Backstretch Baby (22 page)

Miguel’s eyes were closed but he clutched an empty bottle of tequila and wore a beatific smile.

Rick switched on the aisle lights then kneeled down and checked Miguel’s vitals.

“Just drunk,” he said, easing the groom onto his side. “I’ll get a blanket from the RV. He’ll be all right once he sleeps it off.”

But when Rick looked at her, his expression reflected her concern. Miguel was an alcoholic and while it was good to be optimistic, this was definitely a setback.

“He was doing so well,” she said, prying the bottle from Miguel’s hands. “It’s been eight months since his last drink. And he avoids any place with liquor. Someone must have brought him this.”

“I’m quite sure someone did.” Rick pointed at the surveillance camera, now ripped from the ceiling. “Someone who didn’t want Tizzy to have the massage.”

“But that’s despicable.” She jerked to her feet, the bottle clenched in her fist. “Victoria can’t play with Miguel’s life, just to hurt me. I’m calling Jackson right now. I don’t care if I’m fired.”

“Hang on,” Rick said. “Did Victoria even know about the massage? And maybe Miguel rubbed the horse before he started drinking.”

Eve looked at Tizzy and the blue cooler still folded in front of his stall. “No,” she said. “Miguel would have blanketed him afterwards. Would have wanted to keep his muscles warm.”

She glanced down the aisle at the row of empty hay nets. “And he would have fed the horses. Banjo is a slow eater and even his hay is gone. That tequila must have been dropped off right after Ashley and I left with Juanita.”

Rick nodded, his eyes on her face. He didn’t look at all drunk now, just extremely focused. “And did Victoria or Jackson know about the massage?” he asked.

Eve rubbed her forehead. Jackson always hired professional therapists and then charged the owners on their monthly bills. She and Ashley only knew about Miguel’s magic because they rode the horses and had felt the difference.

“Who else knew?” Rick asked, his voice steely.

She lowered her arm, unable to speak. 

“Who knew?” His tone softened. And it was the gentleness in his voice that helped her say the unimaginable.

“Only Ashley,” she said.

Eve rolled onto her back, punched a pillow beneath her head, and stared through the dark skylight. Despite the comfort of the RV, it was impossible to sleep. Had Ashley been responsible for all the stable’s misfortunes? And if so, why? It didn’t make sense.

She reached for her phone and checked the time.

Just after midnight. Ashley might still be up, celebrating with the others at the rec hall. It was tempting to walk over now and confront her. But Ashley and Victoria conspiring together? The thought made her stomach lurch.

She dropped the phone back on the bedside table, feeling like her entire world had tilted. She didn’t trust many people. But she’d trusted Ashley. And how did Marcus fit into this? Ashley hadn’t seemed to know the man. She’d chatted with Eve and Liam and then an outrider, before moving closer to the wagering board and enthusiastically cheering on the players. Marcus had been talking with Camila, on the other side of the room.

Gravel crunched. She jackknifed up, straining to listen. Not a car but someone was definitely walking along the road. And moving clumsily.

She crawled over the bed to the window and peered through the blind. There was so much noise now, it could be two people. And they were definitely heading toward the RV.

Coming for her.

She rolled off the bed and rushed down the hall, cold with fear. The door wasn’t even locked. She’d thought Rick might decide to sleep in the spare bedroom, instead of the barn, or that he might want to make an early morning coffee after his night of drinking. Or that…he might just want to come in.

Her fingers fumbled to turn the lock. It would be close. Already boots bumped on the step. She could hear breathing, a feminine giggle.

Ashley?

She stiffened, then yanked open the door, ready to confront her.

A woman in a tiny pink top swayed on the step. “Where’s Rick?” she asked, with a breathy giggle.

Eve closed her eyes, overcome with relief. Not Ashley or any of Victoria’s goons. Just a Pink Viper—a good rider in the morning, a harmless drunk at night. And then another emotion filled her. One not so pleasant.

“Rick’s not here,” she said.

“Oh.” The woman leaned sideways, peering past Eve as if expecting him to materialize. “Where does he sleep?”

“Not here,” Eve said.

“In the barn?” The woman swayed, flattening one hand on the wall for support. Blue ink covered her wrist, the sloppy numbers indecipherable. “Okay. I’ll go there.” She paused, then tilted her head, staring at Eve with eyes that matched the color of her hot pink top. “You don’t mind, do you?”

