The Gift Horse

by Jami Davenport

  “Yes. Now that we’ve established that I’m still your father, may I come in?”

  “Uh, yeah, certainly.”

  “I’m not interrupting anything, am I?” Joe glanced around.

  “I’m alone if that’s what you’re getting at. I’m working on the Cedrona budget.”

  “I see. How’s it going?”

  “Better than expected.” Carson led him to the living room and stepped over to the bar to make him a drink. He caught his father’s wide-eyed look as he took in the décor of the room.

  “This place affects everyone like that.”

  Joe shook his head. “For a moment, I thought maybe I’d gone color blind.”

  “You just wish you were. Can I help you with something?” Carson handed him a drink and sat down in the chair across from his father, nursing his own glass of Scotch.

  “Bridget’s unhappy with your cost-cutting measures.”

  “Are you?”

  “No. It appears that you’ve managed to find ways to cut costs without cutting the base quality.”

  “Bridget doesn’t think so.”

  “Bridget isn’t paying for all this, is she?”

  “You’d think she was.”

  “She tells me you were offered a half mil for that mare.”

  “Did she also tell you that I turned it down?”

  “You turned it down? Do you have a better offer?” Joe savored a long sip of his Scotch.

  “No. I doubt I’ll ever get a better offer. Not too many people are willing to spend that kind of money on a horse that was dumping every rider a few months ago.”

  “Why would you turn down that kind of money for a horse you don’t even want?”

  That was the problem. It wasn’t just about Sam’s future. He’d gotten attached to that damn horse. “They won’t wait until after Regionals to take possession of the horse. They want her shipped to Florida next week.”

  “Carson, you can’t give up what you’ve worked so hard for because of Sam.”

  “She stands to win, Dad. I can’t pull the rug out from under her. Speaking of working hard, she’s come a long way with herself and that horse.”

  Joe sighed and almost smiled. “First Jake, then you.”

  “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Maybe you don’t, but you will. Where do you think this relationship with Sam is going?”

  Carson stared at the stack of papers on the coffee table. “I’m just taking it one day at a time.”

  “She’s been good for you. She’s loosened you up, made you see that there’s more to life than work, helped you with your rigid ideas.”

  “I’ve helped her, too.” Carson felt a little defensive.

  “I know. Bridget is fit to be tied. She can’t stand the thought that Sam might be our new head trainer.”

  “I know. It’s been fun to watch.”

  “How do you think Hans will take it if that happens?”

  “That concerns me.”

  Joe read Carson’s expression not like a savvy businessman, but like a man who’d known him since diapers. “In what way?”

  “I’ve had him investigated. I think he might be involved in some shady dealings with horses over the years.”

  “We don’t want someone with a questionable background running Cedrona. God knows Bridget gives us enough problems.”

  “I don’t have enough on him yet.”

  “But you’re hoping you will.” Joe suppressed a smile.

  Carson played dumb. “I’m not sure what you’re getting at.”

  “You want to keep Sam here.”

  “That prospect is somewhat attractive to me.”

  “Carson, I haven’t seen you like this in a long time.”

  “Like what?” His ignorant act didn’t fool Dad. He hadn’t allowed himself to be like this in a long time. And it wasn’t intentional on his part. He’d fought it every step of the way and was still fighting it.

  “Don’t play dumb with me. I’m your father. Remember?”

  He remembered all too well. This was the man he’d once emulated, worshipped, and for whom he had the utmost respect. This wasn’t the man he remembered playing ball with or going to the zoo or any of those things a normal father did with his sons. Instead, his father made money. That’s what he did best, and that’s where he’d concentrated his energy during Carson’s childhood. The fact that the man now wanted to be a real father to his adult children was disconcerting in the least.

  “I know what you’re thinking. I can see it in your eyes. If I could take back those years I would, Car. Don’t make the mistakes I did. There are more important things in life than money.”

  “I’m figuring that out.”

  “I can tell.” Something gentled Joe’s eyes. He clapped his son on the back and headed for the door.

  For the first time in a long time, he’d just made his father proud of him.

  * * * *

  Sam did a double take when Burke walked into the coffee shop. “What did you do to your hair?”

  “I needed a change. It’s called passionate auburn. Do you like it?”

  “I...uh...love it.” It looked like a tomato plant had nested on his head.

  “So, girlfriend, what did you want to talk to me about?” Nothing like getting to the point.

  Sam sat up straight and looked him in the eyes. “Burke, I didn’t do it.”

  “Didn’t do what?”

  “I didn’t burn the barn down.”

  “Oh, and to what do you owe this sudden revelation?” Burke should have been ecstatic. He seemed anything but.

  “I remembered a small detail. Isn’t it funny how the mind works sometimes? How one thing can trigger a memory?”

  “What did you remember?” Burke played with his napkin.

  “The electrical outlet by the door was faulty. We’d moved the tack room heater to the other end of the room and placed a sign by the faulty outlet.”

  “I’m not sure what that proves.”

  Sam filled him in on what she remembered. “You don’t seem very happy for me.”

  “It’s not that. I just don’t understand how you can remember any of this after all these years.”

