Devil's Gambit

  “A holding company of sorts,” Nancy replied.

  “I see,” Tiffany said, her heartbeat quickening. “What about a man by the name of Zane Sheridan?” she asked.

  Nancy was about to get into the car but paused. “Now there’s an interesting man.”

  “Oh?” Tiffany cocked her head to the side and the smile on her lips slowly faded. “Do you think he’s somehow involved with Emerald Enterprises?”

  “I don’t really know, but I doubt it. He owns a farm near the one owned by Emerald Enterprises. Why are you so interested?”

  “I’m not...not really.” Tiffany lied in ineffectual nonchalance. “He was here a couple of days ago, looking at some horses.”

  “He’s a bit of a mystery,” Nancy said. She leaned against the car door and stared up at the blue sky as she tried to remember everything she could about the breeder from Ireland. “He’s a tough guy, from what I hear. Ruthless in business. He grew up on the streets of Dublin. Had several scrapes with the law and ended up working as a stable boy at an Irish Thoroughbred farm in the country. The owner of that particular farm took a liking to him, sent him to school, and once educated, Sheridan made a small fortune breeding horses.” She sighed as she tried to remember the fuzzy details of a scandal that had occurred in the past.

  “And then, well, it’s kind of foggy, but from what I remember, he was in some sort of trouble again. A scandal, and he lost his fortune and his wife. I can’t remember all the details right now.”

  The news hit Tiffany like a bolt of lightning. Though stunned, she managed somehow to ask, “His wife is dead?”

  “No—she ran off with this guy named...God, what was it? Rivers, I think. Ethan Rivers, an American.... Like I said, it’s kind of a mystery. No one really knows what happened to this Rivers character or Sheridan’s wife.”

  The thought of Zane being married did strange things to Tiffany. “How long ago was this?” she asked.

  “Geez, what was it? Five years, maybe more like seven, I’m really not sure.” She pursed her lips as she thought and then, when she checked her watch, nearly jumped out of her skin. “Look, I’ve got to go. Deadlines, you know. I’ll call you soon.”

  “Good. I’d like that.”

  Nancy got into her car and settled behind the wheel. The engine started, and Nancy rolled down the window. “The article on the farm should be in the paper no later than Thursday. I’ll send you a copy.” With a brilliant smile, she fingered a wave at Tiffany and forced the little car into gear.

  Tiffany watched the car disappear down the tree-lined drive, but her mind was miles away. Nancy’s visit had only increased her restlessness. Where was Zane and why hadn’t he called?

  * * *

  HOURS LATER, TIFFANY was walking back from the half-mile track near the old barn when she heard a familiar voice.

  “Tiffany!”

  A tall man wearing a Stetson was running toward her. Tiffany shielded her eyes from the ever-lowering sun and smiled when she recognized her brother-in-law.

  “Dustin!” She hadn’t expected him back for another week.

  “Hello, stranger,” he said as he reached her and gathered her into his arms to twirl her off the ground. How had she ever doubted him? “What’s this I hear about you getting some bad press, little lady?”

  “Some?” Tiffany repeated with a shake of her head. “How about truckloads of it.”

  “You can’t be serious.” He flashed her a brilliant smile.

  “Four of Moon Shadow’s foals have died—all from heart failure.”

  Dustin lifted his hat, pushed a lock of brown hair out of his eyes and squinted into the setting sun toward the exercise track, where Mac was still working with a yearling. “So I read.”

  “You and the rest of the world.” Tiffany pushed her hands into the pockets of her jeans. Her conversation with Zane came hauntingly back to her, and she wondered just how much she could confide in Dustin. He did own twenty-five percent of the farm and was entitled to know everything that was going on...well, almost everything. “I have owners who are threatening me with lawsuits if the mares they bred to Moon Shadow drop foals that die.”

  “How many mares are involved?” Dustin’s hand reached out and took hold of her arm. They had been walking toward the old barn where Tiffany had been headed. Near the building, Dustin stopped her.

  “About twelve,” she said. “Some of them took the news fairly well. The others, well...they weren’t so understanding.”