Eve squeezed the door knob. Rick’s blatant masculinity would appeal to many women and no doubt he’d enjoyed more than his fair share of booty calls. But she did mind. She minded very much. On the other hand, their fledgling relationship was over. And she had no right to interfere in his personal affairs.

“Just don’t disturb the horses,” she said. Then she pulled the door shut.

She slipped back into bed, numb and cold and alone. At least it hadn’t been Ashley, sabotaging something in the barn. That was a positive. But she tugged the pillow over her head, making sure to cover both ears. She didn’t want to hear the woman’s satisfied groans. Because she knew just how wonderfully Rick could satisfy a woman.

She had the pillow in good position, strategically clamped over her head, but only five minutes later the door clicked again. The woman was back.

Eve sat up, groaning. “Are you lost?” she muttered. “Check the third stall from the end.”

There was silence, then a heavy sigh.

“It’s me,” Rick said. “Is it okay if I sleep here tonight?”

She froze, her mind disconnected to her body. Rick and that woman. No way. That would hurt too much. She opened her mouth to speak, but no sound came out, only a horrified squeak.

“And I can’t believe you’d tell her where I was,” he added.

He stomped down the hall, past her bedroom and into the adjoining room. Definitely disgruntled. Definitely alone.

She sank back on the bed, limp with relief. From the room next door, boots thudded. Clothes rustled and a buckle clinked. Then she could hear nothing but his breathing. It sounded ragged, upset.

She waited a moment, not sure. “Sorry,” she whispered. “I wasn’t sure what you’d want—”

“If someone came looking for you like that,” he said thickly, “I’d want to hurt them. Not give directions.”

She stared through the skylight. The night wasn’t quite so dark. She could even see a few stars, faint but twinkling. “I felt like that when I saw her,” she admitted, matching his honesty.

“I suppose you weren’t thinking clearly. A bit groggy.” Rick sounded much less truculent now.

“Yes, that’s right.” She smiled against her pillow, even though he couldn’t see her. “And obviously I wasn’t too keen to mess with a Pink Viper.”

And now his laugh rumbled through the thin wall. She smiled and inched to the side of the bed. Closer to his voice. “What did you do with her?” she asked.

“Tucked her in beside Miguel. They’ll both have a headache in the morning. She’d been celebrating.”

“Guess it’s not every day a girl comes second in a big caps tournament,” Eve said, full of good will now. Rick’s voice sounded as if it were only inches away. He must be lying close to the wall too. In the dark she could pretend he was right beside her.

She closed her eyes, soothed by his presence, deciding she might fall asleep after all. “Good night, Rick,” she whispered.

“Good night, sweetheart,” he said.

Eve stretched, then shoved aside the sheets. She never used an alarm, the habit of waking early was too ingrained. But it was obvious that today she’d overslept.

The sky was already a colorless gray, the sun inching toward the horizon. And she had five horses to ride and two grooms who would be of limited help. And then there was Rick. He’d been drinking heavily. Who knew how he would feel this morning?

She dressed quickly, listening for his breathing, but the RV felt deserted. And when she smelled the hickory coffee, it was obvious he’d risen long ago. He’d even left a box of granola bars on the counter.

She poured a cup of coffee, stuck a bar in her back pocket, and hurried from the RV.

A woman in a scanty pink shirt wandered from the barn, rubbing at her puffy eyes and further smearing her mascara. “What a night,” she muttered. “What time is it?”

“Almost six,” Eve said.

“Damn.” The woman rubbed at her spiky hair. “I have five to exercise this morning. And my head feels like shit.”

“Here. Take this.” Eve thrust out her coffee.

The Pink Viper grabbed it with a grateful groan. “Thanks, girl,” she said. “See you on the track.”

She headed toward the horse path, the mug pressed to her mouth.

Eve hurried into the barn, understanding the Viper’s dismay. Losing time in the morning meant every ride was rushed. And quite likely she’d have to do the feeding and grooming today, as well as the riding. Worse, horses like Stinger were always in a nasty mood when their breakfast was late. It wasn’t a good way to start the day.

However, the horses barely looked at her. They tugged at their hay nets, their expressions content. She walked down the spotless aisle, checking each horse. Their stalls were clean and freshly bedded. Better still, they were groomed, with stable bandages removed and neatly rolled. Her sense of urgency faded, replaced with gratitude. She wasn’t off schedule at all. But Rick must have been up for hours, despite last night’s revelry.

