Blades of Bluegrass

by D. Jackson Leigh

  Teddy caught herself nodding agreement before she’d even thought through the possibilities. “I’m part of that army, and I promise I won’t be going anywhere until I’m sure she’s not bleeding anywhere—physically or emotionally.”

  Gail gave her shoulder a squeeze. “Good enough. If she and Brock don’t patch things up between them, she’s got me and E.B. to watch over her.” She stored her instruments away, closed the back of her large SUV, then gave Teddy a long look. “We just need to know what to watch for.”

  Chapter Six

  Britt studied the yearling her grandfather pointed out. Although the young horses wouldn’t begin their race training until they were sold, they needed a lot of general training before they went to the yearling auction.

  The youngsters learned how to lead properly in a halter, walk in a line with other horses, submit to baths and daily grooming, and remain calm no matter how much activity was going on around them.

  Walking in an automatic walker for twenty minutes daily and swimming in a long, trough-like pool conditioned them. Swimming, rather than running, built muscle without stressing their still-developing bones. The fillies, whose hormones were geared to plump them up in preparation for bearing foals, got extra time in the pool to keep them trim.

  This colt, however, was E.B.’s top prospect for the yearling sale. He had impeccable bloodlines and a long stride, but an unpredictable temperament.

  “What do you think?” E.B. asked.

  “I don’t know why you’re asking me, Pop. You taught me everything I know about horses. Is this a test to see if I remember?”

  “Of course not.” E.B. rubbed the light stubble on his chin. “You do this long enough, and you forget some things. I’m just asking you to look into this with fresh eyes and second-guess an old man.”

  “You’re not just trying to give the gimp something to get her back in the game?”

  “No, but maybe you do need this to get back in the saddle.” Pop cupped her chin and turned her face to his. “You came back with one less arm than you had before you went to that God-forsaken desert, but you also came back with a lot more than some other soldiers did. If you’re looking to be coddled, you can go stay with your mother in Louisville. I hope you won’t do that because I want you here.” He released her chin but clasped her hand in his callused ones. “This farm is your birthright. Since the day you climbed up on your first pony, there was never any doubt Story Hill Farm would be yours when you were ready to run it. I’m telling you I need help with this colt. And you’re going to have to promise you’ll tell me if you need my help…with anything.”

  “Okay, Pop.” She looked down and sighed dramatically for his benefit. God, she loved her grandfather. “Just don’t make me stay with Mom. She’s worse than putting up with the babysitter the army sent here.”

  He tilted his head, a slow smile sliding into place. “I’m getting kind of fond of that army filly. She’s got class and spirit. If you aren’t interested, maybe I’ll take a run at her.”

  She gave him a playful slap on the arm. “As if. She’d be too much for your old ticker. And she’s here so the army can make sure I’m not a thread they left hanging, nothing else.”

  They both turned to see Teddy approaching, hips swinging as she navigated a downhill slope, her blond hair swirling in a sudden breeze.

  “She’ll be gone in another few weeks.” Strangely, Britt felt a twinge of remorse at the thought.

  Teddy seemed to hesitate, then continued toward them when Britt waved her closer. Before Britt could analyze her reaction to Teddy’s inevitable departure, Pop squeezed her shoulder to regain her attention.

  “I’m serious, Britt. Don’t turn down what you need to get well because of whatever’s going on between you and Brock and the army.”

  She frowned. “He didn’t tell you?”

  “Nope. I figure you will when you’re ready. Until then, it’s not my business. But you, my granddaughter, are my business.” His gaze held hers. “And if I have to take sides between you and my son, I will. I’ll always have your back.”

  * * *

  Teddy slowed because it appeared that Britt and E.B. were having a serious discussion. When they glanced her way, Britt waved her toward them.

  E.B. clasped Britt’s shoulder, and then they turned their attention to the tall, sleek colt sprinting the length of the long paddock and back as though for the sheer joy of running. It wouldn’t have surprised her if he just jumped the fence at the other end and kept going.

  “I’ll talk to his groom and see if I can come up with some ideas to tweak his schedule or training and calm him down,” Britt said as Teddy joined them.

