“Who’s Jill?” Becky straightened in the saddle, letting the gate swing shut.
“Slim’s daughter. She was hurt riding Lyric at Lone Star.” Stephanie’s eyes darkened. “Jockeying is dangerous, but the reality hits home when it happens to someone you know.”
Becky glanced down at Lyric’s lowered head, trying to imagine the mare racing. Hard to picture, especially now when the mare was so relaxed. Her ears were tilted and she rested a hind leg, not even twitching when Stephanie passed Becky the money. “Guess that explains why Slim doesn’t like Lyric,” Becky said ruefully.
“Oh, he likes all the horses. But he and Dino have different styles. Dino is a race trainer. Doesn’t want his horses too submissive. They need that extra fight to dig deep and gut out a win. Slim is more old-fashioned and likes control.”
“Was Lyric feisty when she raced?”
“Definitely, but she knew her job. Her last race, she took a bad step. Three horses went down. Jill was just unlucky.” Stephanie glanced toward the barn, her voice lowering. “Slim’s been grumpy lately but like everyone, he’s worried about Martha selling. It’d be tough for all of us, even Dino, to find jobs that pay this well.”
“Plus Dino and Slim each get a house,” Becky said, unable to resist probing. She’d never been in either of the ranch-style guesthouses. Dino’s was larger, but they both looked beautiful, typical of everything on the Conrad property.
“Yeah, it would be a dream to have one of those. Dino has a small apartment close to Lone Star but he’s staying here more often since there are three horses in training—Hunter, Chippy and Echo. Although he didn’t sleep here last night…too worried about the horses at Lone Star after that sponge was found in Hunter.”
Stephanie’s face darkened, but Becky’s disgust about the sabotage was tempered with guilty relief. Dino and Stephanie hadn’t spent the night together after all.
“It’s hard to fix a race with all the drug testing,” Stephanie went on. “And now with a twenty-four hour guard, there’s no way anyone can touch Dino’s horses.”
“You think someone at the track doesn’t like him?” Becky asked.
Stephanie shrugged. “It probably wasn’t personal. Dino’s a good trainer and well-respected. But Hunter was the favorite. When someone stuck that sponge up his nose, they created a sweet betting opportunity. Everyone wants to make money.” She waggled a finger. “As do I. So don’t forget to lay my bets, because Echo feels like a rocket.”
Stephanie’s confidence in the filly was reassuring. Martha was meeting with Ted a day after the race, and a win by Echo would prove the horses were worth keeping.
“Gotta go.” Stephanie turned toward a dented blue hatchback. “But you look bored sitting on that horse. Next week I’ll go on a trail ride with you.”
“I’d like that,” Becky managed. Usually retirees were her company of choice, not dynamic women like Stephanie. But she hadn’t felt at all uncomfortable, had even enjoyed the conversation.
Maybe being on Lyric’s back made her bolder, or maybe it was the horses in general. Not worth analyzing right now though. It was too beautiful to worry about anything. The sun was shining, the breeze was fresh and Lyric was being so sweet and cooperative, she deserved a treat.
Becky leaned forward and scratched the mare’s shoulder, promising to bring her back a generous bunch of carrots. Lyric had given her another wonderful ride even though they’d only walked a grand total of thirty feet.
***
“Don’t stare.” Martha opened her eyes and scowled. “I’m not dead yet. But sitting at the dinner table makes me sleepy. From now on, I’ll eat in my room.”
“Does this sleepiness have anything to do with Ted’s visit on Sunday?” Becky asked, refreshing the water glass.
Martha harrumphed deep in her throat. “Of course not. I don’t run from anyone. Although how my sister managed to have such a boring son is beyond comprehension. Ted probably won’t stay long on Sunday, especially if you talk about how beautiful Echo looked in the winner’s circle.”
Becky smiled, her anxiety over Martha fading. Ted’s visits were never pleasant but Martha seemed unfazed, and Ted obviously thought he was fulfilling a family duty. Maybe he’d shut up about the business of selling. His tactless comments stung and placed unnecessary pressure on all the Conrad staff, especially Slim whose mood grew darker every day.
