An Inconvenient Elephant (14 page)

“IT'S A SCAM,” RICHIE SAID. I HAD CALLED HIM IN
a panic before Reese and Marielle had even gotten into their car to leave. “The really nice man with the two kids, the 4-H project. Sometimes it's a really nice woman. They pick up the horse and sell him the same day to a slaughterhouse dealer. Fast money, no investment.”

I knew that he was going to tell me that. I knew it even before I called him, that Mousi had been given away to an unscrupulous slaughterhouse dealer. I was sick. “I have to find him,” I cried into the phone. “The phone number he gave Marielle isn't working.”

Richie gave a hollow laugh. “Never is,” he said.” How long has it been since he's gone?”

“Marielle said it was less than a week ago.” I could barely speak the words. “I'm calling all the barns that I know, all my
friends that have horses, all the horse vets, all the farriers. I don't know what else to do.”

“Let me ask the people that I know,” Richie tried to reassure me. “If your horse is still alive, we'll find him.”

“How
will you find him?” I wailed. “How do you even know where to start?”

“Well,” Richie said, “I'll start by getting the name of every really nice man in the county.”

 

Aside from a hundred frantic phone calls, there was nothing more I could do until I heard back from Richie. How ironic that I was so preoccupied with rescuing one animal that I lost the one I truly loved. How stupid I had been. How could I have not heard Marielle asking if I wanted my horse back. I wanted to reverse time, turn the week to that day, to that moment when Marielle first asked me, and shout, Yes, I want him back. Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes!

I sat up all night in the rocking chair on the back porch, fighting to keep pictures of Mousi out of my mind. He would be frightened, terrified, maybe injured, maybe being slaughtered this very minute. I pushed my fists against my eyes. I couldn't allow myself to see him like that.

I had to find him. I would search everywhere. Every barn, every farm, call every…

I opened my eyes and it was morning. My body felt stiff, and I was chilled through. I had fallen asleep in the rocking chair. It was very early, the beginning of another day. Another day less for Tusker, and another day less for Mousi.

I stood up to stretch. Fall was beginning to conquer the trees, golden leaf by golden leaf. The Catskill Mountains in
the distance were a baroque tapestry of russets and maroons and blazing orange, but they held no beauty for me. The skies were a cool gray-blue. New York skies. They held nothing for me either, not a trace of hope. I had gone to Kenya and lost Tom, and gone to Zimbabwe and lost Mousi. Diamond was right. In the end, the jungle takes everything.

I needed someone who would listen to me, someone with a sympathetic ear. In fact, a big, flapping, sympathetic ear. And a long, gentle nose to wipe away my tears.

I needed an elephant.

 

The sun was strong by the time I got to the barn, melting the dew that had been frozen like so many crystal flowers in the fields below. The chill was melting away, warming into a bright day, but I felt nothing. The chill inside of me remained.

I went into the elephant barn and gave Margo a scoop of elephant chow through the bars.

“It's not that I don't trust you anymore,” I told her, “it's just that I don't really trust you anymore.”

Margo nodded her head up and down as though she agreed with me, then carefully curled the tip of her trunk around the pellets and scooped them into her mouth.

“It's all my fault,” I continued, tears rolling down my face. “I shouldn't have trusted anyone with Mousi. If you love something, you don't just give it up. I was so stupid.” I began to weep.

Margo swept hay from the floor and dropped it across Abbie's back like a good mother. It was an ancient elephant ritual to protect their children from the elements. Then she returned her attention to me.

“See?” I said. “No one can take care of something you love like your own self.” She lifted her trunk to sniff my face. “Why didn't
I
take care of Mousi?” I cried, pressing my face to the bars. “Why did I even give him away? I could have paid board on him in some barn.” The rough edge of Margo's trunk traced a sympathetic path down my face, and I knew I couldn't let her leave, either.

“Richie will be so busy. Who will watch over you?” I sobbed to her.

I couldn't bear it. Who watches over any of them? I left her and walked outside.

 

Farms are so eerily quiet in the early morning, as though the noises of the day haven't quite found them yet. This was especially true at the sanctuary. The property was so big, it filtered out every sound except that of the animals. But this time I heard voices. Men's voices. Curious, I followed the sound, walking down part of the road that led to the horse pasture.

In the distance, just on the other side of the pasture, was a large blue truck parked next to several men. Hunting is a local pastime, and after a year in Kenya, caring for baby ellies whose mothers had been killed by poachers, my first thought was that the men were trespassing to hunt. Fury swept through me as I thought of the bears, the lions, the wolves, all easy targets, trapped in their enclosures.

