The Gift Horse

by Jami Davenport

  Carson wasn’t sure he cared, as long as the horse did whatever it needed to do to maximize its potential worth.

  Sam exited the arena and rode past him without a word. Gabbie reached out and wiped her big nose on his shoulder as she strode by. Carson glared at the animal, certain it was laughing at him. The big elephant stepped out smartly, suddenly full of energy.

  He followed Sam back to the trailer but kept his comments to himself. She was nearing the melting point, and he didn’t have any interest in being part of the fallout. Her appearance was even more disheveled than it had been earlier. She reminded him of a flower wilting in the dessert sun.

  Sam gasped and stopped Gabbie a few steps ahead of him. Carson looked in the direction of her gaze.

  Shit.

  Every tire on her truck and horse trailer was flat.

  Chapter 19—Flat Tires Make for Bumpy Rides

  Bridget was standing by her horse trailer when Sam and Carson pulled into the barn parking lot. She looked like she’d just walked out of Glamour Magazine, while Sam looked like, well, like Sam. And Carson, Lord, Carson had a feeling he looked like a male version of Sam—dirty, sweaty, disheveled, and tired. That’s what happens when you help AAA change eight tires.

  Sam got out of the truck before it even braked to halt and stalked past Bridget. Without a word, she went to the back of the trailer and started unloading horses.

  Carson exited the driver’s side and advanced on his sister. Bridget looked him up and down but didn’t budge. Not much intimidated her. “I thought you were going to reform her. It looks like she’s reformed you from tight ass to slob in a short month. Unbelievable.”

  Carson ignored her and stepped closer. His expression was menacing. Bridget actually took a step back. “I can’t believe that even you would stoop that low.” He spat the words out one syllable at a time.

  “She could and would.” Sam interrupted as she stomped by leading Gabbie.

  Bridget rolled her eyes. “What are you talking about, dear brother?”

  “As if you didn’t know.”

  Bridget shrugged, bored by the conversation and studied her fingernails. “She kept getting in my way in the warm-up arena. What was I to do?”

  “So you let the air out of her tires?”

  Bridget’s head jerked up. “What? I never did anything like that. That would be cheap and underhanded. I prefer my fights to be face-to-face.”

  “Fights? So you admit that you’re after Sam?”

  “I’m not after her. I’m trying to prove a point. She’s not appropriate for the future of this barn or for you, big brother. You’re not seeing this situation with your eyes open. That’s not like you.”

  “Maybe you didn’t physically do it, but you set someone up to do it.”

  “Get real, Car. That’s not my style, and you know it.”

  He had to concede that one. It wasn’t like his sister to pull something like that. It was one of the few things she wouldn’t do. “You’re sure?”

  “Don’t insult me. I don’t need to sabotage Sam. She does a good enough job on her own.”

  Bridget had a point there. “Maybe you didn’t, but you purposely got in her way in the warm-up, over and over again.”

  “So? She claims to be a professional. She needs to handle it. I’m just a lowly amateur. Her performance in the show ring was abominable. She fell to pieces and so did the horse. Let’s see, what was her score? Fifty-one percent? That’s a disgrace for someone of her alleged caliber.”

  Carson didn’t know what to say. He had this sinking feeling that Bridget might be right. Was his judgment clouded by his insane physical attraction to Sam?

  “Hans was talking to you. What does he say about her?”

  “You already know. He makes his opinion no secret.”

  “Well, he’s right. Listen to him.” Bridget paused as Juan scurried by, darting between the truck and trailer. “What the hell is that nutcase doing now?”

  Carson glanced around. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “Bull. You do, too. We need to fire that guy. He’s dangerous.”

  “Hardly. Sam says he’s a good farm manager.”

  Bridget stomped her foot. “Sam needs to be fired, too.”

  Carson squared his shoulders and lifted his chin. “I am not giving up on her. Even Hans admits she has raw talent and potential.”

  Bridget’s eyes narrowed shrewdly. “Carson, your judgment is skewed by your personal involvement.”

  “There is no personal involvement. I believe I can turn her around.”