“Do you know Slim well?” Becky asked impulsively. “I heard his daughter used to ride.”
“Jill? Yes, she rode some of our horses right up until her accident. So glad you don’t race, dear. It’s much too dangerous.” Martha picked up a straw and jangled the ice in her glass, her voice turning pensive. “Such a tragedy. I remember poor Malcolm being unable to sleep. Refused to go to any parties either.”
“I imagine Slim and Jill also had a tough time.” Becky couldn’t keep the dryness from her voice. “Do racetracks have insurance?”
Martha abandoned the straw and waved her hand in dismissal. “I’m sure they do. Malcolm was going to check the situation once everything settled. But let’s not talk about that sad business. Tell me about Echo.”
“She’s feeling like a rocket, according to Stephanie.”
Martha sniffed. “Hope that girl didn’t get her too tired. The race is tomorrow.”
“Dino’s instructions were to jog around twice.”
“Good. That’s what Malcolm would have done too. So you’ll drive down with Slim? You can use the owner’s box. Remember, you’re representing Conrad Stables so be sure to dress up. I want you to look fabulous in the winner’s circle.”
That meant her brown cotton pants and white blouse, Becky thought with a pang. She didn’t usually care about clothes, but it was doubtful Martha would approve of her attire.
Martha leaned forward, a knowing gleam in her eyes. “If you don’t have anything suitable, there’s still time to shop. A friend of mine owns a lovely boutique. I’ll have them pull some appropriate things. Size seven?”
Becky started to nod, then stiffened. “What makes you think I can’t shop on my own?”
Martha snickered and reached for her phone.
***
Multi-colored bags filled the passenger’s seat. Becky couldn’t stop peeking. Granted, she wasn’t keeping all those beautiful clothes despite Martha’s generosity and the insistence of the sales clerks. Only one outfit was required. However, Martha’s instructions to the owner had clearly taken precedence over anything Becky said.
She’d never shopped in such an upscale boutique, and it had been weird to have two hovering attendants who seemed to know more about her size and style than she did.
It was fun though and now she knew exactly what to wear tomorrow. In fact, she couldn’t wait for the race.
Clothes did make a difference.
She drummed the steering wheel in happy rhythm to the radio and detoured down the Conrad’s lighted driveway toward the stable.
One last stop. A promise to be kept.
The car eased off the smooth concrete and onto the gravel road. The decorative lamps didn’t throw much light, and she strained to see. Slim’s truck was already hooked up to the horse trailer, an imposing silhouette, primed and ready for morning. Beyond the trailer, both Slim and Dino’s houses appeared as dark blotches without a thread of light. The illuminated dashboard read nine o’clock.
She parked in the deserted employees’ lot close to the wide end doors. Grabbed the carrots from the floor of the car and headed for Lyric’s stall, relieved that nightlights illuminated the aisle. Lyric stuck her head over the door, blinking curiously. Hay protruded from her mouth, and when she gave a welcoming nicker, soggy green clumps dropped to the floor.
Becky pulled out a carrot and stepped into the stall, smiling as the mare pushed greedily at the bag. “You were such a good girl today.” She scratched Lyric’s silky neck, enjoying her enthusiasm. She wasn’t sure how many carrots she could safely feed a horse. Dino had said only two apples a day, bu
t she’d forgotten to ask about carrots.
Lyric seemed to think she could handle the whole bag, and it was incredible how fast she could gobble. Becky distracted her by dropping a carrot in her feed bin, then backed from the stall and carefully secured the safety snap.
She moved toward the adjoining stall, carrot in hand, surprised when Echo didn’t stick her head out. She and Lyric were good buddies, and Becky had assumed Echo would hear the crunching and insist on a treat too.
She peered in the stall, calling to the filly, but the chestnut just stood in the far corner, flicking curious ears. “Come on, girl. I know you’re resting for the race but look what I brought.” She waved a carrot.
Echo edged forward, seeming surprised to have a visitor. She gave the carrot a suspicious sniff then took a tentative bite. Becky held the end while the filly chewed—painfully slow—and Becky curbed her impatience even as she marveled at the contrasting eating styles. Lyric ate like a glutton, while Echo was a nervous nibbler.
