by Tracy Wolff
“It’ll be fine, Jesse.”
He turned his head slightly, so that he could see both his wife and Rhapsody—the two most important women in his life today. “Do I look that bad?” he asked.
“Not to the rest of the world, but they don’t know you like I do.” She raised a second hand to his shoulders, began a gentle massage that loosened both his muscles and his stomach.
“Who’d we pull?” he asked, relaxing into the comforting pressure of her hands.
“Bill Daley.” Her voice shimmered with suppressed excitement.
“Big John must be doing cartwheels.”
“Pretty close.”
“I bet. Daley’s the best jockey riding today.”
“This is it, Jesse. I can feel it—Rhapsody and the Triple H are going to make history today.”
“Des—” His voice was low, cautioning.
“I know, I know.” She rolled her eyes at him. “Anything can happen. Nothing’s guaranteed. I get it. I do,” she insisted as he raised a sardonic eyebrow in her direction. “But a girl can hope, can’t she?”
“Open the gate for me, will you?” he asked, avoiding her question because he couldn’t stand to say anything to raise or shatter her hopes. Things would play out how they would and the world would know the results soon enough.
The trip down to the starting gate was chaotic—filled with too many people trying to get a look at the Triple H’s nearly mythical racehorse and too many reporters wanting a last-minute quote. He could feel Rhapsody tensing beside him as her nervousness and discomfort returned tenfold.
Cursing, he shouldered his way through the people as he used every ounce of his gift to keep Rhapsody calm. “She’s losing it,” he muttered to Desiree.
“Just a little farther,” she answered, reaching out a hand to stroke the horse’s neck. “Hang on, girl. We’re almost there.”
Pushing their way through the throngs of excited racegoers, Jesse sighed in relief when he and Desiree finally made it to the starting gate. He’d been to a hell of a lot of races in his life, but he’d never seen this many people milling around behind the scenes. He hadn’t prepared for it, hadn’t prepared Rhapsody for it. He just hoped the horse didn’t pay the price for his miscalculation.
The next few minutes flew by as Rhapsody’s jockey, dressed in the red-and-gold silks of the Triple H, spent a little while talking to the horse before mounting up and getting the horse ready for the small, fenced starting gate that would spring open as soon as the gun went off.
Then it was time to step back, leaving Rhapsody in Bill’s capable hands. Jesse’s stomach churned as he walked away, his left hand clasped tightly in Desiree’s right one. “Daddy’s waiting for us,” she murmured, pulling him toward the box seats.
“I’d rather watch from here.”
“Jesse, no!” She turned to him, disappointment gleaming in her eyes. “It’s hard to see from down here. Plus Daddy and his friends are expecting us. I told him we’d be up as soon as you got Rhapsody settled.”
He started to argue that all he wanted was to be left alone to watch the race in peace. He had a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach, one he’d never felt before. Maybe it was just nervousness, maybe it was instinct, but he didn’t think Rhapsody was going to win this race. And if she didn’t, if something went wrong, he’d rather be alone to deal with the fallout. To deal with his failure, when he’d promised his wife that he wouldn’t let her down again.
With a sigh, he draped an arm around her shoulders and let her lead him to the Triple H box. Filled with her father and his cronies, it was loud and crowded and exactly where Jesse didn’t want to be. But Desiree was there, her sweet body pressed lovingly against his, her hand rubbing soothing circles on his tense back.
And so he tried to relax, despite the growing sickness in his stomach. Grabbing a cola—he didn’t drink when one of his horses was racing—he made his way to the front of the air-conditioned box.
He listened as the announcer listed the horses in the race, his mind ticking off each of Rhapsody’s competitors seconds before the names were announced. Mystic would give her the biggest threat by far—nearly as fast and just as graceful, he’d come in second in both the Derby and the Preakness.
But this was a high-stakes race, and every horse in it had the ability to win. Lucky Lily could easily steal the lead, as could Pennywise or Sterling’s Silver.