  “Which one is that?” Teddy asked, pointing to the colt.

  E.B. slung an arm over her shoulders. “That, my dear, is this year’s money horse.”

  “Money horse?”

  “He means this colt is expected to bring a top price at the Keeneland auction next month,” Britt said.

  “So, you’re never tempted to keep and race one yourself?”

  “I won’t say never.” He withdrew his arm and propped his elbows on the fence to watch the yearling. “A colt like this one would make any man think hard about it.”

  “How many are ready for Keeneland?” Britt asked.

  “We’ve got a good crop this year—fifteen colts and twelve fillies. We have a record of four with the potential to bring seven figures at the auction,” he said.

  “Really?” Britt looked surprised.

  Teddy was still counting in her head. “Seven figures? That’s…that’s…”

  “At least a million dollars.” E.B. smiled as he supplied the number still reeling in Teddy’s brain. He nodded toward the colt in the paddock.

  “Wow…just wow.” Teddy had no idea. Story Hill Farm was large and obviously well-funded, but not ostentatious. “What’s his name?”

  “Most are named by whoever buys them at the yearling auction because they have to pay the fee to register them with the Jockey Club. But the breeder can pick the name if he’s willing to pay the registration fee.” E.B. nodded toward the colt. “I did for this one. His sire was War Front, so I named him Home from War. I prayed for that every night after she…” His eyes reflected every worry-filled night and every hopeful prayer uttered as he looked to Britt. “…shipped out to Afghanistan.”

  “Aww.” Teddy tried to keep it light, even though her throat tightened at the sentiment. She bumped her shoulder against Britt’s. “That’s sweet.”

  Britt ducked her head, her cheeks flushed. “That colt bringing home the big money will be what’s sweet,” she said. “I’ve never known you to pay a quarter-million-dollar stud fee before. Not ever. Not even for a stud like War Front.”

  “Do you know the top price paid at last year’s sale?” E.B. asked.

  “Of course, I do.” Britt propped her elbows on the fence. “I might have been in another country, but we had internet at the base.”

  “I don’t.” Teddy joined them at the fence. “How much?”

  “Eight-point-two million dollars,” E.B. said. “For a filly.”

  “Wow.” She seemed to be saying that a lot around these two. “Wait. Are you insinuating a girl horse has less value than a boy horse?”

  “She does.” Britt answered for her grandfather. “It’s simple math. A top mare can produce one offspring a year, most selling for way less than that filly. A stallion with a hundred-thousand-dollar stud fee can bring in a guaranteed ten million a year, or more.”

  “Okay. I’ll give you that. As long as you remember there would be no boy horses without horse mommies.”

  “Horse mommies?” Britt gave Teddy a shoulder bump and look of mock indignation. “There are mares or dams, but no horse mommies in Thoroughbred racing.”

  Teddy was surprised by Britt’s playful banter and bumped her back. “I can call them what I want.”

  Jill waved at them from the neighboring barn and headed their way. “How’s Homey doi
ng?” she asked. “No problems, I hope.”

  “No real problem,” E.B. said, not commenting on Jill’s nickname for Home from War. “But he’s moody, which isn’t a good thing if he wakes up in a bad mood on race day. And you know it doesn’t take much for word to get around about something like that. It could bring his price down. Britt’s going to look into it, though.”

  “Great. You’ll sort him out,” Jill said to Britt. “You got a minute to talk about mares with me? E.B. said you were looking to pick up a couple at Keeneland.”

  E.B. pushed off the fence he’d propped himself against. “I’ve got some phone calls to make, now that I’ve got you out of my office,” he said to Britt.

  Britt hesitated. “I sort of promised to give Teddy a riding lesson.”

  “Not a problem. We can saddle Mysty and maybe Turn Away while we talk.” Jill looked at Teddy. “Do you mind?”

  “No, not at all,” Teddy said. The longer she could keep Britt out and active, the better.

