No one said anything. The only sound was the stirring of horses in their stalls, pulling at the hay and rustling empty feed buckets.
Vee finally spoke. “Jack, we think there’s something wrong with Epi. I called the show vet. He’s coming over to check her out.”
Cory let out a deep breath and collapsed onto the tack trunk. It could be true. Epi could have been drugged, and now Vee was calling a vet who would find out. One way or another. It could mean they would be banned for drugging, if Angela got her way. But at least they would find out what was wrong with the horse.
Jack turned to study the mare. “She seems more tired than usual to me, but then, she’s got a right to be.”
“See if you can delay the next round jump-off until we get the vet to have a look at her,” Vee suggested.
Jack handed the reins to Cory and winked. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it.”
Cory wrapped an arm over the mare’s neck and dropped her sore cheek against Epi’s shoulder. She breathed in the comforting, familiar smell of the mare’s skin—a mixture of sweet hay, sweat, and leather oil. She whispered into a cocked ear, “What’s wrong with you?”
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