Any chance on getting the ball rolling on this one again? I need some help here… 
Roessel thought about it for a few minutes and decided he would call Carleton Phipps. After all, he and Carleton went way back; Carleton had just been starting out as a trainer at the same time Roessel was at his peak. And, they both knew Fiona. “Yes,” Roessel decided, “Carleton is the person to call.”
30 seconds later, Roessel was on the phone with his secretary, Stacey. “Hello, Stacey? Can you find me a Mr. Carleton Phipps? No, I don’t know where he lives, but its probably in a horsey town like Southern Pines or Middleburg. Thanks.”
Ten minutes later, Stacey had found a Carleton Phipps, located in Southern Pines, North Carolina. Roessel gave it a try.
“Hello, Carleton? This is F. Roessel, I used to train dressage horses? Oh good, you remember me. Well, to get right to the point, I found a gorgous bay, undernourished, thoroughbred gelding wandering around in my back pastures. Looks like he’s been to hell and back; got scrapes and bumps all over his legs. And his hooves are eaten up by thrush. But he looks, moves, and acts like a champion hunter. Anyways, why I’m calling is that Ms. Fiona Ford, I’m sure you remember her…Oh you work for her? Oh well then…Well, Ms. Ford is very interested in this horse and claims it to be hers. But, if I know anything about Fiona…Oh you want to come see the horse? You think there might be something going on here? Well alright, anytime’s convinient…Tomorrow afternoon? Okay well I’ll see you there! Thank you Carleton.”
The second Roessel hung up the phone, a rusted up red truck, followed by a tan trailer, came barreling up the drive…
“YOU were?” She pulled her hand from his. Jackie stared at him, “It was YOU?!?”
Looking deeply into her eyes, Heath said fervently, "I’m really sorry, Jackie. I had to, but
I don’t want you to get Kurt… HURT…
“I don’t believe you! It is Destiny! It has to be. I’ll prove it.”
Jackie ran to the barn, Heath at her heels. She pulled the stunning bay from his stall. Without touching a brush to him, she plopped a saddle on his back.
“My Destiny will do anyting for me. You watch.”
“Watergate,” Heath pleaded nervously, meaning “please wait.”
Before he could restructure his sentence, she was mounted. Not bothering to warm the big horse up, she started across the arena. His trot was big, rhytmic and poweful. He thrust her from the saddle in her posting motion.
She flung back her head, shaking her hair in the breeze, enjoying the freedom of riding without a helmet. She pushed Destiny into a canter, faster and faster. His stride flowed like liquid fire.
“Watch this,” she shouted to Heath. At a strong canter, she headed Destiny straight for the wall, the solid wall. The wall that represented all the hopes and fears of the show ring rider. The wall they must all leap before they were considered real riders by Eric and his group. The wall had become a symbolic right of passage, a solid four feet of wood and nails, the entry into the jumper ring.
“Watch me,” Jackie laughed exultantly, as she opened Destiny’s stride.
“Gallop wall, don’t fall!” Heath garbled hyserically, meaning “the damn wall won’t fall!”
Eric, quietly reading The Chronicle of the Horse inside his office, heard those words and looked at his window, only to see Jackie approaching the jump, too fast, too flat.
Jackie threw her heart over. Unfortunately, Destiny found the wrong spot and slammed on the brakes. Jackie flew over the wall, and crumpled in a heap on the other side.
Eric ran full speed from his office. Before he knew it, he was in front of Heath.
“What are you doing, coaching one of MY clients?” He punched Heath so hard he heard the nasal bone crack. Blood flew.
Heath, for once speechless, started for Jackie…
He subsided into the soft leather couch, shaking his head.[quote Kryswyn]
Heaving a sigh, Erik allowed his fury to abate–but not his frustration;
“Dammit, Heath! I didn’t mean to take everything out on you…but let’s face it! You’re a part of this charade…!”
“…And you, Jackie!” he chided, “What kind of stunt were you trying to pull out there? Do you think that you’re immortal? Or maybe you think that that horse–whoever he is–is equipped with some some of anti-gravity capabilities!”
