The Secret Brokers (15 page)

A thick man, dressed in a gray security guard uniform, emerged from the white guardhouse and walked around to the driver’s side of the truck.

Gwen rolled down her window. “Gwen Marsh for Bob Harvey’s stables. I’m here to pick up a sick teaser.”

The guard nodded. “Juan called me. Go on through,” he directed as he hit a button to the side of the gates.

As the black gates slowly swung open, Gwen gave the guard a friendly nod and put the truck into gear. She drove the truck and trailer through the gates as the security guard looked on.

Dallas watched through the passenger side mirror as the guard disappeared back into his warm guardhouse. “That was too easy,” he mumbled, sounding alarmed.

“Juan probably paid him off. I always pay Juan whenever he helps me smuggle a horse out of here.”

Dallas shook his head. “So this isn’t the first time you’ve stolen a horse from this place.”

Gwen gave Dallas her funny smile that made her nose crinkle. “Rescuing, not stealing. Sometimes when you want to try and do the right thing, you have to break a few rules.”

“Just when I think I have you figured out, you surprise the hell out of me.”

Gwen maneuvered the truck to the right of the road from the main gate, heading toward the stables. “But you like surprises. Once you have someone figured out, they become boring and predictable. You’re a man who needs more than that in his life. You like the adrenalin rush the unexpected brings, don’t you, Dallas?”

“You make it sound like you have me figured out, Gwen. Maybe I like predictable people because they keep me from getting killed.”

She kept her eyes directed to the dark road ahead. “No, you like the unpredictable people. You like it when new obstacles pop up and have to be addressed. I could tell that last night when I told you about this little caper; you didn’t put up much of a fight.”

“Maybe I was just going along with you to protect you,” he suggested.

“Perhaps,” Gwen grudgingly agreed. “But any man who prefers the boring and predictable wouldn’t be doing what you do for a living. I think Nicci Beauvoir realized that. I’ll bet that’s the reason she left you. She wanted a boring and predictable kind of man.”

Dallas gave Gwen an irritated glance. “I’d prefer it if you drop that topic. Next time I won’t ask so nicely.”

“You think you can interrogate me about my life, but I cannot ask you the same questions? That’s not fair, Dallas, and you know it.”

“My life is not your concern, Gwen.”

“Then why is my life so much of a concern to you? From day one I have felt like you have been needling me to try and get something out of me.”

“I don’t think now is the appropriate time to pursue this little discussion. I suggest you concentrate on stealing your horse and drop your line of questioning about my past.”

“All right. Point taken.” Gwen nodded to the road. “The stable we want is just up on the right.”

“What do you want me to do?” he asked, taking in the dark stables surrounding their truck.

Gwen stopped her truck in front of a stable with a large “14” painted on the tin roof. “Don’t say anything. Help me load the horse in the trailer after we get him out of the barn. You’ve got your gun on you?”

“In my jacket pocket,” he replied, patting his brown leather jacket.

Gwen put the truck in park and turned off the engine. “Only pull it if I tell you,” she instructed as she turned to him. Her eyes were dark and serious. “Only if I tell you, understood?”

Dallas nodded. “And if you tell me to pull it, exactly who am I supposed to aim it at?”

She reached for her door. “I don’t care. Just don’t shoot the horse.”

The stable appeared eerily quiet as Dallas and Gwen walked up a shaving-covered aisle. Suddenly, the beam of a flashlight broke through the darkness. Shielding his eyes from the bright light, Dallas followed behind Gwen as she walked quickly toward the light.

“Who’s he?” a thickly accented voice demanded from behind the flashlight.

The bright light went out. After his eyes adjusted to the darkness, Dallas saw a small man with a grimy T-shirt, and dirty jeans standing outside of a closed stall door.

“It’s supposed to be only one person,” the small man insisted.

Gwen waved at Dallas. “Juan, this is Dallas, a friend.” Juan nodded to Dallas and then handed Gwen the flashlight.

