Whitehorse by Katherine Sutcliffe Page B

Hunnicutt's side down long corridors of closed office doors and conference rooms, she thought back on the childish excitement she'd felt when getting his call earlier that day. In her mind as she'd dashed to shower and dress, she'd fantasized over the salary, experience, and connections that working at the track would offer. She'd tallied up said salary and imagined how nice it would be to catch up on her delinquent bills. There might even be enough to put aside each month to eventually buy Val the new wheelchair he so desperately needed. Then there were the Botox shots Val's doctor had recently told her about that were proving vastly successful at limbering tight muscles. But eighteen hundred dollars every six weeks would prove to be impossible for her unless she could count on a decent salary.
    Yet, as she and Hunnicutt turned down the last corridor and headed toward the open double doors of the Finish Line conference room, she reasoned that she was as likely to win the approval of twelve men as she was to leap over the Grand Canyon in a single bound. Like the foot-dragging convict headed for his deathbed, she saw her future disperse like an ice cube on a hot plate.
    Smoke hung over the conference room like gray smog. The long marble-topped table surrounded by conversing men dressed casually in jeans and T-shirts depicting a horse streaking across a finish line was scattered with remnants of lunch: deli meats, squeeze bottles of mustard and ketchup, empty tea glasses, and discarded napkins. As Hunnicutt introduced Leah, each man stood and offered his hand, smiled broadly, and welcomed her to their "monthly excuse to cut out of the office early." They offered her iced tea, which she gladly accepted. Her throat felt dry as the track she could see through the window.
    It did not take long for Leah to relax. Greg Hunnicutt supplied the men with pertinent information regarding her background. The fact that she had graduated from Texas A&M veterinary school brought impressed nods. They spoke in future tense. Vetting at their track would be a tough but satisfying experience for her. She would learn a great deal—sharpen her skills. She would meet some great people. Make lifelong friends. They had great New Year's Eve parties as well, and by the way, the vets were allowed to keep all tips, which could prove to be substantial if the owners and trainers were particularly pleased by her work. Occasionally, Hunnicutt glanced her way and winked, as if to say, No problem. You're in like Flynn.
    Giddiness once again settled in the pit of her stomach, infusing her imagination with visions of a nicely padded bank account. Tonight she would take Shamika and Val out to dinner. They would celebrate with a bottle of cheap champagne. She would present Shamika with a money draft for two months' salary with the understanding that she wasn't to deposit it until Leah received her first week's paycheck.
    "… Of course we can't affirm the position until you've been approved by all of us. And considering we're one short today, you might have to meet with our missing member one on one."
    She counted heads. Eleven. Damn.
    Greg checked his watch. "He should've been here by now. Normally he's on time."
    "Such is the life of the rich and famous," someone said, and everyone chuckled.
    Johnny Whitehorse walked into the room in that moment. The gathering welcomed him boisterously. "Hello!"
    "What time do you call this, buddy? We were about to give up on you."
    Leah sank in her chair and closed her eyes.
    Johnny moved to the chair at the opposite end of the table. "Sorry 'bout that. My flight was late leaving Boulder ."
    "You been harassing the government again, Whitehorse ?" someone asked.
    He grinned, his only response.
    Forcing open her eyes, Leah managed to take a deep breath before looking at Johnny directly. His dark eyes were emotionless as he regarded her, as were his features.
    "This is Doctor Starr, Johnny," said Greg. "We're considering her to fill