renowned judge and worked competitions from Columbia to Japan, but seeing the mix of interested bystanders brought the point home. Considering that the judging had started at seven a.m., there had been one hell of a lot of beef traipse past the stands in eight hours.
Hank was now moving his young bull to the center, backing and turning it with the finesse of someone who seemed to be an extension of the animal itself. A young man followed at the heels of the bull urging it onward working in unison with Hank. Hankâs muscled forearms pushed at the four-snap cuffs of his western shirt. His lanky frame was supple and handsome in western slacks and ostrich boots. Couldnât be too many years out of school, Dan surmised, a young man somewhere in his early thirties, already set for life working for Billy Roland. There wasnât even a sweat stain on his hat band.
Dan watched the judge start his rounds, checking his clipboard as he eyed each entry. Hank and the bull were posed perfectly. There couldnât have been a hair out of place. Then with his mouth wide, the bull gagged, shook his head, gagged again. The third gag reflex pushed the bullâs tongue out of his mouth, strangling a tortured bellow as his legs folded beneath him.
It took a second to realize what had happened. Hank was all action. Someone ran to him with a plastic case of medicines and syringes and he plunged a long needle into the bullâs neck, then another under the right leg. The bull didnât even twitch. Dan didnât need to check any papers to know that the animal was insured. Something in six figures, high six figures. Heâd bet on that. What galled him was the audacity of it all. Billy Roland planned for him to see it. Treat the insurance dick to a little unexplained death. Dare him to figure out how he did it.
A machine that looked like a forklift hoisted the limp bull onto a flatbed hospital cart pulled by a tractor. Dan took the bleachers in twos. He wasnât going to let the bull out of his sight. But the first thing would be to get another vet involved. That all-important second opinion.
âI want a complete workup. Blood, tissueâ¦you guys know your business.â Dan directed the team of lab assistants and conferred with the show vet, leaving Hank stewing on the sidelines.
âYou canât keep me away from my own animal. At least let me do an examination.â Hankâs cheeks were flushed and heâd grabbed Dan by the arm as he walked by.
âIf you so much as touch this bull, the insurance policy is null and void.â Dan should probably watch his anger but at the moment he had no reason not to suspect Hank.
Two hours later, fifteen vials and an assortment of plastic containers packed in dry ice were handed over to FedEx for overnight delivery to Chicago and an identical set to Texas A&M. The judging had been canceled and the arena posted No Entry. Dan sat in the bleachers and watched a team of specialists collect samples of sawdust, tap water, and flecks of paint from the gates and from any surface or foodstuff that might have been consumed or even licked. Heâd placed a call to Chicago to verify the bullâs insured sum; he had been right, six hundred thousand.
After the team left, he continued to sit staring at the empty arena now bathed in shadows. Iris and Hank were long gone; back to the Double Horseshoe, to confer with Billy Roland? Congratulate each other on a job well done? Dan had a sinking feeling that he might not ever figure out how they did it.
The clang of metal echoed around him. Someone had opened a side door in the corrugated steel building.
âNo oneâs allowed in the arena. Judging will resume in the morning,â Dan called out then waited.
No answer. The door clanged shut. The silence was comforting. He could hear the muffled screams of kids on the midway. Rides. As a teen heâd dump more than a weekâs allowance on that thing where you stood
Hank was now moving his young bull to the center, backing and turning it with the finesse of someone who seemed to be an extension of the animal itself. A young man followed at the heels of the bull urging it onward working in unison with Hank. Hankâs muscled forearms pushed at the four-snap cuffs of his western shirt. His lanky frame was supple and handsome in western slacks and ostrich boots. Couldnât be too many years out of school, Dan surmised, a young man somewhere in his early thirties, already set for life working for Billy Roland. There wasnât even a sweat stain on his hat band.
Dan watched the judge start his rounds, checking his clipboard as he eyed each entry. Hank and the bull were posed perfectly. There couldnât have been a hair out of place. Then with his mouth wide, the bull gagged, shook his head, gagged again. The third gag reflex pushed the bullâs tongue out of his mouth, strangling a tortured bellow as his legs folded beneath him.
It took a second to realize what had happened. Hank was all action. Someone ran to him with a plastic case of medicines and syringes and he plunged a long needle into the bullâs neck, then another under the right leg. The bull didnât even twitch. Dan didnât need to check any papers to know that the animal was insured. Something in six figures, high six figures. Heâd bet on that. What galled him was the audacity of it all. Billy Roland planned for him to see it. Treat the insurance dick to a little unexplained death. Dare him to figure out how he did it.
A machine that looked like a forklift hoisted the limp bull onto a flatbed hospital cart pulled by a tractor. Dan took the bleachers in twos. He wasnât going to let the bull out of his sight. But the first thing would be to get another vet involved. That all-important second opinion.
âI want a complete workup. Blood, tissueâ¦you guys know your business.â Dan directed the team of lab assistants and conferred with the show vet, leaving Hank stewing on the sidelines.
âYou canât keep me away from my own animal. At least let me do an examination.â Hankâs cheeks were flushed and heâd grabbed Dan by the arm as he walked by.
âIf you so much as touch this bull, the insurance policy is null and void.â Dan should probably watch his anger but at the moment he had no reason not to suspect Hank.
Two hours later, fifteen vials and an assortment of plastic containers packed in dry ice were handed over to FedEx for overnight delivery to Chicago and an identical set to Texas A&M. The judging had been canceled and the arena posted No Entry. Dan sat in the bleachers and watched a team of specialists collect samples of sawdust, tap water, and flecks of paint from the gates and from any surface or foodstuff that might have been consumed or even licked. Heâd placed a call to Chicago to verify the bullâs insured sum; he had been right, six hundred thousand.
After the team left, he continued to sit staring at the empty arena now bathed in shadows. Iris and Hank were long gone; back to the Double Horseshoe, to confer with Billy Roland? Congratulate each other on a job well done? Dan had a sinking feeling that he might not ever figure out how they did it.
The clang of metal echoed around him. Someone had opened a side door in the corrugated steel building.
âNo oneâs allowed in the arena. Judging will resume in the morning,â Dan called out then waited.
No answer. The door clanged shut. The silence was comforting. He could hear the muffled screams of kids on the midway. Rides. As a teen heâd dump more than a weekâs allowance on that thing where you stood
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