Gwen pulled back a long metal bolt securing the stall door. After she opened the door, she turned on the flashlight and shined it into the stall.

A shockingly thin, gray horse stared back at them from inside of the stall. He had black legs and a bright white blaze down the center of his large head. Hovering all around the animal were swarms of flies.

“What’s on his back?” Dallas asked.

Gwen walked into the stall, not showing the slightest hint of fear. She eased up to the emaciated horse and fanned the flies away from his withers. Covering the creature’s skin were dozens of large, weeping sores.

“Jesus Christ,” Dallas whispered, feeling his stomach drop to his knees. Then the odor of festering flesh accosted his nose.

“So much for the sport of kings,” Gwen commented as she lowered the flashlight over the rest of the animal’s body. Sores covered most of the horse’s legs, chest, back, and mid-section.

“Toss me his halter,” Gwen called to Juan.

The groom threw a frayed, blue halter into the stall. Gwen gently placed the halter around the horse’s face as she whispered sweetly to him. The animal closed his eyes and seemed to take some comfort in her caring touch. As she escorted the pitiful creature out of the stall, Dallas noticed the horse’s pronounced limp.

“The right front leg has two bad bone chips,” Juan explained to Dallas. “They cause poor Rotolo a lot of pain.”

“Rotolo?” Dallas questioned.

“Rotolo’s Great Treasure,” Juan replied. “That was his racing name. They raced him as a three year old for a while and when he began losing races, they made him a teaser.”

Gwen led the horse out of the stall and headed down the aisle toward the entrance.

“Where were they going to send him?” Dallas asked the groom as they walked behind Gwen and Rotolo.

“LSU Medical Center. They sometimes buy old horses from us to use for experimental procedures. They keep all of their animals on the roof of the medical school. You used to be able to see all of the cages from the twelfth floor of the old Charity Hospital before Katrina. But since they closed Charity, no one knows for sure what they keep up there anymore.”

Dallas followed Gwen out of the stable and opened the back gate of the trailer for her as she continued to give loving encouragement to Rotolo. He stood by as Gwen slowly coaxed the animal into the trailer.

When she had finally secured the bolt on the trailer door, she walked back over to Juan and slipped a roll of bills into his hand.

Dallas nodded to the groom and headed for the passenger door of Gwen’s truck. Once he had eased himself into the seat, he turned to Gwen.

“How much did you give him?”

“Five hundred dollars,” she told him as she started the engine. “He’ll have to pay off the guard, but he only makes about a hundred and fifty a week, so this is a big bonus.”

“He’s a good man,” Dallas commented.

“Juan isn’t that good. I don’t know if you noticed, but there were two other locked stall doors on that side of the barn, Dallas. My bet is he has some other rescuers lined up to take those other horses, and then he splits the profit with the trainer.”

“What about his story about the horse being sent to LSU Medical School?”

Gwen put the car into gear and slowly pulled away from the barn. “LSU Medical School does keep animals on their roof. I saw the cages myself when I worked as a nurse in the operating room at Charity Hospital, but LSU doesn’t keep horses up there; only cats, dogs, pigs, and goats.”

“Then what where they going to do with Rotolo?”

“My guess?” Gwen shrugged. “Shoot him. But by the shape the animal is in, that might have been the merciful thing to do.”

“You can’t save him?” Dallas asked, sounding concerned.

Gwen shook her head. “He’s so far gone, I just don’t know if I can.”

Dallas gently patted her thigh. “You’ll save him. I’m sure that horse is a lot like you. Delicate on the outside, but tougher than nails on the inside.”

***

The sun was coming up when Gwen turned the truck onto the narrow road that led to her place. Dallas noted how the black Ford Crown Victoria stayed right on their tail the entire time. And as Gwen drove up to her red barn, the black car returned to its usual spot right outside of her front gate.