“Good thing that’s a carrot in your hand, not coffee. Caffeine will test.”
Becky turned toward the familiar voice. “Hi, Slim. I thought you were asleep. Just stopped in to see Lyric.”
“That ain’t Lyric. That’s Echo.”
“Yes, but I thought Echo would want a treat too. Although she doesn’t appear to have ever tasted a carrot.”
“A lot of horses never have.” His mouth curved in a half smile. “You should have seen Lyric the first time she ate a carrot. Peppermints are better anyway,” he added. “Easier to carry, and they don’t get moldy. We should leave now and let that filly rest. Silly to bother her before a race.”
“Oh, of course. Sorry.” Becky turned away, feeling like a chastised kid, but Lyric nickered as she headed down the aisle, and the mare’s affectionate display more than compensated for Slim’s rebuke.
A shrill whinny abruptly blared from the dark. Lyric thrust her head further over her door and responded with an earsplitting bray.
Becky winced and followed Slim down the aisle and out of the barn, away from the noisy mare. She lingered by her car, straining to see the whinnying horse who had so disturbed Lyric. The noise didn’t come from the pasture but from the east, from the direction of the hot walker.
“Do you think someone forgot a horse on the walker?” She glanced at Slim who waited politely by the front of the car.
Sighing, he stepped forward and yanked open her door. “No one forgot anything. I put a horse out that had a touch of colic. You get going now. We have an early morning, and I can’t wait if you’re late.”
She slid into the car so quickly she bumped her knee against the steering wheel. Colic. She remembered walking a horse late into the night because of that. All the counselors had been worried the horse would roll and twist a gut, and everyone had been exhausted the next morning. The horse, however, had been fine.
She hesitated a moment then lowered her window. “Do you want me to stick around and help?”
He leaned down, his voice softening. “It’s okay, Miz Becky. Appreciate your offer though. You go home and get some rest.” He rapped his knuckles on the car. “And I can wait a few minutes if you’re late. Five or ten maybe.”
Chapter Eleven
Becky perched on the seat in Slim’s truck, trying to act casual, but the thrill of riding shotgun—hauling real live racehorses—left her bouncing like a kid. She glanced over her shoulder for the hundredth time. The trailer was still there, still attached, and if she really focused, a horse’s pricked ears were visible through the window.
She couldn’t tell if it was Echo or Chippy, the gelding also being shipped. They were eerily similar, both chestnuts with no white markings. In fact, when Slim had led the horses up the ramp she hadn’t been able to tell them apart.
“Do you get excited before a race?” she asked, trying once again to coax words from Slim. It was like pulling teeth though, and she had new empathy for people who’d tried to draw her into conversation. Being on the other side wasn’t fun either. “Everyone must get a little excited,” she added with a smile, remembering how Dino’s lazy grin always made people relax.
Dark circles lined Slim’s eyes, but his expression softened. “I don’t get excited now but the way you’re hopping on the seat reminds me of Jill when she first started.”
“How old was she?”
“Fourteen. Couldn’t get her apprentice license until she was sixteen so she started galloping at Conrad’s. She was always excited when a horse headed for the track. Girls and their horses, you know.” His voice caught. His knuckles whitened around the wheel, and the truck increased its speed.
Becky’s throat tightened as brittle silence filled the cab. Poor Slim. “It has to be the most exciting thing in the world, to get a horse ready to race.” She stared straight ahead, realizing he was swiping his eyes and aware he wouldn’t want an audience. “I wouldn’t be able to sleep if Lyric were running today,” she added, pretending to adjust her seatbelt.
“Guess they’re like your kids,” Slim said slowly, his voice gruff but steady now. “And don’t forget, they behave like kids too. You never know what a horse is going to do.”
“Maybe, but Stephanie thinks Echo deserves a big bet.” Becky patted her stylish new purse. “I’m going to bet too.”
“Yeah, well don’t bet the farm.” Slim gunned the truck and trailer past a pokey Cadillac. “The more you need a win, the worse a horse runs. And the old lady really needs this win, right?”
