Ritzforg 127

By Cher Griffin

Mystery surrounds the theft of a prized stallion belonging to Brandywine Farm. Ritzforg 127 is missing! Days later his trainer is found dead in the tack room of his show stable. The local police are understaffed and have no clues for either case. Marla Mesconti, trainer at Reach For The Stars Stables and friend of Brandywine's trainer takes up the case on her own. With the help of her friends, Marla stumbles upon some wild clues that lead her to the answers. The story travels from the hills of New Hampshire to the show halls of Louisville, Kentucky and back. Will they find Ritzforg 127 before it's too late?

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Aug 1, 2013
• ISBN: 9781619274747

Book preview

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Ritzforg 127

Chapter 1

4:00 in the morning and the mist percolates slowly around the base of each of the eight massive horse barns of the Richville Fairgrounds, shimmering up from the stored heat of yesterday. It is pre-dawn, that grey time of day where the temperature dips a few more degrees before making its ascent to the mid 80's.

The Summer Classic 3-day horse show is getting ready to start the first day of competition and the horses are just beginning to rumble as the sun tries to sneak up above the horizon. In Barn A, the first row of horses seems more noisy than usual. A small, sun-darkened Mexican worker slowly rolls open the barn door. The horses inside start their soft nickering, hoping a purveyor of food has arrived. The silent man stalks carefully down the aisle to stall A30. Ritzforg 127, the magnificent Friesian stallion of Brandywine Farm, shakes his luminous mane and pokes his nose through the bars in attempt to see who is coming. The worker slides the door open and attaches a leather lead to Ritzforg's halter and stealthily walks the giant black horse out the back door. As the mist starts to rise up towards the promise of the sun it swirls around everything that moves through it. In that grey, murky early morning, Ritzforg 127 and his anonymous handler faded into the mist through the thick trees at the edge of the show grounds and slipped away.

Chapter 2

By 7:00 am, Barn A, Row 2 came alive as a passel of giggling teenage girls descend into the feed room and start bucket rounds. 16-year-old Brandy hugs her barely-115-pound body and shivers in the morning coolness.

Yowza, it's cold! It was just 85 yesterday, how could it get this cold so fast!!

Brandy Houston's flaming red hair could be seen for a country mile. Her heart-shaped face screwed itself into a twist as she vigorously rubbed her arms in an attempt to warm up. She loved her job at Marla Mesconti's riding stables. There was nothing so wonderful as the sound of hungry horses in the morning. Brandy's job entailed feeding and grooming the variety of show horses each day, both at home and at the shows, and cleaning out the stalls. She had been with Marla since her parents threw her out of the house at the ripe age of 14. Marla gave her a room over the barn and helped her get back into school. Brandy never forgot how much Marla had done for her and now at 18 she was working her dream job.

Come on you guys, these horses are gonna wake the dead if we don't get some grub at them! Brandy smiled at the group of girls drifting in, still rubbing the sleep from their eyes. Shake a leg, will you! Three of you have classes early so we need these guys fed and settled before the grooming begins.

The other girls bounced their heads in agreement and headed into the feed room to begin the morning chores. There's a lot of work to do for the 15 horses in the show string. Clanking buckets, rustling hay and the sounds of giggling girls mingled with the snorting and occasional kick of the horses waiting for their breakfast to arrive. Brandy shouted orders like a ship's captain and watched with a careful eye that each horse had the right amount of grain and supplements. Only one flake of hay for now, OK, they will all get more after the grooming is done, she ordered the other girls.

The girls came from all over the state to have a chance to show and train with Marla and her staff. The RFTSS show team was one of the best in the country and this morning started one of the biggest shows in the region. Horses and riders that competed and won at this show would be heading for Louisville, KY for the Nationals competition. Marla sipped her coffee slowly and watched the students divide the hay into flakes that will be distributed to the show horses.

Like a microburst in a summer storm, Marla Mesconti appeared in the door frame and strode confidently up to the big sliders and yanked them wide open to accept the brilliant sunshine making its way through the tall pines surrounding the barn. Tall, confident, blonde as a starlet, Marla was the main mast of a tight ship called Reach For The Stars Stables. Her blazing blue eyes didn't miss a trick while she surveyed the girls performing the morning rituals. Right on her heels was Marla's constant companion, Aggy, a red & white Pembroke Welsh Corgi. Aggy never fell out of step with Marla from sunup to sundown and looked mighty poorly on anyone who stood between them.

