True Betrayals

  “I don’t know. I’m grateful she isn’t forcing the issue.”

  “You surprise me. Patience was never part of her makeup.”

  “I suppose people can change. I may not understand her, but I do admire her. She knows what she wants and she works for it.”

  “And what does she want?”

  “I’m not sure,” Kelsey murmured. “But she is.”

  From the shadows of the bar, Cunningham watched Kelsey and her father talk over their meal. A pretty picture, he thought. All dignity and class. He rattled the ice in his bourbon.

  “Quite a looker,” Rich Slater said from beside him. “Something familiar about her.” He laughed, carefully pacing himself with his own drink. It wouldn’t do to muddle his thinking just now. “I guess there’s something familiar about all beautiful young women after a man passes a certain age.”

  “Naomi Chadwick’s daughter. Spitting image of her.”

  “Naomi Chadwick.” Rich’s eyes gleamed, with pleasure and with bitter memory. He was here, after all, to dredge up memories. And to profit by them. “There’s a filly a man doesn’t forget. My son’s neighbor now. Small world.” He enjoyed another swallow of whiskey. Quality stuff—since Cunningham was buying. “You know, I think I saw her around the boy’s place a couple of weeks ago. He’d have his eye on her if I know Gabe.”

  “He’s been cozy with the mother. Guess it follows he’d be cozy with the daughter.” And Gabe Slater wouldn’t have had the chance to be cozy with either, Cunningham thought now, if it hadn’t been for a hand of cards. Things would be different.

  Things were going to be different.

  “If he plays his cards right,” Cunningham continued, picking at his own scab, “he could erase the border between the farms.”

  Rich eyed Kelsey with more interest. So, his son was making time with the ice bitch’s daughter. That would be something he could use. “Now, wouldn’t that be something? That kind of merger would make them the top outfit in the state, I’d say.”

  “It might.” Cunningham lifted one finger, signaling another round. “Wouldn’t care for it myself. I’d just as soon see that connection shaken a bit.” He reached into the nut bowl, popped three into his mouth. Casual, he told himself. Keep it casual. It wouldn’t do for Rich Slater to know just how much he was banking on the deal. “Now, this business we’re talking about. It might just accomplish that in the long term.”

  Calculating, Rich admired the diamond ring on Cunningham’s finger. “And would that extra benefit be worth an appropriate bonus?”

  “It would.”

  “Well now, we’ll just see what we can do about that.” He shot Kelsey another look. “We’ll just see what we can do. I’m going to need those traveling expenses, Billy boy.”

  Reaching inside his jacket, Cunningham took out an envelope. He slipped it into Rich’s eager hands under the bar. The unsettling sense of déjà vu had him glancing over his shoulder. “Count it later.”

  “No need, no need at all. You and me go back a ways, Billy. I trust you.” Once the envelope was safely tucked away, he lifted his glass again. “And may I say it’s a pleasure doing business with you again. Here’s to old times.”

  By noon the next day, Kelsey was concentrating on her lesson on the longe line. The five-year-old mare on the other end was patient, and knew a great deal more about the process than she did.

  It wasn’t the horse being trained, but Kelsey.

  “Bring her to a trot, change her direction,” Moses demanded. The girl had potential, he’d decided. She wanted to learn, therefore she would. “She’ll do anything you want. You get a yearling in there, he won’t be so accommodating.”

  “Then give me a yearling,” she called back, and flipped her whip. “I can handle it.”

  “Keep dreaming.” But perhaps in a few weeks he’d assign her one. If she was still around. She had good hands, he mused, a good voice, quick reflexes.

  “How long has she been at it?” Naomi asked.

  “About thirty minutes.”

  Naomi rested a boot on the lowest fence rail. “Both Kelsey and the mare still look fresh.”

  “They’ve both got stamina.”

  “I appreciate your taking the time to teach her, Moses.”

  “It’s no hardship. Except I think she’s got her eye on my job.”

  She laughed, then saw he wasn’t quite joking. “Do you really think she’s that interested in training?”

  “Every time I spend an hour with her I feel like a sponge that’s been wrung dry. The girl never quits asking questions. I made the mistake of giving her one of my breeding books a few days ago. When she came back with it she all but gave me a goddamned quiz. Pumped me about blood factors, dominant and codominant alleles.”

  “Did you pass?”

  “Just. I used to watch you do this.” Grinning, he tugged on his earlobe. “Ah, the fantasies. A man without fantasies is a man without a soul. I had a hell of a soul where you were concerned.”

  “You still do. I’ll prove it to you later. Here comes Matt.”

  “I didn’t know you’d sent for the vet.”

  “I didn’t.” Naomi ran her tongue around her teeth. “He said he was in the neighborhood and thought he’d stop in to check out that case of sore shins.”

