Chapter 14
It was midnight when Lionel drove up to the house, and saw that every window was dark. No one stirred. This was the perfect time to implement his plan. He quietly entered the barn, and made his way to the grain room. Thankfully, the room was still unlocked, and the sweet feed easily accessed. He propped the lid of the large dustbin sized container, at least half-filled with grain, and left the room, door ajar. He made his way to Tempest’s stall and unhooked the latch keeping the door closed.
Tempest watched Lionel’s movements with interest, but didn’t immediately move to test the stall door. “Just wait until you get a whiff of that good, sweet grain, and you’ll be desperate to get there. I’ve just made it easier for you to have what you want, my boy. Enjoy!” Lionel smiled to himself as he left the barn, and quietly entered the manor. He moved up the stairs as silently as possible and made his way to his assigned bedroom. There, he undressed, and tucked himself in to prepare to wake in an hour or so to “find” Tempest and save him.
~ ~ ~
He was walking down a hot dusty street in Helmand province, southern Afghanistan. His SAS unit was stationed at Camp Bastion, a sprawling military installation complete with airfield that had at one time housed almost 10,000 British troops, but now housed about 2,000. They were closing the base soon, and he would be home. Thank God! Now, however, he was on a routine patrol with several of the men in his unit looking for Taliban fighters rumored to be in the area.
Suddenly, sniper fire rang out from the rooftop of a nearby building, and the man next to him fell to the ground, killed instantly by a bullet in the head. “Get down! Get down!” he shouted to the rest of his troops. “Take cover! Anywhere you can find it!” He quickly scrambled to shelter in the doorway of a nearby home that had been long deserted, and searched the streets for the rest of his unit. More shots rang out and bullets raised puffs of dust near his feet. He could see the rest of his men were also pinned down by gunfire, and there didn’t seem to be any specific target they could shoot back at. It was time to call in some air support. He located his communication device, and notified Camp Bastion that they were under attack. He provided their coordinates and requested backup and air support, either helicopter or even drone support. They just needed to know where the enemy was so they could take them out.
Eventually, a chopper arrived, and easily dispatched the three or four snipers that had pinned them down. He noticed his best friend, Neil McCauley, sauntering over to him as if he hadn’t a care in the world.
“You bloody stupid bugger!” Ian shouted. “Be careful. You don’t know for sure if they got them all yet.” As soon as the words left his mouth, a shot rang out, and Neil clutched at the gaping wound that had opened his throat.
“No! No! No!” Ian cried. “Neil!” He ran over to Neil’s lifeless body as the last of his life blood spilled out on the dusty ground. “My God, no!” For the first time since he had arrived in Afghanistan, Ian cried like a baby. He was still sobbing Neil’s name as they dragged him away from the body.
“No!” Ian threw off the covers and sat up in bed as he awoke from his nightmare, the same nightmare that had repeated itself over and over again every night without fail since he returned home from Afghanistan. The doctors kept telling him that it would get better with time, but it had been almost a year, and the nightmare, although occurring less frequently, was still as vivid as ever. He had sought solace in alcohol, but even that didn’t prevent the recurrence. Sighing and looking at the clock, he saw it was a little past midnight, and since he wasn’t going to go back to sleep anytime soon, Ian decided to go for a walk in the barn. For some reason, the peaceful presence of the horses calmed him like nothing else could, and he could use the serenity. He pulled on a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt, donned his athletic shoes, and left the house.
Once at the barn, Ian noticed right away that the horses were much more agitated than that usually were at this hour. As he approached the grain room, he noticed there was horse inside, greedily helping himself to the sweet feed. It was Tempest. “Jesus, horse, you’re not supposed to be in there!” Ian knew right away this was trouble, and ran immediately back to the house to get Michael.
“Mike! Mike! Wake up!” Ian shook Michael until he finally woke from what appeared to be a very deep sleep.
“What? Ian? What’s the matter? Why are you up? Is it another nightmare?”
“Yes. I had a nightmare, but that’s not why I’m here. It’s Tempest. He’s gotten out of his stall, and is eating the grain in the grain room like there’s no tomorrow.”
Michael’s face paled. “Oh my God! I’ve got to stop him. He’ll make himself sick. Come along and help me. I may need another set of hands to get him out of there.”