Jackie’s eyes lowered, her face reddening with chagrin; “You’re right, Erik…it was a foolish, stupid thing to do. I’m so sorry–I…I guess I was just out of my mind, what with everything that’s been happening…”
Erik’s demeanor softened, even more, as he looked into Jackie’s wide, green eyes. He felt his heart melting at the way her feathery lashes flickered against her tears. Impulsively, he moved toward her, gathering her into his arms;
“Don’t…don’t, Jackie…” I just couldn’t bear it if anything happened to you." A flash of something too awful to remember tried to take hold, but he refused to let it linger…
As she melted into his embrace, he felt a surge of protectiveness–and an unexpected longing–in the sensation of her body pressed against his. He hadn’t allowed himself the luxury of wondering what it would be like to hold her. Abruptly, he held her away, and tilted her face upward;
“No more stupid pet tricks, okay?” Erik chuckled, trying for some levity, and then gently kissed the tip of her upturned nose.
“I promise, Erik…” she said, gamely stifling a shuddering sob.
Heath watched this display from his vantage point across the room. His eyes smoldered, taking in the electricity that he sensed passing between them. Oddly, in the quiet place inside his brain, the words he was unable to utter aloud flowed freely. He was thinking that Erik was wrong for Jackie–she was meant to be in his arms! If only he could speak his heart–as easily as it pounded out it’s unheard message!
. . . Erik Highborne Booth III. Jackie had known of Erik for many years; his uncanny ability to transform horses with dubious promise into successful show hunters and jumpers was legendary.
Nevertheless, Erik was a mystery to most. Somewhat reclusive and always unpredictable, ten years ago he had suddenly disappeared from the horse world. Some speculated that his heart had been broken; others that the money had run out due to mismanagement or circumstances more sinister. The truth remained buried, however, and everything about Erik’s demeanor suggested that inquiries about the past were unwelcome.
So, for reasons known only to himself, Erik had abandoned the horse world for ten years or more. But now he was back and was accepting clients at his new facility - and that fact was the only thing of any importance to Jackie.
Mosby’s was bustling that evening. Vanessa, who had stopped and started smoking more times than Jackie cared to think, exhaled a thin stream of bluish smoke and leaned forward on the table, obviously anxious to share a salacious piece of gossip . . .
[This message has been edited by Inverness (edited 08-08-2000).]
[This message has been edited by Inverness (edited 08-08-2000).]
<BLOCKQUOTE class=“ip-ubbcode-quote”><font size="-1">quote:</font><HR>Originally posted by Razumny] Austin padded away to find an uncovered water bowl in one of the home’s six bathrooms…[/B]<HR></BLOCKQUOTE>
Selectively quenching his thirst from the only one that wasn’t tainted ‘Tide-Dee-Flush’ blue, he lapped up his fill, musing; “…Wonder if Martha’s Chow was actually color-blind, rest his soul…!”
Erik lay motionless amid the rumpled sheets and wayward pillows of a sleepless night. Now, as the dawn struggled to break through the interminable hours of darkness, he breathed a sigh of weary relief.
He welcomed the long days devoted to the farm’s startup. They provided an escape from the ghosts that wanted to claim his sanity. Nighttime had become his enemy. He hated it…almost as passionately as he had loved her.
His gaze wandered, coming to rest upon the framed photograph of the golden girl who was no more. “Lacey…” he heard himself whisper, his steel-grey eyes clouding with the ache of longing.
The stillness of the moment was broken by the sounds of the barn coming to life. Whinnies punctuated the morning air, and Erik found himself wondering what this particular day had in store. The new horse was arriving, as was his owner. He only hoped that she would…
[This message has been edited by EquiMom (edited 08-13-2000).]
<BLOCKQUOTE class=“ip-ubbcode-quote”><font size="-1">quote:</font><HR>Originally posted by EquiMom:
[quote: Flight Check] “How DOES one go about getting in touch with Johnny Cochran?”----<HR></BLOCKQUOTE>
Feeling that the free legal advice she’d gotten from Dillingham Defendum was worth the price, Jackie hired “Dilly” as he was universally known, on the spot and had him fire off a letter stating same to Dewey Cheatham & Howe.
The reply from DC&H was swift and sure. Sadly, Jackie had not thought to inquire why Dilly was still only a junior partner at the age of 58. It seemed Dilly never had been able to read well, and he had missed several salient points of the will. To wit:
The words “True Love” were capitalized, denoting they were a defined term, or as DC&H’s client maintained, the name of a specific HORSE. The client further maintained that Jackie had discussed this fact with Mrs Evers-Oftinhead.