  “Ah, my brother, the miracle worker. Somehow the image doesn’t fit. What’s happened to you? You used to be the hatchet man. If someone didn’t do the job the exact way you wanted, they’d be out the door in a flash.”

  Carson glared at her. What did she know? He was a very committed guy. “Maybe I’ve changed.”

  “That’s what Dad’s hoping for.”

  “Keep Dad out of this.”

  “Oh, did I hit another sore spot?” She tossed back her long dark hair and checked her makeup in the truck side-view mirror, bored with their conversation.

  “That’s enough.”

  Bridget straightened and faced him. “It is for now, since you aren’t admitting to any guilt. Maybe you took the air out of those tires so that you could play the part of the hero?”

  “Me? And get soiled on purpose?” Carson held out his dirty hands and made a show of staring down at his grungy white shirt and torn slacks.

  “She’s getting to you. Before you know it, your house will look like hers, you’ll be playing country music, and drinking wine from a box. Give up, Carson. Let’s concede that Hans is the best. Sam doesn’t stand a chance, and you know it.”

  “I don’t know any such thing. Besides, you don’t get a vote in this and neither do I. Dad set the rules. We’re playing by them.”

  “Does she know what the rules are?”

  “Not yet, but she will. I didn’t want to put undue pressure on her before the show.”

  “Like it would’ve mattered. I’m telling Hans tomorrow, so he can formulate a plan, not that he’ll need one. He is an exacting and thorough person, unlike her.” Bridget glanced in Sam’s direction and rolled her eyes. Stuff was already falling out of the trailer and littering the ground.

  “We’ll see.” Carson stalked off to help unload the trailer.

  This was war. He intended for Sam to have every advantage. If you want to be a winner, you had to look like a winner. This past weekend proved that. He’d be damned if she’d go to one more horse show looking like a homeless person. He’d enlist Burke’s assistance to buy her a new set of show clothes and new bridle. That man did love to shop.

  Next he needed to figure out how to afford a new truck and trailer. He swiveled his gaze to his classic Jaguar, parked nearby in the parking lot.

  He’d miss that car.

  * * * *

  The old truck coughed and spat black smoke then gave its last dying gasp, going out with bang and a whimper. Sam cranked the key again. The thing made a feeble attempt to turn over, then it fell silent. She pressed her head against the steering wheel and burst into tears. What more could happen? She had four horses to haul to the show in a few days and no truck.

  Damn. Damn. Damn. Sam pounded her fist on the steering wheel. With a resigned sigh, she lifted her face, wiped the tears from her eyes and took a deep breath.

  “Hey, what the hell was that noise? And what’s all this smoke?” Carson poked his head in the driver’s side door, took one look at her, and frowned. “Are you okay?”

  “Please, just go away.”

  “No, I won’t. What’s going on?”

  “You can’t help me?”

  “What makes you so sure of that?”

  “Are you a mechanic?”

  Carson shrugged. “What’s the problem?”

  “It won’t start.”

  “Oh, so it was this piece of shit that just abo
ut blew out the side of the barn on its dying breath.”

  “Yes, it was my piece of shit.”

  “I’ll call the garage and have it towed. It sounded like it blew a rod.”

  “I can’t afford that. Anyway, how would you know?”

  Carson studied her for a long, long time. “Pop the hood,” he ordered.

  Sam started to laugh then shut up. She had to see this. As rotten as this day might be, watching Carson try to fix her engine in his pristine clothes would provide some comic relief. She pulled the latch to release the hood and jumped out of the cab. Carson lifted the hood and peered underneath.

  “This thing is a mess. There’s oil everywhere. It looks like your apartment.”

  “It ran; that’s all I cared about.”

  “Obviously.”

  “I suppose you could eat off of your engines.”

  “I suppose I could.”

  Carson messed around inside, inspecting parts and reaching down as if he actually knew what he was doing. The man was incredible at faking it. His arms were black with grease and his shirt was ruined. He leaned into the driver’s side and turned the key. The engine whined, screeched, and made a popping sound followed by silence.

  Then he really shocked her by crawling underneath. Finally, he stood up and shook his head. Sam stared at him and considered falling in love. Right then. Right there. Just like that.

