of good.”

After the first time I’d wistfully acknowledged I wanted to see if driving construction equipment was as fun as it looked, I’d gotten to drive a sidewalk plow in Maine during the winter. I’d initially suspected Jessica for the outing, but Randy had later confessed he’d put it together as an incentive. “The big one with the chomping jaws?”

He snickered. “I can see about sourcing one for an afternoon of amusement for you and your wife. After this week, she’ll be ready for a round, too. Maybe we’ll get enough equipment the whole team can take a stab at destroying something.”

“Has my run for freedom finally gotten under your skin, Randy?”

“No, it’s not that. You’re doing an admirable job of trying to behave. You’re not succeeding, but you’re trying.”

Despite the severity of the situation with the horses, I managed a laugh. “I’ll try a little better starting tomorrow. Today, I have horses to get to the center and a long night ahead of me. And if my sleep schedule is completely screwed by the time we make it back to Dallas, I’ll blame the bastards who abused these horses.”

“We can spin it,” the head of my detail confirmed. “Just try to hold yourself together.”

“I’ll try. I’m not making any promises, but I’ll try.”

FOURTEEN

“That vet bill is gonna be something fierce.”

In what I counted as a miracle, all eight horses survived the night, including the filly who stood at death’s door. When I’d been told a filly, I’d expected an older animal, weaned and ready to see the world. Instead, I got a youngling no more than a month old who needed milk in a barn ill-prepared for unexpected foals.

Thanks to Hawkins thinking on his feet, he called some of his friends along the way, one of whom had a friendly mare who overproduced milk, was on the verge of weaning her foal, and might be coaxed into allowing the filly to nurse.

At six in the morning, the mare arrived with her colt at her side. As I’d gotten good results in the past coercing mares into sharing milk, the job fell to me. While we might get enough goat’s milk to do the job, the filly needed to nurse if we wanted her to survive for the week needed to get her back on her hooves and on the road to recovery.

A mare’s milk contained necessary antibodies that would help the filly fight off any infections, something goat’s milk could not provide.

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