Clawed and Dangerous

1

September 17, 2025

Wednesday

In theory mid-September should be good weather. Mother Nature is not interested in theories.

Fair Haristeen, DVM, drove through the cold rain to the elegant stables owned by Big Mim Sanborne. Built in the mid–nineteenth century, the two-story brick structure, with Dutch stable doors and trim painted white, had withstood worse than this over the centuries.

Parking on the south side, Fair grabbed his bag and his Barbour raincoat, making a dash for the stable doors, which he easily slid open.

Paul Sanchez, who managed Big Mim’s stables, her large equine operation, shouted over the rain din, “Glad you’re here.”

A bay Thoroughbred stallion, seven years old, screamed in his stall while kicking the walls, fortunately made out of thick oak.

Kyle Lawler, Paul’s young assistant, stood white-faced by the closed stall door. “He tried to kill me. Ran for me in the field. Wanted to roll me.”

Neither Fair nor Paul replied. Rarely would a stallion attempt to knock down a human, pick him up with his forelegs, then rear up only to hit the ground hoping to crush the human to death. People volunteered many reasons for this murderous behavior on the few occasions when it occurred. A few may even have been correct.

However, both Fair and Paul blocked Kyle’s babble. He could clean stalls, tack, lead horses in and out, but he evidenced no particular talent with the animals. He made sure anyone who met him knew he worked at Big Mim Sanborne’s stables. She was known throughout the horse world.

“How long has he been in the stall?” Fair asked.

“A half hour. Got him in then called you,” Paul answered.

“Let me grab some stuff out of the truck. I’ll get him zoned out then check his legs.”

“Bring the X-ray in case.” Paul then added, “I’ll go out with you. Help carry stuff.”

“Thanks.” Fair slipped on his old but still perfect Barbour raincoat as Paul pulled on his Filson.

Both brands cost money but they lasted forever. In the long run they proved cheaper. As Fair’s mother used to say, “Buy the best then you only cry once.”

Kyle moved in front of the stall door which further set off Silver Silence, who screamed again.

“Kyle, step out of his sight,” Paul ordered.

“He wants to kill me.” Kyle whimpered but did step away.

“Just stay out of sight.” Paul raised his voice.

At the truck Fair opened the locked back, which he’d had specially built to carry equipment and meds. The tall man climbed up to hand down the X-ray, a bit unwieldly. He then grabbed Banamine and a needle.

The two men trotted through the rain into the stable, now leaving the doors open a crack.

Fair filled a needle, flicked it with his finger. “I’d rather not use this but given his behavior I think drugs aren’t out of order. Paul, I never know when I’ve given a horse a drug if it masks some pain. I always feel I can make a better assessment without.”

“I know that. You do what you have to do.”

“Okay. Open his stall door a crack.” Fair kept his right hand, carrying the needle, up straight.

Silence snorted.

“There you go, big fella, there you go.” Fair reached up to the impressive animal’s neck, ran his fingers alongside his chest. “Let’s see.”

Paul, voice low, said, “I don’t know.”

Kyle, curious, began to creep over just as Fair reached up to inject Silence with the Banamine. Usually, horses paid him no mind, as Fair was a master at administering shots.

But, hearing Kyle’s voice, the horse spun around, and kicked Fair high.

“Ahh.” Fair held his chest but amazingly did not drop the needle.

Paul stepped in, put his hands under the six-foot-four-inch man, quickly pulling him out as Silence kicked again, this time banging against the stall door, which reverberated.

“Close the goddamned door!” Paul shouted at Kyle as he now put one arm around Fair’s waist. “Can you take a step?”

Kyle closed the door.

“Yeah. Thanks for getting me out.”

“You need to go to the ER.” Fair shook his head. “Come on, Fair. I’ve broken my ribs, I know how painful it is.”

“How’d you know he got my ribs?”

“He kicked high. Plus, I heard the crack,” Paul said.

Paul gently lowered Fair into the tack-room chair, pale though he was.

The vet took a deep breath. “My bag is out in the aisle. When I get out of the ER, I can return to check his legs, I hope. I’ll leave the X-ray machine with you, my bag and my truck.”

“Don’t worry about anything, especially Silence. I’m taking you to the ER.” Paul was polite but firm.

“Silence has won some big races. He’s worth a lot as a stud. I don’t want to take any chances with him. Mim needs him breeding sound. Cracked or broken ribs won’t stop an X-ray. I’ll call my wife. She’ll take me. When I get back, I’ll take the X-rays.”

“Fair, please. None of us will be any good for anything if something happens to you.”

“That’s flattering.” Fair winced. “Let me call my babydoll.” He punched the button on his cell. “Honey, pick me up at Mim’s. I need you to take me to the ER.”

Paul grabbed the cell from Fair and gave Harry a more detailed explanation.

“I’ll be right there,” said Harry.

As Fair sat there, he asked Paul, “When did this behavior start?”

“About a week ago. He’s gotten worse.”

“Any change in his routine?”

“No.”

Fair reached into his pocket, handed Paul the keys. “Lock the back, will you?”

Paul nodded then told Kyle to go to the other barn and bring another bag of sweet feed.

As Kyle left, Fair said, “I don’t really know him, Paul. I wouldn’t trust anyone I don’t know with some of the drugs in the truck. They can bring big money on the street.”

“Right.” Paul sighed just as the doors opened on the other end and Harry walked in.

“Honey.”

“He’s here.” Paul raised his voice. “You talk some sense into him. He wants to come back from the ER and do X-rays on Silence.”

Attractive even in her wet, muddy jeans, Harry looked at her husband. “Come on. We can figure out what to do once the doctor fixes you up.”

“If Silence has a leg problem I want to get on it.”

“Fair, do as your wife tells you.” Paul did so like Fair and Harry together.

Fair rose, unsteady, Paul immediately went over, put his arm again around his waist. He carefully walked him out to the old Volvo station wagon. Harry opened the door as Paul eased him onto the passenger seat, then knelt down, picked up his legs, and slid them in.

They all got wet.

“I’m not crippled,” Fair groaned.

“Not yet.” Paul closed the door as Fair lowered the window, for Harry had left the motor running.

She was already behind the wheel.

Paul leaned over. “Don’t worry about the truck. Taz and I will bring it to you.” He named his wife.

As she backed out, Fair noticed. “You didn’t wear a raincoat. You’ll catch a cold.”

“I’m fine, but I will turn on the heat, low. Every time I hit a bump, it’s going to hurt.”

“Where are we going?”

“Augusta.” She named a hospital close by, over in the Valley. “I called and told them we were on the way just before I picked you up. They wanted to send an ambulance and I said I was on my way and the ambulance wasn’t going to do any better in this rain than myself. Plus, it was only broken or cracked ribs.”

“Okay. Uh.” He felt that bump.

“I’m sorry.”

“Damn roads,” he cursed.

“Where the hell does our state tax money go?” She peered intently through the windshield.

“There’s a subject that hurts more than my ribs.” He smiled a bit. “Although I do think we’re better off in Virginia than a lot of other states. I mean, what if we were paying state taxes in New Jersey?”

“Even Mim with all her millions would have a fit.” Harry smiled. “Does it hurt to wear a seatbelt?”

“A little,” he answered.

“The weather is bad. Buckle up. I know it will hurt but just in case.”

He did as he was told.

“That was obedient,” she praised him.

“Women have secret weapons.” He smiled then grimaced as it did hurt.

“I’m glad to hear that.” And she was glad to hear him tease her.

He might be in pain but he hadn’t injured an organ, and his mind was fine.