Just Horsing Around

Chapter 2

The drive to Gibson farms took a little over twenty minutes; technically the farm wasn’t in Willow Bay, but just outside of it, down a nameless rural road surrounded by pine trees and forest so thick that the further I followed the instructions my phone’s map app was spitting out, the more I wondered if I wasn’t going to end up horribly lost.

But eventually I pulled in front of a small clearing, where an old-school wooden fence blocked the entrance, with a large wooden sign above announced that I was, in fact, at Gibson Farms. I pulled slowly up to the entrance and found an electronic communication system. I had barely rolled my window down before I heard a voice over the intercom.

“Please state your business at Gibson Farms,” ordered a female voice with a clipped English accent.

“Uh, yeah, hi, I’m Angela Wright, the vet that was called.”

There was a pause, then the wooden fence in front of me began to open automatically.

“Please drive to the main house and wait in the car, someone will be out to meet you momentarily,” came the instructions from the same efficient voice. I felt like this was the 1800s or something, that I had gone back in time. Was this really how the other half lived?

I pulled the car through and made my way up the driveway, which had to be at least a quarter mile long. It eventually ended in a big loop in front of a huge rancher, the biggest house I’d ever seen. It was modern, obviously built in the last fifteen years, made with light wooden logs, with stone hedges. The grounds were immaculately manicured; it felt like I was at a show home.

The grounds were enormous; it seemed like as far as the eye could see in any direction was part of the Gibson Farms estate. Yes, estate was really the only word that fit. As I drove up in my old Corolla, I felt so incredibly out of place, and briefly thought to myself that maybe I should have rented a Bentley just for this appointment.

I pulled up to the front of the house, and a woman who I assumed was the one on the intercom was standing at attention outside the door, waiting for me. Tall and thin, with blonde hair pulled tightly back into a ponytail and wearing a black suit with high heels, she looked like she belonged on Wall Street rather than a farm. She motioned for me to park in front of the house, and I did so, turned off the car, and grabbed my bag.

“Doctor Wright, welcome,” she told me, already standing next to me as I took my bag out. “My name is Susan, I’m the head of the household here at Gibson Farms.”

Head of the household? I thought to myself. Where was I, nineteenth century England?

“Before we continue, I need you to sign this non-disclosure agreement,” she said, handing me a contract on a clipboard. To be honest, I had kind of expect this part, at least. The Gibsons were one of the most famous families in the horse racing world, there was no way they were going to let me get close to their practically priceless horses without making me swear I wouldn’t tell. I glanced over the contract quickly, and signed it.

“Thank you,” Elizabeth replied, quickly taking a photo of the contract with her phone. “Now, follow me, and I will take you to see Touch of Frost.”

Despite myself, my heart began to skip a beat. Touch of Frost was the most famous racing horse in the world a few years ago. He’d won the Kentucky Derby four times, and had famously been retired after that final win, at seven years old. He was one of the most famous race horses in the country, and had even once been featured, along with his jockey, on the cover of Sports Illustrated. Everyone knew Touch of Frost, and when Karen told me that I’d been asked to do a house call at Gibson Farms, I immediately thought of Touch of Frost. But of course, I had never dreamed that I might actually get to treat that same horse.

“Caroline Gibson thanks you for coming on such short notice,” Susan told me as she led the way down a cobblestoned path that wound its way around the side of the enormous house. I waved away the thanks. After all, with what Karen told me they’d offered to pay, I probably would have cut off an arm to make this appointment. “We have two in-house vets, of course. But one of our horses became unexpectedly sick at Belmont, and they had to fly out to New York yesterday. Then of course, this morning there was a problem with Touch of Frost, and we had to make alternate arrangements. You must understand the need for secrecy. There are thousands of people who would give their lives to see this property and the happenings on it.”

“I can only imagine,” I replied. The Gibson horses were worth millions of dollars.

“We have taken precautions, of course. You were chosen as the vet since you’re local, and have been your whole life. Plus we asked around, and while you’re not a specialist in farm animals, we were told that you are the most capable vet in the area.”

