The Gift Horse

by Jami Davenport

  “Good,” Bridget smirked. “That means you’re leaving?”

  “Not if you want me to leave.” Sam’s smile dripped poisonous honey. “Even though this is a big waste of time.”

  Carson remained silent. His blue eyes were the same color and as warm as a frozen winter pond. His jaw was set in stubborn granite. He wasn’t amused.

  Hans raised one eyebrow, leaned back in his chair, and propped his feet on Carson’s desk. Carson cast a death look at Hans, who yanked his feet off the desk and sat up straight.

  “Why don’t you enlighten us as to why you’re late—again.”

  Sam winced. “You’re acquainted with my student, Teddi?”

  “The elementary school teacher who’s very organized?”

  She deserved that dig. “That’s the one. She volunteers with a therapeutic riding program.”

  “She rides that ugly, uncoordinated Quarter Horse.” Bridget whipped out a compact and checked her makeup.

  “She’s a wonderful little horse. In fact, I’d take one of her for five of your spoiled, ill-mannered warmbloods.” She knew better than to let Bridget draw her into a pissing match, but since when did that stop her?

  “That horse gives dressage a bad name. It should be on a pack string in the Pasayten Wilderness.”

  “Maybe you could join him. I understand they’re looking for a few mules.”

  Bridget snapped her compact shut and looked ready to kill, but Sam refused to react. She smiled sweetly and waited. Go ahead, hit me with your best shot, you rich, spoiled witch.

  Carson, most likely envisioning the potential for carnage, held up a hand to silence his sister before this degenerated into a mud-slinging fest. “I already gave a donation to that riding program.”

  “Teddi’s not asking for a donation.” Actually, it was worse.

  Bridget snorted, sounding a lot like one of her warmbloods. Sam shot her a poisonous glare. Carson sighed, ready to intervene if needed. “Get to the point, Sam.”

  “The disabled riders program needs to move to another barn. The place it’s at has been sold for a development.”

  “What are you getting at?” Carson regarded her like a hiker regarded a coiled rattlesnake in his path.

  “We don’t have room for a program like that,” Hans interrupted. “It’s not compatible with dressage. Those people are barely able to walk their horses and steer. They’ll be underfoot all the time.”

  “I’m not asking your upper-level students to share an arena with those people. The company that bought the property is not totally heartless. The group has until next summer to find another place.”

  “Kind of them,” Carson murmured.

  “Next year the old arena won’t be used much. Couldn’t we spare a few days a week for this program to use it? They could keep the horses and ponies in the old barn or in the pastures. This place has plenty of room for that.”

  “Most of the pasture fences are non-existent.” Hans glanced out the window to prove his point. “It’ll take time and attention away from our primary project.”

  “We’re not running a charitable organization here.” The pretty boy shook his head and made a move to dismiss her idea.

  “It could be an incredible write-off.”

  “This place is going to be a write-off without a handicapped riding program.” Carson massaged his temple with one hand.

  Bridget slashed a tube of lipstick across her lips. They still came out looking perfect. “Those programs rarely break even. I don’t care what kind of backing they have. They operate on a shoestring with private donations. We’d be subsidizing them ninety percent of the time.”

  Carson continued to shake his head. “Sam, I have serious reservations about the viability of your proposal. How could we leverage something like that without it costing us money?”

  “Why the hell not try?” Sam sat up straighter.

  “Because,” Bridget spoke as if dealing with a little child, “this is going to be high-class operation with only the best trainers—” She paused pointedly to look at Sam. “—and the best of everything. A handicapped riding program has no place here. It just doesn’t fit.”

  “Well, coming from you that kind of elitist attitude doesn’t surprise me.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “That you think this place is too good to have imperfect people among wealthy, perfect people. Why the hell else are you trying so hard to get rid of me?” Sam watched with perverse pleasure as Bridget got her back up.

  “Why, you little...”