Michael quickly changed into jeans, a T-shirt, and athletic shoes and both he and Ian ran back out to the barn. Sure enough, Tempest was enjoying the sweet feed at an alarming rate. Michael grabbed the stallion’s halter from his stall and approached him slowly. “Easy now, boy, you have to come with me. That stuff’s bad for you in large quantities, and I don’t want you to get a belly ache. That wouldn’t be at all pleasant.” Instead of trying to put the halter on, Michael looped the lead rope around Tempest’s neck and attempted to lead him away from the grain that way. Thankfully, Tempest didn’t put up much of a fight, and allowed himself to be led back to his stall.
“Ian, please call the vet and ask him to get over here immediately. I’ll check the grain room and see if I can figure out just how much grain he ate before you found him.” Ian nodded and moved back toward the house. “By the way, brother, I owe you a debt of gratitude. If you hadn’t been here to stop him, Tempest may have eaten all that grain. If he foundered after that it might have been too serious to remedy and we might have had to put him down. You saved his life, Ian.”
Ian smiled. This was the first time he could think of that he was thankful for his nightmares.
When Ian entered the house, Jessica was making her way down the staircase, yawning and clearly just awakened. “I heard some commotion. What’s going on, Ian? Is everything all right?”
“It’s Tempest, Jessica. I have to call the vet right away.” Ian found Michael’s cell phone, located the vet’s number in his contacts, and placed the call. After what must have been several rings, Ian told the vet to come right over. Jessica listened intently as Ian explained to the vet what had apparently happened. “I discovered the stallion in the grain room eating as much grain as he could get.” Ian paused, listening to the vet’s question. “I don’t know exactly how much he ate, but we know he was in his stall when Michael did his night check at 10 PM. I found him at 12:30 AM.” Ian paused again then responded. “Fine. We’ll see you when you get here. Thank you!”
As she listened to Ian’s end of the conversation, Jessica paled in fear. She ran back up the stairs to change into something more suitable, then, once changed, ran out to the stable. Michael was walking Tempest up and down the aisle. The stallion didn’t appear to be in any distress, but that didn’t mean that everything was all right. Colic or laminitis could develop over time. Laminitis especially, could take hours to develop, as the sugar from the grain made its way through Tempest’s system.
Before Jessica could say anything to Michael, his vet, Dr. David McKnight, arrived. Jessica noted that Dr. McKnight was in his mid-forties, medium build, about six feet tall, with light-brown hair that looked a bit tousled, as if he had just gotten out of bed. Jessica smiled to herself. He probably had just gotten out of bed to answer their emergency call. His attitude was one of professional concern as he approached the barn.
Knowing Ian had described what had happened to Tempest when he called, she knew he was prepared to get started with treatment right away. He had brought from his truck some items familiar to Jessica after several years around a number of horses: a stomach tube and funnel. “Michael, how is he? Does he have a fever, or is he showing any signs of colic?” the vet asked.
Michael said, “Nothing, David. I looked in the grain bin, and it appears he may not have had time to eat more than a gallon, but that’s still more than he gets as a regular ration.”
“Good,” the vet said. “I still think it would be a good idea to tube him with mineral oil and Banamine to prevent colic. It will also ensure any toxins produced by the excess sugar don’t cause laminitis. Laminitis is a disease of the hoof, caused when internal tissues, called laminae, weaken, and the horses pedal bone detaches from the inside of the hoof. When detached, the pedal bone can turn, and sometimes, it even pushes through the sole. When it pushes through the sole, it's called founder. It’s very painful to the horse, and if not treated or if it is severe it can cause permanent lameness. Horses in that situation would have to be put down or face a lifetime of excruciating pain.”
“I’ve heard of horses foundering, but have never experienced it in one of my horses, thank goodness. I do know it can be extremely painful for the horse,” Jessica said. “I’m so glad you found him when you did, Ian. You probably saved his life.”
Michael also expressed his gratitude to Ian. He looked to Tempest, who was still not exhibiting any signs of distress, but was watching the small group of humans surrounding him with interest. “He isn’t going to like this,” Michael said. “But we have to do it. Jessica, please help me keep him calm so David can insert the tube, and give him the mineral oil and Banamine.”
