The Gift Horse

by Jami Davenport

  It’d been a hell of week, first, his defunct relationship or whatever it was with Sam, then dealing with his sister, problems with subs, and no money to finance the remainder of the project. Then just this morning Kate Malone called and had found another facility for her program. To cap it off, they had an injured horse yesterday—one of Hans’ young riders this time. Surgery had been unsuccessful, and the horse had to be euthanized.

  Carson stood and walked into the house. He crossed the room and slumped on an orange plaid chair at the living room table and started one of his infamous lists to occupy his mind.

  There were too many coincidences and unexplained issues.

  He’d never been one to acknowledge his instincts, much less feel them. Perhaps he had Sam and his father to blame for his recent penchant of going with his gut on certain things. He’d been yanked out of his comfort zone, and he didn’t particularly like it. Yet, lately, he’d made some good decisions based solely on intuition. He hadn’t even known he had such a thing.

  Between his newfound intuition and old-found obsessive organizational skills, something should come to light if he wrote down what he knew and examined the angles.

  Carson started an Excel spreadsheet. Each column listed a different issue:

  Missing or misplaced items

  Injured or unmanageable horses

  Unexplained or mysterious incidents

  In each row, he put a brief description of an incident and a check mark in the appropriate column.

  In only three months, they had eight incidents of disabled horses or horses deemed unmanageable for their current rider. Was that normal in the horse show world? He doubted it. He added up fourteen incidents of missing items—most were never found. There were six other out-of-place incidents, including the man that Sam thought she saw in the barn, coyotes at the show grounds selectively ransacking Sam’s stall area, and the flat tires.

  An unthinkable thought entered his mind. He shivered despite the warm evening.

  Could Sam be the perpetrator in order to gain attention? Heaven knows, he’d heard of stranger things. He just didn’t believe it any more than he believed she’d been responsible for the deaths of several horses and one woman.

  No way. There was something more sinister at work here. That meant only one thing. Sam may very well be in danger.

  Should he call the police? And say what? I have this suspicion? They didn’t have time for suspicions.

  What about Juan? Was he smarter and saner than he appeared? Maybe he really did know something? From the beginning, Juan had been on Sam’s side—warning her of impending danger when they’d written him off as eccentric. Maybe he wasn’t eccentric. Maybe there was more to the man or maybe he was the one sabotaging things. And maybe something larger was going on at the old farm.

  He didn’t like the idea of Sam staying in that apartment by herself, even with the alarm system.

  Frowning, Carson started another column and listed the people that were in the area when each of the incidents happened and highlighted the ones who had something to gain from each incident.

  Once finished, he picked up the phone and called Brad. His middle brother was a damn good computer hacker with this uncanny ability to ferret information out of the most unlikely sources using his innate charm and inborn deviousness. Besides, Brad had time on his hands because he avoided going into the office like the plague.

  * * * *

  As much as she hated working with Hans, he was a genius when it came to difficult horses. She rode with him three days a week and soaked up every bit of knowledge he had to impart. Afterward, she wrote a summary of each lesson in a journal she’d started keeping, so she could refer to it the next time she rode. Slowly, Gabbie became more cooperative and pliable. The secret was to always ask, cajole, and praise the mare for the slightest effort. If you forced her, she’d erupt into a temper tantrum of gigantic proportions.

  When the mare was good, she was like riding a cloud with leashed power just waiting to be tapped. For the first time, Sam began to have hope.

  And misgivings.

  This was the horse of a lifetime. Even Hans agreed. A horse of such immense talent had international, possibly even Olympic potential. Of course, all the talent in the world added up to a pile of manure if you didn’t have the funds. In addition, an Olympic hopeful needed exposure to the best judges and competition with the best riders in the world. That meant campaigning in Florida, California and Europe.

  The money issue was insurmountable. The time factor was impossible. She had until Regionals; then the mare would be sold. Some other rider would have the privilege of taking her as far as she could go. Or worse, taking her back to square one if they didn’t understand her. What would become of Gabbie if she were sold into the wrong hands? Some unethical trainers forced talented horses to perform with cruel methods. She swallowed the bile that rose in her throat and drew in deep, calming breaths. Only, they didn’t calm. She felt heartsick. She loved that mare, but it was an unprofessional attitude for a professional. Maybe that was the crux of why she’d never really make it big. She cared too much for the horses.

  Just yesterday, Burke mentioned a possible millionaire buyer out of Florida looking for a mount for a former Olympian, a rider who had a reputation for being hard on horses. Sam could never compete with that kind of money, nor could she find such a sponsor. Wealthy sponsors invested in proven riders, not riders plagued by tragedy and a reputation for self-sabotage.

  But she didn’t have to give up her dream. If she could get beyond Gabbie’s temper tantrums and her own fear of success, she could get a job at another facility. It would most likely be out of state. There would be nothing for her here with Gabbie sold.

  Nothing but Carson.

  Yet, Carson was unreachable. She’d flushed her future with him and Cedrona down the toilet by her deal with Hans. The man kept up his end by making her the best rider she could be and her horse the best in the area.

