Venom by Nikki Tate Page B

the sample over. Every time I see Tony, I get a strange guilty feeling in my gut. I wonder what the penalty is for trespassing in someone else’s barn when the result is finding an illegal drug. If the syringe really does contain anything stronger than vitamins, that is.
    I don’t exactly have time to dwell on the problem, because Scampy has me in the saddle before the sun is up.
    Chiquita Manana is raring to go. We join the other horses making their way to the track for their morning workouts.
    I fall into step with Ellen, one of the riders who left with Jimmy.
    â€œNo sign of Jimmy?” Ellen asks.
    I shake my head and organize my reins.
    â€œHe wouldn’t let us take him home. We dropped him off at the Bull and Crown.”
    â€œI wonder when we’ll see him again,” I say. The Bull and Crown is a grungy bar not far from the track. Wee Jimmy Jump-up isn’t the only person from the track who has disappeared into the bar for a drink and not been seen again for days.
    â€œReady?” Ellen asks.
    We warm the horses up together, and then Ellen peels off to the outside. They aren’t going for a fast workout today. I make a kissing sound to Chiquita Manana and the filly responds beautifully. She hits her stride and gallops strongly, her breath coming in great whooshes. I wiggle my whip out to the side, and she accelerates past a chestnut colt heading across the finish line. She pinsher ears and surges forward. I let her run well past the line, enjoying the filly’s sheer power and easy balance as she navigates the turn. When I feel her begin to tire, I let her slow and gradually bring her back to a canter and then to a big, springy trot. Scampy looks pleased when we reach the gate.
    â€œGood,” is all he says. “Lordy’s next. Don’t push him.”
    I know what this means. Scampy doesn’t want to hurt the horse, but he doesn’t want to tip off Tony either.
    After I’ve exercised Lordy, Scampy waits at the gate, pushes his cap back and looks up at me. “Well?”
    â€œSame, Scampy,” I say. I look around to make sure nobody is close enough to hear. I drop my voice. “Uneven when I push him.”
    Scampy nods and then says loudly, “Good! He’s a good racehorse, aren’t you, big boy?” He reaches up and pats Lordy on the neck.
    Tony is over by the fence watching the workouts.
    My teeth clench, and I have to force myself to relax my jaw. I can’t let Tony know that we know what he’s doing.
    There’s a lull in the action in the middle of the afternoon. Scampy makes some excuse that his back is bugging him and asks Em and me to come with him to the feed store.
    In the truck, Scampy says, “You can’t hand in that sample.”
    â€œWhat?” Em and I say together.
    â€œThink about it. If you go in and tell them my horse used this stuff—”
    Em and I look at each other. Who would believe that the trainer didn’t know what was going on?
    â€œBut—”
    â€œAnd we don’t know for sure that they did anything wrong or how that stuff got into their fridge.” Scampy starts counting on his fingers. “And, we don’t know that it’s the same stuff Tony injected in Lordy’s leg. We don’t even know if that’s where he gave the shot!” Scampy squeezes the steering wheel and chomps on his gum.
    Scampy’s right. We have a pretty flimsy case.
    â€œBut it’s pretty obvious what they’re doing,” I say. “I looked up venom on the Internet.”
    Em jumps in. “Cobra venom works like a nerve block. If you inject it into a joint—”
    â€œYeah, I know. The horse gets temporary relief. He runs better than expected. Place a big enough bet on a long shot and you make some serious money.”
    Scampy turns onto the highway and stops chewing his gum long enough to merge in front of a semitrailer truck.
    â€œI know how the scam