Make sure Wham gets only one flake of hay, Sarah, we have to long-line him this morning and we don't want his stomach too full. He has an early class and then he can finish his breakfast after that, Marla said to one of the seven teenage students she brought with her this weekend. Every year Marla attracted the best riders. They all seemed to fit the same MO, horse crazy girls aged 12-18 that would rather shovel manure than hang at the mall. Boys were secondary in their lives and their grades at school reflected their parents' ability to hang no riding over their heads if the grades slipped. Marla thoroughly enjoyed working with these girls and bringing out their star qualities in the competitive world of show horses.

OK, Marla, do you want me to give Forst his vitamin B? He's already stall-walking this morning.

Marla thought carefully before replying, Yes, let's give him the full scoop. He's a bit wired and we want him to settle down some. He doesn't have a class until later this afternoon and that will give the vitamins a chance to work.

Marla looked at the schedule on the wipe-off board hanging in the tack room. The classes all the horses were showing in were laid out in neat order. One of her students was an artist and Marla always let her write up the order of go as it added a fun element to the board. The list was surrounded with hand-drawn high-stepping Friesians and American Saddlebreds, two of the breeds that dominated the show string at RFTSS. Marla smiled at the goofy expressions on the face of one of the cartoon horses and thought how much horses could really be like that. Horses were Marla's life. She started out wanting a horse as soon as she was able to point one out of her chubby cardboard books. Huss, huss, she'd cry while pointing to a pudgy pony in the pages of her books.

A loud banging against the stall door brought Marla zipping into the aisle.

Marissa, can you please make sure that Donny Brook has his hay first. You know what a pain in the ass he is about not getting fed first. I'd hate to have to pay for a stall door if he kicks through it.

OK, Marla, sorrrreeeee! Marissa sang to her, grinning like a Cheshire cat.

Marla just shook her head and smiled. It was going to be a wonderful day and Marla went outside to the tent area at the end of the barn to enjoy a few minutes of quiet before the crazy show schedule took all her attention and effort. Aggy plopped down beside her. This show marked her 15th year showing at these grounds and Marla took a moment to rerun some of her favorite times here. She turned her face towards the sun and basked in the soft morning rays, letting the heat warm her naturally ruddy cheeks. She had just settled into her director's chair when her stable manager Jorge Vintana rushed up to her.

'Scuse me Miz Marla! Bill needs to see you right away! Ritzforg, ee's gone missing! Come, come!

What! How does a big horse like Ritz go missing? Marla asked as she sprinted across the front of the barn towards the stalls that housed the big black Friesian horses of Brandywine Farm. God, he's a stallion, too! Did he break out of his stall?

No, Miz Marla, de horse is no there and he not break hees door. The door ees shut tight! No one has seen him, just hoof prints in the dirt!

Jorge had been with RFTSS for almost 4 years and his talents with horses amazed everyone. Standing only 5'4" tall, his deep red skin and blue-black long hair pulled into a tight ponytail gave the impression of a squat little cigar-store Indian. In reality, Jorge was from Argentina and his broad shoulders and tight muscular thighs told another story. He spent his entire boyhood working at a polo farm and did every chore in the book from mucking stalls to saddle-breaking the new ponies that arrived each month. His quiet demeanor belied the ability to get a horse to do his will without whips or training aids, just soft, insistent, repetitive cues. Jorge moved to New Hampshire on a work visa and was now taking classes to gain citizenship.

Oh my God! He has to be here somewhere. Where's Bill? Marla was tossing back the last of the coffee and burned down the aisle to find Bill.

Bill Reynolds was Marla's mentor. He took her in for five years when she was a troubled teen looking for a way into the show horse world. He taught her everything he knew. The kind words and gentle training and teaching methods of Bill were the catalyst to get Marla where she was today, a full out, world-class trainer and commander-in-chief of her own top-shelf show barn.

Standing solid at 6' tall, Bill Reynolds' soft mannerisms contradicted the size of himself and his horses as he was an amazing horse trainer. His ability to get his lofty, black, leg-feathered Friesians to perform at all different disciplines was legendary. Whether a dancing dressage horse, solid western pleasure horse or heart-stopping saddle seat horse, Bill found the inner strengths of all his charges and capitalized on them. The breeding program consistently produced foals that pulled enormous price tags. The horses he kept for the show string were hand-picked by him and Marla was his trainer of choice to send his junior exhibitor level horses. Bill and Marla remained fast friends throughout the changes in their lives and Marla always stored a soft spot in her heart for the wonderful opportunities he had afforded her.