  “Would you believe it came to me in a vision?” Her attempt at humor received a sour look.

  “I’d believe just about anything at this point.”

  * * * *

  Gabbie watched the man with the new chestnut hair pace back and forth in front of her stall. She didn’t care much for the redhead even if they did share the same hair color. The man gave off a bad odor, and Gabbie didn’t trust him. Regardless, a human is a human and treats are always within the realm of possibilities. She stuck her head out the stall door and concentrated the full force of her sweet mare act on him.

  The man ignored her and talked to the little box stuck to his head.

  “She remembers.” A pause. “How the hell am I supposed to find that out? She could put it together in a matter of minutes or never. No. He’s refused the offer. I need another way to get rid of her.” Another silence. He glanced Gabbie’s way. She pricked her ears, but he looked away. “How do you propose we do that?”

  The chestnut man left the barn without so much as a treat. Gabbie flattened her ears in disgust and stomped one big hoof.

  Juan slid out of the stall next to hers and down the aisle.

  * * * *

  Two weeks before Regionals, Juan was still sleeping in an empty stall next to Gabbie all night long. Carson didn’t like it because he wasn’t sure who to trust at this point.

  Of course, nothing happened, leading Carson to believe that the whole thing was bullshit. There hadn’t been a suspicious incident on the farm for almost a month. Ever since Sam had become more organized, the problems seemed to have gone away. Maybe there wasn’t any grand conspiracy. Maybe it really was a combination of Sam’s carelessness and coincidence.

  That would mean that she’d been careless enough to endanger several horses and caus
e their death, not to mention the death of the farm owner. As much of a flake as she could be, Sam would never endanger her beloved horses or intentionally hurt another person.

  He’d never buy it. Never. Was it because he was a lovesick fool or because he really did understand her character? Damn, he wished he knew. His heart was untrustworthy when it got involved in any situation.

  Carson guessed that issue was what had brought him down to the barn late at night. He’d left Sam sleeping in his bed with the former barn cat turned house cat on the pillow beside her. When had his life undergone such a drastic change that he’d allow a cat in his bed?

  Carson flipped on a light as he walked into the barn. “Juan?” He called out, not wanting Juan to freak out and pull a toy gun on him or something.

  The place was quiet, eerily so, not even the sound of horses munching hay or Juan snoring peacefully in the end stall. Carson walked down the aisle. A sense of foreboding came over him. “Juan? Hey, man, are you around?”

  Nothing.

  Battling back fear he neared Gabbie’s stall. The big mare poked her head out and made that odd sound horses made when they wanted to charm you out of treats. All was fine here.

  He stopped to scratch the mare on her big nose. She was a beautifully noble creature. Even someone as ignorant about horses as him recognized quality when he saw it.

  Where the hell was Juan?

  Carson walked out the back door into the dark night. Juan always parked behind the barn. Carson saw him in his old pickup, talking on his cell phone. He frowned. Juan had a cell phone? Carson had never seen him use one before. Juan caught him staring and snapped the phone shut. He exited the truck and walked toward Carson.

  “Is slow night.” Juan stared at the stars.

  “Not much to survey?”

  “Sí, nothing. No hombres lurking in woods tonight. You need something?”

  “Just checking things out.”

  “I have under control.”

  “I’m sure you do.”

  Carson’s instincts went on full alert. Perhaps the very man they’d considered honest and harmless was the one they should fear. What was Juan doing out here on the phone at 1:30 a.m.? Who would he be talking to this late at night?

  Instead of investigating Hans and Burke, he should have concentrated more of his time and money on Juan. Granted, a preliminary investigation had turned up nothing—absolutely nothing. That was odd in itself. The guy didn’t have much history, no credit cards, and no records of any kind. He could simply have a trumped-up green card, or it could be more sinister.

  Could he be the brains behind this scam? Could he be Hans’ partner in it all? Or was he just an eccentric barn manager?

  Chapter 37—A Warm, Tropical Breeze

  Sam and Carson sat in Character’s Corner and sipped beer from the bottle. It was a quiet night without country music blaring from the jukebox. Only a handful of customers were scattered at tables or playing pool in the corner.

  “You can’t think Juan’s involved in all this?” Sam wouldn’t accept that. Juan might be strange, but he’d always been loyal and honest.

  “I don’t know what to think.” Carson concentrated on peeling the label from his bottle.

  Sam studied him. He looked so different from the day she’d first met him. He was still neat to a fault, and gorgeous as a man could be—but he’d changed. She really liked this Carson. Okay, maybe that wasn’t totally accurate. She’d liked Tight-Ass Carson. She loved this combination neat and casual Carson.

  She needed to get out and soon while she could still salvage her dignity and her heart. Regionals were in a week. As soon as it was over, she’d hit the road. She didn’t know where, but that’d depend on whether part of the $25,000 and Gabbie’s commission would amount to enough to pay the balloon payment and hold the she-wolf stepmother at bay. If it were, she’d keep enough to get started elsewhere.

  “What’re you thinking?” Carson smiled at her; concern softened his blue eyes. “You seem a million miles away.” He reached out and held her hand.

