glanced out at the parking lot, wondering about the source of that shout. Several people were milling around over near the entrance. A couple of them were holding signs, though I couldn’t read them from where I was standing.
Meanwhile Payton steppe d around to examine the bloody-l ooking mark on the horse’s side. She almost immediately heaved a big sigh of relief.
"It’s okay—he’s not hurt. It was just a tomato,” she reported. "An overripe one, from the smell of it.”
"Yuck,” Bess said. “Who would throw something like that at a horse?”
“I think I know.” One of the people out in the parking lot had turned, giving me a better view of her sign. "Check it out—some animal rights activists are protesting out there.”
George turned to look. "Ugh, PAN? I’ve heard about them,” she said. "They let some goats and sheep loose at the state fair last summer. Caused all kinds of problems.”
"Yeah, I heard about that.” Bess shook her head. "I love animals as much as the next girl, and I hate to think of them being mistreated. But PAN definitely takes things too far.”
I knew what she meant. PAN—short for Pet-Free Animal Nation—was a national group that advocated an end to “animal slavery,” which they interpreted as everything from using animals for scientific testing to "forcing” cats and dogs to serve as family pets. They were notorious for showing up at events like livestock auctions or dog shows and causing trouble. As a local attorney, my father had helped prosecute them the last time they’d passed through our part of the country. Now it seemed they were back for more.
"Wait,” I said as I glanced out at the protesters again and spotted a familiar face. “I think I recognize one of them. Isn’t that the lady who got all that publicity last year when she tried to save that half-rotted old tree behind the elementary school? What’s her name again?” I searched my memory. “Annie something, right?” “Annie Molina,” Ned supplied. "I remember her. She was in the paper last month for stopping traffic to protest the new housing development out by the river.”
Payton wasn’t paying attention to our conversation. She was busy talking soothingly to Midnight, who still seemed tense and jumpy. “I’d better get Midnight back to the bam,” she said. "If anyone throws something else our way right now, he just might lose it.”
"We’ll come with you,” Bess said.
George glanced out at the group in the parking lot. “Shouldn’t someone report what happened to show security or something?” “Good idea,” I said. "There were some security guards hanging out near the entrance where we came in, remember?”
Ned nodded. "I’m on it. I’ll meet you back at Payton’s barn.”
As he headed off toward the main gate, the rest of us accompanied Payton and Midnight toward the bam. When we got there, Dana was waiting.
"Payton!” the trainer exclaimed, rushing over. “Where were you? You’re supposed to be warming up right now—a bunch of people scratched from your next class, so they want us up there stat. Didn’t you get my text?”
"Sorry, I was a little distracted,” Payton said. I expected her to tell Dana what had happened, but instead she glanced around with an anxious look on her face. "Has anyone seen Mickey?” she called out.
Jen, the groom we’d encountered earlier, stepped out of a nearby stall. “He ran to the trailers to get something,” she said. “Do you need me to take Midnight?”
"Yes,” Dana snapped before Payton could answer. “Come on, Payton. We should have been up at the ring five minutes ago.”
As Jen took Midnight’s lead, Payton shot Bess, George, and me an apologetic look. “Talk to you guys later,” she said, hurrying after her trainer, who was already rushing off down the aisle.
"Wow,” George said. "That woman is intense.”
"Yeah.” I stared after Payton, but I wasn’t really thinking about Dana. "It’s kind of weird, isn’t