Page 36 of Bridles and Bribery

Dave’s eyebrows flew upward. “Have you spoken to his doctors about this?”

She made a growling sound. “Yes, but all they ever do is up his medication dosages.” She fisted her hands on her hips. “I already lost my husband. I don’t need the medical world turning my son into a sedated vegetable who no longer recognizes his own mother!”

Though his heart ached for her, he felt like they were treading into matters that likely had nothing to do with thecase. “I hope you don’t mind me sharing that I’m a man of faith. Not only will I be preparing your defense for the upcoming hearing, I’ll be praying for you and Jordan every step of the way.” He prayed for all of his clients. All too often, they were grappling with problems that only prayer could solve.

There was a momentary flash of something in her eyes that he couldn’t define that made him wonder if his talk about prayer had made her uncomfortable. He moved to the door, ready to hunt down Jordan. After that, he’d return to the motel and get to work. “Is Western Storm’s stall on the left or the right as I head out?”

“Neither.” Jan pointed in the opposite direction. “It’s in the smaller barn behind this one. You’ll understand why when you get there.” Her face reddened. “With what you’re about to see, please keep in mind that his father and I both vetoed the idea of Jordan moving into a regular ol’ horse stall.”

Dave held up his hands in defense. “No judgment, ma’am.”

“You say that now,” she sighed.

He left the large white barn by the rear exit and traversed the short walkway that connected it to the smaller barn Jan had mentioned. Pausing outside the door, he rapped his knuckles on it. There was no answer, so he knocked using his fist.

A man’s voice answered faintly.

Dave couldn’t make out what he said, so he twisted the doorknob experimentally and found it unlocked. He pushed open the door and popped his head inside. “Yo, Jordan! You in here?”

Again, there was a faint answer that Dave couldn’t understand.

To his amazement, the entryway on the other side of the door housed a bed — a very neatly made bed with a pristine navy blue comforter. There wasn’t a single snag, pick, or wrinkle in sight. The toes of a pair of sneakers and a pair of dress shoes were lined up perfectly beneath the bed.

Beside the bed was a small desk that held a silver laptop resting in the closed position. A game controller was sitting on top of it, perfectly centered, with no pens or pencils lying nearby. No papers. No other clutter of any sort was on the desktop.

Dave smiled at the realization that this was what Jan Jacobson had been so worried about him seeing. Her son had, quite literally, moved into the barn where they housed Western Storm.

“Jordan? You around?” Dave stepped into the barn, eyeing the pair of stalls beyond the makeshift bedroom. “I’m a friend from high school. Dave Phillips. Not sure if you remember me or not.” He moved around the bed to open the first stall. A clothing rack on wheels rested there. Every hangar in it was white plastic, facing left, and hanging exactly two fingers apart. Definitely Jordan’s doing.

A horse leaned his head over the other stall, trumpeting out a blast of alarm. At first, Dave assumed he’d startled the massive reddish-brown stallion. As he faced the stall, however, he noticed the door wasn’t clasped all the way.

Through the sliver of opening, he could see a dark-haired man sprawled on his back on the floor. His eyes were closed. The stallion bent his head over him, slinging his mane back and forth in agitation. He dipped his head lower to nudge the man’s shoulder with his nose. A piteous nicker escaped him. It almost sounded like a human sob.

Dave pushed the stall door open further and rushedforward to take a knee beside the man. “Jordan?” Jan’s backpack and the strap of his leather briefcase slid from his shoulder to the floor.

Though it had been many years since they’d last seen each other, there was no question he was staring into the flushed features of none other than Jordan Jacobson. Though his friend’s eyes were closed, his lips were moving.

“You alright?” Dave bent his head over Jordan’s mouth to listen.

“Not…an…accident,” he muttered in a slurred voice.

Not sure what he meant by that, Dave reached over to press two fingers to the inside of Jordan’s wrist. His pulse was beating much more rapidly than normal, and his skin was hot to the touch. “Man, Jordan! What happened to you?” Dave glanced wildly around the stall, trying to figure out if he’d fallen.

The stallion dipped his head closer again, nearly slamming into Dave’s face. “Whoa there, big guy.” Dave held up a hand to put some space between them.

The horse nickered frenziedly and lowered his head to the other side of Jordan, knocking over two orange plastic bottles that had been resting on the floor there. They toppled against the concrete, scattering the pills they contained.

Dave snatched up the bottles to scan their descriptions. One was a prescription for a muscle relaxant. The other was for a tranquilizer.

Man, oh, man!Had Jordan overdosed on his meds? Dave dropped the bottles and leaned over his high school friend again. Straightening his closest arm and bending his opposite knee, he rolled him gently to his side. Then he dove for his cell phone and called 911.

The operator picked up and politely asked how she could help him.

“I’m with a friend who may have overdosed on some prescription meds,” Dave barked into the phone. He swiftly gave her the address to Triple J Ranch. “Please send an ambulance. Hurry!”

Both he and Jan accompanied Jordan to the hospital, where Jordan’s stomach was pumped. According to the attending physician, the cocktail of medicine Jordan had taken was a deadly combination, especially considering the quantities he’d taken. He was fortunate to be alive.

Jan was beside herself, weeping and muttering to herself as she paced the waiting room. “It doesn’t make any sense,” she declared over and over again. “I keep his medicine under lock and key. I don’t know how he got his hands on it.”

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