Death by Equine Annette Dashofy (black authors fiction txt) 📖

“Didn’t you notice the way she looked at Amelia? And at you, for that matter.”

“No.” Jessie wished she’d paid closer attention. “How was she looking at us?”

“Oh, it’s probably just my imagination. But you know the old saying. If looks could kill.”

For a moment, all sound became muffled as Catherine’s words rumbled through Jessie’s head, and Sherry Malone’s face, cold and stoic, floated across her mind’s eye. What would Doc’s assistant have against her? Or Amelia?

“Jessie?” Catherine’s hand on her arm jarred her from her daze. “Jessie? Are you all right?”

“Yeah.” She pulled her attention back to the horses in the paddock. Certainly Catherine was mistaken. Not everyone expressed their grief in tears.

Neil Emerick’s horse was back, saddled and adorned with the red number one saddle towel.

The paddock judge called out, “Riders up!”

A procession of jockeys attired in various colorful silks poured into the ring and approached the horses, seeking their assigned mounts.

Zelda leaned down, caught her jockey’s leg, and boosted him into the saddle. The black colt stepped out, disappearing into the building. Jessie turned to head for the stairs to the grandstand, but a commotion drew her attention back to the paddock in time to see the chestnut’s jockey being launched into the air. The rider managed to land on his feet, as light as a cat.

The horse continued to buck. Neil Emerick gave several quick yanks on the lead shank. The animal flung its head up and reared. Emerick yanked again, spitting out curses at the horse, the young handler, who had retreated to the far side of the paddock, and the jockey.

The chestnut scrambled backwards. The number two horse and groom behind him pulled up short and scurried to get out of the way.

Reacting on impulse, Jessie ducked through the fence and charged toward the disaster in the making. She was vaguely aware of voices around her, but her focus locked onto Neil Emerick and the wild-eyed chestnut gelding.

“Stop it.” She drew her voice up from the soles of her boots, a deep commanding tone that worked on frightened horses. And obstinate men. Sometimes. “Neil. Stop.”

He whirled on her and snarled. “What the hell are you doing? Get away from me.”

She held his gaze, but cautiously kept the colt in her peripheral vision. “Quit jerking on him and he might settle down.”

Emerick towered over Jessie. The stench of his pungent breath led Jessie to doubt his familiarity with dental hygiene. “This is none of your concern. Get out of my way. I’ll deal with my own damn horse any way I damned well see fit.”

Jessie willed herself to stand firm. “It is my concern if your stupidity results in one of these horses getting injured.”

A hand on her arm startled her. Frank Hamilton, Riverview Park’s paddock judge, stood next to her. “Mr. Emerick, Dr. Cameron’s right. Please tone it down. If you can’t control your horse, I’ll remove him from the race.”

Emerick drew a hissing breath. He glared at his horse, which was standing stock still, its head in the air. It gazed down on them with white-ringed eyes. “I’m sorry, sir,” Emerick said through clenched teeth. “We’re good.”

“All right then.” Hamilton kept his grip on Jessie and escorted her to the fence.

Emerick led the riderless horse past them, glowering at Jessie. The trainer and gelding moved through the doorway to the indoor paddock where they entered the tunnel under the grandstand to the racetrack.

The jockey chose to walk.

The official gave Jessie’s arm a squeeze. “Dr. Cameron, I’d appreciate it if you left the policing of the paddock to me.”

Stunned at the reprimand, Jessie pulled away from him. “Someone was going to get hurt if he wasn’t stopped.”

“Yes, however, it’s my job to keep things in line here. Not yours.”

“I’m sorry,” she said, even though she wasn’t. “But I didn’t see you doing anything about it.”

His eyes narrowed.

Catherine cleared her throat behind them. “Jessie? Excuse me. Should I just meet you over there?”

Jessie held Hamilton’s stern gaze. Seconds ticked away. He released a soft growl. “Get out of here. And don’t step into my paddock again unless I’ve summoned you.”

“Yes, sir.” She climbed through the fence before he could change his mind.

Jessie fell into step behind Catherine and the others who’d been watching the scene in the paddock, but now moved toward the track for the race.

“Do you think that poor horse will be all right?” Catherine asked as they climbed the flight of steps to the mezzanine viewing area above the indoor paddock.

“I hope so.” Jessie also hoped he’d left his antics in the paddock and didn’t do anything to bring harm to himself or the other horses once they hit the track.

A tinny recorded rendition of the “Call to the Post” followed Jessie and her well-dressed client through the doors to the grandstand. They skirted the lines at the ticket windows where hopeful bettors waited their turns. Jessie glanced at the concession stand and wondered if she’d have time to grab some nachos after the race. Probably not. The last meal she’d had was french fries for lunch.

At the front of the grandstand, Jessie headed for the door, but Catherine caught her arm. “Come watch the race from my lucky box.”

“No, thanks.” Jessie had seen Catherine’s “lucky box.” It consisted of four uncomfortable chairs at a table with a small cheap TV showing a snowy live feed of the race. “But you go ahead. And good luck.”

Catherine offered an anxious smile. “Thanks.” She teetered up the steps in her high heels.

Jessie squeezed through the doors with the rest of the crowd heading outside to the concrete apron next to the finish line.

“The horses are on the track,” blared the loudspeaker. “This will be the third race, five and a half furlongs, a maiden special weight for two-year-olds. Post time, eight minutes.”

Jessie squinted across the track where the tote board listed Risky Ridge at fifteen to one. The horses made their way toward the backstretch where the starting gate