‘What is it?’ he asked.
‘I’ll tell you exactly what it is.’ My voice shook. ‘Come right over here and look.’ I grabbed his hand and pulled him to the window. ‘Just look! Do you think those poor, pathetic horses ever get a day off? Do you think they are properly cared for? Do you think they’re ever groomed or adequately shod? You know what happens when they stumble – when it’s icy and they’re old as hell and almost fall?’
‘Kay . . .’
‘They’re just beaten harder.’
‘Kay . . .’
‘So why don’t you do something about it?’ I railed on.
‘What would you like me to do?’
‘Just do something. The world is full of people who don’t do anything and I’m goddam tired of it.’
‘Would you like me to file a complaint with the SPCA?’ he asked.
‘Yes, I would,’ I said. ‘And I will, too.’
‘Would it be okay if we did that tomorrow since I don’t think anything’s open today?’
I continued looking out the window as the driver beat his horse again. ‘That’s it,’ I snapped.
‘Where are you going?’ He followed me out of the room.
He hurried after me as I headed to the elevator. I strode across the lobby and out the hotel’s front door without a coat. By now, snow was falling hard, and the icy street was smooth with it. The object of my wrath was an old man in a hat hunched over in the driver’s seat. He sat up straighter when he saw this middle-aged lady coming with a tall man in her wake.
‘You like nice carriage ride?’ he asked in a heavy accent.
The mare strained her neck toward me and cocked her ears as if she knew what was coming. She was scarred skin and bones with overgrown hoofs, her eyes dull and rimmed in pink.
‘What is your horse’s name?’ I inquired.
‘Snow White.’ He looked as miserable as his pitiful mare as he started to cite his fares.
‘I’m not interested in your fares,’ I said as he looked wearily down at me.
He shrugged. ‘So how long you want ride?’
‘I don’t know,’ I said curtly. ‘How long do I need to ride before you start beating Snow White again? And do you beat the shit out of her more or less when it’s Christmas?’
‘I am good to my horse,’ he said stupidly.
‘You are cruel to this horse and probably to everything alive and breathing,’ I said.
‘I have job to do,’ he said as his eyes narrowed.
‘I am a doctor and I am reporting you,’ I said as my voice got tighter.
‘What?’ he chortled. ‘You horse doctor?’
I stepped closer to the driver’s box until I was inches from his blanket-covered legs. ‘You whip this mare one more time, and I will see it,’ I said with the iron calm I reserved for people I hated. ‘And this man behind me will see it. From that window right up there-‘ I pointed. ‘And one day you will wake up and find I have bought your company and fired you.’
‘You do not buy company.’ He glanced up curiously at the New York Athletic Club.
‘You do not understand reality,’ I said.
He tucked his chin into his collar and ignored me.
I was silent as I returned to my room, and Wesley did not speak, either. I took a deep breath and my hands would not stop shaking. He went to the minibar and poured us each a whiskey, then sat me on the bed, propped several pillows behind me, and took off his coat and spread it over my legs.
He turned lights off and sat next to me. For a while he rubbed my neck while I stared out the window. The snow-sky looked gray and wet, but not dreary as when it rained. I wondered about the difference, why snow seemed soft while rain felt hard and somehow colder.
It had been bitterly cold and raining in Richmond the Christmas when police discovered Eddie Heath’s frail, naked body. He was propped against a Dumpster behind an abandoned building with windows boarded up, and though he would never regain consciousness, he was not yet dead. Gault had abducted him from a convenience store where Eddie had been sent by his mother to pick up a can of soup.