The gun went off before he could second-guess the results, and adrenaline roared through him as Bill and Rhapsody took an early lead. As they rounded the first curve, Mystic was in second, though Lucky Lily was running a close and threatening third.
Heart pounding, Jesse watched in awe as Rhapsody fought off the pack to remain in first—around the first curve, the straightaway, the second curve, on and on until they’d reached the final stretch. Breath held, hand fiercely clutching Desiree’s, he watched as Rhapsody flew for the finish line, a full length in front of Mystic.
Jesse turned to Desiree, smiled into her excited eyes, and in that one second everything changed. He heard a gasp from the crowd, whirled in time to see Rhapsody stumble and fall a mere five yards from the finish line. Bill jumped clear as the horse hit the ground hard and Jesse watched in horror as Rhapsody rolled, taking down three other horses before she finally came to a stop.
Then he was running, out of the box, down the two flights of stairs to ground level, hurtling over the barrier between the track and the stands. Flashing his all-access badge at the overwhelmed security guards as he flew past, he got to the sight of the collision before any of the other trainers or owners.
The four downed horses—Rhapsody, Pennywise, Serendipity and Sterling’s Silver—were overwrought, screaming in pain and fear. Pennywise had struggled to his feet, but Rhapsody, Serendipity and Sterling were still down.
He approached Rhapsody cautiously, his heart in his throat, and fear a living, breathing monster in his stomach. If she was hurt badly, if she wouldn’t heal, they’d have to put her out of her misery, have to put her down though everything inside of him screamed at the injustice. She was a champion, a purebred, a noble spirit and the thought of killing her—even to save her pain—was anathema to him.
He glanced to the right, saw Bill holding his arm, a grimace of pain on his face as the first round of paramedics hit the field. But much as he liked the jockey, he was more concerned with getting the horses calmed before they hurt themselves or someone else.
Though Sterling was almost completely still, lying on his side and panting harshly, Rhapsody continued to try to struggle to her feet, whinnying in pain with every movement of her front legs.
“Shh, girl,” he murmured as he approached her. “Just let me look at you. Let me check you out, baby, and we’ll get you something for the pain.”
The next few minutes, and hours, passed in a blur. Big John arrived, anger and disappointment evident in his every stride, but Jesse was too busy to give his father-in-law’s state of mind more than a passing thought.
When he finally returned to the hotel after sitting through three sets of X rays and two veterinary exams, all Jesse wanted was a cold shower, a hot meal and some time with his wife. But when he opened the door to their suite, she and Big John were sitting on the couch, talking in low voices.
Conscious of their eyes on him and the sudden stillness of the room, Jesse closed the door behind him and walked slowly into the living room.
“Rhapsody’s going to be fine,” he said into the hostile silence. “Nothing’s broken, but it’ll take her a couple of weeks to recover from the sprains. She was still so nervous that the vet had to tranq her so that she wouldn’t hurt herself. By the time I left she was pretty mellow.”
Big John nodded, abruptly climbing to his feet. “Did you get the chance to look at the films? See what happened?”
“Mystic bit her, just a little nip on her left flank, but you know how sensitive Rhapsody is. It set her off.”
“Shouldn’t she have been trained for th
at? Expecting it as it happens quite a bit on the racetrack?” Though his voice held no trace of emotion, Jesse could see the accusation on his father-in-law’s face, the misery on Desiree’s.
“I’m not in the habit of walking up behind my horses and biting them, if that’s what you’re asking, John,” Jesse commented.
“Your horses?” Big John answered with a deliberate cruelty. “And here I’ve been under the impression that they were my horses.” He walked to the door. “You marry my daughter and suddenly get delusions of grandeur, Rainwater? Seeing as how it’s been nine years and I still don’t have a Triple Crown winner, I think that takes some nerve.” He slammed out of the hotel room without another word, leaving Jesse standing with his mouth half-open and the first seeds of anger sprouting in his gut.