  Now she’d keep her end the bargain. That $25,000 would pay a majority of her debt, shut-up her stepmother, and place her in a new situation far away from here.

  * * * *

  Carson did a double take. No way. It couldn’t be.

  Sam rode toward the competition arena on Gabbie. Only it didn’t look like Sam, nor did it look like Gabbie. Gabbie’s braids were perfect. Her coat gleamed copper in the sun, brighter than a shiny new penny. Her white socks and blaze almost blinded him. Her long, full tail flowed behind her.

  And Sam. Holy shit.

  Carson staggered back a step or two.

  Sam’s black shadbelly was impeccable, even the gold buttons gleamed. Her white breaches were spotless. Not one smudge adorned her top hat. Her stock tie was perfectly tied, and her stock pin was straight. Her hair was contained in a neat bun at the back of her neck. People stopped to stare as she rode past.

  He gave her a thumbs-up as she entered the arena. She flashed him a genuine smile that made his heart do things he didn’t want it to do.

  He had it bad, worse than he’d had it in years.

  Hans leaned against the railing next to him.

  “What happened to her?” Carson watched her ride around the outside of the competition ring, waiting for the judge to signal for her to enter.

  “You did, and I did.”

  “Huh?”

  “She has something to prove to you, to me, and to everyone who expects her to collapse under the pressure.” Hans waved his arms around the area to indicate the unusually large amount of spectators who’d gathered to watch.

  “But she actually looks like a...a...”

  “Professional.”

  “Yeah.”

  “I have you to thank for that. She had a list, and she used it.”

  “But the horse looks so well groomed.”

  “I insisted that Theodora and Lola do the braiding, washing, and grooming of the horse.”

  “You are a miracle worker, my man.” Carson grinned.

  Ha
ns tipped his hat to Carson. “As are you. Now if she only rides as well as she looks.”

  She did.

  The mare and rider flowed around the arena in perfect harmony until they came down one diagonal to do changes. Gabbie did three perfect changes then leaped in the air and bolted four or five strides before Sam wrestled her under control. Gabbie tossed her head and kicked at Sam’s leg.

  Hans leaned forward and whispered to himself. “No. No. Relax. Do not force. Breathe. Relax or she will blow again. Ask. Gently. Gently.”

  Tense, Sam took a visible breath, let it out, and relaxed into the saddle. Gabbie made a few more attempts at rebellion, but Sam sat quietly and asked for cooperation.

  Gabbie’s ears rotated back, a sign she was listening. She stopped swishing her tail and carried it proudly; then she settled back to business as if nothing had happened.

  “Iz gut. Gut.”

  “Incredible.”

  “Ya, I am the master.”

  Carson glanced at Herr Doctor. The man wasn’t joking. Well, he might be arrogant, but he was the master. The proof had just finished her test and was riding out of the arena with a huge smile on her face.

  Carson stood back while Hans walked beside her. Burke flanked them, gushing about the mare’s performance. “Wonderful. Oh, so, wonderful! She finally put it together.”

  Carson beamed at Burke. “Yes, she was amazing.”

  “I have even better news. I have an interested client for that mare if she continues to perform like this.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes, and I think we’re talking in the mid-six figures.”

  “Damn. For a horse?” That was more than he’d expected.

  “For an Olympic horse. They’re rare and coveted.”

  “An Olympic horse?” Carson felt a sinking sensation. An Olympic caliber horse that Sam wouldn’t be riding. Oddly, he’d also miss the temperamental mare with her crush on him.

  He shrugged it off. No more attachments to animals or people. The mare was an investment, and that was all. He had other priorities.

  “Wonderful.” He forced a smile.

  “I’ll keep you informed. I’m sending them a DVD of that performance. Of course, I’ll edit out the tantrum.”

  * * * *

  Carson stood in the doorway of Gabbie’s stall as Sam groomed the mare. Sam was giddy with excitement as she talked about their earlier performance. He said nothing and let her jabber, which was good, as she couldn’t stop herself.

  She turned to reach for a different brush and locked eyes with his. Carson moved a step closer. Like two moths drawn to a flame, they couldn’t resist each other even though the closer they got, the better their chances of being burned.

  “It’s good to see you so happy.” Carson stood near the mare’s head. Gabbie checked his pockets with her big nose. Disappointed, she returned to her hay, grabbed a mouthful, but kept one eye on them. Her ears swiveled forward.

  “You haven’t been around much. I’ve missed you.” Sam looked down, avoiding his eyes.

  “Sure, like a thorn in your side.” Carson reached out to scratch the mare on her neck.

  Sam shrugged. If he wanted to make light of it, so would she. “No, more like a burr under my saddle.”

  “So you can teach an old dog new tricks.”

  “I’d say the same of you. I swear I heard you playing country music when you pulled into the parking lot yesterday.”

  “You’re hallucinating.” His mouth turned up in a sexy smile.

  “You’re petting the horse.” She pointed to the obvious. “The other day I caught you talking to her when you thought no one was around.”

  “You’re hearing things.”

  “Where are your slacks and expensive shirts?” She noted his faded jeans and t-shirt.

  “Around horses? Are you nuts?”

  “No, but I thought you were.”