“Oh, thank you,” I said, not expecting that kind of praise.

“The property is surrounded by ten foot high fences, and every inch of the fence is covered by CCTV footage, and there are motion sensors just inside the fence. It’s practically impossible for anyone to enter the property without us being made aware of it immediately. Plus, the stables are locked with a state-of-the-art fingerprinting system. The only two people on the planet who can enter are Caroline Gibson and the stable head, Cory.”

“Wow,” I said, duly impressed.

“The stables also have a custom sprinkler system set up in case of fire, and an individual alarm system in case of break in. And of course, there are some more security features that I’m not authorized to tell you about. In fact, I’m not sure if I’ve even been told what they all are, and I’ve been working for the Gibson family for nine years.”

“So what you’re telling me is access to Touch of Frost is harder than getting access to the President,” I joked, and Susan’s thin mouth dared curve into a small smile for the first time. Before she could reply, however, I heard a voice calling to her from the house.

“Susan! Wait there, Susan!” someone ordered. Susan froze in place, and the two of us turned to see a woman stomping towards us. She was short, probably just a shade over five feet tall, and squat enough that she gave the impression of looking a lot like Humpty Dumpty. Her brown hair was up in a bun, with wisps of hair having come loose. Wearing tight jeans and a blazer over a polo shirt, the woman looked like a walking plus-size Ralph Lauren catalogue.

Following after her, almost at a jog despite being taller and thinner, came a nervous looking girl who looked to be in her early 20s, with the exact same shade of brown hair as the other woman, and big brown doe eyes. Despite the size difference, there was absolutely no doubt. This was mother and daughter. And I’d seen the mother in countless articles in both newspapers and magazines before. This was Caroline Gibson.

She moved quickly for her size, and after a moment she stood directly in front of the two of us.

“Well?” the woman snapped. Susan rushed forward apologetically.

“My apologies, ma’am,” she replied. “Mrs. Gibson, please allow me to introduce Doctor Angela Wright, the local vet whom we have employed to look after Touch of Frost.”

I held out my hand, but instead of taking it, Caroline looked me up and down, just as her daughter caught up to us, out of breath.

“Goodness, Ellie,” Caroline chided. “You’d think you just ran a marathon. There are quadriplegics in better shape than you.”

“Sorry, mother,” the young lady panted meekly as I tried to hide my surprise at the comment. I knew Caroline Gibson had a reputation for being tough, but that comment was something else!

“I suppose you’ll do,” Caroline continued, turning back to me. “I’m told you know what you’re doing. That had better be true.”

“I am an excellent veterinarian,” I replied, trying to sound as confident as possible. Caroline Gibson snorted.

“Sure you are. No one under thirty is an excellent veterinarian. But I don’t think there’s anything seriously wrong with Touch of Frost, so even you should be able to do an adequate job.”

My face flushed with anger at the sheer rudeness of this woman. I forced myself to think of the mid-four figure fee I was getting for this callout though, and forced a smile on my face.

“I’m sure I will be able to help Touch of Frost.”

“Good. Go with her, Ellie. I want you to pay attention to what the woman does.” Caroline turned to me once more.

“Ellie’s a little bit slow when it comes to dealing with animals. She doesn’t have the natural instincts of a Gibson, so I’m working on training her into it. After all, I don’t want to leave everything to a total moron who’s going to run this farm into the ground.”

“Mom!” Ellie protested faintly.

“What?” her mother snarled, turning back to her daughter.

“Nothing,” the poor girl replied, looking like she wanted to sink into the ground at the sight of her mother. I was absolutely mortified. Poor Ellie! Caroline Gibson’s estimation in my mind dropped to rock bottom. The woman was a bully at best, an abuser at worst. I’d only known the woman for a couple of minutes, and I already hated her.

“Susan, when the vet is finished, tell Cory to come and find me, I want a report before she leaves.”

“Yes ma’am,” Susan replied instantly, and without a single word more, Caroline Gibson turned on her heel and headed back towards the house.

“Are you ok? I’m so sorry your mom said those things,” I told Ellie as soon as Caroline Gibson was out of hearing range. Ellie gave me a small smile in return.