“What was that all about?” he demanded, turning toward Desiree as rage swept through him. “If Rhapsody hadn’t fallen, he would have had his damn Triple Crown today and everyone knows it.”
“But she did stumble and he doesn’t have the Triple Crown.” Her words were abrupt, her tone almost angry and Jesse stared at her incredulously. “Are you kidding me? You’re going to blame this on me, too?”
Desiree bit her lip, stared at him through confused eyes. “I didn’t say that, Jess. But what exactly do you want me to say?”
“I don’t know. Why don’t you tell me what you two were talking about when I got here?”
“Nothing,” she spoke quickly, even as she avoided looking directly into his eyes. “We were discussing what had happened and how it could have been prevented.”
Jesse’s eyes narrowed. “Rhapsody’s high-strung, Desi. You know that. Everyone knows that. And she was already spooked going into this thing—a nip on the rump was all it took to send her completely over the edge. It’s not that hard to understand.”
“But we should have been able to prevent it, to stop—”
“You mean I should have been able to stop it, don’t you?”
“I didn’t say that!”
“You didn’t have to.”
“Jesse, you promised my father a Triple Crown!”
“I promised your father that I would do my best to deliver one. I didn’t guarantee it.”
She shook her head in irritation. “Now you’re splitting hairs.”
“I’m splitting hairs? You’re jumping all over me because a horse, who was going to win the race, stumbled and fell on the track. Don’t you think that’s just a little irrational?”
“Irrational?” Her voice rose with every syllable. “Look, I’m caught in the middle between you and my father and I didn’t ask to be put there.”
“Bullshit. Don’t play the martyr, Desiree, it doesn’t become you. You’re in the middle because you put yourself there. I’ve never asked you to interfere between your father and me before and I’m not doing so now. You’re the one who started on me the second your father left.”
“He’s got the right to be upset. His—”
“Are you even listening to yourself? What the hell does he have to be upset about? He should be grateful that Rhapsody is all right, that she didn’t break both her front legs like Sterling’s Silver. That he didn’t have to put down a million-dollar racehorse and that she’ll be able to run again.” Fury ate at him, raising his voice and his blood pressure.
“Of course he’s happy that Rhapsody is okay.”
“Yeah. He looked really relieved when I told him.”
“You’re not being fair.”
“I’m getting blamed because a horse fell in the race and you think I’m not being fair?”
“She didn’t win, Jess.”
“So what, Desiree? It’s just a race. One that your father—and apparently, you—are completely obsessed with, but it’s still just a race.”
“It’s more than that. Daddy wants this more that anything, has worked for it his entire life. Why can’t you see that?”
“Why can’t you see that he’s obsessed? That his desire to win this stupid thing is almost sick?”
“Don’t say that about him! Don’t you ever say that! Since Mama died, this ranch is all he has. He wants to leave a legacy, Jesse. Why is that so hard for you to understand?”
Jesse laughed, but it was an angry sound. “He’s already got a legacy, darlin’. Hell, he’s got a dynasty. But it’s not enough.” He grabbed her by the arms, made her look at him. “Nothing will ever be enough. Even if he had won the Triple Crown today, he’d want another one next year. If one’s good, two would be better. Or three or four…The Triple H could be the first horse ranch to ever win the Triple Crown two years in a row. Wouldn’t he love that?”
She wrenched away from him. “You’re being ridiculous.”
“At least I’m in good company.”
She stiffened, then turned and walked into the bathroom. As he listened to the click of the lock, Jesse gritted his teeth and tried desperately to keep from punching something. He hadn’t meant to argue with Desiree, hadn’t planned to say anything about her father at all.
But what was he supposed to do? He’d given this ranch everything he had for the past nine years. What else could she expect from him?
How could he have anticipated Rhapsody falling? What could he have done about it, even if he had seen it coming? Thrusting his hands into his hair, Jesse paced back and forth, agony and anger battling within him as he waited for Desiree to re-emerge from her self-imposed exile.
