"Suffering Pines - The Beginning"

[EquiMom]

Jackie bid Erik goodnight, and then turned to Heath.

He was sitting with his arms folded across his chest, his bruised and swollen eyes diverted. He looked so utterly dejected that she couldn’t help but feel sorry for him, in spite of what he’d admitted.

“Heath…” she said deliberately, “I know you can’t give me chapter and verse–but just tell me this…were you really going to take this madness all the way? Were you really going to…” Her voice broke off, as she finally let the tears escape.

Heath leapt to his feet, and in an instant he was at Jackie’s side; “No…Noo! Jackie–Destiny–your horse…IS yours! No cages…no changes are coming for you from me…!”

His frustration at making himself understood was almost driving him wild. Agitation made his scattered concentration even more hopeless. He suddenly rushed for the door, only to have Jackie fling herself in his path.

“No! Heath…I believe you. Don’t go…I don’t know how I know…but I do. I think you got caught up in something evil–and didn’t know it. That’s it, isn’t it…?”

Heath almost wanted to cry, too. He was so relieved to know that Jackie somehow understood–even if he hadn’t figured it all out, himself. His head ached from the effort of trying to piece together the puzzle that his life had become. He only knew one thing with any certainty–only one thing made any sense! It–she–was right there in front of him. She made sense!
The two of them, together!

“Jackie…” he said, slowly but vehemently, “I…I will…make it right! Promising! I love us–you!—You and me…together!”

Jackie’s breath caught in her throat, making her feel almost dizzy. Looking into his imploring, amber eyes, she could almost hear his thoughts–and they were telling her something pure and real and compelling. She allowed him to pull her close, and offered her understanding by permitting the tender brush of his lips. They lingered over her mouth, then slowly moved to the throbbing pulse-beat at her throat. She held him, smoothing his tousled hair, soothing his anguish with the gentleness in her welcoming embrace.

Although she spoke not a word, she felt the “link” between them opening. An empathic message passed between them–more intense than any verbal exchange could ever be–and she knew that he understood. She loved him, too.

[Finzean]

But gossip it was not for many of the patrons had noticed the older woman that had just walked purposefully up to the bar. Her hair was silver and grey, a curly uncoifed style that seemed as comfortable to her as the well worn retro polyester outfit she wore. Her appearance made her an oddity in this setting, but it was old news to those who frequented the horse shows. Inheriting a fortune built by the automotive industry, Fiona Ford had a beautiful farm in the rolling hills of Montpepier Station, next to one of the great horsemen, The Red Fox. Her stallion had produced a long line of winning mares, many stamped with his shining chestnut coat and bright chrome. A nice lady, but a child of the Lindberg era, Ms. Ford kept to herself, never one to flaunt her fortune or behave presumtiously. One could only wonder why she was in Mosby’s.

Vanessa nodded in the direction of the bar and all eyes followed her stare. “Wonder what cosmic forces have collaborated to cause this event?”

But no one had an answer, the scene was so surreal. Like a Saddlebred winning the green conformation, some things just didn’t happen. And to add to the unusual nature of Ms. Ford’s presence, who should join her at the bar with a forced smile, but Erik Booth. Vanessa, entrenched in horsedom for eons it seemed, recognized this pairing for what it was: an impossibility. But the two found themselves a table and one could only wonder what was being said amongst the exchnge of nods…

[Razumny]

The hills of the Blue Ridge resonated that evening with every variation of bark and howl. “ARRughf,” “ou, ou, ouooooo,” “grrrrOOOWWWW;” the happy news echoed from hill to valley to hill via VAdogTalk.net - the “Lost Horse of Highborne” had been found and was safe. Did anyone know of a dog at Highborne who could convey the gleefull message - or perhaps one of Highborne’s barn cats understood Canine and could receive the message? …

[Anne]

He only hoped that she would prove to be what he expected. His new business venture was beginning to clear the red, but the addition of a talented new client with a fancy horse was always welcome. His eyes again found the photo on his nightstand. "I promise, Lacey, I’ll do it right this time. I’ll. . . "

[EquiMom]

Erik was used to feeling like the odd man out–nothing more than a peripheral character–nursing a silent ache. Denying himself seemed the fitting punishment for the sin of being alive, so he’d chosen to cloister himself away.