“Oh it’s alright. She doesn’t really mean those things. She just thinks I need to be a little bit tougher.”

“Still, she could be a bit nicer about it,” I muttered.

“That’s just how mom is. I know deep down she really loves me,” the girl replied, and before I could say anything else, Susan coughed lightly.

“Follow me and we’ll continue,” she said, and the three of us made our way to the Gibson Stables.

Five minutes later I was standing in front of the biggest stable I had ever seen. It was nicer than most houses. Made of obviously good quality, thick wood, it had to be at least two thousand square feet. Just outside the stable was a big training paddock, where a mare and her foal were being casually watched by a man who seemed to be about my age, with rugged good looks and an easy smile. Wearing jeans and a flannel shirt, if you’d put a cowboy hat on him and given him a lasso he could have been the star of any western film, easily. His blue eyes stood out against his dark hair and stubble, and they flashed with an easy amusement that only those who were happy with life could pull off.

He had been sitting on the fence of the paddock, watching the two horses, when we arrived. As soon as he saw us the man turned and easily jumped down onto the ground.

“Ah, you must be Dr. Wright,” he said, shaking my hand happily.

“Please, call me Angela.”

“Hey Ellie,” he told her with a nod, and a blush crept up her face as she replied with a quick “hey,” in reply. Goodness. That poor girl was so under her mother’s thumb that she was nineteen and couldn’t even talk to guys.

“Alright Susan, thanks for bringing the ladies to me, I’ll take it from here. I’ll let you know when you come and grab Dr. Wright here later.”

With an crisp, efficient nod, Susan gave me a quick smile and turned and headed back the same way she came.

“I’m Corey, the head of the stables,” the man told me as he motioned for us to follow him towards the stable. When we reached the door he entered a passcode that I couldn’t see, then pressed his four fingers against a pad that scanned the print before unlocking the door. Susan was not joking about security here being tight. “Thanks for coming to have a look at Touch of Frost. For a day or so he’s been fairly lethargic, and he hasn’t been eating,” Corey told me as we entered the stables. “I immediately thought ticks, but I checked his mane and tail thoroughly, and didn’t find anything. I checked over the rest of him as well, just in case, but didn’t manage to find anything.”

Corey stopped in front of a stall holding a horse I’d seen in magazines and newspapers a dozen times, at least. Touch of Frost was just over sixteen hands, a perfect specimen of thoroughbred. Every single inch of him was a perfect chestnut brown; I’d never seen a horse with such a shiny coat. His brown eyes stared at me, sadly.

“Hi, Touch of Frost,” I said softly, holding out a hand. Normally I liked to bribe horses to like me with a piece of apple, but Corey had just said he wasn’t eating.

“Hi,” he replied heavily. This was a horse who wasn’t in a good way. He sighed heavily.

“I think he likes you,” Ellie said, smiling. “I’m going to head off, now that my mom’s gone. I have some things to do, despite her thinking my time is worthless.”

“Sure, of course,” I said, my heart sinking for the poor girl.

“It was nice to meet you, Angela,” she told me.

“You too,” I replied. With a shy smile at Corey, Ellie turned around and headed back out into the afternoon sun.

“I’m just going to come in here and have a look at you, alright?” I asked Touch of Frost cheerily as Corey opened the stall door for me. Touch of Frost didn’t even have the energy to reply.

I put my bag down on the floor of the stable and began to look him over.

“Has there been any change to his diet, or to his stools?” I asked Corey, who shook his head.

“No, everything’s been normal,” Corey replied, looking over at me anxiously. “Thanks for coming, I’m really worried about the poor guy. Our normal vets are both out with Touch of Class, his little brother who’s racing out east.”

“And has Touch of Frost travelled anywhere in the last week?”

Corey nodded. “He was in Phoenix for a sponsor event for about three days, we got back on Tuesday.”

So Touch of Frost had only been back for two days. The more Corey told me, the more the tick idea made sense. Suddenly, I remembered something I’d learned back in vet school about ticks in the southwest.