  The man’s hair was mussed, and he was an oily mess. His sweaty shirt stuck to his chest. He was just her type. Except this was a momentary aberration for a pretty boy.

  “It’s dead, Sam.”

  “I could’ve told you that, Einstein.”

  “I mean it needs a new engine.”

  Sam bit back a sob. Not today, not now. “What do you know about cars?” He had to be wrong. He had to be.

  Carson raised one black eyebrow. “More than you’d ever guess.”

  “I wouldn’t guess much.”

  “I’m sure you wouldn’t. You seem to have a low opinion of my blue collar abilities.”

  “You’ve never worn a blue collar in your life.”

  He raised one eyebrow but didn’t comment. “We’ll have it towed.”

  “Now what am I going to do for this weekend?” She bit her lip, using the pain to distract herself so she didn’t cry.

  “My sister has a truck.”

  “She’s hauling her own horses.”

  “Oh.” Carson thought on that for a while. “Okay, I’ll get something.”

  “You don’t need to do that.”

  “But I do, it’s in my best interests. I was going to anyway. Just hadn’t gotten to it yet.”

  “Why would you do that?”

  “My horse needs to travel in style.” He glanced at the piece of junk littering his driveway. “And safely. I’ll be back in a couple hours with something that’ll work.”

  Several hours later, that “something” pulled into the driveway. Sam fainted, almost. A one-ton black Chevy diesel pickup pulling a huge gooseneck horse trailer stopped several feet in front of her. It had to be at least a four-horse if not bigger, complete with deluxe living quarters.

  Carson stepped out, grinning from ear to ear. “Well?”

  “Carson, who did you borrow that from?”

  “I didn’t borrow it. I bought it.”

  “You bought it?”

  Carson grinned, like a little boy at Christmas. He seemed to be having way too much fun.

  “Why did you buy...such...such a huge rig?”

  “Because I wanted to.”

  “I don’t know what to say.”

  “Thank you works.”

  “Thank you.” Sam choked up and cleared her throat.

  “The farm needs a truck and trailer anyway. I’m using it for business, so what the heck, I’ll write it off.”

  “Can I see it?”

  Carson gave her a tour. He must have memorized the salesman’s speech because he did an excellent job. The trailer had four stalls. She’d guessed right. The front part housed the most luxurious, though overdone, living quarters she’d ever seen in a horse trailer. A large bed was in the gooseneck; below that was a small living/kitchen area with a bathroom and shower.

  “I’m blown away.”

  “Then you like it?”

  “Who wouldn’t like it? The living quarters are a little over the top. It looks like a bordello on wheels.”

  Carson laughed. “I guess the guy that ordered this trailer and never paid for it was a gay, overly eccentric Arabian horse trainer.”

  “That explains the mirrors on the ceiling above the queen bed and the red velvet curtains. At least it looks normal on the outside.”

  “I’ve never shopped for horse trailers before. I thought that kind of tackiness was normal.”

  “In some circles, I’m sure it is. I can always park it on Aurora Avenue at night and pick up a few extra bucks.”

  Carson threw back his head and laughed.

  Chapter 20—Heaven on Horseback

  Sam checked her watch for the tenth time in the last five minutes. It wasn’t unusual for the spoiled Schrader girls to show up late for a lesson, but not a half-hour late.

  Sighing, Sam gave up. She needed the money the Schraders brought in, but she was somewhat relieved they hadn’t shown. Diana Schrader’s performance at the show had been substandard, and she knew she’d be blamed.

  Burke roared down the driveway. His hot little red sports car slid to a halt next to the barn. Gravel sprayed ten feet in all directions followed by a cloud of dust. The man always had to make an entrance. He exited gracefully from the small car, immaculate in his European breeches and matching shirt.

  “Hey, why aren’t you torturing yourself teaching the brat sisters?”

  “They didn’t show.”

  “Hmmm. Now that is interesting.”

  “Do you know something?”

  “Maybe more than I realized. I approached Adam yesterday about a young rider prospect he might be interested in that’s ready to go to replace Julie’s horse.”