  “Great.” Jill’s wide smile made Teddy shift a little uncomfortably. She was enjoying Britt’s good mood, and the last thing she wanted was Britt thinking that she was interested in Jill. Wait. Why should that matter? She wasn’t interested, but…it was unprofessional. That’s why. She was here to do a job, not pick up women.

  Chapter Seven

  The afternoon was warm but filled with the wonderful scent of fresh-cut grass and spruce from the surrounding hills. The unseasonably mild day reminded Teddy that autumn would come soon.

  “You look pretty comfortable in the saddle,” Britt said. “I thought you didn’t know how to ride.”

  “I’ve never ridden in an English saddle. It feels a bit like being bareback because there’s nothing to hold onto.” Her chest, and legs, tightened as her brain reviewed the precariousness of her perch and her horse shifted into a slow jog, but Teddy could feel Turn Away’s powerful muscles gathering for more. “Whoa. Don’t run, don’t run.” She hunched over and grabbed a handful of mane.

  “Relax your legs. She’s responding to leg pressure.” Britt was calm.

  Teddy was not.

  “Sit back in the saddle. You’re giving her all the wrong signals by hunching over her neck. Sit back. You won’t fall off. Trust that you have good balance. That’s right. Use your stirrups to balance your weight.”

  Turn Away returned to a leisurely walk, and Teddy let out a long breath. “That was close.” Her heart was still pounding.

  “You were always fine, although I’d rather not have had to rescue you from a full run. These ladies can go very fast.”

  “Thanks for reminding me. My heart was almost beginning to slow.”

  Britt chuckled.

  “I don’t know why I’m nervous. I started my military career as an enlisted medic, and I’ve been with patrols that were hit with enemy fire. I didn’t panic then. I don’t know why falling a few feet off a horse throws me into a panic.”

  “Because you were trained and instinctively knew what to do on patrol. We’ll schedule a few sessions in the large round pen to help you get comfortable with posting a trot and build your confidence.” Britt seemed to hesitate and then shrugged. “You can always come back occasionally after you and I are done with my rehab. In case, you know…if you want a lesson or just to take a ride.”

  “I’d really like that, Britt.” Teddy was unreasonably thrilled but mentally slapped herself at the unintended low, warm tenor of her voice. She tried for a lighter, friendlier tone. “I’d always call first, to make sure it was convenient for you.”

  Britt cleared her throat and looked toward the mountains in a gesture of nonchalance, but Teddy didn’t miss her nervous fingering of the reins in her hands. “If I’m not around, Jill would be happy to take you out for a ride or give you a lesson.”

  “Jill’s nice, but I’d prefer to stick to just one instructor.” Oh my God. Had she just said that? “Uh, you know, so I don’t get conflicting advice.” She stumbled around for something else to pry her foot from her mouth. “I mean, I know you better. You’ve already seen me panic like a dork.”

  “Good.” Britt smiled and met Teddy’s gaze for a moment. Damn, she was gorgeous in the sunlight, the wind feathering her short, dark hair and blue eyes like pieces of the cloudless sky. Patient. This is a patient.

  Sure, it was hard not to get close to your clients, especially the amputee patients who had lost so much. The moments when you touched them, removed bandages to reveal their ugliest wounds, and massaged their deepest scars were intimate, even if it was a nonsexual intimacy. But once patients graduated past their therapy, they usually wanted to move on with their lives. She knew Britt might change her mind on the offer, but the invitation unexpectedly fueled something hopeful in her. Hopeful for what?

  Keeping to a slow walk, they turned down one lane after another dividing the large paddocks and even larger pastures that ringed the series of paddocks. The stroll would have been relaxing if Teddy’s mind hadn’t been working so hard to get back to business, instead of rolling like a horse in heather at the romantic setting and the attraction crackling between them. Patient. She’s a patient.

  The horse discussion when they joined Jill in the mare’s stable had been brief. Jill felt one of the older mares should be retired from breeding but was a great mother. She wanted to keep the mare on the farm to be available as a surrogate when a baby’s real mother rejected or neglected it. Like people, not all females were great moms. Also, Jill wanted Britt to know that she disagreed with E.B. about not trying to breed Mysty again. Her bloodlines were just too good to pass up another attempt.