When Jackie entered his sphere of existence, something unexpected had stirred within him. Try as he might, her face invaded his restless dreams, unbidden.

At first he attributed his preoccupation to her uncanny resemblance to his lost Lacey. But now there was something more–an insistent longing that couldn’t be contained by sheer force of will. But to acknowledge it, would be to lose the last vestige of Lacey that remained. To deny it, would be an act of self-delusion–or worse–an outright lie!

The torment he endured was heightened by his instinct to protect Jackie–but those instincts had failed him once before. If he’d had the power to protect what he loved, everything would have been different. Lacey would be alive–whole and bright and beautiful.

For what seemed like the millionth time, that fateful day played itself out against the backdrop of his all-pervasive guilt.

The morning was crisp and chill, the tang of autumn, enlivening the the green horse beneath her. He spooked at russet leaves dancing across his path, but Lacey confidently moved him forward.

“Why don’t you let me get on for a while, Lace–he’s really up today–!”

“Don’t be silly, Erik! Are you saying I can’t handle him…? You just watch–he’ll come back to me…he always does…”

“Please, Lacey! I’m not saying you can’t…just give me a chance to…”

“He’s fine–I’m going to ride the spooks out of him in the field…he loves to open up and go–that always settles him down to work! We’ll be back in a few …!”

With that, she’d turned and trotted him out of the ring–and away from Erik’s futile protestations. The rolling expanse of green shimmered in the early haze, calling forth an invitation to horse and rider.

Erik fell in behind on foot, quickening his pace across the pristine playground, where Lacey was easily working her mount into a smooth hand-gallop.

Suddenly, he realized that she had picked up speed, and was turning in the direction of the high stone wall that skirted the open vista. They’d jumped it before, riding to the hounds, on mornings not unlike this. But they’d employed old veterans of the field, sure-footed, sane and seasoned–and never so green and hot as the one Lacey now urged on to the ivy-shrouded obstacle.

What followed was like a slow-motion danse- macabre…a nightmare tableau that would haunt his every moment–for all the days to come.

Erik watched Lacey and her horse leave the ground–seeming to hover in mid-flight–in a sure-to-clear, graceful bascule.

Just as his heart was about to resume beating, he saw an errant spiral of vines insidiously snarled around a tucked hind leg. With a wrenching abruptness, the horse pitched forward and down, launching Lacey over his head, on the opposite side of the wall.

By the time he reached them, the horse was struggling, ensnared and terrified, with his flailing legs pointed skyward. Lacey was hidden beneath him. Only after his furious writhing had brought him back to his feet, was she revealed. She lay motionless–like an oddly disjointed and broken doll…

[creseida]

She looked up at the sudden sound of rapidly receding hoof beats in the aisle. She poked her head out just in time to see a horse that looked surprisingly like hers quickly being led toward a waiting horse van just outside the barn. The horse wasn’t wearing wraps or a head bumper, which Jackie found peculiar.

The old, dust-covered, beige van was conspicuous in that it had no farm name on the sides, and the license plates were mud covered despite weeks of no rain. The person leading the horse was no one she recognised, but she thought it unusual that they were wearing big, dark sunglasses on this overcast day, an over sized baseball cap, pulled low on their head, navy full-body coveralls, and what appeared to be combat boots. Unusual dress around a horse farm, indeed!

Jackie stood at the barn entrance, dumbfounded; her brain not quite comprehending that it was indeed her Destiny that had just been loaded onto the van. It wasn’t until she headed back up the aisle and noticed her horse’s stall door wide open and the halter missing from the brass horse shoe hook that she realised, it WAS her horse that had been taken! She ran back down the aisle in time to see the van quickly disappearing down the drive. The sounds of hooves kicking the truck’s sides, protesting the rough ride, echoed in her ears. Her head was spinning…who had taken her beloved Destiny and why? Where were they taking him?? Would she ever see her beautiful horse again???