But when she finally came out of the bathroom, her face scrubbed clean and her pajamas on, he was no closer to finding a solution to their dilemma. When she came up behind him and slipped her arms around his waist, he tried to relax into her embrace but their fight was still too raw in his mind.
“I love you.” She pressed her lips against the back of his neck as she slid her hands up his back and began to massage his shoulders.
He reached up, grabbed one of her hands in his own. “I love you, too, Desiree. But this isn’t working. I can’t live like this.”
She stiffened against him. “What does that mean?”
He turned, pulling her suddenly unyielding body into his arms. “It means that I feel as torn as you do. I’m stuck in this catch-22 between the ranch and you and your father and I don’t think it’s healthy for any of us.”
He took a deep breath, his hands running in soothing circles on her back. “I think I need to look for another job, find another ranch to train horses for.”
“Jesse, no!’ Her hands flew to her mouth. “You can’t do that.”
His eyes were grim as he studied her. “Then tell me what to do, Desiree. How do we solve this? Because I can’t spend the rest of my life caught between my boss and my wife.”
CHAPTER FIVE
STRIDING ACROSS THE manicured lawns of the Triple H, Desiree struggled to shake off the memories that had her in their untenable grip. The journal was in the front pocket of her coat. She’d been unable to put it away, though she knew it was both stupid and masochistic to carry it with her.
As she walked, she surveyed the lands that she had run—almost single-handedly—for the past nineteen years. She hadn’t needed to do it that way; the ranch was full of qualified people who would have been more than happy to share the burden. Jesse, Don, Roman were just a few of the brilliant horsemen the Triple H employed. They’d all offered their help on too many occasions to count, yet she’d rarely taken them up on it. The ranch was hers—her inheritance, her responsibility, her pride and joy.
Even Big John hadn’t tried to manage all of the day-to-day runnings of the ranch—preferring to hire the best possible people and leave it in their competent hands. She knew, had always known, that his way—at least on this—was the right way. But then, her father hadn’t had anything to prove. He hadn’t been the first woman to ever inherit the ranch, hadn’t had half the American horseracing community watching, waiting for him to fail. He had never known what it was to be doubted, not because of decisions he made or failures he’d caused, but because of so
mething as fundamentally unchangeable as gender.
She did know and she lived with the fear of failing every day of her life. The fear of not being good enough, of not living up to the legacy her father and grandfather and great-grandfather had left for her.
But things were changing. She was changing. She thought, again, of the plans she’d made for the future, of the papers she’d had drawn up and the talk she’d wanted to have with Jesse. It had been too long in coming—she knew that—but she had figured better late than never. She’d had something to prove when she’d taken over the ranch, and she liked to believe she’d proven it. Now was the time for a new era, the time for her to follow her conscience and do what was right. To do what she should have done long, long ago.
Or at least that’s what she’d had planned, before Jesse had turned everything upside down.
Her shoulders drooped as she headed toward the maternity barn—Majesty’s Child was set to foal anyday now, and she wanted to check on her, make sure she was being taken care of. She—and Jesse, of course—had great hopes for this foal. Both its parents were descendents of the greatest racing lines in history, and she had a feeling—a tingling in her blood, in her soul—that told her this horse was the one. This was the one that would finally realize her father’s dream, her own dream, of bringing a Triple Crown to the ranch.
The caterer’s van pulled up, and she knew that she didn’t need to meet them, that Maria would set things in motion. But she wanted to check with them to make sure everything was as Willow wanted it. Desiree also needed to talk to the florist who was, even now, building the arbor of poinsettias and mistletoe that Willow and James would be married under. There was also the hairdresser. Felipe was nothing if not arrogant and insecure enough to demand her fawning attention.
But all that could wait. First M.C. She entered the barn slowly, savoring the joy that came every time she entered this particular stable. She loved all of her horses, loved all aspects of running the Triple H. But there was something special about this stable, about the anticipation, the becoming that touched her deeply. Like the training circles, this part of the ranch was all about possibilities, about what might be, what could be, if hard work, talent and a little luck struck the right combination.