  “In other words they’re ready to rip your throat out.”

  “Close enough.”

  “Damn!” Dustin let out an angry blast. “This is the last thing we need right now. Okay, so what about the mares that have already foaled?”

  “The foals that eventually died were from our mares. So far, every mare bred to Moon Shadow from another farm has dropped a healthy colt or filly.”

  “So much for small favors.”

  “I guess we should consider ourselves lucky that this isn’t a contagious virus,” she said.

  “You’re sure?” Dustin didn’t sound convinced.

  “Um-hm. Vance checked everything carefully. At first he thought it might be sleepy foal disease, but fortunately it wasn’t.”

  “Yeah, fortunately,” Dustin muttered sarcastically.

  Tiffany pushed open the door to the old barn and checked the supply of grain stacked in sacks in the bins. The interior was musty and dark, the only light filtering through the small window on the south side of the building and the open door. Dustin leaned against a post supporting the hayloft and watched her make notes in a small notebook.

  Once she had finished counting and was satisfied that the inventory of feed was about what it should be, she started back toward the door.

  Dustin’s hand on her arm stopped her. His topaz-colored eyes pierced into hers. “So what happened to those foals?”

  Tiffany shook her head and her honey-brown tresses glowed in the shadowy light from the windows. “Your guess is as good as mine.”

  “What does Vance say?”

  “Nothing good, at least not yet.”

  He leaned against the post, shoved the hat back on his head so he could see her more clearly and drew Tiffany into the circle of his arms. His voice was low with concern, his gold eyes trained on her lips. The intimate embrace made Tiffany uncomfortable. All Zane’s accusations concerning Dustin began to haunt her. Maybe she should ask him flat out about the circumstances surrounding Devil’s Gambit’s death, but she hesitated. There was just enough of the truth woven into Zane’s story to give her pause.

  Dustin read the worry on her features. “Do you think there’s a possibility that Moon Shadow’s to blame for the deaths?”

  Tiffany frowned and tried to pull away from him. “No.”

  “But all the evidence—”

  “Is circumstantial.”

  “I see.” Dustin released her reluctantly and cleared his throat. “So what are you doing with him?”

  “Nothing. I can’t breed him. Not until I know for certain that the problem isn’t genetic.”

  “Then you do have reservations?”

  Tiffany bristled slightly. “None, but what I don’t have is proof. Unfortunately, Moon Shadow has already been tried and convicted by the press. He’s as good as guilty until proved innocent.”

  “Bitter words...”

  “You haven’t been here trying to talk some sense into the reporters, the owners, the television people.”

  “No,” he conceded with obvious regret. “But I bet you handled them.”

  Tiffany lifted a shoulder. “As well as I could. I had an interview with Nancy Emerson from the Times this morning.”

  Dustin smiled. “Your old roommate?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  He breathed deeply. “Good. It never hurts to know someone in the press.”

  Tiffany decided to set her brother-in-law straight. “I didn’t buy her off, you know.”

  “I know, I know, but at lea
st she’s on our side. She should be objective. Thank God for small favors.”

  Something in Dustin’s attitude made Tiffany uneasy. You’re overreacting, she told herself, all because of Zane Sheridan and his wild accusations.

  Dustin smoothed back his wavy hair. “I’ve got to hand it to you, Tiff. You’ve come a long way,” he said appreciatively. “There was a time when I didn’t think you would be able to pull yourself together.”

  “I have you to thank for getting me back on my feet,” she replied, uncomfortable with the personal tone of the conversation. She was reminded of Zane and the accusations he had made about Dustin. Today, in the fading sunlight, those allegations seemed positively absurd. Dustin was her brother-in-law, her friend, her partner. The man who had pulled her out of the depths of despair when Ellery and Devil’s Gambit had been killed.

  Then what about the farm in Ireland, the one owned by Emerald Enterprises? What about Dustin’s signature on the ownership papers? What about King’s Ransom?

  She decided to broach the difficult subjects later, once she had learned the reason for Dustin’s unexpected visit. Was it possible that he knew Zane had been here? Had someone tipped Dustin off, possibly Zane himself?