She ran back inside the barn, looking around in vain, trying to find somebody…anybody who could tell her who the oddly dressed stranger was who had just taken her horse. The barn which moments ago, had seemed so full of activity, was now ominously desolate and quiet.

Jackie trotted quickly back towards the tack room to phone the police. As she burst through the six-panel mahoagny door, she stopped dead. The sight that met eyes her nearly sent her over the edge; she completely forget why she’d come back in to begin with.

The seat of her sumptuous Delgrange PJ saddle had been viciously slashed; the padding ripped out and strewn about the tackroom like trash after a HITS show. Her beautiful Edgewood bridle lay soaking in an open bucket of tar fence paint.

But the vision that would haunt her for years to come, and made her blood run cold was a message carved in the highly polish ed wood and brass-trimmed lid of her Celebrity Tack trunk that forwarned her…

[This message has been edited by creseida (edited 08-09-2000).]

[Razumny]

Meanwhile, at FBI Headquarters in downtown Washington, DC . . .

Special Agent Jim Muldoon knocked back a double espresso and glanced at the wall clock. Horses. A country chock full of mobsters, cyberhackers, and bombers and they wanted him to investigate horses.

Unfortunately, this one had come down from the Director. Someone had friends in high places. So, one day before he was supposed to escape for a week of flyfishing in Montana, he was, instead, on his way to Virginia Beach to “damn well” figure out why horse barns were going up in flames.

Muldoon slapped the file into his briefcase and headed for the underground parking garage - still savoring the gritty bitterness of the espresso.

[Kryswyn]

*****************

Destiny showed no lingering effects from his abduction two weeks earlier. His training was going smoothly and Jackie had had several good lessons on him. Jeffrey Stewart had been contracted to ride at the HITS in Florida.

The police had turned up nothing, and although, Southern Pines depended on the horse industry, since the horse had been returned, they had turned their efforts to the rash of break-ins at the local golf clubs.

Life was pretty much normal except for seemingly unrelated little things like…

[This message has been edited by Kryswyn (edited 08-09-2000).]

[Kryswyn]

Mama Evie interupted, “Would this Muffy person be about your age and build, has hair that changes color alot?”

Since everyone knew Muffy’s nickname was “Rainbow Head”, they just stared at Mama Evie. “Who want’s to know?” asked Carleton finally.

“Well–This brown cat here is sending me very nasty pictures of someone he REALLY doesn’t care for. Not only did this Rainbow lady (that’s his name for her, by the way” - the group just blanched)“lock him in a tack trunk for several evenings, but she also loaded him in a trailer that left the farm.”

Erik exclaimed, “Now wait a minute! This cat has never been gone from this farm for a single night. You must be confusing him with some other cat.”

Mama Evie and Whiskey just glared at him. “We take exception to that, cher’. Whiskey meant for a few hours several times. She lured him in with tuna, for which” she chuckled, “he now realizes he shouldn’t’ve let his tummy rule his head. The last time, he wouldn’t get in the trunk because something smelled really nasty. Black, goopy stuff?”

“DMSO” they chorused.

“So she locked him in a trailer that pulled out. He escaped over the dressing room wall into the horse section and then out over the tailgate.”

Everyone stared at each other. “Why would Muffy need to keep Whiskey locked up?” Jackie wondered allowed. Heath replied quickly, “Peas please. Bourbon Rolex twat” Giving Heath a look for his poor choice of malapropisms, Erik translated, ‘Easy, Whiskey is a watch CAT.’ Muffy must’ve been doing something she shouldn’t have been."

“It’s too bad he was locked in the trunk” Kelly said, “He didn’t see what she was doing.”

“That’s okay,” Mama Evie said, “Someone else did.”

“Who!!” they all shouted together.

[Kryswyn]

A crowd of people huddled around Vanessa, crumpled on the floor, blood pooling around her head.

