Palmer? It’s me again. I’ve arrived for the night. It’s about—oh, eight-thirty, nine or so. Quit the road a little early on account of the old spine was starting to give me trouble and I couldn’t keep my mind on the straight and narrow; not to mention that chronic ringing in my left ear I told you about. I’ve plunked down in Normal, Illinois, at a Best Western just off exit 8; room number 119, I think it is—no wait a second—yeah, 119. Had to check the key. Place is called “The Normal Midwesterner.” Some joke. I’ve registered under the name “Guy Talmer,” Two Creek, Virginia—on account of the phony plates. Sounds a little fruity but the fella behind the counter didn’t even blink. I don’t even think they read the names anymore these days. Used the American Express, like you said. No way they can make any links back to you. It’s still colder than bloody blue Jesus; minus forty when I left St. Paul and no sign of a letup. Can’t wait to hit warmer climes down south, although Nick tells me it’s in the teens in Lexington. Should pull in there tomorrow sometime around six, I reckon, maybe earlier, depends on traffic. So far the Interstate’s clean and frosty but no ice. Highway Department’s been on the ball with the plowing. Shoulda seen the vapors swirling across the blacktop like you’d think you were on Mars or something. Real unfriendly out there. Probably won’t get out to see your mare until Thursday or Friday but she should hold up until then. I’ll send you my assessment right away. Fax or phone, you’ll hear from me the second I give her the once-over. I assume your lawyer talked to the vet since I last saw you, but just to bring you up to date: all the wheels are coming off her now. She’s foundered bad in the off right fore and there’s profuse seepage all along the coronet band. I suppose this is a natural result of supporting all the weight off her amputated leg. In any case, Doc Roxsin has inserted pins to relieve some of the pressure of the laminitus and switched her to a heavier dose of IV bute to thwart the pain and take the swelling down. I’ve double-checked with the insurance company and they’re ready to honor the claim anytime you give the go-ahead to put the mare down. All this was done anonymous of course. The check will be sent directly to me in the subcompany name and then I’ll deposit it in whatever account you designate, either Stateside or abroad. Just send me the code number and details. Actually, they can’t believe we’re trying to save the mare. They’ve had claims on far lesser injuries where the animal was dropped within twenty-four hours. This has been a week and a half now since she snapped her cannon and we’re still coaxing her along. They must think we’re some kind of humanitarian heroes or something. I’ve already given you my opinion on this situation, but if you want to prolong her life long enough to save the foal she’s carrying, that’s certainly your decision. She’s your mare after all. There’s a risk involved there too, of course. The foal could be premature and die from the induced labor or various other complications that go hand in hand with a mare under duress. For my money, there’s no reason to cause the mare more suffering than she’s already been through. She’s gone way past the call of duty and given her all on the racetrack. I just hate to see her suffer. It’s true, the foal might turn out to be a genuine racehorse given her pedigree and the sire’s history of producing solid runners, but sometimes it’s hard to weigh these things against the reality of pain. I’ve got the Weather Channel on here and you wouldn’t believe the monster that’s heading up from the Gulf: ice, snow, sleet, driving winds, and minus zero! What in the world is going on? Feels like the wrath of God or something. Anyhow, it’ll be good just to get back in the old bluegrass again. More later.