  “No, just a few miles down the road, wondering what to do next.”

  “There’s nothing to wonder about. You’re going to win. Even if you don’t, you can stay as assistant.”

  He made life sound so uncomplicated. Her life wasn’t anything like that. She doubted his was either. “You know I can’t. You can’t pay an assistant enough. I need the money to get my stepmother off my ass.”

  Carson frowned, as if he’d conveniently forgotten that fact. “Oh, yeah. That.”

  “That is a big deal. Maybe not to you, but it is to me.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” He looked insulted.

  “That you don’t understand things that average people live with everyday.”

  “I’m going to pretend you never said that because, frankly, lady, you don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”

  “Sure, rich boy, of course I don’t. I’ve never been in a situation where $10,000 to me was like a dollar to your average guy off the street.” She baited him into an argument, and she wasn’t even sure why.

  “Sam, do you really think I have that kind of money?”

  “You’re a Reynolds, aren’t you?”

  “You’d be surprised by our current financial situation.”

  Sam rolled her eyes. “What? You might have to sell the condo in Hawaii or the waterfront home in Bermuda?”

  “You think I’m loaded?” Irritation seeped into his voice.

  “Carson, you can dress down all you want and slum with us poor people, but you still drip money. You may not have ready cash in your pocket, but you’ll find a way to get it, and watch out anyone who gets in your way.”

  “If I didn’t drip money, would you be hanging out with me right now?” His Carson the Tight Ass mask slipped into place.

  “Are you accusing me of seeing you for your money?” How dare the bastard. She’d never asked for anything from him but to be treated fairly.

  “Should I be?”

  “Like you aren’t using me to get what you want?”

  “So now you’re admitting to it.”

  “I’m admitting to nothing except that you can be an insensitive ass at times.”

  “Me? Insensitive? What about all I’ve done for you and never one word of thanks?”

  “Like you weren’t benefiting, too, in more ways than with that horse?”

  “I’ve helped you become more professional. When your career was going down the toilet, I resurrected it.”

  “Oh, that was you cleaning those stalls, riding those horses, and teaching those lessons? I could have sworn that was me.” The sarcasm flowed from her like a broken water main. She couldn’t seem to stop it even though she knew the damage it was causing.

  “You know what I mean. Don’t be a twit.” His eyes hardened like an Alaskan pond in thirty-degrees below zero weather.

  Sam blew out an angry breath. Damn him. She slammed her now empty beer bottle on the table so loud that the pool players paused to glance their way. How dare he call her a twit? “I think I’ve had enough of this conversation and this relationship. They’re both going nowhere.”

  “What’s changed?” A muscle jerked in Carson’s jaw. His eyes grew dark and flat. He stood up. “I think it’s time we go now.” He threw some money on the table and stalked out the door, not even looking back to see if she was following.

  Sam hurried after him. She might be mad, but she wasn’t stupid. She had no intention of walking the few miles back to her place on a dark road. They had a silent ride to the barn. Carson dropped her off without another word and sped up the driveway to the ranch house.

  Her big mouth had gotten ahead of her brain again. What had she expected him to do? Profess his undying love and beg her to stay? Instead she’d insulted him, hurt his feelings, and all in all alienated him. It was over. She’d pushed him out of her life because she couldn’t stand ending it any other way. The pain felt almost physical, it hurt
so much.

  Sam threw herself on her neatly made bed and sobbed her heart out.

  * * * *

  Had they just broken up again? He couldn’t believe it. Hadn’t they made up from the last fight only a few days ago? The making up had been great, but Carson preferred less drama in his life than a roller-coaster relationship ride. He didn’t want a constant break-up, make-up scenario.

  Now he sat alone in this seventies hell and pined for a woman he shouldn’t be pining for. He should have gone home to his condo, but he couldn’t stand the thought of a night in that sterile place. In fact, when he was done at Cedrona, he’d sublease it and find a place in the country. If only he’d bought the condo back when prices had been reasonable, he’d have the money for a down payment on that brewery. He wouldn’t have to sell Gabbie out from under Sam. Riding Gabbie would keep her here. He was certain of it.

  Was that really what he wanted? To keep her here?

  All along, he knew one of them would go, either him back to his city life or her back to Eastern Washington or another barn with a better opportunity.

  Life without her depressed him. Before Sam had floundered her way into his life, he’d felt frozen inside, like a bitter-cold winter day. She had melted the ice in his soul like a warm, tropical breeze. He felt alive around her. He knew what all this meant, even though he kept denying it. He’d done the stupid thing. He’d fallen in love again.

  It was best they’d had this fight and called it quits. He’d keep it that way. He’d wade through the pain until his emotions froze again, so he wouldn’t feel this immense ache of loving and needing but not having.

  Love was not an option in his life, nor would it ever be. It hurt too much.

  * * * *

  Sam glanced over to see Carson leaning against the rail. She used her newfound powers of concentration and tuned out his presence, concentrating on Hans’ booming voice. He was in a mood, yelling, stamping his foot, and at one time throwing his hat to the ground and stomping on it.

  Sam did her best to ignore Herr Doctor’s threats and insults and extracted the best from his tirade.