“Martha likes to win, just like everyone else.” Becky shrugged, reluctant to admit how important the race really was. Ted’s visit tomorrow would definitely be more tolerable if Echo galloped home with a stakes win.
Slim grunted as he eased onto the turnoff to Lone Star Park. “Dino will be happy. We made good time this morning.”
Her breathing quickened at the mention of Dino, and she checked the garment bag hanging in the cab. At least she had stylish clothes to wear for the race although Martha had insisted she wait and change after lunch. “You’ll never stay clean otherwise,” Martha had said. “But you can wear your new jeans in the morning. And that cute little jacket.”
Thank God for the advice. Martha had been right. Hay already stuck to her jeans; it was impossible to stay clean around horses.
Slim greeted the guard at the security booth, flashed some shipping papers, and was waved through. They rumbled onto the backside of the track. Excitement pulled her to the edge of the seat.
The sun barely cut the dawn mist but already eager horses filed to the track, ears pricked, helmeted riders perched on their backs. Bustling grooms toted buckets, hoses and pitchforks, and several horses circled on slow-moving hot walkers.
Horses filled every nook and cranny, and she couldn’t contain her delight. A spotted pig trotted across the gravel, chased by a white-haired man, and even Slim smiled.
“The track is hectic,” he said, edging the rig past a line of horses. “But it’s always fun. I worked here until my wife died.”
Fun didn’t adequately describe it. Magical, maybe. Becky craned her head as a gray horse, lathered with soapy suds, opened his mouth and played with water jetting from a hose while his proud groom grinned. “It’s another world,” she breathed.
“Yeah, but Conrad’s is less stressful. Comes with vacation, and the regular hours give me more time to visit Jilly. You do what you have to do.” Emotion thickened his voice, and he gave a self-conscious cough. “Now you have a good time—but we’re busy, so don’t expect me or Dino to hold your hand.”
“No, of course not.” She swallowed further questions about the track and straightened in the seat. They’d almost reached the shedrow, and she knew the way to the gap. She didn’t mind standing by herself and watching the horses. In fact, she couldn’t wait to wander around the backside.
Slim eased the rig to a stop. She opened her door and jumped to the ground. A young woman walked out of the shedrow leading a bay horse with red bandages. She wa
s tiny, pretty and flirtatious, and giggled at something a blond man said.
And then Dino appeared. His eyes locked with hers, and his welcoming grin tugged at something in her chest.
“Hi,” he said.
She heard Slim behind her complaining about traffic but Dino only nodded, his warm gaze still on her face. “You look nice today,” he said softly. His eyes slid over her new jeans and then back to her face. He squeezed her shoulder before walking past and opening the side door of the trailer.
She drew in a quivery breath. Some day maybe, she’d get used to his touch. Now she no longer jumped; she merely turned dewy.
“Horses travel okay? What the hell—” Dino’s voice sharpened, alarm pinching the corners of his eyes as he swung toward Slim.
“It was an uneventful trip,” Slim said, shrugging in confusion.
“What’s wrong?” Becky stepped closer, trying to peer past Dino into the trailer.
“Hopefully nothing,” he said, still studying Echo. “But she looks subdued. Usually she’s a tiger when she hits the track. Did you check her temperature, Slim?”
“Didn’t see the need.” A mottled red climbed Slim’s neck and he crossed his arms over his chest. “Filly was fine when I loaded her.”
“We’ll check her out,” Dino said. But his expression was grim as he wheeled away from Slim and motioned at a red-haired groom. “There’s coffee in the office, Becky. End stall. Give me a few minutes before we go eat.”
Under his critical eye, two grooms unloaded the horses. Chippy, the chestnut gelding, looked great, prancing and calling to a horse in the adjoining barn. But Echo’s head dragged, as though uncaring where she was or who she was with.
Dino swore, Slim shook his head and the red-haired groom looked worried. They all ignored the gelding and filed into the barn behind the sedate filly.
“Chippy never gets that kind of attention, but he’s always happy,” the second groom said as he led the perky gelding.
Racetrack Romance BOX SET (Books 1-3) Page 79