[Ben_and_Me]

<BLOCKQUOTE class=“ip-ubbcode-quote”><font size="-1">quote:</font><HR>Originally posted by devildog20:
They were just about to sit down when…
<HR></BLOCKQUOTE>

Who should appear but Vannessa!

“Jackie and Erik, what’re you doing here? I thought you weren’t coming until you could find M-”

“What’re you talking about Vannie,” interrupted Jackie quickly. “I told you we were coming up here, I need to start chasing points so I can qualify for Devon next year! Destiny will be perfect!”

“Oh okay. Well, do you want to see who I’m showing? His name is Got Milk, and I’m showing him in the Adults.”

“Sure,” replied Jackie.

“Quick thinking,” whispered Carleton in her ear as she followed Vannie out of the barn.

“Savannah and Muffy are up here somewhere Jackie. I think they’re both showing in A/O. Savannah’s got a new Jumper too! He’s gorgous! Maybe we can sneak up to Moesby’s sometime this weekend! It’ll be just like old times!”

“Umm sure Vannessa,” said Jackie. She thought to herself, Before you and Muffy tried to kill Savannah and me, right?

Where was Savannah anyways? Jackie really needed to talk to her…

[EquiMom]

…really meant for someone other than Vanessa. Her mind simply wasn’t processing the jumble of of seemingly unrelated occurrences because nothing made sense. Everything was out of control. Like a crazy-quilt put together by the inmates of an asylum, none of it hung together right–nor fit any discernible pattern.

Too emotionally drained to even think of driving, Jackie relinquished her car keys to Heath; “Please…take me home.” she said, pressing them into his hand, “Vanessa has to spend the night under observation–she needs stitches for that awfaul gash–and the EMT said she has a probable concussion.”

“More than likely…” Heath responded, “And I don’t think she minds if we don’t go along for the ride…!” He cast his eyes in her direction; Jackie could see what he meant, for Vanessa, although still somewhat stupified, was coquettishly batting her eyes at the handsome young medic as he lifted her onto the stretcher.

“Let’s just get out of here” Heath said, grabbing Jackie’s hand to lead her through the maze of gawkers.

Alone at last, Jackie thought that the drive might offer the perfect chance to get inside Heath’s mind and motives. But she was so tired! It was the kind of bone-aching weariness that she felt after a dawn to dusk show day–with no ribbons. Just totally whipped.

By the time they reached the house, she’d said nothing–and asked nothing. Yet oddly, the longer she remained in Heath’s company, the more comfortable she became…almost peaceful. He’d seemed so much in control during all the chaos–so strong, so…

“Jackie…”

His speaking of her name brought her out of her reverie, wherein the word she was searching for was ‘masculine’…yes, that was it; Heath was all man–and his nearness sent a shiver up her spine that was an altogether new sensation. She turned her head to look at him–really look–and what she saw wasn’t a scarred enigma. He was just Heath. The man who had put himself in harm’s way to save her Destiny–which was tantamount to saving her. But it wasn’t just gratitude that she felt towards him–it was something more.

As if reading her thoughts, he tentatively caressed her face, tenderly tracing the delicate curve of her mouth with his fingertips. Without another word being spoken, he covered her lips with his own.

In that moment, the world fell away. Jackie felt as if a part of her had been unborn until that instant–that frozen moment in time when she at last understood what it meant to be a woman. She returned the undemanding pressure of his kiss, wanting it to to last forever. She…

[Kryswyn]

<BLOCKQUOTE class=“ip-ubbcode-quote”><font size="-1">quote:</font><HR>“Come on Jackie, this is no time to cry! Come on, we are showing tomorrow, and you’re going to kick some butt! And Salior is going to think he has died and gone to heaven, even if we don’t win anything, I know you and True Love will win. And another thing, if you lose all the money that you were given, no big deal! I will have unlimited funds, and will sponser you all the way to the Olympics if you’d like! I will pay for everything horse related, saddles, boots, horses, whatever you want! Just let me know!”
Jackie looked up at Kelly. “Really?” She said through her tears, “You would do that, for me?”<HR></BLOCKQUOTE>

But no one can have two such windfalls in their lives can they? Jackie looked up at Kelly and said, “I’m sorry. What did you say?”

