There were five of them in the trailer. There were also three empty stalls, and she realized the grooms could be back at any moment with more horses. She couldn’t waste any time. She took shallow breaths to keep from sneezing as she wound her way between oiled saddles, hanging bridles, black water buckets and prickly hay bales.

It was going to be easy, she assured herself. She’d seen this particular test done on television dozens of times. On humans, of course. But the principle was the same.

She had a small cosmetics bag in her purse. All she needed to do was run one of the cotton swabs over Millions to Spare’s gums and wrap it in the plastic she’d obtained from the café. Then she’d slip back out the side door and send the sample by FedEx to Carter Phillips in Kentucky. By Thursday, and the running of the Sandstone Derby, they’d have their answer. And, with luck, she’d be writing a fantastic story.

She squinted at the horses, trying to ignore the sticky sweat dampening her blouse. The horse in the farthest corner whinnied and shuffled, bouncing the trailer. Then there was a clanging of hooves as another horse reacted to the disturbance.

Julia identified Millions to Spare and made her move, murmuring low as she passed the helper mare. She crouched under the barrier, then, moving steadily, she passed another Thoroughbred in the middle stall. She came abreast of Millions to Spare and patted him on the shoulder as she spoke.

“Good horse.” Pat, pat, pat.

“I’m just going to…” her sweaty hands slipped on the clasp of her leather purse “…take a little test of your saliva. It won’t hurt a bit.”

She pawed her way past her wallet, lipstick, comb and a little loose change. The Thoroughbred in front of Millions to Spare twitched. Julia automatically shrank back, her stomach clamping down and her mouth going dry. A kick in here could cause a disaster.