It was too far to walk. I ran back for my car and drove madly to the bottom of the road. I knew my car would be able to fit through the gate into the pasture. Diamond and I had driven the old truck through, loaded with hay, all the
time, and I knew I could probably drive over the first few acres of the flat pasture, but beyond that was stony terrain that dipped sharply into muddy wetlands, making it impossible to proceed any farther.

I had to protect the animals. I had seen too many sport hunters grow bored tracking the animals they had wounded, leaving them to crawl through the jungle maimed until they died a slow, wretched death. I'd had my fill of death. I was not going to allow even one more animal to suffer.

I stopped the car at the gate and got out. There was only one mode of transportation that could safely navigate the rest of the pasture, and it had four legs. Actually, there were fifty-seven makes and models, with several variations of color—I just needed to find the most suitable one. The black horse that Diamond had ridden was too far away, but there was an overweight, phlegmatic-looking chestnut mare practically standing next to me, her eyes closed in a peaceful doze. She looked like a quarter horse, and I liked quarter horses. They are generally gentle and user friendly and easy to ride. Reassuring the mare in a soft voice, I walked to her side. Her eyes popped open and she looked me over, then dropped her head to graze, a good sign that she was relaxed. I stepped up to her and rubbed her neck for a minute, and she sighed blissfully. Then I pressed both hands against her back and got ready to mount her. She snorted loudly and struck out at me with a front leg.

“So much for introductions,” I said, and quickly jumped onto her back, out of striking range. The mare shook her head and pranced around in indignation. I grabbed a shank of her long mane and wrapped it around my hand, then sat back to
balance myself. She pawed the ground and spun in a small angry circle. Not quite the way it had gone for Diamond.

“Knock it off,” I said in my best Voice of God imitation, but the mare was apparently an atheist and took off at a full gallop across the field. Her plump conformation made her easy to sit, but she was running with an energy born of resentment and overfeeding.

Her canter became a series of springs and leaps, and she was racing toward the fence with more speed than even she knew she possessed. I wrapped my legs tightly around her middle and prayed I would stay on while she incorporated 360-degree pivots on one hoof, along with other amazingly engineered equine movements. She swung her head wildly up and down while I took a stronger grip on her mane and tried to kick her forward. We were turning into a spectacle and out of the corner of my eye, I could see the men in the distance getting interested in our impromptu performance. One man was holding onto something long and linear—a rifle, I thought—and for a moment I entertained the notion that a quick bullet to either me or the horse would almost be welcome.

A few more minutes and the mare was beginning to tire. Her pace slowed, and she was panting from her exertions. I took advantage of her fatigue to kick her on and keep her cantering toward the fence.

As we drew closer I could see two men in jeans holding surveying instruments along with a packet of red flags. Not poachers, I realized with some relief, surveyors. Several other men in a circle of suits were joining them in what was apparently an open-air business meeting.

“Thank you,” I heard someone say. “We'll get the proposal to you as soon as we can. We should have the papers signed before the month is out. I guess this fence will be coming down.”

They shook hands, apparently making some kind of business deal over the very land I was riding on. So that's why Tom was going to send the elephants away and tear down their barn. It hadn't been for Margo's benefit, after all. It was to snatch all the land in the area!

And to do what? Build another housing development? Another mall? Tom had betrayed me, betrayed Mrs. Wycliff, betrayed the elephants.

Anger tightened the muscles in my throat, and I gave the mare another strong kick toward the men. I wanted to let them know that I
knew.
That they could go back and tell Tom—tell him what? I had to laugh. Tell him that some woman with a black eye came galloping up on them out of the morning mist like a half-crazed Valkyrie and she was very indignant?

The mare was blowing hard by now, and my legs were weakening from the strain of staying on. But at my urging, the horse lowered her head and caught a second wind and plowed on, the only good thing was that we were now both agreeing on the direction of travel. The fence was straight ahead. I pulled back on her mane to stop her, but the mare only bore down and picked up speed. The fence was twenty or so feet in front of us, and I started worrying less about the mare's braking skills and more about how adept she was at jumping. Luckily, she demonstrated a certain dim notion of self-preservation by screeching to a dead halt just before she
would have crashed us both through the fence. A scream escaped my lips as I flipped off her back and slid several feet across the slick mud, ending with a perfect forward roll. There were loud gasps followed by uproarious laughter from my audience. Three men, dressed in dark, pristine business suits were staring at me in frank delight. A man pushed through from the back and leaned over the fence to extend a hand and help me to my feet. I couldn't see him for the mud in my eyes, but his voice startled me.