“I said,'get off the floor! You only brought one pair of breeches, and I have no clue where the laundromat is in this hick town!”

Vanessa interupted, “Hey don’t knock it. They’ve got a great new restaurant in town with wine up to even MY standards! Right on Davis street, with great food. Really interesting dishes. I know, lets school then go out to dinner there. I’ll make reservations!” She pulled out her micro cell phone.

You would be forgiven to think that after the helacious day, the women would ride like cr*p. But the since the outside of a horse is good for the inside of a woman as well as a man, the three friends dug down into themselves and turned in a credible school although Eric had once screamed out,

“There is leaving ‘long’ and there is leaving from the next town over! ‘Because it felt like we were rolling’ is NO EXCUSE for dropping 2 strides from a line! And get that dopey grin off your face, you’re giving me a heart attack.”

With such repairs as could be made in the showgrounds restrooms, the women joined Carleton and Eric for dinner at the Hazel River Inn. Vanessa immediately chose a delicous merlot that caused ‘Joe-your-waiter’ to panic as he wasn’t sure the inn had the 4, make that 5, bottles Vanessa told him to bring up.

Over the scrumptious appetisers and wonderful merlot, the group began to rehash the latest happenings.

“What if there are several ‘villians’ here,” Jackie asked them. “I can understand Muffy wanting to win. I’ve always known how jealous she was of anyone in front of her in the standings. She probably is the root of the, dare I say, ‘minor’ incidents. And she certainly drugged Savannah. But the surveilance? The lawsuit? The horse knapping? And where does Kelly’s husband fit into all this?”

“Probably under Muffy,” said Vanessa tossing back the dregs of glass number two. “Ouch, who kicked me?”

Carleton picked up the thread. “We can’t forget the barn burnings. This is more than jealousy. This is about getting rid of evidence, and terrorizing people into holding their silence. I can’t believe Fiona is responsible for this; she’s too much a horsewoman, but she knows more than she’s told anyone. We need to talk to her.”

In one of those deus in machina moves that only bad writers use to move their stories along, who should with great care climb the steps to the main floor of the restaurant?

Wearing clothes that looked like Salvation Army castoffs, with jewelry that looked anything but, Fiona Ford made her way to their table. Eric and Carleton rose to their feet and Carleton pulled out a chair.

“We were just talking about how much we wanted to see you Fiona. We have some questions we’d like to ask you.”

The gran dame of the equestrian world said ruefully, “More than a few I’m sure. I know I can trust you Carleton. After my barn was burned, I knew I had to tell someone, perhaps many people, for my own safety and the safety of my beloved horses.”

She broke off and looked at Jackie, “Having tons of money as much fun as you thought it would be, Jackie?”

Jackie responded easily, “I never thought it would be ‘fun’ Miss Ford. I’m just not sure I thought it would be this ‘interesting’, either.”

Fiona smiled, “Yes, I’m sure you didn’t. Please forgive my old friend, Mrs. Evers-Oftinhead, for throwing you into the fire, dear. She needed someone she could trust to see the right thing done by her horse, and by him, all horses. So it was important that it be someone with gumption, and stamina to see it out. I think she’d be proud of you. Let me tell you how it began, shall I?”