Second, the crucial paragraph at the bottom of the will clearly stated that Jackie had a time limit: “In regards to my heir finding True Love, I believe the sooner she finds True Love the happier she will be. Therefore, to encourage Jackie to get the lead out, she should be united with her True Love before her 35th birthday and the world should know how good True Love can be by their second anniversary.”
Jackie’s spirits took a second nosedive. True Love was a HORSE?? She’d dated all manner of jerks trying to find true love when she should’ve been trying out horses??? Geez, she’d even let that one guy… But more frightening was that her 35th birthday was fast approching. Was she a pauper again?
[This message has been edited by Kryswyn (edited 08-17-2000).]
It was a picture of Diane Amos that had fallen between the desk and the liquer cabinet. Heavy black ink exes covered her face. In fact, if you didn’t know that ONLY Diane wore TAUPE Tailored Sportsmans, it would’ve been impossible to recognize her. Why would Erik have a defaced picture of Diane Amos in the tack room? What did it mean? Vanessa had implied they’d been involved, but this? What had she gotten herself into?
[This message has been edited by Kryswyn (edited 08-08-2000).]
[This message has been edited by Kryswyn (edited 08-10-2000).]
Having reduced the corner of the presuming stranger’s tack trunk to splinters, Whiskey had headed off on the evening’s round of mice, rabbit, and fox trails. He checked the mice in the haybarn. Close, but not close enough, his lightening paw just missed a huge-eyed field mouse. He sauntered through the paddocks, totally unconcerned about the huge animals contentedly grazing in the moonlight.
The soft night air brought a whiff of stale, unwashed human scent almost but not quite overlaying a tantalizing hint of…Could it be? Virginia Country HAM! Bonus! It meant crossing the road, but Whiskey was smart about that. In no time he had reached the car. What was that strange thing hanging out the window? No matter, the delicious ham smell was coming from the backseat. It was a simple matter for the big cat to jump through the open rear window. Unfortunately, the action of a 28 pound cat leaping into a car results in an equal REaction from the vehicle which alerted the driver that he was no longer alone. Surprisingly fast reflexes allowed him to turn and pull a gun, the barrel of which unluckily knocked the purloined treat from Whiskey’s mouth. Enraged the cat batted both paws, claws extended, into the thief’s hands. Whap, whap, whap whap whap!. “AAAgggh!” the knives the ninja was using were amazingly sharp. The gun fired as he dropped it sending the bullet into the seat. Now truly pissed off Whiskey leapt at the man’s face. But he’d turned back to the wheel and Whiskey ended up embedding all four paws into the man’s scalp!
“Help me JESUS” he screamed as the car shot forward out of hiding and across the road. Gloria Trask, going to check on the car, had to jump clear as it exploded from its hiding spot. Unable to see with his furry feline toupee, the car came to a sickening stop in the brick pier that marked the side of the driveway entrance to Highborne Farm.
Everyone converged on the car just as the airbag was deflating. “Yeewwh,” said Jackie. “look at all that blood!”
“Is he dead?” Kelly asked. “Eskay knickerbocker” Heath replied, which Jackie translated for her, “As a doorknob” But Heath said no! call a doctor. Gloria hit *911 on her cell phone as Ruth yelled from the barn, “What’s happening!!??”
Just then Kelly saw Whiskey racing from the vehicle once again in possession of the sandwich. “Oh no! The CAT!”
“Call a doctor!” Heath shouted, pleased he’d been able to get the words out. With that the “doorknob” moaned and began to come to.
“Where am I? Mommy, what happened?” he said gazeing unsteadily at Jackie, who replied:
“I’m not your Mommy, you jerk, and we want some answers!”
The reunion between owner and horse had been wonderful to see. The police had been and gone, although Vanessa had made it obvious she LOVE seeing the deputy who’d interviewed her again.
The efficient staff had cleaned the tack room as soon as the police gave their okay. The barn manager, an energetic young woman named Ruth, had even called and ordered a new Delagrange for Jackie to be shipped overnight.
Maribeth Charles, definitely miffed for not being included in the attention-fest was stamping her pretty shod foot and demanding to be taken out to lunch since “there’s just too much going on here to hold a meaningful conversation.”