Moving over to Touch of Frost’s ears, I told him I was just going to have a look.

His left ear twitched once as I had a look, inspecting closely. Unfortunately, I didn’t see anything.

When I moved to his right ear, however, I moved back a little tuft of hair and smiled.

“There we go!” I exclaimed, and Corey came over to have a look.

Hidden under the little tuft was a fat tick, happily sucking away on poor Touch of Frost. Corey let out a low whistle.

“Damn, I missed it completely.”

“It’s a spinous ear tick, pretty common in dry climates like Arizona.”

Suddenly, a small radio in Corey’s pocket went off.

“Corey, it’s Philippe. I need you in the paddock,” a voice said with a strong French accent.

“Sure, be right there,” Corey replied. He looked at me. “You ok here by yourself?”

I nodded.

“Cool. Make sure you never tell Caroline Gibson I left you in here, she’ll fire me for sure,” he said with a grin before heading out of the stables.

“Alright big guy,” I told Touch of Frost when I heard the stable door close behind Corey. “Let’s get this tick off you, hey?”

“Thank you,” he muttered tiredly.

“I’ll make sure you feel better in no time,” I murmured, stroking him softly. I went over and grabbed my bowler bag with all the necessities, and took out a pair of tweezers. Carefully moving the tuft of hair back, I gently pulled the tick out, making sure that the whole tick came out without leaving the body inside the ear.

“Good,” I told Touch of Frost, putting the body in an empty vial I would dispose of later, to make sure the tick didn’t re-attach itself to another horse. I stoked him carefully.

“You should be feeling better soon, little guy. Let me have another look at you, to make sure there aren’t any more of these little buggers hanging around, ok?”

He nodded his head at me slightly, and I spent ten minutes carefully going over every inch of Touch of Frost, making sure there weren’t any more ticks anywhere on him. Just as I was finishing up with, confident that there wasn’t a single other tick on the horse, Corey came back into the stables, breathing heavily.

“Hey,” he said, catching his breath back. “Thanks for that. Philippe’s one of the trainers, he was having problems with a horse and wanted my input.”

“No problem,” I replied. “I got the tick out, and gave Touch of Frost a pretty thorough going over. I’m pretty sure that was it.”

“Sweet.”

“I want him to get some prescription insecticide just in case,” I continued.

“Oh, no problem,” Corey said, motioning to the end of the stables. “I have access to all the stuff you need, the regular vet Dr. Williams keeps a permanent supply.”

We made our way over, had a look, and I pointed to one I thought was suitable. Telling Corey the dosage I wanted, he pulled out a notebook from a pocket and wrote down what I told him.

“I assume you’re going to check with Doctor Williams before you give Touch of Frost anything?”

Corey grinned. “You got it. Got nothing against you, myself. But Caroline Gibson, well, she’s a pretty exacting woman. I’m pretty sure she’d skin me alive if I didn’t.”

I laughed. “Yeah, she seems like a pretty hardcore person. The type who always gets what she wants.”

If I wasn’t mistaken, I thought a dark look passed through Corey’s eyes as I said that, but I must have imagined it, because a second later they were back to twinkling happily.

“You’re not wrong there, that’s for sure,” he said. “Caroline Gibson is tough. But she’s had to be, in a sport that’s been incredibly male dominated for centuries.”

“Mmmm,” I replied, noncommittally. I couldn’t forget how badly Caroline had treated her daughter outside; tough or not tough, there was no excuse for that.

“Anyway, I think we’re good!” Corey said. He pulled out a cheque and handed it to me. “This was the fee we agreed upon, I believe. Caroline gave it to me earlier. I’ll take you back out towards the house and get Susan to meet you.”

“Thanks,” I said as I took the cheque. Seven thousand dollars for just an hour or so of work. That was hands down the best fee I’d ever gotten. I slipped it carefully into my bowler bag, patted Touch of Frost one last time, and headed towards the door of the stable with Corey.

As soon as Corey opened the door to the stable, he gasped. I looked past him to see what he was looking at, and found myself looking at Caroline Gibson, lying on the ground in front of the stables, completely motionless.