[Regalmeans]

<BLOCKQUOTE class=“ip-ubbcode-quote”><font size="-1">quote:</font><HR>Originally posted by Ben & Me:
[B]

“You go after the horse. I’ll see what made that noise,” Savannah heard Diane’s voice say. Savannah ran for her life…
[/B]<HR></BLOCKQUOTE>
Praying she wouldn’t get caught. As she turned back towards the road she saw the horse bolting across the road, just as a large 18 wheeler came rolling around the corner. The horse kept running. Savannah closed her eyes and choked back a scream…bt she didn’t need to because Diana had come running up to the road from a different way and was screaming just as loudly…
At the last minute the 18 wheeler swerved. The horse was safe but the truck had cut dangerously close to where Diana was standing. Just then the coverall clad man had come running up next to Diana. Blind to everything but the horse he kept running…and there was a sickening crunch when he collided with the still moving eighteen wheeler. And then Diana’s scream got louder…

the only thought Savannah had was that Diana was distracted now. She ran frantically through the woods in search of the main road…

[Bumpkin]

If any California Cliquer’s or I post on this thread more than three times it will get locked by the moderators!! hahahahaha

[EquiMom]

<BLOCKQUOTE class=“ip-ubbcode-quote”><font size="-1">quote:</font><HR>Originally posted by Ben & Me:
[B] How could this be a different horse? What did they want with her Destiny?

Jackie had never done anything mean towards anyone. In fact, she was one of the most liked people on the circuit. Or at least she thought she was. But, Jackie was forgetting one little emotion. Jealousy.

[This message has been edited by Ben & Me (edited 08-10-2000).][/B]<HR></BLOCKQUOTE>

Although it had never consciously been her intent to flaunt Destiny’s superiority over anyone else’s horse, someone might have interpreted his impending emergence on the circuit as a threat. Jealously–combined with a perceived threat to the status quo-- were a powerful combination. The insidious power of such destructive emotions couldn’t be discounted. But whatever elusive forces were at work to destroy her, one thing they hadn’t taken into account was the almost empathic link she shared with her horse.

Destiny was a part of her–her heart and her soul! She knew every inch of him, every subtle nuance of his physicality. She needed only to sweep her eyes over him, to know if something wasn’t right–to run her hands over him, to feel what he was feeling. No, it wouldn’t be possible to fool anyone who had such a bond with their horse. Only someone who couldn’t understand would think it could work.

Everyone she counted as a true friend never laughed at her insistence on taking care of her horse’s daily care–even if they didn’t adhere to the same personal hands-on attention, themselves! Even Heath, who was always there and ready to do the “grunt” for her, agreed with her way of doing things. In fact, that was one of the first things about him that allowed her to feel so comfortable with him–even early on. He had the ability to create the “link” with horses, too. Nothing else would have landed an outsider, with no known past, a job with so prestigious a barn as Erik’s. Jackie had even taken to calling him “The Whisperer”–as much for this–as for his peculiar mumble and jumble of words.

Later, she shared these very thoughts with Vanessa, saying; "…Only one thing out of all this insanity is for certain, Vanny! If that horse in Destiny’s stall isn’t Destiny, then I’m ready to hang up her Vogels–for good!

“Are you willing bet your new Butet on that, too?” Vanessa laughed, eyeing the big bay up and down.

“You bet I am–and I swear to you–I’m going to get to the bottom of all this, even if it kills me!”

[This message has been edited by EquiMom (edited 08-10-2000).]

[creseida]

<BLOCKQUOTE class=“ip-ubbcode-quote”><font size="-1">quote:</font><HR>Originally posted by Ben & Me:
[B] But Savannah wasn’t a quitter. She was going to make it.

Were those lights on the horizon? Was that Middleburg? [/B]<HR></BLOCKQUOTE>

As Savannah slowly staggered towards the lights, she heard a noise. She stopped and listened carefully. She couldn’t readily identify the noise, so she continued on, slowly. In the dim glow of the moonlight, she sees something move in the underbrush, followed by the noise once again.

She slowly made her way towards the apparition, knowing in her injured state she would not be able to escape any danger. Suddenly, the apparition goes into a coughing fit; she sees dark liquid spray with each cough. Then, just as suddenly, the apparition goes rigid, then lays still.

Paralysed with fear, Savannah doesn’t move for several minutes. Finally she gets up the courage to approach the mysterious being. Slowly, painfully, she kneels down next to the body. She feels for a pulse. There is none.

Looking closer in the dim moonlight, she realises she has made her way back to where she found the group with the horse, and this was the man who was hit by the tractor trailer. She was close to Diana’s farm, which meant that she was in danger, especially after what she’d witnessed.