<BLOCKQUOTE class=“ip-ubbcode-quote”><font size="-1">quote:</font><HR>Originally posted by Razumny:
This fact meant that 45 horses were spared an untimely death. Muldoon frowned at his next thought. It also meant that the bomber would be back . . .<HR></BLOCKQUOTE>
But the bomber didn’t come back. Instead he chose another prominent hunter/jumper barn in Middleburg. A barn owned by a certain Fiona Forde…And this time he was successful.
By the time Muldoon arrived on the scene, the barn was a pile of smoldering ashes. The firefighters had left hours ago, after containing the fire. 5 horses had been trapped inside and were lost, including Fiona’s prize Amateur-Owner Hunter, Pizazz, a large chestnut with 4 white stockings and a thick blaze.
Muldoon found Ms. Forde sitting in her Mercedes SUV, sipping on a large mug of herbal tea. She had a grim expression on her pretty face, and Muldoon could see that traces of mascara had run down her cheeks.
He knocked on the passenger side window, and she rolled it down. “Yes,” she asked in a firm voice.
“Ms. Forde?” asked Muldoon
“Yes…what do you want?”
“Well, Ms. Forde, I would like to ask you a few questions. I work for the FBI and have been assigned to a case of recent bombings of prominent horse farms.”
“I see…” replied Fiona. “Get in the car.” Muldoon opened the door and climbed into the large leather seat.
“Well, to start with, do you have any known ememies?” asked Muldoon.
“Of course. Who doesnt, especially in the horse world. There are so many backstabbers out there…”
“Is there anybody who comes mind immediatly Ms. Forde?”
“Well, actually yes there is. Does the name Muffy Herdfelt ring a bell? Of course, she used to go by Melissa Madison Hardford”
“You’ve got to be kidding!” exclaimed Muldoon. “You dont think it was THE Melissa Madison Hardford!”
“Well, not neccessarily, but its certainly possible,” stated Fiona.
[This message has been edited by Ben & Me (edited 08-27-2000).]
“Heath, I need to ask you something…”
“Yesssssss?” he whispered huskily into the back of her neck.
“I need to know…” Her question was cut off by a loud commotion at the back of the pub. Shouting, followed by a piercing scream. Then deafening silence. Jackie and Heath both jumped up to see what had happened, neither knowing what to expect. As they pushed their way to the back of the pub they found…
The gang was all crowded into Kelly’s truck as they pulled out of the ranch and on their way to culpepper, with Destiny, Sailor and True Love in the trailer. Only they were going to show True Love under the name he was given to Kelly as, “last Call”.
“I can’t wait to get to the show, I have never been to a h/j show before, this is exciting! Sailor will be SO excited!” Said Kelly.
Kelly was going to show Sailor in the pre-greens, as she had been jumping him a bit since she got him and why not? It could prove to be fun, besides, Sailor LOVED jumping.
The drive seemed to take forever, but they finally arrived, and had JUST finished getting the horses tucked in, complete with surveylance cameras and alarms on the stall doors, hey, you can’t be too carefull! Also, there were two FBI agents in inconspicious places watching the horses all night long.
They were just about to sit down when…
[This message has been edited by devildog20 (edited 08-31-2000).]
Back at Highborne, it was life as usual. Everyone wants the night off, so the manager has to hang around. How in the world was Ruth going to meet the girl of her dreams stuck on the farm on a Friday night?
But Ruth was nothing if not concientious. If she was being paid to watch the horses, she darn well would. She left her apartment for the 9 p.m check. What bozo left the lights on in the tack room?
As she reached the barn, the tack room light went out. A piercing “MmmmRREEEAAAOOOO” split the night as a foot trod on a barncat’s tail. Ruth hit the lights, and took Diane Amos by complete surprise.
In her best manager’s voice, Ruth said,
“You know the barn is closed now, Ms Amos. May I ask you why you’re here?”
With the speed a chamelon would surely envy, Diane went from frightened trespasser to startled invited guest.
“Oh, how you spooked me, Ruthie!” she said clutching her pearls, “I was just leaving Erik a note…”
“Ms. Amos, Erik told you he never wanted to to see you again. Why are you really here?”
“Oh, he didn’t really mean it, Ruthie, he was just being, well you know how men get. Nudge nudge wink wink knowhatImean?”
With total candor Ruth replied, “No ma’am, I can’t honestly say I know how men get.”
