“Where’s our goddamn vet?” her mother said.
“On his way,” Daniel said.
A few minutes later Dr. Richard Howser walked into the barn.
Steve Gorton was right behind him.
“Just what we need,” Maggie whispered to Becky.
“Somebody needs to tell me what the hell is going on here!” Gorton said, as if addressing all of them, and maybe the horse, too.
“He was limping when he left the ring,” Maggie said in a quiet voice. “We found some bruising, and called Richard, Dr. Howser, and now here we all are.”
Gorton turned and looked at Becky.
“Did you do something?” he said.
For once, Maggie watched her daughter hold her tongue.
“I rode the horse, Mr. Gorton,” Becky said.
“Why don’t we let Richard do his work,” Maggie said, “and then we can all talk about it.”
The verbal fire that burned in Caroline and Becky had skipped a generation with her. Maggie’s anxiety ebbed a bit as she watched Dr. Howser at work. He was as calm as anybody Maggie knew, with the possible exception of her ex-husband.
The vet methodically examined all of Coronado’s legs, then took some blood, promising he would fast-track it at the lab.
“So what is it?” Gorton said, with the authority that signaled this stall was now his office.
“I wouldn’t even speculate at this point,” Howser said, then reached into his medical bag for bandages he began to apply to Coronado’s left hind leg.
When he’d finished, they all stepped outside. Steve Gorton said, “All due respect, I need to get a second opinion here.”
Maggie fought back a smile at hearing “all due respect”—blunt-force code for bad news.
“With all due respect to you, Mr. Gorton,” the vet said, “any second opinion would be the same as mine. We just have to wait and see. And not jump to any conclusions.”
Gorton looked at Maggie now and said, “He’s aware that he works for me, too, right?”
“Richard is the best there is,” Maggie said, attempting to avert a scene. “Coronado is in good hands.”
Gorton turned back to Becky.
“You’re sure you didn’t notice something on your ride, and the Atwood Farm family isn’t just covering for some mistake you made in the ring?” he said.
“I can answer that, Steve,” Maggie said, “because I watched the round and watched the video of it afterward. It was a perfect ride.”
“No shit?” he said. “If it was such a perfect ride why’d the doctor have to make a damn house call once it was over?”
Dr. Howser held up the vial of blood he’d taken and said, “I need to get this to the lab. As soon as I get the results, I’ll call.”
“I want to be in the loop on this,” Gorton said.
“You will be,” Maggie said.
“Just so we’re clear,” he said.
Maggie thought, We couldn’t be more clear if you’d hired a skywriter.
“By the way, Steve?” she said. “How is it that you happened to show up right behind Dr. Howser?”
She saw him hesitate, just slightly.
“I was meeting a friend at the tent,” he said. “Thought I’d pop in, maybe get to see her ride him. Good that I did. I don’t like to get this shit secondhand.”
He started walking toward the driveway, as if he’d just adjourned a meeting. Over his shoulder he said, “Happy New Year, by the way.”
He was in his Porsche again today, Maggie saw. He got behind the wheel, slammed the door shut, gunned the sleek car into reverse. As they watched the speeding car disappear up Stable Way, Maggie said, “Should new acquaintances be forgot.”
She wasn’t entirely sure why she thought he was lying about meeting someone at the tent, and just happening by the barn. But she was pretty sure. It reminded her of something Jack McCabe had said once about a lawyer he knew who made frequent appearances on cable news.
“The guy lies to stay in practice,” Jack had said.
But if him showing up at the barn hadn’t been a coincidence, who’d called him?
She steadied herself on her crutches and went slowly back inside to be with her horse.
Shit shit shit.
NINETEEN
DANIEL AND I were in a back booth at La Fogata. Bad Mexican food was better than none, Daniel always said.
After we’d ordered dinner, a plate of nachos and Dos Equis on draft, he said, “We have to believe that the horse is going to be all right.”