Puss 'N Cahoots

the bathroom, closed the door, and clicked on the light so as not to wake her husband. She left him a note, which read:

    Honey,
    Couldn’t sleep. Took the truck. I’m going to Barn Five. I’ll probably be back before you wake.
    Love,
    Miss Wonderful

    Then she crossed out “Miss” and wrote above it “Mrs.” She propped the note against the mirror, using her makeup bag to hold it.
    She clicked off the bathroom light, then felt her way to the hotel-room door. Tucker and Mrs. Murphy, eyes better in the dark than Harry’s, walked out with her.
    “If you’re going, we’re going.”
Tucker blinked, still sleepy.
    “Pewter will have a cow.”
Mrs. Murphy giggled, for the gray cat hated to miss anything, even though she hated to cut short her beauty sleep.
    Harry unlocked the door of the F-250, Fair’s vet truck, where his medicines, needles, and gauze were locked in a special made-to-order aluminum trunk bolted to the truck bed. Most equine vets used a similar system, since they needed to call on their patients more than their patients called on them. Many a time Fair spread a large plastic sheet on a level part of a pasture and operated on the spot. This ability to act instantly saved lives.
    Harry grumbled that they’d spend a fortune in gas driving the eight hours, first to Springfield, home of Kalarama Farm, then on to Shelbyville. They did, but Fair wanted to be able to assist should a crisis occur. Each time they pulled up to the pump, it cost eighty dollars. Harry swooned, then recovered. Fair shrugged, paid the bill, and said the whole world would suffer for depending on oil.
    As neither of them had a ready-made solution to this spectacular global crisis, they kept rolling down Interstate 64.
    As the big V8 turned over, the clock on the dash read “one forty-five.” Harry adjusted the seat. The truck’s captain chairs could go up and down, forward and back, and even alter firmness of the backrest. The pedals could go up and down to adjust to leg length. The truck beeped when one backed up close to any object. Despite sucking gas, the machine thrilled Harry. She drove a 1978 Ford truck, and a few years ago Fair, hoping to win her back, helped her purchase a dually to pull her horse trailer. But her everyday drive was the half-ton pickup, which was a far cry from this tricked-out hunk of metal. However, she loved her old truck. Harry was loath to part with anything that still promised usefulness. Her sock drawer testified to this.
    She allowed the motor to warm up, then pulled out of the Best Western parking lot, passed the not-yet-open Wendy’s and the tractor dealership she wanted to visit, and turned right on the old main road, Route 60, which connected Louisville to Lexington. Then she turned left at the intersection and drove less than a quarter of a mile to the main parking lot by the practice arena. Charly Trackwell rented stalls in that lower barn. No one stirred, so she drove on the empty paths to Barn Five. She cut the motor and opened the door so Mrs. Murphy could hop out. She lifted Tucker down.
    Barn owls flew in and out of the various barns. A whip-poor-will called in the bushes. A horse nickered when she walked into the barn.
    Jorge, wide-awake, greeted her as she stepped into the aisle.
    “Señora Haristeen.”
    “Jorge, I hope I didn’t disturb you. I couldn’t sleep, so I thought I’d check on the horses along with whoever was on watch.”
    Jorge, in his late thirties, hair already salt and pepper, nodded, a smile on his creased, strong face.
    Wordlessly, she followed him as they checked each stall.
    “Jorge, how much is Point Guard worth?” She stopped to admire the five-gaited young stallion, who was being introduced to the show world this season. Along with the normal three gaits of walk, trot, canter, Point Guard could do the slow rack and the rack, a specialized gait where the horse lifted his legs high and up. A horse needed an aptitude for this, as well as all the additional training. The effect, when correctly done, was akin to watching a great ballerina leap and seem to hover in the air both effortlessly and endlessly. The rack showed off rhythm, balance, and power.
    “Mmm, right now, maybe three hundred thousand.” He admired the animal.
    Shelbyville would be an important step in Point Guard’s career. Joan and Larry hoped as he matured he’d be outstanding, for he had the conformation, action, attitude, and will to win.
    Harry marveled that the horses could