  “And?”

  “He told me he’d already purchased a horse from Herr Ziegler.”

  Sam whipped around and stared at him. “You’re joking?”

  “Nope.”

  “Well, isn’t that convenient for him. I’m sure he offered his expertise so they get the most out of the horse.”

  “Of course. Don’t worry.” Burke grinned at her and flicked a speck of dust from his breeches. “That animal isn’t sound. It won’t last long.”

  “What do you know about that animal?”

  “I imported it and sold it a year ago. It’s been lame off and on ever since. Not a good investment.” Burke leaned forward and lowered his voice to a conspiratorial tone. “Interesting, isn’t it, that Hans’ students’ horses seem to go lame quite often? It always happens when he has a sale horse or two waiting in the wings with a big price tag and a big commission for him.”

  “Julie was my student at the time.”

  “He scored twice. He sold a horse and gained two students whose daddy has a bottomless wallet.”

  “What are you getting at, Burke?”

  “Nothing, really. Just an observation.”

  “Well, I’ve known that man for years. He would never harm a horse for money or to further his career.”

  “Imagine that. You’re defending the jerk.”

  “I’m not defending him, but what you’re insinuating needs to stop right here.”

  “He sold you out, Sam. He could have defended you, but he didn’t. You don’t owe him any loyalty whatsoever. It’s all about what’s in it for him.”

  Sam could say the same thing of Burke in most cases. “Herr Doctor will have his hands full with Adam Schrader if that horse doesn’t make it through the show season.”

  Burke smiled a secret smile. “Won’t he? A shame, isn’t it?”

  Both their heads turned as a car pulled into the driveway. Hans’ conservative dark green Beemer stopped in fro
nt of the barn.

  “Excuse me, I have an appointment with a dishonest bastard.”

  Burke grinned with glee. “Can I stick around and watch?”

  “I’d rather you didn’t. You never could stomach blood and gore.”

  * * * *

  Sam might be furious at the man for stealing her most lucrative clients, but she didn’t miss teaching those girls. She’d give anything to see how Hans whipped them into shape. No more excuses and no more blaming the horse. Hans didn’t tolerate unfair treatment of horses. People were a different story.

  When she’d confronted him about the Schraders’ defection, he’d blown her off. The Schraders were discerning clients with exacting demands she couldn’t meet in her current unsystematic state. The man was an arrogant, pompous ass, who read from the same book as Carson.

  Regardless, she didn’t have to like him to learn from him. Fighting him hadn’t gotten her anywhere, so if you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em. Besides, Carson was footing the bill. She might as well take advantage of some very expensive instruction. Hans’ fees were prohibitive on her budget unless she wanted to become an indentured servant like she had years ago. Trainers of his caliber didn’t come cheap, but they did come with all sorts of eccentricities and demands. Today she’d cooperate during her lesson if it killed her, so she saddled the redheaded witch mare and headed for the arena.

  Sam sat quietly and followed Hans’ instructions. For once, she was in sync with Carson’s temperamental mare. Even Hans wasn’t doing much yelling. In fact, she heard him say “Güt, güt” a few times.

  When she touched the mare’s sides with her calves, Gabbie sprang forward. Too bad she hadn’t behaved like this at the show. She rode the mare in endless circles and performed more difficult movements under Hans’ direction. Gabbie flicked her ears back and forth, as she concentrated on processing her rider’s requests.

  It happened slowly, subtly, but it happened—the thing every rider craves but few achieve. Hans’ voice faded in the background as Sam’s mind and body merged with the horse in a symphony of two different creatures united as one.

  Controlled energy and raw power surged under her. The mare danced on air, eager to please. She seemed to be saying, Now? How about this? This? Right, you want this? No, Sam told her by closing her ring finger on the reins. Come back to me. Slow down. Like a car gearing down, the mare’s speed transformed into more power, putting more bounce in her stride, causing her to float and spring off the ground. To an observer, the horse grew a couple inches taller. Following the direction set by her eyes, Gabbie responded to subtle clues from the give and take of Sam’s hands, seat in the saddle, and legs on her sides.