“Why, Neelie,” Tom said. “What a surprise! I wasn't expecting you to drop by today.”

I HAVE BEEN IN MANY SITUATIONS IN WHICH I
fervently wished that the earth would swallow me whole.

On this particular occasion, the earth had made a good attempt by enveloping me almost completely in mud. Unfortunately, I had to reemerge in front of a group of highly entertained and chortling spectators.

As Tom lifted me to my feet, there was a flutter of hooves behind me, and we turned around just in time to see that the mare, finished with the task at hand, was departing for her previous location at warp speed.

“If you wait a moment, I'll give you a ride,” Tom said, an amused smile playing across his lips. He wiped his muddy hand on one of the red flags. “It looks like your taxi just left without you.”

There was another round of guffaws, followed by a round
of farewell handshakes, and the men got into their cars and departed, leaving me and Tom alone.

“I know what you're doing,” I snapped at him.

“Certainly nothing as dramatic as what you've managed,” he replied. “A rodeo and a mud slide, all in one morning!” He swung open the door to his Bentley. “Would you care for a lift?”

“Thank you,” I said with all the dignity my grubby state would allow. He waited for me to spread his morning copy of the
Wall Street Journal
across the front seat in an effort to keep from soiling the pristine caramel leather upholstery. “I can't promise a ride as exciting as your last one,” he said, “but it will certainly be cleaner.”

“I know what you're up to,” I said, after carefully settling in.

“And what would that be?” he asked in a patient voice.

“You're selling the sanctuary, and it isn't right,” I said angrily. “Or you're developing it into something. You forgot to mention that was the reason you wanted all the land!”

“What on earth are you talking about?” he demanded, turning around to stare at me. “Who said I was selling the sanctuary?” His voice rose in anger. “Those men were selling me the land next to it.”

“It's probably even a conflict of interest or something,” I continued, growing even angrier, my words ending in a near shout. “You lied about keeping the sanctuary open! How
could
you?”

“Don't raise your voice to me. I didn't lie. You're totally misunderstanding what's going on here,” he said. “As usual. There are other plans for this place that I'm not at liberty to discuss at the moment because it could sabotage the deal.”

“I don't care what plans you have,” I snapped. “I'm going to warn Mrs. Wycliff that you're either buying or selling her property for nefarious reasons.” We were at the elephant barn by now, but my fury hadn't spent itself. “And I'm going to tell her that you're buying all the other land, too, and planning to build all sorts of…commercial…things, and that—that—” I was at a loss for words. “And that's why you wanted to get rid of Margo, because she won't fit inside your shopping center or something. Anyway, I'm telling her.”

“Yep, you tell her everything,” he said cheerily. “Give her all the details.”

“That's right,” I said. “I'm going to tell her that you're the one who wants to take away all her animals because you're the one who stands to profit from it.” I glared at him defiantly as he got out of the car and opened my door, still the gentleman, although I thought it was more because he didn't want me touching the door handle. “It's all about profit, isn't it? I'm going to tell her right now.”

“Oh yes, you be sure to let her know,” he said, and flashed me a big smile. “But be sure to get your story accurate. I'm
buying
the sanctuary. From her. And I'm buying the land next to it. About six thousand acres. She knows all about it, but make sure you tell her, and mention my name a few times,
Tom Pennington
, because she always gets mad as hell when she thinks Harry has done something behind her back.”

 

Tom left as soon as I slammed out of his car. He gave me a curt salute with his two fingers along with the parting words “I would take a shower if I were you. That horse shit is pretty ripe,” before roaring down the driveway. I stood there, de
feated. I hadn't really overheard anything, hadn't saved anything, and had mortified myself. There was nothing to tell and no one who was of sound mind to tell it to. Worse than that, I had totally confirmed Tom's earlier notion of me being amazingly stupid, a fool, and an idiot. I may have the order mixed up.

 

I stood in front of the elephant barn, feeling as though a lifetime had passed since my arrival early that morning. My mud-encrusted jeans were beginning to harden around my legs. Richie's truck was gone from the front of his house, the elephants were already in their field, so there was nothing more for me to do except go home; take a long, hot shower; rub a bottle of liniment into my throbbing leg muscles; and wait for Richie to call me with his list of really nice men. I heard the sound of a car coming back up the driveway and spun around, my heart beating in fast expectancy. Tom was returning! Coming back to apologize, or explain what was going on, or maybe to take my hand and press it to his lips and beg my forgiveness. I would apologize, too, and give him a chance to explain himself, and beg
his
forgiveness and hug him. Okay, given my mud-coated state, maybe postpone the hug. But I didn't recognize the red Subaru that pulled into the parking lot. Diamond-Rose jumped out.

