Chapter 10
The next morning, the police were back, and a lot of interesting things happened. They searched both Jensen and Shyanna’s trailers and trucks. They also searched Max’s trailer and truck. When they were finished, they asked Jensen to sit down with them over in the concourse of the arena. “And?”
“Your horse’s heart was fine. He had no heart disease.”
Jensen snorted. “I knew that. What exactly happened to him?”
One of the state police detectives, an Officer Kramer, sat back in his chair and sighed. “Somebody gave him a huge dose of cocaine.”
“Cocaine? Are you kidding me? Somebody gave my horse cocaine?” Jensen almost screamed. It was inconceivable. “And I assume you searched Max’s truck and trailer?”
“And we found nothing.”
“Of course you found nothing. He’s stupid, but he’s not that stupid,” Jensen spat. Weren’t cops supposed to have more training than that?
“Does this look familiar to you?” one of them asked and held up a plastic evidence bag. Inside it and empty was a hypodermic syringe.
“Can I see that?” Jensen asked, so the officer handed him the bag.
He turned it over and looked it up and down.
“Yeah. It’s the syringes we use for things like antibiotics and vitamin injections for the horses.
Some people use them for steroid injections, which are illegal as fuck and totally against the rules.
Are you saying somebody used this?” he asked, looking at the syringe again.
“Yeah,” Kramer said. “Looks like they loaded it and dropped a little red coloring into it. Why would they do that?”
“To make it look like the B12 shots some of the guys give their horses,” Jensen said, wiping a hand down his face. “But I didn’t give those to my horses. They didn’t need them. I take good care of them, feed them premium food, all that shit. Hell, they eat better than I do,” he added.
“Well, somebody injected your horse with this. They made it look like something common. We found it in a barrel out back, empty and with no fingerprints on it. So, Mr. Strader, did you have insurance on your horse?”
“Insurance? No. Wish I had. Now I’m going to have to buy another horse, something I really can’t afford, especially since it’s going to be harder for me to win my events with only one horse.”
“And why are you so certain Mr. Barlow did it?”
Jensen told them the whole story of the way Max had been treating Shyanna, and then him for being with her. The listened intently and made notes. When he was finished, one of them said, “Sounds to me like your girlfriend needs to stay in the ladies’ events.”
“Sounds to me like that’s none of your business and you need to keep your opinions to yourself,” Jensen fired back and watched the detective turn away in embarrassment. “So you found nothing on Max?”
“Nope. We’ve gotta cut him loose. But we won’t be walking away from this case, sir. We’ll stay on it and maybe we’ll find something that will help us. If you find anything, please let us know.”
“Yes, sir. I will. And I’m sorry I popped off at you …” Jensen said, his voice fading away.
“Aww, hell, don’t worry about it. I had a horse when I was in high school and I loved that old nag. I know this is rough on you, so I understand,” Kramer said as he stood to go. “We’ll stay in touch, and you let us know if you see or hear anything.”
Jensen stood and took the hand the officer extended. “Thanks for your help. And thanks for taking this seriously. A lot of officers would’ve just brushed it off.”
“A living creature died. Not only did he die, but he did so in a very public way, and in a way that I’m sure some kids in the audience are having nightmares about.
Try to get some rest and stay in touch.” The other officers in the room shook Jensen’s hand as they left, but Kramer turned back.
“Oh, and by the way, the body can be released to you. What do you want us to do with it?”
He hadn’t even thought that far ahead. “I’ll rent a flatbed and take care of him. Can I come by and pick him up?”
“Sure. Just give me a call.” When Kramer handed Jensen his business card, he shook the cowboy’s hand again. “Take it easy.” Jensen gave him a polite nod and the older man disappeared down the stairs.
Well, that was that. His horse was dead. He had to find a truck. And he needed to call somebody. As soon as the phone was answered on the other end, Jensen choked out, “Mama?”
“Jensen, honey, what’s wrong?”
“Mama,” he said, fighting back tears, “Cobra’s dead.”
“Oh, honey! What happened?”
“He had a heart attack. Can I bring him home to bury him?”
“Sweetheart, of course you can! Your daddy’s got a backhoe, so he can take care of that. You be thinking about where on the farm you want to bury him and bring him on. Are you okay?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said, barely able to speak. “I will be anyway.”
“Okay. You be careful. And ask Shyanna to call me, please?”
“Will do. Bye, Mama. Love you.”
“I love you too, Jensen. See you soon.”
He ended the call and cried again. It was not how he’d pictured his next trip home. Stumble-walking back to the trailers, he was about halfway there when someone stepped out from between a couple of other rigs. “Happy now, Strader?”