  “Bridget,” Carson interrupted, “sheath your claws. Let’s handle this as adults.” He turned to Sam. The satisfied look on his face reminded her of how the barn cat looked after he’d beheaded some poor mouse. “Sam, I’m willing to consider any option, assuming it’s viable.”

  “Okay.” She sensed a trap.

  Carson swallowed a grin. “I’ll give you a week to prepare a written business proposal on how this alliance with handicapped riding stands to benefit our equestrian center, including financial projections.”

  “But I have a horse show this weekend. I don’t have time to waste on paper work.” Not to mention she hated it, and he knew it.

  “Planning done properly is never a waste. In fact, it’ll save time in the long run.” He looked way too pleased with himself.

  “I don’t care about the long-run. I’m a here and now person.”

  “You have a week.” His unyielding gaze penetrated her defenses.

  “But I really don’t know how to do a business proposal.” The man was starting to get under her skin with his superior attitude.

  “Well, you’ll learn, won’t you? It’ll be good for all aspects of your business. I’d be more than happy to spend a few hours with you going over the finer aspects of Business 101.”

  “Great. Wonderful.” Sam glared at him. The nerve of the ass. He had her exactly where he wanted her.

  Carson grinned. “I guess that’ll take care of the meeting for this week. Sam will present a written report and a professional presentation on the advantages of a handicapped riding program next week.”

  Sam shot to her feet, eager to beat cleats out of there before she said more things she’d regret. Carson stopped her in her tracks.

  “So, Sam, who bought the current facility? They should be approached for assistance since they’re misplacing these people. It’d be good for their public relations.”

  So there was a God, Sam decided and suppressed a grin. “Reynolds Corporation.” She allowed herself a triumphant smile before she turned and walked out the door.

  * * * *

  “You haven’t told her yet, have you?” Joe studied his son with that intent expression that always made Carson squirm.

  “About the contest? No.”

  “You need to tell her soon. My experience with women says that the longer you wait the angrier she’ll be.”

  “I know. I wonder if Hans knows?”

  “Can Bridget keep anything quiet for long?”

  “No.” Carson paced across the room and stopped to stare out the large window at the view. He could see the old brewery in the distance.

  “Then you’d better tell her before she hears it from someone else. Besides, it puts Hans at a distinct advantage assuming he knows and Sam doesn’t.”

  “I’ll tell her at the horse show this weekend.” Carson cleared his throat. “Dad, that’s not why I’m here.”

  “I didn’t think it was.” Joe settled into one of the plush leather chairs in his office and gestured for Carson to take a seat next to him. “Tell me what’s on your mind.”

  “I want to talk to you about the Ryerback Farm. Did you know that a handicapped riding program has operated out of there for years?”

  “No, Carson, I wasn’t aware of that.”

  “You knew we’d purchased the property, though?”

  “We?” His father smiled at Carson’s slip.

  Carson bristled. “Did you know that
your company purchased the property?”

  “Yes, I was aware our company purchased it. It was in foreclosure, and we got it for a fraction of what it was worth. There aren’t any plans to develop it for a year or more. I’m not handling the details, Brad is.”

  “Brad is?” Brad couldn’t handle Monopoly, let alone something that required an investment of millions. No wonder his father had concocted this elaborate scheme to bring him back into the fold.

  Joe nodded. “Is there an issue?”

  “They need a place to go. They’ve asked to move into Cedrona and occupy the older buildings next year.”

  “You’re proposing to operate a non-profit from the same location as our equestrian center?”

  “That’s an option. I’m waiting for a sound proposal before I consider it. The new indoor and outdoor arenas and barn complex will handle the dressage operation. The older barn and arena will be virtually unused except for horse shows.”

  “So you’re thinking this would be a good option?”

  “I’m not sure. We could stand to gain something monetarily from the usage fees for the facility.”

  “And if we don’t?”

  “We write it off as charitable contributions.”

  “Did you speak with my attorney about this?”

