Palmer—well, congratulations! You’ve got a brand-new colt. Big, strapping, scopey chestnut. We had to foal the mare standing up and pretty much pull the baby throughout, even though he was in the diving position. He started out real strong, then dropped off suddenly to where we thought we might lose him. We boosted him with shots to keep him going and I think he’s going to make it now. It’ll take a while to get him up and test him on the nurse mare so we’re not quite out of the woods yet. Time will tell. The mare was a real champ through the whole ordeal, showed the same class she had on the racetrack, but I finally had to give the nod to let her go. I told another little fib and claimed I had power of attorney but had left the notary sheet back at the motel. I’ve become a professional liar these days. All the vets went along with it since they could see this was the only route to go for her in the sad condition she was in. Her leg was starting to stink real bad from infection setting in and she was just sinking in every direction. Doc Roxsin put in a strong appeal to keep the mare alive for the sake of continuing his experimental work on the amputation but I just couldn’t justify it; seeing her suffer like that. What kind of life was she going to have hobbling around on three legs in some padded stall somewhere? So, what’s done is done. Hopefully this colt will make it through the tunnel and win you some big-stakes money down the road. I hope all this doesn’t upset you too much, but there was really nothing else I could do, given the circumstances and not getting any word from you. I hope to Christ you get these messages soon. I have no earthly clue where you are or how to get ahold of you. Even if there’s a secretary there who’s minding the store, maybe she could get back to me and verify that all this is getting through to you. I don’t know what else to do. First thing tomorrow morning I’ll contact the agent at the insurance company and let them know we destroyed the mare. I’m sure there’ll be no problems with the check. It’s way too late to get ahold of them now—1:30 a.m. here. Think I’ll head on down to Barclay’s and have a Maker’s on the rocks; maybe two. Haven’t touched the stuff in months but this whole thing has really shook me some. I just hate to see an animal go through that. Especially one like her. She was a real peach. My ear’s gone completely berserk now and the static has escalated into a high moan like some kind of distant tornado warning. Hope it’s not an omen. I’ll be in touch. As always—