  Tiffany felt a growing resentment and anger at Zane. Single-handedly he had destroyed her trust in the only family she had ever known.

  “Come on,” she suggested, pushing her worrisome thoughts aside as she walked through the open door of the barn. “I’m starved. Louise made some cinnamon rolls this morning, and I bet we can con her out of a couple.”

  Dustin looked as if he had something he wanted to say but held his tongue. Instead he walked with Tiffany to the house and waited patiently while she kicked off her boots and placed them on the back porch.

  “Are you staying long?” she asked, once they were in the kitchen and seated at the table.

  Dustin hedged slightly. “Just a couple of days.”

  “And then?”

  “Back to Florida.”

  “To check on Journey’s End?”

  “Right.” He took a long swallow of his coffee, and his golden eyes impaled her. “You think you could spare the time to come with me?” he asked, his voice uncommonly low.

  Tiffany ignored the hidden innuendoes in his tone. They’d covered this territory before, and Dustin obviously hadn’t taken the hint. The scene in the old barn emphasized the fact. Dustin had never hidden the fact that he would like to pursue a more intimate relationship with her, but Tiffany just wasn’t interested. Dustin seemed to assume that her lack of interest was due in part to loyalty to Ellery, and Tiffany didn’t argue the point. He just couldn’t seem to get it through his thick skull that she wasn’t interested in a relationship with a man—any man.

  Except Zane Sheridan, her mind taunted. Would she ever be able to get him out of her mind? In four days, he hadn’t phoned or stopped by the farm. All of his concern for her while he was here must have been an act, a very convincing act. Still, she couldn’t forget him.

  “Tiff!”

  “Pardon?”

  Dustin was frowning at her. He’d finished his coffee, and the cup was sitting on the table. His empty plate showed only a few crumbs and a pool of melted butter where his cinnamon rolls had sat. “You haven’t heard a word I said,” he accused.

  “You’re right.”

  “So where were you?”

  “What?”

  “You looked as if you were a million miles away.”

  “Oh, I guess I was thinking about Moon Shadow,” she lied easily, too easily. “Mac thinks another one of his foals will be born tonight.”

  Dustin leaned back in his chair and let out a low whistle. “No wonder you’re worried. If this one dies, the press will be crawling all over this farm again. Maybe I’d better stay a few extra days.”

  Waving off his offer, she shook her head. “No reason. You know you’re welcome to stay as long as you like, but if you have things to do, go ahead and do them. I can handle everything here.”

  He walked around the table, stood behind her and placed his hands on her shoulders. “You’re sure?”

  Tiffany tensed. “Of course I am.”

  As if receiving her unspoken message, he dropped his hands to his sides. “You know that’s one of the qualities I admire about you, Tiff, your strength.”

  “I guess I should be flattered.”

  Dustin stepped away from her and rested his hips against the counter. All the while his eyes rested on her worried face. “Is something else bothering you?” he asked.

  “Isn’t that enough?”

  “I suppose so.” He shrugged his broad shoulders and folded his arms over his chest. Silent reproach lingered in his eyes. The air in the kitchen became thick with tension.

  Tiffany heard the screen door bang shut. Within minutes Mac was in the kitchen.

  “Don’t tell me, you smelled the coffee,” Tiffany guessed, reaching for a cup and feeling relieved that the inquisition with Dustin was over for the moment.

  “Aye, that I did.”

  “Well, pull up a chair, sit yourself down and help yourself to a roll, while I get you a mug.”

  Mac’s faded eyes rested on Dustin. Not bothering to hide a frown, he cocked his head toward the younger man. “’Evenin’, Dustin. Didn’t expect you back for a while.”

  Tiffany handed Mac the cup.

  Dustin managed a tight grin as he offered the older man his hand. “I read an article about the foals dying and thought I should come back—” his gold eyes moved to Tiffany “—since no one bothered to tell me what was going on.”

  “I thought I’d wait until Vance had something concrete to go on,” Tiffany stated.

  “And how long would you have waited?”

  “Not much longer.”