The aisle was empty. However, the rumble of men’s voices drifted from the end of the barn. She walked down the aisle toward the third stall from the end.

Rick and Miguel sat on the cot. Miguel’s hands were shaking almost as much as his voice.

“Sorry, sorry,” he kept muttering to Rick. His thin shoulders were hunched in misery, his trembling hands clasped.

“We all have our setbacks,” Rick said, his voice so gentle it tugged at her heart. “Later we’ll go see the chaplain. See what programs they have. The important thing is to not give up. Take one day at a time.”

He stared over Miguel’s head, seeming to sense her presence. “We have to keep trying.” His gaze held hers. “And not give up.”

She saw the plea in his face. His eyes were slightly bloodshot, his hair shaggy, and his heavily stubbled jaw resembled that of an outlaw on the run. But one tattooed forearm supported Miguel while he tilted a bottle of water to the man’s mouth. And there was no doubt he was a kind man, a good man. Someone who cared.

Besides, people could change if they wanted. And Rick could learn to like children. To like Joey.

Her throat was impossibly tight but she gave a little nod and backed away. Miguel was in the best possible hands. And she still had a lot of horses to ride in a very short time.

She hurried back to the whiteboard and reviewed her training notes. A jog and paddock visit for Tizzy who was racing the next day, a three furlong blowout for Stinger who was entered on Sunday, and a mile and half gallop for Bristol and the rest. They could probably start walking Banjo under tack since his back was healing so well, but staff were spread too thin to start that today.

Ashley burst into the barn, wearing a wide smile and lugging a huge trophy. “Woody wants to display this in his store,” she said. “But I convinced him that Rick should have it for a week. Where do you want to keep it? Maybe in the tack room?”

Eve just stared. She’d always thought she was a good judge of character, both horses and people, but she’d been terribly wrong about Ashley. Never dreamed she’d be the backstabbing snitch who was relaying their information to Victoria.

She didn’t intend to confront Ashley yet. The horses deserved to have a level-headed rider in the saddle. But she couldn’t hold back.

“I know it’s you,” she said, through clenched lips. “You’re the only other person who knew everything. When we were gone, details about our horses, and what would hurt the most. What did Victoria promise you? First-call jockey maybe?”

“What are you talking about?” The smile slid from Ashley’s face, and she gave a blink of dismay. However, Eve wasn’t fooled, not any longer.

“It was despicable to give him the liquor.” Eve’s voice shook now. “Miguel didn’t deserve that.”

Ashley just gaped, the shiny trophy almost slipping to the floor. And now Eve shared her confusion. Ashley was always easy to read and rather childlike with her emotions. But now the girl looked—not guilty or defensive—but genuinely bewildered.

“Someone gave Miguel a bottle of tequila last night.” Eve stepped closer, studying Ashley’s expression. “He’s in rough shape. Rick’s with him now.”

The color leached from Ashley’s face. She set the trophy on the floor. “But he hasn’t had a drink in eight months. And he was fine when we left for the tournament.” She wrung her hands, her voice rising. “Are you sure about this? Where is he?”

Eve rubbed her forehead. Maybe it wasn’t Ashley. Her concern for Miguel was too genuine. And she’d been in the rec hall the same time as Eve. They’d walked over together after their haircuts. Probably she should have thought this through before tossing out accusations. Should have talked it over with Rick first.

“We can’t let Jackson find out,” Ashley went on, still clenching her hands. “Horses are Miguel’s life. He needs this job.” She turned back to Eve, her eyes hopeful. “Did he massage Tizzy first? Before he started drinking?”

“Rick thinks that was the reason for the liquor,” Eve said, still studying Ashley’s reaction. “To stop him from giving Tizzy the massage.”

“Guess Tizzy won’t win now,” Ashley said glumly. “Victoria is a bitch but she sure is smart. Surprising she’d even think to go after Miguel.”

Something tightened in Eve’s chest, an uneasy feeling triggered by Ashley’s comment. Victoria was smart, but like Jackson, she never gave Miguel any credit. She’d scoffed at riders who reported that the old groom’s horses seemed happier, preferring to use licensed masseuses who would justify owners’ expensive bills. Two hundred dollars a week for a massage would let Victoria pocket a higher percentage for each horse.