  “No, but I might with your blessing.”

  “Then you’ve got it. I have to admit that it’s always bothered me that we’re sinking so much money into a facility that caters to the elite. It seems so self-serving and narrow-minded. I like the idea that we might be able to turn this into something that actually does some good for those less fortunate.” Joe almost smiled.

  His father seemed pleased.

  Carson just stared. He hadn’t really thought of it that way. He’d been thinking along the lines of what was in it for Cedrona. It wasn’t his responsibility to think about a project in sentimental terms. He had to earn a profit and come within budget.

  His father was testing him, trying to see where he stood. The question was: Where did his father expect him to stand? More importantly, where did he want to stand?

  Hell, if he knew, but he’d better figure it out fast. Everything used to be so clear, so cut and dried. Between Sam and his father, his life had been turned upside down. His old ideas and methods and morals had been challenged.

  Nothing was the same anymore.

  Chapter 25—Ransacked by Animals?

  Sam couldn’t help it.

  She was late. Again.

  Her fault. Again.

  Her track record of always being late was untarnished.

  She’d tried, really, she had. She’d used his stupid lists, but lists can’t wash four horses, clean tack, and load the trailer with enough stuff to open a tack and feed store.

  In the best of traffic it took four hours to drive to the show grounds south of Portland, Oregon. This wasn’t the best of traffic.

  Carson drove while she poured over her dressage tests. One more thing she’d let go until the last minute. She tried to drown out his muttered curses as he maneuvered the large truck and trailer through Portland’s evening rush hour. Most of his grumbling was directed at her stupidity, carelessness, disorganization, and irresponsibility.

  If the shoe fit, she guessed she’d better wear it.

  It was dark by the time they unloaded everything and settled the horses in their stalls. Sam braided four horses while Carson held a flashlight and watched in stony silence. By the expression on his face, she didn’t think he was impressed with her not-so-neat, not-so-tidy braids. Well, what the heck did he expect for a rush job at ten at night?

  She’d had a tough few weeks. The intruder, the lame horses, bouncing checks for board, Hans, Bridget, and business plans had conspired to make her a disorganized wreck.

  Tired and cranky, she dragged herself back to her trailer. Carson followed and unhitched the truck. He had a cozy hotel room waiting for him in a nearby town. She had the bordello on wheels, which beat sleeping in a tent or the back of the trailer. With the exception of the garish décor, she’d never had such top-notch accommodations at a horse show.

  “Well, I guess I should be going.” Carson jingled the keys in his pocket, but made no move to leave. He was stalling, but for what reason? An invitation for a nightcap? Hot sex in the bordello? The gaudy thing did inspire that kind of thinking, but so did looking at Carson. Even when he was pissed or being a tight ass, he radiated masculine energy and sex appeal. She weighed the ramifications of inviting him to stay for a drink.

  “Do you hear something?” Carson cocked his head to one side. Sam heard it, too, just as a large horse came galloping past and thundered into the dark night.

  “Someone’s got a loose horse,” Sam noted with a sigh. So much for a wild night or even a quiet night in the bordello. Now she’d have to catch a horse and figure out what stall it belonged in.

  “Should we do something about it?”

  “Yes,” she said wearily. “I’ll get a lead rope and some grain.” She rummaged through the trailer, which despite Carson’s valiant attempts to organize it and her, was already in a state of chaos. Oh, home, sweet home.

  The horse stopped nearby and lowered its head to graze. She could make out a blaze on the horse’s forehead in the dim light from the nearby barn. Her heart stopped for a moment.

  “Oh, no. Carson, that’s Gabbie,” she whispered, as if the mare could understand what she was saying.

  “It is? Didn’t you lock the stall door?”

  “Of course I did.” Boy, she hoped she really had. But what was the horse doing loose? “Be careful. If she runs off, she might end up on the highway. Stay back, and let me handle it.”