Marla saw the familiar thick, grey, crew-cut mop that denoted Bill from any distance. He was standing in the aisle in front of stall A30 holding his forehead in his thick, meaty hand.

Marla rushed up to him, Bill, what happened?

I don't really know! Ritzforg was here at the last feeding last night and my guys closed up the barn around 11:00. They came in to feed at 7:00 this morning and Ritz was gone! No broken stall doors and all the outer barn doors were closed. We have to assume someone stole him.

Oh, my God! Marla gasped, Who would do such a thing! There must be some signs, somewhere?

Well, as near as we can tell someone came in between 11 and 7 and just walked away from the barn with Ritz in tow. It seems crazy but we did find a solitary set of footprints in the dirt and they led towards the wooded side of the grounds. You know how we always rake up the front of the barn just before we leave for the night? Well, we saw the footprints go through the fresh rake marks and then head for the woods.

Bill gazed out the barn door towards the woods. He must have been led through that mess to the road and someone had to be waiting there with a trailer because the hoof prints end at the side of the road.

Marla's heart gave a twist as she watched Bill's face. He was such a stoic man that internal pain rarely made an appearance on his face but Ritzforg 127 was a very special horse to Bill. It was the last foal of the Ritzforg line that had belonged to his brother Matt.

Matt Reynolds was two years younger than Bill and they were born on the same date. It was a family joke to call the boys two-year-twins. They may have shared the same birthday but the two boys grew up with two polar-opposite personalities. Bill was the quiet and shy one while Matt the rabble-rouser. Matt was taller than Bill but not as rugged and if a brotherly fight broke out, Bill could always count on winning by just pinning the scrawny younger brother to the floor. Matt spent a lot of time in the principal's office in school while Bill was on the honor roll. Through it all, the boys remained fast friends. Their parents ran a small lay-up stable for the race horse industry. Horses that were injured on the nearby track came to the farm to recover and get the medical attention they needed on a daily basis. Matt and Bill both enjoyed the time together in the barn wrapping legs, applying poultice and generally caring for the invalids in their custody.

Matt grew up fast and married his race-track sweetheart at the age of 20. He produced two children and then opened his own sale barn. The new Reynold's family bought and sold racehorses to start with but very early into the game, Matt's wife took a shine to the fierce-looking black giants of the horse world. Friesians. The horses were not well-known in the US and Matt and his wife made many trips to Holland in the beginnings of his career to purchase the long-maned animals. At one point he purchased a twin pair of Friesian colts. Twins that live after birth are rare in the horse realm and twin colts even more so. They were three years old when Matt found them at a special sale in the land of tulips. They had just been presented with a Ster rating at the keuring in Holland making them the most sought-after horses of the breed. For Christmas that year, Matt presented Bill with one of them, Ritzforg 126, as a gift for his big brother's new breeding program at Brandywine. Matt kept the other colt, Ritzforg 127, and the two boys went on to create one of the finest Friesian breeding programs in the northeast.

Four years before the current show, Matt was involved in a horrific car crash that totally destroyed his pickup truck and sent him rocketing head first through the windshield into a tree. That was a night from hell for everyone. Bill had been staring at Ritzforg's empty stall as he recalled the last thing Matt said to him before he slipped into the coma that would eventually take his life.

Please take Ritz to your farm, Matt barely spoke above a whisper. My wife will transfer the papers to you and I want you to continue his breeding program. Please! Bill, you have to promise me you will take him. I'm really hurt bad. I just want to know he'll continue on even if I don't.

Bill broke down and wept on the hospital bed that night as he promised to keep Ritz at his own farm until Matt was well enough to take him back. Matt had closed his eyes and smiled. The grip he held on Bill's hand slowly released and Matt began his weeks-long descent into the world of the afterlife.

Bill shook his reverie off like a wet dog and looked up at Marla. I called the police and they are on their way. I just don't know how we're going to find him. There isn't a single clue here

We'll find him, Bill, Marla said. "Let the police do their job. Do you want my girls to show the geldings in their halter classes? It would be a shame for them not to qualify for Nationals. I know it seems harsh but the show must go on and we have a few extra handlers to get you through until the police are done with you.

