Authors: Fern Michaels

Kentucky Rich (27 page)

BOOK: Kentucky Rich

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It was a hell of a spread, Riley liked to say, and all of it his and Ivy's. One day it would belong to his son, Moss. Thousands of acres of prime land, where Thoroughbreds and cattle grazed contentedly. For now.

Once the land had been owned by Riley's great-grandfather, Seth Coleman. It was said that when he first saw it, he felt as though he could reach up and touch the sun. He had come from dark beginnings, and this great house upon the rise would bridge his past with his future. The name Sunbridge was entirely his own conception. Seth Coleman, according to all who knew him, was a ring-tailed son of a bitch who stomped on people, was cruel and vindictive, with a black heart. It was well known in Texas circles that he was greedy and power-hungry and would stop at nothing to get what he wanted.

Riley brought the Bronco to a stop outside the front doors. He liked walking past the ethereally graceful rose garden and the feminine sweep of the clematis vine that surrounded the oak doors. He remembered how the house had looked before the tornado swept it all away. There had been shiny, dark wooden floors, massive beams supporting the ceilings, thick, dark Oriental carpets, and man-sized leather furniture. Each time he entered the old house, he imagined the smell of his great-grandfather's cigar smoke, the thudding of high-heeled cowboy boots, and the sound of boisterous men drinking hard whiskey. Now Sunbridge was full of sunlight, earth-tone furniture, white walls, and light oak floors. The smells were those of his wife and son. The sounds were popular rock, Ivy's and his son's laughter. The floor-to-ceiling walls were gone, replaced with half walls, so that the entire first floor was open and inviting.

He almost had it all, he thought as he opened the massive oaken doors. As always, he stood stock-still and pitched his baseball cap toward his peg on the hat rack, the only thing to survive the tornado that had destroyed the house.

Normally he viewed his entrance into the house as a homecoming. A happy event. Today it wasn't so. He listened to the sound of voices coming from the kitchen. That had to mean the others were here. Sawyer, Maggie, and Cole, Cary and Thad. Counting himself, there were just four members left of the family, if you didn't count the wandering gypsy Susan and her children. While Cary and Thad were family, they weren't blood. Cole had called this family meeting. More than likely it was a crisis. These past years they only seemed to get together as a family when a crisis of some sort threatened either the family or one of them as an individual.

He dreaded walking into the kitchen, dreaded listening to whatever the problem was going to be. Hell, he had enough problems of his ownâthe severe drought, the oil wells that weren't producing, and some kind of sticky problem with the newest branch of the family.

There were hugs and kisses, handshakes and manly slaps on the back the moment Riley entered the kitchen. Someone handed him a bottle of beer. He looked around.
It must be a major crisis,
he thought.
Everyone looks worried.

He waited. When the silence continued, he gritted his teeth. “Let's hear the short version,” he snapped.

“I can give it to you in four words, the Japanese stock market,” Cole said. Riley cringed. He was painfully aware of the deep decline of the Japanese stock market.

“Coleman Aviation sucks,” Sawyer said sourly. “We're so deep in the red I doubt we can climb out. I hate to remind you all, but the Thorntons take fifty-one percent of everything. I'm getting a little sick of busting my ass for that branch of the family.”

“I don't want to hear that kind of talk. The Thorntons bailed out Mam when she needed it, so hush, Sawyer,” Maggie said. “Family is family. You know Mam's feeling on that.”

“Mam isn't here now,” Sawyer said coldly. “Riley, what do you have to say?”

“This is the worst drought ever to hit the state of Texas. My two water wells are almost dry. We're buying water for the cattle, and the price is prohibitive. We haven't had a gusher in four years. We're hemorrhaging money.”

Cary Asante looked around the table. “What's mine is yours.”

“I feel the same way,” Thad said.

“I don't know what your assets are, but I suspect they won't come close to the kind of money this family needs. The offer is appreciated, though,” Cole said tightly.

“What are our options?” Maggie asked. “Whatever I have independently is all yours if needed. Billie Limited is in the black. We can mortgage it or sell.”

“I already exercised my one option. I'm mortgaged to the rafters. My plan was to call Cole for a temporary loan. I guess that's out of the question. I have six months before my notes are called at the bank. The day after, the whole kit and caboodle goes to the highest bidder. I haven't said anything to Ivy, so let's keep this between us.”

“Where does that leave us?” Maggie asked.

Cole looked across the table at his mother. “At the edge of a very big, very dark black hole.”

“The stock market will go back up. It always does. The drought can't last forever. I'll go to the Thorntons and beg if I have to. They've helped us in the past. I'm sure they'll help us again,” Maggie said.

“Mother, that was in the old days, when a handshake worked like magic. It doesn't work that way anymore. We're talking interest in double digits. They're saying the drought could last another year. If Riley doesn't strike oil or if we don't get orders for planes in the next few months, we might as well pack it in,” Cole said. His fingers worked and twisted his tie. In his frustration he yanked it so hard his entire face and neck turned brick red. “How the fuck did this happen?” he said in a strangled voice. “Usually one or the other of us has some ups and downs, but we never have them all at the same time.”

“Everyone just calm down,” Maggie said. “We can talk this out and come up with a solution if we all work on it.”

Riley dropped his head into his hands. “I wish Grandma Billie were here. She always knew what to do.”

“What exactly is that supposed to mean, Riley? I'm doing the best I can to understand what happened. No, I'm not Mam. You all told me you were capable of running things. I took you at your word. Now this. I offered to sell Billie Limited. That will fetch us some high millions. It's been operating in the black for years. Just in case no one has noticed, let me point something out to all of you. Anything we Coleman or Thornton women work at works. One hundred percent. Look at Nealy Coleman, for God's sake. Mam did it. Fanny Thornton pulled it all together, and before her, Sallie Coleman Thornton did the same thing. This is no time to start blaming anyone for anything. We're a family, and we'll pull together. We made it work before, and we'll make it work this time, too.”

