Head of Horse Security Uncovers Iraqi Assassination Plot

AND ON THE LIGHTER SIDE . . .

The following intelligence report was filed several years ago by Head of Horse Security, Undercover Agent U.S. Marshal Jones (aka a paint horse named “Scout”), at my ranch in Hunt, Texas. Said report uncovers an insidious plot to do away with second-in-command Secret Agent Mr. Finch (aka “Indy,” a Thoroughbred). Both, ahem, agents belong to my friends, the Joneses, who live in Austin on Lake Travis, and the horses, I mean agents, were spending the summer with me when this report was filed. (The supposed poisonous “powdered substance” mentioned in the report was really free-choice minerals. And apparently I, the keeper of this blog, am the supposed chicken-with-her-head-cut-off. Just to give you a little context …)

INTELLIGENCE REPORT

26 MAY 2003

FROM:     UNDERCOVER AGENT U.S. MARSHAL JONES – IN THE TEXAS WESTERLANDS

TO:       CHERRY SPRINGS RANCH HEADQUARTERS, LAKE TRAVIS SECRET TRAINING CENTER, ALL POINTS INBETWEEN

SUBJECT:  ATTEMPTED ASSASSINATION OF SECRET AGENT MR. FINCH

Undercover Agent, U.S. Marshal Jones, AKA "Scout"

Now that I am no longer under cover, I respectfully submit this complete report on the goings ons I have discovered on this particular tour of duty. Since, due to my outstanding service, I am going on a mini-sabbatical for several weeks, it is imperative this report be processed by all concerned in a timely manner.

Late this very evening, I discovered a mysterious powdered substance, in two extremely unusual cup-like devices, hanging near the west water trough. This is the area where myself and my assistant, Mr. Finch, are posted during certain hours in order to keep a lookout on that side of the ranch while the horse herd* (*I use this term loosely, but that’s another story) eats. This is a highly classified and protected area, so nobody else goes in there.

I of course made this discovery immediately upon entering the restricted area for watch duty during dinner and realized immediately what was going on. The apparatus containing said substances had cleverly been installed on the very top rung of the post fence surrounding our operations, with the obvious thought that only the ungainly  Mr. Finch, who is quite tall, I must admit, could reach into it. Now, as you all know, Mr. Finch has always been considered extremely dangerous, has gone by several aliases (most recently “Indy,” the racehorse, which cover failed miserably), and there have been several previous attempts to undermine his life, if not end it altogether. Now that I know him, I realize he is little more than a gangly and fairly unskilled agent with little training in a horse suit, but we have developed a certain rapport and have learned to work together fairly well. He is an excellent assistant, as he is very easy to manage. He has, since being on this current tour of duty, also developed the ability to manage the herd* (*see above) while I am standing in the corner keeping watch on the east pasture, where I have to admit, I do sometimes nod off. He can actually make some of the herd* members move their feet now. But I’m getting off the subject.

Once I discovered the offending substance, I of course took immediate action. First I arched my beautifully muscled neck. Oh. This is one reason I was given my most recent cover of “paint horse,” because of my outstanding musculature and development. The pet name of Scout was of course very demeaning, but it was also part of the plan because I was, of course, working in the background for a period of time so had to ferret out dangerous circumstances (more on that later). I must admit I am glad, however, to be rid of that particularly silly moniker. Back to my neck. Pulling myself up to full height, with arched neck, I was able to carefully reach into the dangerous installation device with my top lip (now you must picture my entire bottom jaw and lip on the outside of the apparatus, which positioning was highly adept and crucial to the success of this mission). I then with great precision was able to scoop the offending powders up the near side of the device and into the lower mouth parts, clamp the mouth shut and suck them into my gut. I proceeded this way with great focus until every granule of substance was removed. I gave no thought to my own peril; only to that of keeping Indy  -– I mean Mr. Finch (see, I’m still in character), safe and totally unexposed to this assuredly harmful substance. Because of my extremely fit body (see above), I have suffered no ill effects. But I’m sure he would have succumbed and probably been writhing in death throes by now if I had not intervened.

While I was engaged in this mission, the CEO of the place, who is really just a figurehead, but that’s another story, came rushing around and tried to lower the device, as if she was trying to act like it was nothing dangerous at all, but something that she had put there on purpose for our benefit. I think she may be in on some of the odd things that go on out here, but I’m not really worried about it because most of the time she just runs around like a chicken with her head cut off. But as I said, that’s another story. Except about chickens. One of our more important undercover agents, Ruthie, who is currently disguised as a hen, and who carries a very important implanted electronic homing device, almost got drowned in the east water trough tonight by one of the four young roosters (actually, I believe, teenage Iraqi terrorists in training, but of course the CEO doesn’t know this—I mean it’s SO obvious…), who was trying to make it with her on the edge of the water trough. The CEO came rushing over, hysterically flapping a stupid little feed bucket at him, which he did fall backwards off the water trough from, but still……….if she would just let me into that east pasture like I keep telling her to, all these kinds of things would be taken care of. (The east pasture is also the infirmary, but that’s another story.) In fact, this entire place is a whole nother story. You know it’s set up to look like a harmless single woman on a ranch with her horses, (ahemmm…..). So actually, come to think of it, it is a pretty good cover for what is going on here. Which I will be figuring more out about while I’m on “sabbatical.” (Ha! They think!)

Other, more mundane and routine topics will be covered in a separate report:  like about my glass eye surveillance device, which I use whilst riding in disguise in the horse trailer to patrol the pathways between our headquarters here at the ranch and those at the reconnaissance pilot’s  Lake Travis Secret Center in Austin. Meanwhile, the role of my guardian, the pilot’s supposed wife, who has also had several other disguises, including mother and teacher, fits perfectly into our cover. (She is currently also on another undercover assignment posing as a musician, I am proud to say.) And she’s the one who helped me keep the cover of “Scout” while I exposed the development conspiracy of the lands above the lake, behind the Lake Travis Secret Training Center, all of which came to nought with our intervention.

But that’s a whole nother story.              Over and out.

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    This post was mentioned on Twitter by gozencowgirl: Head of Horse Security Uncovers Iraqi Assassination Plot http://bit.ly/6xNDHp

  2. 2

    Lynda said,

    Marshall Jones hasn’t changed much, has he? Still standing guard, though a bit more relaxed and trusting of Special Agent Finch, now that Finch has proven (after many years) to be somewhat affective in his disguise as a horse. All so very serious at times, however. They keep good inventory of the goings on at the lake and have informed me that “fame” is not their M.O. (but I have doubts!). Secretly, they are quite proud to have debuted on “herbs and animals.”


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