“Sure. No problem.” Jessica approached the stallion, who began to tense as the attention shifted back to him. The vet prepared the mineral oil and Banamine mixture, and as Jessica and Michael talked to the stallion in soft, comforting tones, David slowly and carefully inserted the naso-gastric tube into Tempest’s nostril, and guided it down his throat to his stomach. He slowly poured the liquid mixture into the tube so that it would go directly to Tempest’s stomach. The stallion’s eyes grew rounder, and the whites started showing, but Michael was at his side, soothing him with his voice, and slowly stroking his neck. Jessica held the lead rope and also did her best to speak soothingly to Tempest as the procedure progressed. The stallion calmed and stopped resisting the procedure. When the container holding the oil/Banamine mixture was empty, the doctor slowly withdrew the tube.
“Now, we wait,” the vet said. “I recommend you continue to walk him until he passes gas or manure and we know his digestive system is working. Hopefully, we’ll know in an hour or so if this treatment worked.”
“Thank you, David. I’m so glad you could get here so quickly.”
“You’re lucky. You were my only emergency tonight.” He smiled ruefully. “I should have known that expecting to get a full night’s sleep on my on-call night was too good to be true.”
Ian started walking Tempest up and down the barn aisles, and the tension that had been infecting the group began to recede. Michael noticed his vet looking at Jessica with curiosity, and realized he may be wondering who she was and why she was here on his farm in the middle of the night. He decided to simplify the explanation, since David didn’t need to know every detail of the circumstances surrounding Jessica’s presence. “David McKnight, this is Jessica Warren, an American dressage rider here to train with me on this stallion.” He looked over at Jessica. “Jessica, David was the vet for the British Olympic team before I persuaded him to follow me here to Surrey.”
“Wow. I’m impressed. I had no idea Michael could be that persuasive.” Jessica looked over at him and grinned, and he winked in response.
“Actually, my practice wasn’t far from here, in Sussex,” David said. “I still have many of my previous clients, but I’ve taken on Michael since we met in London for the Games last year. I haven’t regretted my association with him. He treats his horses very well.”
David offered his hand, and Jessica clasped his hand warmly. “It’s very nice to meet you, Jessica. Michael, as you probably know, is an excellent horseman. I’m sure you’ll learn a lot from him while you’re here.”
“Yes. I’m sure I will,” Jessica responded, looking over at Michael. She blushed when Michael met her gaze with warmth and, if she wasn’t mistaken, a hint of desire. Where did that come from? Jessica felt her entire body heat under his perusal, and she felt parts of herself stirring that hadn’t come alive in quite some time. She cleared her throat, and broke the visual contact by looking back at the vet.
Just as she was about to make a comment, Lionel appeared at the barn door. “What’s going on out here? Did I miss something?”
“Lionel, I’m surprised you slept through all the commotion,” Michael responded. “Tempest escaped from his stall, and broke into the grain room. He helped himself to about a gallon of sweet feed. Thank God Ian couldn’t sleep and wandered out to the barn to check on the horse, and discovered him. We called David and he treated him right away. He’s going to be fine.”
Lionel looked over at Ian, still walking Tempest up and down the aisle, and ruthlessly stifled the frustration he was feeling that his plan had not worked as he had hoped. “Yes, thank God, indeed.” I can’t believe my rotten luck. Now what? Lionel smiled at the group hoping his expression conveyed relief rather than frustration. “If all is settled, I think I’ll go back to bed and see if I can get some sleep. Good night all.” Just as Lionel was turning to leave the stable, Ian approached with Tempest. The stallion saw Lionel, immediately turned his rump toward him and farted explosively in his direction. The fart was immediately followed by a stream of loose, wet, and very smelly manure which landed right at Lionel’s feet. It was so close, in fact, that some of the wet manure splashed onto Lionel’s shoes. The stallion groaned in relief and audibly sighed after losing that intestinal burden, then nudged Ian indicating he was ready to be led back to his stall.
“Well, Lionel,” Michael said as he tried without success to stifle his mirth. “It appears that Tempest is trying to tell you something. Do you have any idea what you’ve done to deserve such noxious treatment?”
Jessica, David and Ian were also trying mightily to remain silent, but snorts of their suppressed giggles filled the stable.
“I do not,” Lionel said as he attempted as best he could to retain his dignity, and walked back to the house. He cringed as the trio behind him in the stable burst out in raucous laughter.