After they unloaded Rotolo from the trailer, Gwen immediately set to work cleaning the animal’s wounds and assessing his other injuries. She gave the horse a series of injections and pushed a turkey baster full of vitamins into his mouth.

“You about done?” Dallas inquired as she dabbed antibiotic ointment on Rotolo’s right front leg.

“You don’t have to stay out here with me,” she maintained, never looking up from the horse’s leg.

“I need to be able to
—”

“Dallas, why don’t you go and get started on some breakfast for us?” Gwen hastily suggested.

Dallas pushed his body away from the stall door he was leaning against. “Fine, just don’t take too much longer out here.”

“Are you always this grumpy in the morning?”

“I’m hungry, not grumpy,” he told her as he turned to go.

“Oh, and could you feed Harley and Lawrence for me?” she asked over his shoulder. “They’re probably hungry, too.”

Back at the house, Dallas found some dry dog and cat food in the pantry. He placed bowls of food for Harley and Lawrence on the kitchen floor, figuring the cat and dog would eventually find their way to breakfast. He began pulling ingredients from the refrigerator and carrying them over to the island. He busied himself mixing pancake batter and frying bacon on the stovetop.

Twenty minutes later a tired and dirty Gwen entered the kitchen. She sniffed the air and gave Dallas a faint, but genuine smile.

“Smells heavenly,” she commented and walked up to his side.

Dallas flipped some pancakes on the griddle. “How’s the patient?”

Gwen went over to the coffee maker. “Munching on some hay. I loaded him up with antibiotics and pain medicine so he should be comfortable for a while. I tried to debride some of the sores with sugar, but I may have to call the vet to take a look at him.”

“And what will the vet do that you haven’t?”

Gwen shrugged. “He might know something else to do.” She poured some of the coffee into a mug. “Did Harley and Lawrence eat?”

Dallas nodded at the food bowls on the floor. “My former roommate made it down the stairs, stuffed his face, and went right back up to his room. Harley I haven’t seen. I’ve checked outside a couple of times this morning, but there was no sign of him.”

Gwen nestled her coffee in her hands. “Probably chasing rabbits—that dog loves to chase rabbits.”

He motioned to three stools located on the other side of the island.
“Why don’t you sit down over there, and I’ll bring you breakfast.”

Gwen walked over to Dallas, stood on her toes, and gently kissed his lips. “Thank you,” she whispered.

“What are you thanking me for?”

She gazed affectionately into his eyes. “Everything.”

***

Later that afternoon, Dallas was sitting on the porch while Gwen was exercising a big red mare in the clearing in front of the cottage. After their early morning adventure, Dallas felt as if he were gaining ground with the elusive woman. There were moments when she would glance at him, or give her funny smile, and he knew he was winning her trust. And trust was the key to getting any target to talk. But somehow Gwen was beginning to feel less like a target, and more like a challenge to him.

“Careful, August,” Dallas muttered. “You don’t need another Nicci in your life.”

And as images of Nicci began to cloud his thoughts, the ringing of his cell phone yanked him back from his daydreams. Dallas quickly pulled the phone out of his leather jacket pocket, and when he saw the number flashing on the caller ID, he smiled.

“Hello, Lance,” he said, answering the call.

“Hey there, Dallas. Just thought I would check in and see how it’s going with Gwen.”

“Everything is fine, Lance.”

“Are you making any headway with our girl?” Lance inquired with his usual candor.

“Some, but you were right. She’s a tough nut to crack.”

“Well, I hope at least you’re getting some good food out of the deal. Gwen may not be a lot of things, but she is definitely a great cook.”

“Not with me. She says she never cooks for strangers.”

“Are you kidding me? The woman would cook for a soup kitchen if asked. She loves to cook for anyone. You must have really pissed her off to be denied that treat.”

“I got the impression from Gwen that she only likes to cook every now and then.” Dallas eyed her working the horse in the clearing.