1 Chapter 1

Define ‘Truth’

Early that Tuesday morning, Harvey looked out of the kitchen window and asked, “Why’s the horse trailer hooked up to your Expedition?”

My husband nevernotices things like that—and especially not when he’s rushing off to work over an hour away in D.C. What made him break out of the mold today, of all days?

He put me on the spot. I didn’t want to lie, but neither was I about to tell him the truth.

There was nothing wrong with the truth…it’s just that Harvey wouldn’t believe it.

Instead there would be a fight, a big, unnecessary one. And there was no time for a fight—I was scheduled to leave in half an hour.

I wasn’t looking forward to the three hour journey, but luckily Josie was coming with me. She’s a competent, horsey friend. If my ancient Expedition broke down or the horse went berserk in the trailer, I wouldn’t have to deal with it alone.

Not that I had any idea what to do if either of those disasters occurred—just knowing I wouldn’t have to cope by myself was comforting.

However, I urgently needed to get my husband out of the door before Josie arrived and blurted out the details of our mission. I’d not explained to her that this information was on a Need-To-Know Basis—and Harvey didn’t Need-To-Know right now.

Another horsey friend had called last night, asking if I could transport some items in my trailer for her that afternoon. I divulged this request to Harvey. It wasthe truth…just not the whole truth.

“Oh,” he said, giving me a goodbye peck on the cheek. “Have a great day, then. Love you!”

“Love you, too!” I waved at his broad back and turned to my next big problem… 2: My Mission

Truth was, that morning I was fetching a beautiful, off-track Thoroughbred mare from her current home at a racing barn in Pennsylvania. The plan was to take her to a local rescue center for ex-racehorses.

Everything had been arranged nicely: the racing barn was ready for me to pick up the horse at 11 A.M. and the rescue center was all set to receive her at around 4 P.M.

But at 6:30 A.M., I read an email from Kathy, sole proprietor and manager of the rescue center. She would now be away that day, not returning to the farm until much later in the afternoon. She didn’t know when.

I sent a frantic email reply. Would she be back in time to take the horse off my hands?

So when Harvey had asked about the trailer, I still had no confirmation from Kathy that she’d be at her farm when I arrived with the horse in tow.

Which takes me get back to why I didn’t dare tell my husband what was going on. 3: No Room at the Inn

My own horses and those belonging to two friends occupy each of our four available stalls. That’s four horses and four stalls. Full house.

But Harvey knows I have a weak spot for off-track Thoroughbreds, or OTTBs. If I’d told him I was fetching a beautiful young bay mare that morning from her dark, dingy sweat box of a stall in a Pennsylvania shed row, no way would he have believed I was taking her straight to a Thoroughbred Rescue center.

He’d have been convinced I’d make up some story about how I just had to bring her home to our barn.

This was the confrontation I wanted to avoid at all costs that Tuesday morning. Harvey would have made me unhitch the trailer and abandon all plans of saving the little mare. I couldn’t risk that—I’d made it my mission to rescue that horse from her unhappy life.

Having avoided a morning fight with my husband, I now anxiously awaited a reply from Kathy, the rescue lady. Would she be back at her farm by the time I rolled in with a strange horse in my trailer? A horse I had no room for at my little farm, and which would cause terrible marital problems for me if I ended up having to bring her home? 4: How’d It Get This Crazy?

Walking down to my barn, vehicle keys in hand, I pondered on how and why I’d got myself in this predicament in the first place.

Rescuing Thoroughbreds is not a habit of mine—the whole episode was the result of a whim.

Red Cruiser, my dressage horse, had decided he didn’t want to be a pure dressage horse any longer. He wanted to be an eventer again. But I no longer wanted to jump higher and wider, and instead harbored dreams of going up the levels in dressage. This difference of opinion between horse and rider meant my chestnut gelding and I were going to have to part company.