  “You looked good today.” His expression grew serious. He stepped even closer.

  “Thank you.” She swallowed a lump in her throat and blinked back the tears, a mixture of happiness and sadness for what could have been but would never be.

  “You rode her beautifully. Even Hans thought so.”

  “We had one blow-up, not bad for her. If it wasn’t for that, I’d have won the class.” Sam glanced at the red ribbon hanging on Gabbie’s stall. It meant more to her than any blue ribbon she’d ever won.

  “There’s still tomorrow.”

  Sam nodded. “I know.”

  “Could I buy you dinner?” His blue eyes lit up with expectation.

  “It’s late, Carson. I need to be up early. I think I’ll just cook something in the trailer.”

  His face fell like a little boy told he had to stay inside and study on a sunny day. “We could go to that little Chinese place down the road. They’re fast.”

  Sam sighed. What the hell? She wanted to be around him. Why not enjoy her triumph a little longer? She was too wired to sleep anyway. “Okay.”

  * * * *

  Being with her lifted the dark cloud that had been hovering over him for a few weeks. He could be himself around her. Even more incredible, he was beginning to figure out who he really was. Six months ago, he hadn’t a clue. He’d lived so long as an extension of his father that the real person inside had never been allowed to surface. It surfaced with Sam.

  Strange, but he liked the person he was with her.

  The small Chinese restaurant was dark and intimate. They drank a glass of wine and shared a combination plate. The food tasted better than he’d expected. He wolfed down his half and some of hers.

  “Burke has a possible buyer for Gabbie.” There. He’d put it out on the table. He waited for her response with a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.

  “I know.” Sam looked away.

  “There’s a big commission in it for you when that horse sells.” He attempted to cheer her up. She didn’t bite, but then he wasn’t feeling cheerful himself.

  “That’ll be nice.” Her voice had turned flat, lifeless.

  “Is there something wrong?” As if he didn’t have a clue.

  “No, nothing.”

  “You can’t fool me. I can read you like a PowerPoint presentation.”

  “I’m just a little attached to that redheaded mare.”

  So was he. “She is charismatic, if you can apply that word to a horse.”

  “You can. That’s exactly what sets her apart from other talented horses and makes her special. She’s the horse of a lifetime.”

  “She is?” Now, he really felt like shit. She was losing a very special horse because, to him, the bottom line had always been money and family—not necessarily in that order.

  “Yes, she is, and I do appreciate having the opportunity to ride her.” Sam swiped at her eyes and stared at her empty plate.

  “Perhaps, we can find a buyer that will allow you to continue riding her?” Carson knew he was grasping at straws, but she looked so sad it broke his heart.

  “You and I both know that won’t happen. With the kind of money that horse can bring, she’ll be bought with a rider already in mind, a rider with an excellent reputation and exposure to international competition.”

  “What’s the big deal about exposure?”

  “Carson, dressage is judged subjectively. Like figure skating. You have to get yourself out there, be recognized, and build a reputation in order to get the scores you deserve. Americans need exposure to European judges because that’s where the best riders are.”

  “That doesn’t sound fair.”

  “It’s not fair or unfair. It just is.”

  “So if I was a nobody in the Olympics and rode the ride of my life far and above anyone else, I wouldn’t win a gold medal?”

  “It’d be extremely doubtful. You have to pay your dues. The good news is that Americans have gotten so much better in the past few decades that we’re earning the respect of the Europeans. It’s not as hard to get those scores.”

&nb
sp; “So you won’t be winning the Gold anytime in the near future?”

  “Anytime in my lifetime.” Sam sighed. Carson reached across the table and squeezed her hand. She smiled up at him but a tear ran down her cheek.

  * * * *

  Sam fingered the blue ribbon sitting on her coffee table, which was devoid of all clutter except for a few magazines.

  Instead of feeling vindicated and triumphant, she felt empty, as if someone had sucked the life out of her.

  Gabbie had won her class with a show-high score of 71 percent. Hans had preened by the side of the arena as admiring dressage divas declared him a miracle worker to have turned around that horse and that rider. Carson beamed like a proud father whose child had just gotten straight A’s or hit the winning homerun in the state championship.

  Even Gabbie put on her sweet mare face and charmed her adoring fans out of every horse treat they possessed.

  Everyone around her was basking in the glow of her big win. Why wasn’t she?

  Chapter 34—Deja Vu

  “What the fuck has you so bummed?” Brad walked past Carson and helped himself to the computer on Carson’s desk.

  “Huh? Me?” Carson slumped in the plastic chair across from his desk.

  "Yeah, you. You look like you’re wearing the weight of the world on your shoulders.”

  “Sometimes I think I am.”

  “So who is it this time? Dad? Mom? Sam? Bridget?”

  “All of the above and none of the above.” Carson rubbed his eyes, leaned his elbows on the desk, and propped his head in his hands. “What’s up?”

  “I’ve found something interesting that might break you out of your doldrums. Check this out.”

  Wearily, Carson heaved his body out of the chair, moved around the desk, and stood behind Brad. Leaning over his brother, he squinted at the computer screen. “Whoa. That’s some serious debt. He’s operating on a thread, not a shoestring.”