  Sam walked toward the temperamental mare, talking sweetly to her. Carson followed at a safe distance. Gabbie watched them with a wary eye. As soon as Sam was within ten feet, the mare threw up her head, snorted, and trotted off.

  Carson groaned. Sam wanted to cuss a blue streak.

  “Come here, you red-headed witch.” Sam’s voice dripped with syrup. Again, the horse took off, moving several feet away before lowering her head to yank out hunks of grass. For ten minutes, they futilely followed her around the grassy parking area, always several hoof beats behind.

  “Let me try.” Carson stepped forward.

  “You? Are you kidding?”

  “I have a way with females.”

  “Be my guest.” Sam handed him the lead rope and the bucket of grain.

  Gabbie lifted her head and watched as Carson approached. She took a few steps toward him and waited. Carson walked up to her and put a rope around her neck. Sam’s mouth dropped open. Gabbie lowered her head and nuzzled his chest. Carson scratched the base of an ear.

  “How?”

  Carson shrugged. “What can I say? All the ladies love me.”

  “She knows you don’t ride her. Besides, I’m onto you, buster. You’ve been sneaking her treats. I know it.”

  “Not me, I’d never do that. I don’t like horses. Chalk it up to my natural animal magnetism. Get it, animal magnetism.”

  Sam rolled her eyes. “Enough already. Leave the humor to Brad.”

  With Carson leading Gabbie, they walked up the hill to the barn area.

  Sam stopped dead in her tracks. Next to her, Carson froze. Even the mare halted and sniffed the air.

  The area around Sam’s stabling had been ransacked. Buckets were overturned. Sacks of grain were split open. Hay bales were broken and flakes of hay were strewn about the barn aisle. Blankets were ripped. The tack room door, which had been locked, stood open and expensive tack was spread all over the area.

  * * * *

  The next night Sam and Carson sat in a hole-in-the-wall bar across from the show grounds. Their elbows stuck to the table, the food was greasy, and the bartender was surly. It was Sam’s kind of place.

  Even more amazing, Carson was smiling as he watched a particularly entertaining Karaoke singer. Sam almost laughed. What the hell was going on that Mr. Tight
Ass was actually enjoying this run-down bar? Was slumming it with the little people giving him a thrill? Or had these past couple months with her altered his thinking?

  Perhaps he merely enjoyed her company. She frowned and did an about face directly away from that line of thinking. It didn’t lead anywhere but to a broken heart.

  “I couldn’t believe that your sister volunteered to help us clean up that mess at the show grounds. She hates me.”

  “There was nothing nice about it. She’s stalking that trainer across the aisle from our horses.”

  “He’s gay.”

  Carson grinned. “Don’t tell her that. She loves a guy that’s hard to get.”

  “He’ll be that and more.”

  They were quiet for a while, watching the dancers on the dance floor. “So do you have the proposal ready for me yet?” The corner of his mouth twitched, tipping her off. He was purposely tweaking her.

  “I have three more days. You’ll get it, and it’ll knock your pants off.”

  “I’d settle for it to be legible and neat. My pants can stay on.” He thought about that for a second. “Well, at least during the proposal.”

  “Carson? What is happening to you? You’re sounding like a normal guy.”

  “Sorry, I slipped. My mistake.” He actually looked slightly sheepish. “I’m a little concerned about what’s going on right now. That’s all.”

  “Carson, do you really think that mess was caused by a pack of coyotes? Am I being paranoid?”

  “Yes, you probably are being paranoid.”

  “Your sister blames me. She says I didn’t secure things and animals got into them.”

  “My sister blames everyone but herself for everything. The people stabled next to us said they’d had problems with coyotes last year at this show.”

  “Yeah, the two-legged kind.”

  Carson took a swig of his beer and swallowed it down. “Sam, you need to quit listening to Juan.”

  “I find it hard to believe that coyotes can break open bales of hay and strew them everywhere.”

  “A pack of them probably could.”