Suddenly, the silence is interrupted by an electronic chirp. Startled, Savannah leaps back, falling over in pain from her sudden movement. By the time she recovers her composure the phone has stopped ringing.

He has a phone! Forcing herself back to her knees, she begins searching the pockets of the navy jumpsuit clinging damply to the body. Her efforts are doubly rewarded as she not only finds a digital cell phone, but a functioning personal GPS unit!

Turning the phone on, she is elated to find it has a full charge and a strong signal. Quickly, she dials 9-1-1. After relaying to the dispatcher her exact GPS location, she works her way back off the road, out of sight, to wait for help to arrive.

She doesn’t have to wait long before…

[This message has been edited by creseida (edited 08-11-2000).]

[Kathy_Johnson]

The next morning Heath woke with a pounding headache. He had done the right thing, the noble thing, he knew it. After a heavy bout of petting, he had sent Jackie off to bed, not quite getting what she wanted, what, he had to admit, both of them wanted.

He couldn’t, he wouldn’t jeopardize his job with Eric. It was too important right now. What he was sure was love last night in the throes of Percodan, this morning looked like lust. His whole nose throbbed, all the way up to his temples. He reached for the bottle of painkillers.

“Enough of this,” he thought clearly to himself, “I have work to do.”

The cobblestone aisles echoed as he walked down to the feed room. Each horse gave a soft nicker as he passed by. He cut open a pungent bale of alfalfa, and turned a few purple flowers in his hand. The hay was fresh and good. No way Eric would ever feed bad hay.

The horses, shuffling and nickering in their stalls, rustled golden straw, and dust motes rose in the early morning shafts of sunlight that slid through the metal bars of the windows.

“How simple it would be to be a horse,” he sighed to himself. “No language barriers. Unless, of course you are owned by Jackie.”

Just thinking of her recklessness in testing Destiny, he shook his head, only to make it pound more.

When he slid open the grain room door, all the horses came awake, letting out shrill whinnys, deep nickers, some pounding their doors with their hooves in impatience for their breakfast.

Hurriedly he fed them, checked their automatic waterers, then left them quietly munching, the stable alive with the sounds and smells of horses.

[KC]

Â"Â…Omigod!" Vanessa smokily spewed slander. “Didja hear about Strobe Halsey-Endicott? His old groom, like, showed up with a TV crew from Geraldo or somebody. They had a camera and, like, were filming all this stuff and I hear, like, the groom had it out for Strobe BIG TIME. I canÂ’t wait to see the show on TV!”

Jackie absorbed this news quietly while the other three prattled on. Strobe had formerly been a business partner to Erik and Jackie had always known Strobe to be a fair sportsman and upheld those standards in his barn. Did the former groom, or a rival competitor, have a grudge to avenge?

Jackie didnÂ’t have time to ponder as Mosby’s front door was swept open by . . .

[Razumny]

Erik was startled out of what was, at best, a disturbed slumber, by a 28 pound classic brown tabby Maine Coon Cat named Whiskey who launched himself from the top of the colonial highboy dresser onto Erik’s chest. “WHA, WHA, WHISKEY!!” WHAT THE BLOODY HELL!!!??, Erik spat as he fought to catch his breath.

Expertly evading Erik’s flailing arms and now reasonbly assured that his human was wide awake and certain to remain so, Whiskey leapt from the edge of the bed. Skidding his way to a stop across the breadth of Erik’s huge mahogany partner’s desk, Whiskey then flung himself at the original, beautifully preserved civil war-era map of Confederate Virginia which overhung the desk.

Had Erik not had the map framed, Whiskey would surely have had it in shreds. Standing on his hind legs, Whiskey was furiously batting and scratching at an area of the map that would now be an area around Orange, not far from Charlottesville.

Never knowing Whiskey to have Yankee sympathies or relations (despite his Maine heritage), Erik assumed that the ferocious feline was attempting to communicate something quite specific. . .