Yeah, I guess that would be best. I have two going in the 5 and over class. If you could get them in the ring for me, I will be ready for the rest of the classes by then. Thanks, Marla, he kissed her on the forehead, I owe you.

The first of the morning announcements came over the loudspeakers in the barn letting everyone know the show would start promptly at 9:00 and that the coffee and donuts were ready in the hospitality booth. The noise in all the barns picked up exponentially after that. The first of the halter classes were always babies and they screeched and whinnied as everyone began the preparations to present them. Halter classes are the beauty pageants of the horse show domain. Horses are presented to a judge and then placed according to their conformation. The best built horses with the most type and quality were placed at the top and a blue ribbon at this show was a way to lock in a trip to Kentucky.

The police arrived just as the first horses were brought out on to the cross ties to be groomed, fluffed and buffed for their halter classes.

Excuse me, miss, I'm looking for Bill Reynolds. Is he in this barn? a stocky blue-clad officer asked Marla.

Yes! One aisle over. Come with me and I'll show you where the theft took place. I hope you can find Ritz. That horse means the world to Bill, she funneled the officer through the aisles to Bill's section

Well, we'll give it our best but it's really hard to find an animal if it was stolen. We hear of people losing their horses out of their back fields in the middle of the night and it's so random, the officer replied. Usually the horses end up in Canada at a packing plant.

Marla shivered at the thought. This one doesn't seem random. The people who stole him knew our routine and knew exactly when to take him and which horse to take. This was definitely planned.

Marla and the officer rounded the corner of Row 1 and introduced the officer to Bill. Bill, have you found any clues yet? she asked.

Nothing, not a damn thing and it's driving me crazy. Bill's face was showing the strain as the officer pulled out his notepad and began the laborious task of questioning the people involved and trying to find any potential witnesses.

30 minutes to show time! This is your 30-minute gate call for Class number 1, Saddlebred colts and fillies, 2 and under, the show announcer called.

Marla geared herself up for the beginning of a very busy day. She was instantly wrapped up in overseeing the 6 halter horses she was presenting as well as the two geldings Bill was to show in the morning program. She left Bill with the police officer and ran back to her aisle.

Ok, girls, this is it! I'm going to the camper to get dressed, you guys make sure that Weldon has his feathers trimmed just a teeny bit above the ground and Wham and Tikka have their muzzles shaved. Brandy, you remember to use the bridle with the navy browband for Tikka. Marla rattled off a string of commands as she did the final count of the classes she was showing in this morning. Sierra, get your show clothes on, you will be presenting Bill's gelding in his class. Casey, you too, he's got two horses in the same class. Hustle, hustle!

The show proceeded as planned and both Brandywine and RFTSS horses placed well in their classes. Meanwhile, the police investigated the area and marked the spot where a trailer had been waiting on the street. The horse had apparently balked at loading. There were signs of a bit of a struggle, the sand on the edge of the road churned up and some scrape marks on the pavement.

They followed the footprints from the barn to the street and were able to photograph one good human footprint but told Bill there wasn't much to go on. They asked Bill who might want to do this sort of thing to him and he just scratched his head. I really can't imagine who would do this. I can't think of anyone I might have pissed off. I don't make it a habit to burn my customers.

Ok then, thanks, Mr. Reynolds. We'll be in touch. In the meantime be sure to inform your insurance company that the horse is missing. They have quite a network, too and something might pop up with them, the officer offered a handshake and then disappeared into his cruiser.

As the day wound down, Marla and Bill sat together at the front of the barn where Ritz had faded away. Bill, who would do this to you? Would Matt's wife be behind it? You know how ticked she was when Matt gave you the horse instead of her, Marla mused.

No way, she wouldn't know how! Besides, she was glad to have that horse gone. He's a handful and the kids weren't into the horses anymore so it was just her. Look at the stuff she has left. All the good horses were sold off to buy the boat and new wardrobe. I can't imagine her wanting another horse. She's down to just three broodmares and that's just to keep the grass down in the pasture out front, Bill shook his head sadly.

Marla kept thinking they were overlooking someone but whom? I don't have a clue, she said, But I'll give it a lot of thought tonight when it's quiet. Maybe I can think of someone from the past that may have an ax to grind. Either way, I'm exhausted and ready for bed.

Marla stretched to her full 5' 11 and gave Bill a hug. See you in the morning, sweetie. We have a bunch of classes so I'm starting early. Good night."

Bill watched his protege head for the line of campers behind the barns. He felt like someone