His voice was nothing more than a growl in his chest when he said, “Get the fuck out of my way, Barlow.”
“You can’t pin that on me. How stupid do you think I am?” the man leered.
“Do you really want me to answer that? I said get the fuck out of my way. I’m in no mood to deal with you.” Jensen brushed past the piece of shit and kept walking.
“What are you two doing here?” he asked when he opened his trailer door and found Shyanna sitting with SammyJo and Amber.
“We just came by to see if there’s anything we can do to help,” SammyJo said quietly.
“I appreciate that, but I just don’t feel―”
“We know,” Amber replied. “We’re leaving. But is there anything we can do?”
“Not unless you have a flatbed truck,” he said, his voice strained.
SammyJo gave him a tiny smile. “We don’t, but Coach Potter does, and I bet if we called and asked, he’d come down this weekend.”
“Oh, I couldn’t―”
“No, but we can. He finds out what’s happened, he’ll be down here in a heartbeat, I bet.”
“That’s up to you,” Jensen said, then pressed a hand over his eyes. “I’ve got to lie down. I feel like shit.”
“If it helps, you look like shit too,” SammyJo said, and Jensen shot her a dirty look. “I’m sorry. Not a time to try to be funny.”
“No, but it’s true. Don’t worry. I’m not mad. But I need peace and quiet,” he murmured, almost too tired to speak.
“Come on, girls. Let me get him into bed. Go on over to my trailer.” Shyanna shooed them out, then helped Jensen out of his clothes and under the covers.
Five minutes hadn’t passed before his phone rang―Roger Potter. “Hey, Roger.”
“Jensen. Man, SammyJo just called me and I’m so sorry. And I’m on my way,” the voice on the other end said.
“Look, you don’t have to―”
“I want to. I’m bringing our refrigerated three ton and a forklift. Where do you want him to go?”
“I want to take him to …” Jensen stopped as a sob tore through his chest. “I’m sorry,” he whispered into the phone.
“Nothing to be sorry about. You’ve had that horse a long time. He was your family. It’s natural for you to grieve. I’ll be there tomorrow. Taking him to your parents’ farm?”
“Yep.”
“I think that’s a wise choice. I’ll see you tomorrow,” Roger said. “Get some rest.”
“Roger?”
“Yeah?”
“Thanks,” Jensen whispered, overcome with emotion.
“You’re welcome. That’s what friends are for.” With that, the phone went dead and Jensen tossed it onto the little bedside table.
SammyJo and Amber. Roger. Shyanna. His circle was getting bigger, and for that, he was truly thankful.
“You’re not really planning to ride tonight, are you?” Dale asked when Jensen signed the lists the next day for steer wrestling and all the rough stock events.
He’d spent most of the day with Roger, going to the police department and picking up Cobra’s body, then feeding Roger a late lunch so he could head right back to South Carolina.
He was in no mood to be questioned. “To honor the life of that mount who gave everything he had serving me? Fuck yeah, I’m riding tonight. Wouldn’t do anything else.”
“Well, just be careful. Your heart won’t be in it and you’ll be distracted. Those are the sorts of things that get cowboys hurt,” Dale reminded him. “You riding in the team roping with Owens?” he asked as he saw Jimmy open the door, look in, and then close it again.
“Yep.”
“Well, okay then. Good luck to both of you. I see she signed up for bull riding and bareback bronc too.”
Jensen nodded to him. “Yep. And she’d better not get roughed up over it either. I’ll knock some heads together.”
“Can’t promise you anything,” Dale said, turning away. He knew that woman shouldn’t be riding in those events, but he couldn’t say that to Strader.
“Well, thanks a lot. At least you’re honest,” Strader said as he walked out and slammed the door behind him.
In seconds, the door opened and Jimmy strolled in. “Strader in here crying on your shoulder?”
“Nope. He was in here to sign up for events tonight,” Dale said, taking a seat behind the little desk.
“You didn’t tell him he couldn’t?”
Dale shook his head. “Nope. He’s not injured, and he’s not in violation of any of our rules or bylaws, so there’s nothing I can do about it.”
Jimmy threw himself down in a chair in front of the desk. “Well, so much for that. They think Max Barlow killed that horse,” he announced.
Dale fixed a piercing glare on Jimmy. “And what do you think?”
Jimmy shrugged. “How the hell would I know?” Regardless what he said, there was something on his face that left Dale with a wildly unsettled feeling in his gut.
“Okay then. I’ve got to get back to work,” Dale said, dismissing Jimmy.
“Have you signed that contract yet?”
“No, and I’m not going to,” Dale answered, never looking up.
“And why not? We need that money!” Jimmy barked at Dale.