  Moses glanced back at Kelsey. Ah, the fantasies, he thought again. “Yeah. Right.”

  Smothering a laugh, Naomi welcomed the vet. “Well, Matt, what’s the verdict?”

  “She’s doing fine. A blister’s not necessary.”

  “Nice of you to take the time to stop by,” Moses commented.

  “I was over at Longshot. One of his colts was injured.”

  “Serious?” Naomi asked.

  “Could have been. A puncture. It was small, easily overlooked. There was a lot of infection.” He kept his eyes on Kelsey as he spoke, admiring. “I had to lance it. Too bad. Jamison said the horse was supposed to ship off to Hialeah tomorrow.”

  “Three Aces?” Instantly sympathetic, Naomi laid a hand on Matt’s arm. “Gabe was going down with him. That horse has been running like a dream.”

  “They’ll both be staying home for now.”

  “I’ll give Gabe a call later. Try to cheer him up.”

  “He could use it.” Matt switched his attention back to Kelsey. “Everyone seems healthy around here.” When Kelsey acknowledged him with a quick wave, he grinned. “She looks like she’s been doing that all her life.”

  When Moses took pity on him and signaled Kelsey to stop, she walked the horse over to the fence. “She’s so sweet-natured.” She rubbed her cheek against the mare’s. “I wish you’d give me a brat, Moses, so I could feel I was accomplishing something.”

  “All journeys begin with one step. We’ll see how many more you take before you trip.”

  “He’s always boosting my confidence.” She tipped back the cotton cap she wore. “Well, Matt, is this a professional or a social visit?”

  “A mix. I had to stop in at Longshot.”

  “Oh?” As casually as possible, Kelsey led the mare out of the paddock. “Problem?”

  “An injury.” He repeated his explanation.

  “But Three Aces looked wonderful the last time I saw him run. When did it happen?”

  “From the look of it, three or four days ago.”

  “He ran at Charles Town three days ago. Won by a full length.” Frowning, she stroked the mare. “A puncture?”

  “About the size of a sixpenny nail, just above the fetlock.”

  “How does that happen?”

  “Could have happened in transport, some sharp edge. That’s likely. Unlikely it was deliberate.”

  “You mean that someone might have injured the colt so he couldn’t run, or worse.”

  “Unlikely,” Matt repeated. “It wasn’t that serious.”

  “How do you treat it?”

  She listened carefully as he spoke of lancing and antiseptics, the difference between punctures and tears.


  “See what I mean?” Moses muttered to Naomi. “She’ll be cramming veterinary books next.” His eyes narrowed as he looked toward the stables. “Expecting anyone?”

  “No.” Naomi pursed her lips and studied the young man approaching. Lean, narrow-shouldered, pretty face. Levi’s and a sweatshirt. Ordinary enough, she mused. But the boots gave him away. They would have cost a cool three hundred.

  “Anyone know the cowboy?”

  “Hmm?” Curious, Kelsey turned, then let out a shout of pleasure. “Channing!” She raced forward, cracking Matt’s heart when she threw her arms around the young man. “What are you doing here?”

  “Thought I’d check the place out before I head down to Lauderdale. Spring break.”

  “Haven’t you outgrown that yet?”

  “Outgrown girls in bikinis? I don’t think so. Man, look at you. You look like an ad for country living.” He slung an arm around her shoulders and glanced at the trio by the fence. “Don’t tell me that’s your mother.”

  “That’s Naomi. Come on, I’ll introduce you.” She kept her arm around his waist. “Channing, this is Naomi Chadwick, Moses Whitetree, and Matt Gunner. Channing Osborne, my stepbrother.”

  “Welcome to Three Willows.” Naomi extended a hand, amused and charmed when Channing brought it to his lips. “Kelsey’s told me about you.”

  “Only the good parts, I hope. You’ve got a great place here.”

  “Thanks. We’ll give you a tour. I hope you can stay awhile.”

  “I’m loose.” Unable to resist, he reached over the fence to stroke a hand down the mare’s nose. “Just heading down to Florida for a week or so.”

  “To ogle coeds,” Kelsey put in. “Channing’s in pre-med, so he calls it anatomy lessons.”

  He grinned and reached up to scratch the mare’s ears. “Hey, youth is fleeting. Ask anyone. Am I breaking something up?”

  “Not at all,” Naomi assured him. “You’re just in time for lunch. Matt, you’ll join us, won’t you?”

  “Wish I could. I’ve got to get over to the Bartlett farm. One of their foals is colicky.”

  “Hey, you’re a vet?” Channing perked up. “I always thought it would be cool to treat animals. They don’t complain as much as people, right?” he added quickly when Kelsey shot him a surprised look.

  “There’s that. But people don’t generally bite and kick. I’ll take a rain check, Naomi, thanks. Kelsey, good to see you again. Nice to meet you.”

