Page 71 of One in a Million
The house and guest bungalows were dark, the stable closed as he’d left it the evening before. As he approached the door, a pair of vultures, perched on the peak of the roof, flapped into the sky. Roper had never been superstitious, but the sight of the grim, black birds sent a chill through his body. As they vanished into the sunrise, he opened the stable door.
First to strike him was the sound of horses, snorting, shrilling, and slamming against the sides of their stalls.
As he raced into the stable, a fetid odor swept into his nostrils. He recognized the blended aromas of blood and death.
Turning the corner, he could see down the line of stalls. One in a Million was snorting, tossing his head and rolling his eyes as he plunged against the five-foot, open-topped gate. The other horses were agitated but appeared safe—except for Million Dollar Baby. There was no sound from the mare’s stall, no sign of her head above the gate.
Roper was unarmed, but this was no time to go for a gun. Sick with dread, he slid the gate open far enough to look into the stall.
Million Dollar Baby was backed into a corner, her head hanging down, blood oozing from a gash in her side.
At her feet lay a trampled carcass, the head broad and ugly with massive jaws, the spotted body crushed into the straw.
CHAPTEREIGHTEEN
The veterinarian shook his head. “It’s your choice, Mrs. Culhane. I can try to save her. But she’s got some deep wounds, and there’s no telling what kind of bacteria she got from those bites. Even if she survives, she’ll never be fit to compete. You might want to consider putting her down.”
“No, I want her saved,” Lila said. “Million Dollar Baby is a warrior. She’s earned the right to live.”
“I’ll do everything I can,” the vet said. “But I can’t promise to save her. You need to understand that.”
“I don’t care what you have to do.” Lila’s expression was resolute. “I don’t care how much it costs. After the fight she put up, we can’t just throw away her life.”
“All right. If that’s your decision, I’ll clean and suture her wounds and pump her full of antibiotics. After that, all we can do is wait.”
Million Dollar Baby, weak and bleeding, had been transferred to a clean stall for treatment. Roper, wearing gloves and a disposable gown, stood by to support the mare and assist the vet. He’d seen enough injured horses to know that Baby’s chances were slim. No bones appeared to be broken, but if infection and fever set in, her fight would be over.
The hyena’s battered, lifeless body had been photographed, bagged, and hauled out for burial. Roper had pieced together a rough idea of what had taken place. The creature must have snuck into the stable when Cruiser left the door open. When Roper had returned to check the stalls, it had still been inside, which would explain the stallion’s nervous behavior.
Roper’s departure had trapped the hyena in the stable. Sensing prey, it had chosen a stall at random and either jumped or climbed over the five-foot gate. Dropping to the other side, it had found Million Dollar Baby ready to fight for her life.
The battle in that confined space must have been terrible—the hyena with its agile body and slashing jaws, the mare with her superior size and pounding, iron-shod hooves. At last, wounded and bloodied, Baby had struck a disabling blow, probably to the hyena’s head. She had finished the fight by stomping her enemy’s body into the straw.
As Lila had said, this mare was a warrior. Whatever the odds, she deserved a chance to live.
With Lila hovering outside the stall gate, the procedure began—the cleansing, dressing, and suturing of the wounds, the massive doses of saline and antibiotics delivered by IV. Roper lost track of time as he soothed and steadied the mare, stroking her neck, giving her water, and rigging a sling to keep her on her feet.
At last everything that could be done for the mare had been done. The floor of the stall was cleared of debris from the surgery, and the wait began.
The vet left on another emergency call, promising to check back. By that time most of the stable workers had arrived. They would need to be told what had happened and how it would affect their work today. That would be Roper’s job.
“Go on,” Lila said. “You’ve got work to do. I’ll stay here with Baby. She shouldn’t be left alone.”
“You’re sure? You must be tired.”
“Nothing could make me leave her right now.” She spied a low wooden stool, moved it into the stall, and sat down. “I’ve got my phone. I’ll call you if you’re needed.”
By the time Roper called his work crew together, rumors were flying. He was able to calm them and tell his workers what had happened. “Do your usual jobs,” he told them. “Just stay away from the part of the stable where Baby is. We want to keep things quiet so she can rest.”
“Will she be all right?” a girl asked.
“It’s too soon to know. The big worry is infection. All we can do is wait and hope.”
Roper’s gaze took in the group. He didn’t see Cruiser or his girlfriend, Janae, among them. Maybe they’d decided to quit and save him the trouble of firing them both. “That’s all,” he said. “Get to work.”
As the hirelings dispersed, one of the girls walked up to him and stood waiting. “What is it, Megan?” he asked. “Is something wrong?”
“Just something you need to know. Last night I talked to Janae. She told me that Cruiser took her out for a fancy dinner. A man paid him a lot of money to do a job, so he won’t be coming back to work here. Neither will Janae. I think they’re going to California. She asked me to pick up their last paychecks.”