Toni Petti - Horse Girl Homicide

Chapter Twenty Eight

Prince runs over hard ground and I'm jostled around because I'm still not sitting square in the saddle. I have to hold on tight and lean down to get my right foot in the stirrup. I end up just grabbing the iron and pushing it over my boot. That's better. Now I can ride.

Motorcycle engines whine in pursuit; the dirt bike has a square blue headlight while the Honda ATV has a round yellow lamp. Cooter's scowl is lit by the dashboard.

A.T.V. means All-Terrain Vehicle yet those bikes can't compete in truly rough country. I should leave this trail. But where to dash away? The quad is just fifty feet behind and the dirt bike sounds even closer. I see my best chance to leave the path over the next hump. Instead of staying on course, I pull Prince to the left and we blaze through a dry patch of weeds and Scotch thistle. Sorry buddy.

Neither Cooter on his quad, nor the dirt-biker follow us through the bramble and I relax and catch my breath. But then I see why they let me slip away. We left the trail too early, and now the rednecks hold the entrance, a break in the fence that surrounds the pit. That breach isn't a gate per say, it's just where the wire has been cut away so the locals can ride through. Being more familiar with the area, they knew it was a pinch-point. Now they have us trapped.

Prince is going to have the jump that rusty fence. No. There must be another way. I turn the stallion left and he snorts to protest my decision but complies. The ground under his hooves crinkles and makes tinkling noises. Oh no. There are rusty cans and old pails hidden on the ground under the grass. We can't go any further this way.

Crack! Something bright shines overhead.

Oh God. They're shooting flares. The yellow phosphorus lump hits nearby bushes. They're trying to make the stallion throw me. They'll set this property on fire if they keep launching flares into the foliage. Prince puts his head down to check the ground ahead and snuffles and looks back at me. He wants to turn around; he wants to jump that fence. I pull left to wheel him about and squeeze his sides to let him know I'm good with the plan.

We gallop back to the barrier which is only visible because of the ATV's headlight. The fence is four feet tall and I'm sure it's the worst kind of obstacle to jump. It's hard to see and it won't give an inch if Prince's hooves don't clear the top wire.

Twenty paces, fifteen, ten, five... Does Prince need me to say when? We both sense the moment. Now! I crouch and lift the reins to balance as we launch into the air. He stretches and I watch in amazement as we sail over the metal boundary. We're flying.

We land hard. The big horse stumbles but recovers. Candace would not be impressed, but I'm thrilled. Prince made it over the fence and the men didn't expect it. I hear them cuss and rev their motorcycle engines to renew the chase.

"Good boy," I pat Prince's neck as we surge ahead of the rednecks again, away down the trail through the sandy scrubland. We're hacking through the dunes now and I relax the reins because I know my stallion is more familiar with this terrain. He'll set a course for the safety of the barn, and that's just fine with me.

Crack! Another flare sails through the sky and bounces across the sand flat ahead of us. This bizarre ordinance scares Prince. He whinnies because he's never seen such a glowing, smoky thing before and doesn't want to approach. He slows and I have to hang on tight as he looks about for options. There's no other way except through dense underbrush and that's just the mistake they want us to make. The bikes get louder as they close the gap.

"Don't be scared Prince. Come on. Go! Go!" I encourage him onwards, straight at the demon flare. My confidence helps him overcome his fear of the sulfurous phantasm.

"Stop Antonia. Stop!" Bernard's voice reaches me over the roar of the engines. "Stop before it's too late." Ahh, so it is Mr. Delany on the dirt bike. He must have taken it because he knows these trails. He's the poisoner. He has the most to lose.

Ahead is the straight stretch that runs by the creek all the way to Hangman's Tree. If they're going to catch me anywhere, it'll be there. Should I find another way? No. I'm not deviating now. This is the most direct path back to the farm and I don't intend to make this ordeal last any longer than necessary. I'll just pour on the gas.

"Last chance Toni!" Bernard yells from the motorcycle. I sense his desperation because we both know that to stop now would be the stupidest thing I could ever do.

"Hiyah Prince. Come on boy!" We round the bend and I whisk his reins and squeeze his sides to put him into high gear. His hooves pound the hard ground by the water's edge. I crouch and balance to absorb the shock as he picks up the pace. Another mile and it'll all be over.

Cooter misses the turn and crunches into shrubs. His throaty cry makes it sound like he was thrown from his quad. I hope it rolled over on him. Listening, I only hear one engine now.

What's Bernard trying to do? He's trying to get alongside and slam into Prince's flank. He's trying to make the big horse shake me. The motorcycle gets even louder in my ears. He's catching up.

I have an idea. Yesterday, when Scissor passed us in the grass, sod flew from his hooves and one divot hit me in the head. I could do the same just by nudging Prince over a smidge. But how? We're galloping so fast already. How do I signal him to run in the grass? I give a tiny tug on the right side of the bridle and rub his neck and I get the feeling he understands.

Mr. Delany roars along right behind us and his headlight gets brighter and brighter. His bike's engine gets louder in our ears. He's just twenty feet back and he revs his motorcycle to get even closer. Prince shifts over to run on the grass, and I can feel the difference. I hear dirt clods hit the motorcycle. It's working!

"Oumph. Damnit. Ooh!" Bernard complains and drops back.

Hangman's Tree comes into view, a ghostly marker in a moonlit landscape.

"Come on Prince . Run like your life depends on it..."

The eight-year-old thoroughbred knows what at stake and he pours on speed. He runs even faster than before and twice as fast as yesterday. This is an amazing horse and he's saved our lives. Bernard is way behind us now, I think he's stopped. I risk a glance. Oh no. He's reloading that damn flare gun.

Crack! The flame shot speeds toward us, but we're too far away. We cross under Hangman's Tree and win our freedom.

I search the darkness for the trail uphill. I wasn't watching that carefully last time and now it all looks different at night. I can't find the path.

"Where is it boy?" I search every nook but can't find where to begin the ascent; I have to turn Prince around to rescan the brush. To my horror, I hear the dirt bike and see the pale blue headlamp, just a hundred meters away. Bernard knows I'm confused, and he drives towards us at top speed.

There it is. There's the boulder I used to mount Prince, and there's the trail that snakes up the hill. It's so overgrown that I missed it.

But there's the square blue headlight. Oh God, he's caught us. He's right beside me and his greasy hand reaches out...

"Go! Prince go!"

The motorcycle chases us uphill and I just know he'll catch us at the top.

"Hold it." A voice calls. "Stop right there." Two powerful flashlights shine down from the gravesite above.