Maple Mills
There was truth in Yolanda’s warning, Evie thought as she stepped down from the truck. After dropping the ramp, she ducked through the side door of the trailer and stood beside her horse. She rubbed Kazzam’s face and ears as she fought tears, confused and uncertain.
Evie backed the black horse off. He stood still while she raised the ramp back into place and attached the clips. She waved to Yolanda, who nodded with a worried frown on her face and drove the rig away.
“I hope I’m doing the right thing, Kazzam,” Evie whispered, stroking his neck. “Let’s go to the barn. I’ll give you a nice bath and a bran mash.”
In response, Kazzam nuzzled her arm with his nose. He watched her with his big brown eyes, and she gazed back, recognizing that he’d given her his trust over everyone else.
Evie led the horse into the airy, cool stable. The ceiling fans twirled slowly overhead as Kazzam’s hooves clip-clopped over the cobblestones. She walked him into the wash stall, turned him around to face the aisle, then ran the water until it was warm. With soap and a rubber scrubbing glove, Evie washed and massaged every inch of the black horse, from behind his ears to his ankles, and from his nose to the tip of his tail.
He stood quietly, relaxed and enjoying the attention. He particularly liked having his back massaged, so Evie continued working on it. Kazzam’s head dropped. He yawned and licked his lips.
She hosed him down with warm water until his coat squeaked, scraped off the excess water, and rubbed his legs down with diluted liniment. She should’ve poulticed his legs and wrapped them, but then it would’ve been too obvious that he’d raced.
“Are you ready for your bran mash?”
He looked at her through half-closed eyes. Evie smiled. She traced the white heart on his forehead lovingly. “And then an afternoon nap in your clean stall?”
At the same instant, Evie and Kazzam heard brisk horse and human footsteps approaching. Les Merton, the stable manager, came up leading the pride of the stable, Thymetofly. “There’s No Justice. I wondered.”
Evie stiffened. “Is it turn-in time already?” she asked innocently. “I thought I’d give him a bath.”
“This horse is not a toy, Evie. I’ve told you before. It’s your father’s orders. You should not be handling him.”
“We get along,” she said, quietly exhaling. Phew. He hadn’t noticed him missing until now. And nobody had seen him dirty with sweat and dust except Yolanda.
“Yes, you do get along, Evie. But he kicks without warning and bucks people off.” Les looked stern. “Don’t let him fool you. He’s dangerous.”
Evie nodded. “I understand.”
“Handle any other horse, Evie. Ride any of the others, but No Justice? He’s finished.” Les continued along the aisle with Thymetofly, shaking his head. The grooms began to bring in horses from their morning turnout, and the barn became filled with chatter and the clatter of shod hooves. The quiet moments that Evie and Kazzam had shared were over.
Evie unclipped the cross-ties from his halter and led Kazzam to his stall. If he was going to get his mash, she’d have to do it before anybody asked questions. Each horse had a special diet for its particular workload, and nobody tampered with the feed schedule. Of course, nobody knew Kazzam had been in a race, either.
She hurried into the feed room and mixed a scoop of bran with hot water and stirred in some sweet feed and extra molasses, with carrots as a bonus. When nobody was looking she sidled into Kazzam’s stall and dumped it into his bowl.
Kazzam had it half finished when a menacing voice startled her. “What do you think you’re doing?”
Her father. She looked up at the tall, neatly dressed, dark-haired man with chiselled features. His eyes squinted into slits. She remembered Chiquita and the whip and put herself between her father and Kazzam.
Grayson Gibb was a man who smiled with his mouth but not his eyes. In spite of his imposing manner, he had a high-pitched voice. When angry, he didn’t yell, he whispered and sort of growled. Like Clint Eastwood, or Christopher Walken with a hint of Willem Dafoe from the old movies. It was downright frightening.
He wasn’t smiling now. “Les told me you were here. Get out of that stall this minute.”
“Hi, Dad,” said Evie. She tried to appear calm.
“I said get out. Are you deaf?”
Deaf again. Evie suppressed a nervous giggle as she stepped out of the stall. She stood in front of Kazzam’s feed bowl to hide the mash from her father’s prying eyes.
“Wipe that stupid grin off your face.”
She forced herself to meet his eyes.
“You’ve defied my orders. Never, ever, go near this animal again.”
“I know, Dad. I’m sorry. But he’s gentle with me.”
“Just who do you think you are?” Grayson Gibb glared down at her from his full height. His whispery, yet harsh voice echoed through the stables. “You think you have the magic touch? That you’re better than all my grooms and jockeys?” He sneered at her and turned on his heel. “Get out of my sight.”
Evie stood still, listening to her father’s retreating footsteps. Her stomach ached as if she’d been punched.
Kazzam nickered. She put her hand through the bars and rubbed his forehead. “Get a good rest, boy. You deserve it.”
Evie walked out of the stable with her eyes down. All the staff had heard her father’s demeaning words.
She slouched up the winding walkway to the big house, downcast. The white colonial mansion with its gracious verandas had been built on a gentle rise to catch the sun from east to west. The lawns and gardens were immaculate, with large shade trees — maples, for which Maple Mills was named — adding grace and coolness to the wide expanses of green. It was welcoming and hospitable, belying the nature of the family that lived within its walls. At least that’s what Evie thought.
Now she had another worry besides her father finding out about the race. She’d defied his direct orders to stay away from Kazzam, and she’d been caught. Would he take it out on the horse, like he did Chiquita, to make his point?
Just last February one of the young racehorses had refused to get on the old trailer used to teach them how to load. Evie and a young groom had tried every trick in the book, from patience to bribery to subtle urging with a broom. Grayson showed up and told them to get it done. Evie replied that it would take a little more time. Grayson was not pleased.
They were horrified to see Grayson winch the horse to the tractor with ropes and haul him up by brute force. The horse broke his leg and had to be destroyed. It turned out that the trailer had an unstable floor, which is why the poor animal had balked. None of this bothered Grayson. Nobody was allowed to question his orders.
Self-doubt filled her mind. Was she going about this in the right way? Should she just confront her father and tell him that she wanted to find her mother? But why risk making him madder? He hated the mere mention of Angela’s name. He’d never even shown Evie pictures of her.
No. She would have to find out for herself. Fifteen hundred and eighty dollars would more than do it. Evie began to smile a little at the thought. And the sight of those three men in bright racing silks with their mouths wide open as mighty little