  “I’ll walk you up. Kelsey, bring Channing along when you’re ready.”

  “If I know you, you’re ready now. Want to take that tour after you eat?”

  “Sounds good to me.”

  “I didn’t know you were interested in animal medicine.”

  He shrugged, embarrassed. “Just in passing. It’s a kid thing.”

  They began to walk slowly. “I remember you wanting to save birds when they bashed into the picture window. And that old fleabag mutt you brought home one time, with the limp?”

  “Yeah.” He smiled, but the humor didn’t reach his eyes. “Mom put the skids on that. Off to the pound. I guess he walked the last mile on three legs.”

  “I’d forgotten that.” She laid her head against his shoulder. “She was afraid he’d turn. He must have been a hundred years old.”

  “He wasn’t a pureblood,” Channing corrected, then shrugged. “No big deal. She could never handle animals around the house with her allergies. Besides, like I said, it was a kid thing.”

  Why hadn’t she ever heard that resigned tone in his voice before? she wondered. Maybe she hadn’t listened to it. “Do you want to be a doctor, Channing?”

  “Family tradition,” he said easily. “I never thought about being anything else. Oh, except for an astronaut when I was six. Osborne men are surgeons, and that’s that.”

  “Candace would never push you into doing something if she knew your heart wasn’t in it.”

  With a half laugh Channing stopped and looked at her. “Kels, you were eighteen when they got married, and you had one foot out the door. Mom runs things. She does it subtly and she does it well. But me and the Prof, we pretty much do what we’re told.”

  “You’re angry with her over something. What is it?”

  “Hell, she yanked the allowance from my trust fund because I balked at taking a full course load this summer. I wanted to work, you know. Get a taste of the real world. I had a construction gig lined up. You know, so I could wear a hard hat and make rude kissy noises at the secretaries who walked by at lunchtime. I just wanted a couple of months away from the books.”

  “That sounds reasonable enough. Maybe if I talk to her for you . . . ?”

  “No, she’s not too happy with you at the moment, either. This business,” he said, gesturing to encompass the farm. “She sees it as a strain on the Prof. The Magnificent Milicent is feeding that little neurosis.”

  Kelsey blew out a breath. “So, we’re in the same boat. Listen, are you really set on Lauderdale and bikinis?”

  “If you’re about to suggest that I go home, kiss and make up—”

  “No. I was going to suggest that you spend spring break here. I don’t think Naomi would object if you hung out with me and the horses.”

  “Playing big sister?”

  “Yeah, got a problem with it?”

  “No.” He leaned down and kissed her forehead. “Thanks, Kels.”

  CHAPTER

  NINE

  THE GROOM’S NAME WAS MICK. HE’D BEEN BORN AND BRED IN Virginia and liked to boast that he’d forgotten more about horses than most people ever learned. It might have been true. Certainly throughout his fifty-odd years as a racetracker he’d tried every aspect of the game. In the early years he’d risen from stableboy to exercise boy. He often boasted of how he’d gotten up on horses for Mr. Cunningham during the man’s heyday.

  Before he’d hit twenty, he’d still been small and light enough to jockey. Though he’d never moved from apprentice to journeyman, he’d worn the silks. He didn’t like people to forget it.

  For a short unmemorable time, he’d bluffed his way into the trainer’s position at a small farm in Florida. He’d even owned a gelding for a year—or at least fifteen percent of one. Maybe the horse had never lived up to his potential, proving himself to be nothing more than a Morning Glory who worked out fast and raced slow. But Mick had been an owner, and that was the important thing.

  He’d come back to Cunningham’s when he’d heard the farm had changed hands. His position as groom satisfied him, particularly since Gabriel Slater had the look of a winner. And always had, in Mick’s memory.

  He enjoyed the fact that the younger hands often deferred to him. They might have called him Peacock behind his back because he always sported a bright blue cap and tended to strut. But it was done with affection.

  His thin, lined face was known at every track from Santa Anita to Pimlico. That was just the way Mick wanted it.

  “Track’s slow,” Boggs commented, and meticulously rolled a cigarette.

  Mick nodded. The hard morning rain had tapered off to an incessant drizzle, and that was fine. Slater’s Double or Nothing shone on a muddy track.

  It was the slow time between workout and post. Mick sat under an overhang watching the rain drip from the eaves and thinking about the ten dollars burning a hole in his pocket. He figured to put it on Double’s nose and watch it grow.

  He pulled out a crumpled pack of Marlboros to join Boggs in a smoke.

  It was quiet. The jockeys would be in their quarters, or taking a steam to sweat off one more pound before post time. The trainers would be poring over the books, and the owners huddled inside, enjoying the dry warmth and coffee. There was little activity around the shedrow, but it would liven up again soon.