  Then they were saddling horses for their ride, which gave Teddy a chance to see what challenges Britt would have around the barns. Story Hill Farm had plenty of hired help who could do everything for her, but Teddy instinctively knew that wouldn’t sit well with Britt. Her military file had noted that Britt was a hands-on leader and pulled her weight rather than just ordering people around. Teddy wasn’t here to change Britt’s natural tendencies, but to adapt Britt’s environment to her new, different capabilities.

  The English saddles were manageable with one hand, since the girth was a buckle, rather than a tie-off like a western saddle. Also, Mysty was well trained to lower her head for the bridle and accept the bit when it bumped against her teeth. But not all horses would be that easy. Teddy had already noticed that all the grooms used both hands on the lead ropes when walking the yearlings around.

  Teddy had anticipated her lesson would be in one of the paddocks or one of the round corrals in the training area. But Britt had boosted her into the saddle and—after a brief hesitation to figure how to adjust to a one-handed mounting technique—launched gracefully onto Mysty and settled those long legs around…Stop it! This is a patient.

  “This is starting to feel relaxing, as long as we just walk,” Teddy said. That sounded lame but drew another smile from Britt, one of those smiles that made Teddy’s insides flutter.

  “Once we get you comfortable with a trot, you’re going to want to canter, which is a much easier gait to sit, then run.”

  “Oh, I doubt I’ll ever want to run.” A racehorse galloping full out while she clung to its back was right near the top of her too-scary list. Right next to giving rein to her insane attraction to Britt, a high-profile patient with a need-to-know-only backstory. And Teddy wasn’t included in that need-to-know circle. What she needed was to do her job and move on.

  Teddy glanced over at Britt’s profile. Damn those eyes and the sexy way she sat a horse.

  * * *

  “Saw you two were out riding today. Pretty day for it,” Lynn said as she put a bowl of baby butterbeans in the middle of the table. She wasn’t normally there for dinner, but her niece was putting in some extra time at work, so Lynn had brought her great-niece and great-nephew with her for the day. The situation apparently wasn’t uncommon, because when she and Teddy headed for the house at the sound of the dinner bell, E.B. came from one of the lower barn
s with a young girl on his shoulders and a boy hopping and trotting alongside him.

  “It was beautiful,” Teddy said. “I had a great time. Britt’s a very good teacher.”

  “I want to ride a horse,” Cameron, the five-year-old, declared, around a spoonful of mashed potatoes.

  “You’re too little,” her brother, seven-year-old Ethan, said.

  “You wait until everybody’s seated and we say grace, Miss Cameron, before you start eating.” Lynn waved a large spoon in empty threat before adding it to the bowl of butterbeans. Cameron put her spoon back on her plate but shot a look at Britt, who’d just taken a big bite of biscuit.

  Britt sat at the end of the table opposite her grandfather, and Teddy settled on her right, across from Lynn because the two children had already claimed the seats flanking E.B. Britt put her biscuit down and shifted uncomfortably under the girl’s scrutiny. Children made her nervous because they had no filter when they asked questions…or stared at strangers.

  “Who’s going to bless the food?” E.B. asked.

  The children both shrank in their seats, suddenly shy with the addition of two adults they didn’t know.

  “I’ll do it,” Teddy said, smiling at the children, who immediately each slid their hand into E.B.’s.

  Cameron held out her hand to Teddy as Ethan took Lynn’s in his other hand. He stared at Britt.

  “You have to hold hands for the blessing,” Ethan said.

  Teddy held out her hand for Britt’s. Hell, it wasn’t like Teddy hadn’t already massaged her shoulders and arm, practically carried her inside the first day she arrived. Somehow, though, holding hands seemed different, more intimate. Britt laid her open hand on the tabletop, and Teddy’s warm fingers wrapped around hers while Lynn laid her hand on Britt’s left shoulder. Teddy’s eyes—more green than gray now—held hers. Then long blond lashes lowered over those eyes, and Teddy bowed her head.