  “It was a hell of a way to find out, you know,” Dustin said, his anger surfacing, “by reading about it in the paper.” He rammed his fingers through his hair in frustration. For a moment he appeared haunted.

  “You’re right. I should have called, but I didn’t because there wasn’t a damned thing you or I or anyone else could do.”

  “I suppose you’re right about that,” Dustin conceded with a frown and then turned his attention to Mac. “I was just trying to convince Tiffany here that she ought to come to Florida and see for herself how Journey’s End is doing.”

  “Not a bad idea,” Mac agreed, though there were reservations in his eyes. He removed his hat and took a chair at the table. “That way she could check up on Bob Prescott, see that he’s doing a good job of training the colt.”

  Prescott was a young trainer who traveled with the horses while they were racing. He was a damned good man around a horse, but there was something shifty about him that Mac didn’t like. The missus called it jealousy. Mac wasn’t so sure, but he couldn’t put his finger on the problem, and Bob Prescott had molded Journey’s End into a fine racing machine.

  Dustin’s smile froze. “See, Tiffany, even Mac agrees that you could use a vacation. A little Florida sun might do you a world of good.”

  Tiffany managed a thin smile for both men and finished her coffee. “It’ll have to wait until we’re over this crisis.” She leaned back in the chair and held up a finger. “However, you can bet I’ll be at the Derby this year.”

  “You think Journey’s End will make a good show of it?” Dustin asked as he placed his empty cup in the sink and wiped an accumulation of sweat from his brow.

  “Not a show nor a place, but a win,” the crusty old trainer predicted.

  “High praise coming from you,” Dustin observed.

  “Journey’s End is a fine colt. He’s got the heart, the look of eagles if you will, but his temperament’s got to be controlled...guided.” He lifted his wise old eyes to Dustin’s face. “I just hope that Bob Prescott knows what he’s doing.”

  “He does.”

  “Then Journey’s End should win the Derby,” Mac stated without qualification. “He’s the best horse I’ve seen sin
ce Devil’s Gambit or Moon Shadow.”

  Dustin nearly choked on his final swallow of coffee and turned the subject away from Devil’s Gambit. “We all know why Moon Shadow lost the Derby, don’t we?” Dustin asked pointedly.

  Mac’s faded eyes narrowed. “Aye, that we do. I haven’t made any excuses about it, either. I should never have let that jockey ride him.”

  “He was Ellery’s choice,” Tiffany intervened, sensing an argument brewing between the two men.

  “And I shouldn’t have allowed it.” Mac straightened his wiry frame from the chair, and his fedora dangled from his fingers as he turned to Tiffany. “I called Vance. I’m sure we’ll have another foal before morning.”

  Tiffany took in a ragged breath. “Let me know when the time comes.”

  “Aye. That I will.” With his final remarks, Mac walked out of the room and the screen door banged behind him.

  Tiffany whirled on Dustin. “That was uncalled for, you know,” she spit out.

  “What?”

  “Those remarks about Moon Shadow and the Derby.”

  “Serves the old man right. I never have figured why you keep that old relic around, anyway.”

  Tiffany was furious and shaking with rage. “Mac’s not old, nor a relic, and he’s the best damned horseman in this state, maybe the country. He knows more about Thoroughbreds than you or I could hope to know in a lifetime. Let’s just hope, brother-in-law, that he doesn’t take your remarks to heart and quit on us. We’ll be in a world of hurt, then, let me tell you!”

  Dustin had visibly paled but scoffed at Tiffany’s remarks. “You’re giving him too much credit,” he said with a shrug as he stared out the window. “You’re genuinely fond of the old goat, aren’t you?”

  “Mac’s been good to me, good to this farm, good to Ellery and good to you. Why you continue to ridicule him is beyond me. Unless you’d secretly like to see him leave.”

  “It wouldn’t affect me one way or the other.”

  “Like hell, Dustin. We had an agreement, remember?” she reminded him. “I run the operations of the farm, you handle the PR. Right now, because of all the adverse publicity with Moon Shadow’s foals, it seems to me that you’ve got more than your share of work cut out for you!”