“Hey!” she exclaimed. “I wanted to talk to you.”

“Are you crazy?” I asked, gesturing to the car. “You hitched a ride? In New York?”

She flapped a hand at me. “We do it all the time in the bush. Whatever Rover is passing through. I think she's your neighbor. Want me to introduce you?”

“No thanks,” I said, thinking, how wonderfully perfect this was. A neighbor. I hadn't really met any of my neighbors yet, and now here was Diamond-Rose dressed in her safari clothes like some early Halloween costume, ready to happily introduce me to my own neighbor, while I was standing around looking like a breaded chicken cutlet. My neighbor eyed my clothes, gave me a wan smile, and left.

“I'm going home,” I said to Diamond. “And if I never see another horse—”

“Speaking of horses,” she said, “remember my idea about training those horses down in the field?”

I nodded. “I suppose.” She pushed me ahead of her, down the path.

“Well,” she said, “if we're going to sell those horses to raise money, we've got a lot of riding to do. And we're going to start today.”

 

We rode six horses apiece, each one a mystery followed by a revelation. Some reared, some stiffened their legs as soon as they were mounted and refused to move an inch, one rolled over in protest, one backed up almost the whole length of the field, another whipped his head around to one side and pulled my shoe off with his teeth.

Diamond was sitting on a palomino that was spinning in small circles. “This one isn't so good if you're in a hurry to get somewhere,” she called out, but I couldn't answer as the horse I was riding had gotten down on his knees.

“This one might be saying his prayers,” I yelled back just before I jumped off.

Diamond had brought a large red felt-tipped marker, a
pencil, and a pad, and after writing a big red number in the middle of each horse's forehead, she wrote the corresponding number on her pad along with a little note about its training and behavior.

“Great system,” I said admiringly as I dismounted from my last horse and leaned against his rump to keep from toppling with fatigue.

“Yep,” Diamond agreed. “I have to say, I've got it all organized. That's my forte.”

 

Margo was bedded for the night, and I lingered with her in the barn because I really didn't want to go home and face the disarray that Diamond was certain to have left for me. Margo had finished eating and now was reaching down for another trunkful of hay, which she tossed over her back.

“Dinner is not a fashion statement,” I chided her, but had to smile at how comical she looked with hay draped across her head. She rumbled contentedly and tossed another trunkful across Abbie's back. Properly covered, Abbie sunk down into the sweet-smelling straw and closed her eyes. I had forgiven Margo her tantrum. How many times had I ridden a horse, only to be bucked off? How many times had I been kicked, stepped on, knocked over, flung across riding rings? Elephants, except for their massive size, were no different in their behavior. A tantrum was a tantrum, but they generally forget about it as soon as it's over. I would just have to be more careful.

“I love you, Margo,” I whispered ardently.

Her amber eye scanned my face. She pushed her trunk through the bars, and I let her wrap it gently around me.
Her whiskers prickled through my shirt, and she rumbled very softly. Maybe she was telling me that she was happy here, happy that she had someone to love her and watch over her. Maybe she was apologizing for hurting me. We stood together, and she held me in her great, strong trunk, and we listened to the rain just beginning to fall against the roof. I wondered if she sensed how stressed I'd been? Did she understand, somehow, that there were plans being made to send her away? Had she been trying to tell me that we would have to say good-bye?

Or had she been trying to tell me not to let her go?

I sighed and kissed her good night and walked out of the barn into a light rain. I opened my car door to find Diamond waiting inside.

“Glad we finished riding when we did,” Diamond announced, pointing to the rain on the windshield.

I slid behind the wheel of the car. “Yeah, and that was a good idea you had,” I agreed. “You know, to mark their heads so we know which ones we rode.”

“Yep.” Diamond put her head back against the upholstery, exhausted. “It was that marker that I found that gave me the idea.”

I paused, car key in hand. “The red marker from my kitchen?”

Diamond nodded. “It's from that shiny white board thing on your fridge, why?”

I started laughing, with tears born of frustration and fatigue. Tears ran down my face. I laughed until I couldn't breathe.

“What?” she asked.

“Marking the horses was a great idea,” I gasped, getting more hysterical with each word and stuttering them out between hoots. “Except for…one thing…that red marker is…water soluble!” I took a deep breath and pointed to the rain. “All your hard work is going to…wash off.”