Diane’s eyes narrowed as she reviewed Ruth’s lithe, boyish figure, the slim hips, the short sandy ‘butch’ cut of her hair. “Nooo,” she said consideringly, “maybe you don’t. But,” she said in a false, bright tone,“it doesn’t matter anyway, because Erik’s not here, so I’ll just be leaving.” She pushed her way past as Ruth said softly,
“I know why you’re here Ms. Amos.”
She whirled like a striking cobra and said in a voice filled with cold and dripping malice,
“Then you know better than to tell anyone I was here, don’t you, you little Virginia Pool Boy?”
Diane smiled in satisfaction at Ruth’s blanched face and strode out of the barn into the night.
[This message has been edited by Kryswyn (edited 08-10-2000).]
(I wasn’t prepared for this to be finished)
As they all boarded a Quantas flight bound for Sydney, Jackie reflected on the twists and turns her life had taken in the past couple of months.
The horses were carefully hidden with a trusted friend and they were all off to see the Eventing, Dressage and Jumpers of the 2000 Olympiad. How exciting for them all and how generous of Kelly to take them.
They had two weeks of horses, sun and relaxation and then back to figure out exactly what was going on.
At least now the horses were safe…
<BLOCKQUOTE class=“ip-ubbcode-quote”><font size="-1">quote:</font><HR>Originally posted by Regalmeans:
She took a deep breath and…<HR></BLOCKQUOTE>
walked foward towards the sound of the noise. A tall woman wearing dark sunglasses, tight Levis and a black tank top was standing next to the truck. She had raven black hair. Savannah realized that the only person that she knew who had hair that color was Diane Amos. But Diane was supposed to be at her farm in Middleburg. Savannah was supposed to be closer to Warrenton. But then again, who knew where she had wondered to.
Standing next to Diane was a man wearing coveralls and combat boots. He was holding a skinny, undernourished bay gelding and hitting him with a stick, trying to get him back onto a tan van. The gelding had a chain through his mouth and was throwing up quite a fight for a horse so underfed.
Savannah had no idea what was going on, but she realized she had to get out of there before they realized she was there.
But, as she turned around, her Dehner clod foot tred a on twig. It gave a loud snap the gelding spooked, taking off into the woods.
“You go after the horse. I’ll see what made that noise,” Savannah heard Diane’s voice say. Savannah ran for her life…
Has suffering pines been swallowed by some deep dark chasm of writer’s cramp?
Will Carleton get the girl?
I need to know! 
The doors of the truck burst open, and Fiona and Diane both pop out like jacks-in-the-box.
Fiona, putting on her best smile, “Oh Mr. Roussel! We can’t thank you enough for finding our horse. Where is he?” Diane pipes in, “We need to get him loaded up as we’re in a bit of a hurry to get to Southern Pi-i-iyyouch!”
She shoots a look to Fiona to see why she’d just piched the back of her arm. Seeing the dark look returned to her, she sheepishly explains, “Oh, sorry. Er…A deerfly bit me.”
Fiona continues, “Yes, actually we are in a bit of a hurry, so if you could just point the way…”
But Roussel doesn’t budge. “Ladies, ladies. Please. Before I just let you waltz in and take this horse, who has plainly been through an awful lot, you need to explain a few things.”
Diane and Fiona glance nervously at each other. Dimpling at Roussel, Diane starts to stammer out an explanation.
“Stop. I will ask the questions, and you will answer them. If you cannot answer them to my satisfaction, then the horse stays until I am satisfied that he is going back where he belongs and will receive the care and attention he requires.”
Now that he had their full and undivided attention, he sends the first missile across their bow.
“You see, you ladies aren’t the only ones who claim to own this horse. So, as you might guess, I’m in a bit of a quandry.” Roussel, leans back against the truck, resting a hand on his hip, exposing the bone grips of a chrome Colt 45 revolver neatly tucked into his wranglers under his Land’s End Chamois cloth shirt. “Before I release him to anybody , I’m going to need to see his registration papers, and proof of ownership. If you are his rightful owners, as you say you are, then this should be only a minor inconvenience.”
“Now, if you’d like to come sit down on the sun porch, I’d like to ask you a few simple questions…”
[This message has been edited by creseida (edited 08-10-2000).]
I’d like to interupt our regularly scheduled program for station identification:
http://pub9.ezboard.com/fthehorsecommunitythetwilightzone.showMessage?topicID=338.topic
You have admirers in low places. Keep up the good work!
We now return to the show.