“Aunt Maggie, I didn't mean . . .”

“Yes, Riley, you did mean it. You were comparing me to Mam, and I came up short in your eyes. If anyone else feels the same way, say so now.”

“What time is it?” Riley asked suddenly.

“Almost four-thirty. Why?”

“Let's go into the den. I want you all to see something. Josh Coleman's horse, Sharpshooter, is running in the Belmont. If he bags it, SunStar Farms has itself a Triple Crown winner. This,” Riley said, pulling a legal-looking brown envelope out of a kitchen desk drawer, “will explain it all. First, we're going to watch the race.”

Cole Tanner smacked both his hands, palms down on the kitchen table. “We're teetering on the edge of a black hole where we could all literally lose our shirts, and you want to watch a horse race on television. I-don't-think-so.”

“You always were a goddamn hothead, Cole. Would it make a difference if I told you SunStar Farms and that possible Triple Crown winner now belong to Seth Coleman's, our great-grandfather's, estate? It's amazing when you sit down and actually think about what a horse like that is worth in stud fees. If he wins, we're talking hundreds of millions of dollars. Multiply that by Great-Uncle Josh's other colts sired by Dancer's Flyby and what do you see? Do the math, cousin. The race is about to start any minute. Aunt Maggie, turn on ABC.”

“Hold on a minute, Riley. What are you talking about?” Cole demanded.

“Look, we all know what a bastard our great-grandfather was. Well, he had good company. His brother was just as big a bastard. They tried to skin each other. It looks like, according to the papers in this envelope, our great-granddaddy was the bigger bastard. It's the answer to our present problem if we care to exercise our rights. There is a glitch, though. A serious one you and the others aren't going to like. It's one of those damned if you do, damned if you don't situations. I'm thinking the first one to lawyer up is the one who's going to win. Just my opinion, cousin.”

Cole snorted. “Then that makes us just like our great-grandfather, doesn't it?”

“Yeah. Yeah, it does. You want to play with the big dogs, then you better be in the front of the pack.”

“Look!” Sawyer squealed. “Nealy Coleman is riding the horse. They just said they scratched the other jockey.”

Riley looked at his cousin Cole. He raised his eyebrows.

“Is this one of those things where we have to vote as a family?” Cole demanded.

“Depends,” Riley said, sitting down on the floor, his eyes glued to the wide screen just in time to hear the announcer say, “Cornelia Diamond will be riding Sharpshooter today in the Belmont. For those of you who don't know, Sharpshooter's sire was Dancer's Flyby, a Triple Crown winner himself. Dancer's Flyby is owned, trained, and was ridden to the Triple Crown by Cornelia Diamond. The buzz here today at the announcement is mind-boggling. There is all kinds of speculation going on here today as to the reason for this last-minute switch up. And now a word from one of our sponsors.”

“I can't believe a woman can ride in a race like this,” Cary Asante muttered.

“Why not? Who says it has to be a male jockey? If she won a Triple Crown, and I don't even know what that is, it has to mean she's pretty damn good. She's looking real good to me right now. Anyone care to make a little wager? What, no takers? Sawyer?” Maggie said.

The ever-outspoken Sawyer grimaced. “It's a sucker bet. She's gonna win. Just look at her. Confidence oozes out of her. I saw that when we met in Virginia. She's my kind of woman. I just love trailblazers.”

“I wish Billie were here to see this,” Thad murmured.

“She's probably watching. Mam never missed a trick. She and Amelia are probably both up there chortling away,” Maggie murmured.

“How can she see this race if she donated her eyes to me when I was blinded in that explosion?” Cary said brokenly.

“Oh, Cary, don't you see, she is seeing it, through you,” Maggie said, putting her arm around Cary's shoulder.

“Billie was something, wasn't she?” Cary said quietly.

“One of a kind,” Thad said.

Nealy looked around at the serious faces and smiled. “This horse is platinum. If anyone can run this race and win it, it's Sharpshooter. I'm just along for the ride. We're both going to give it our best shot. It's time for you all to go to the clubhouse and watch this big guy take me into the winner's circle. Go on now before he gets nervous. This is no place for him to pitch a fit.”

“Nealy, take this with you. Emmie said it went to heaven and back, so maybe it will bring you good luck. If it doesn't go right, that's okay, too. Rhy and I just wanted you to know that.”

“I couldn't believe it when Emmie gave you back the penny,” Nealy said. “There are no words to tell you what that penny has meant to her all these years.”

“I think I know. I want it back, Nealy.”

Nealy nodded before she stuck the penny under her tongue. She remembered another time when she'd done the same thing in almost the same circumstances. That time the horse was hers. Would it make a difference today?

“You got room for one more, Nealy?” Ruby asked as she held out the gold medallion.

Nealy nodded and reached for the gold disc. Her eyes popped wide. “Is this . . . ?”

“Yes. Ash said to give it to you, but you have to give it back to me. Whatever you do, don't swallow it!” Nealy's head bobbed up and down as she slipped the gold disc inside her cheek.

“Good luck, Nealy,” Metaxas said.

“Sis?”

There it was again. That lovely word from her brother. “Yeah, Rhy?”

“This guy is good enough to tie Flyby's record.”

“I know that.”

“Just let him rip in the stretch. Hell, if he wants to rip at the gate, let him go.”

“Okay. Anything else?”

“Good luck.” Nealy grinned. “You know what, it feels good up here. It's been a long time. See ya.”

“What if she doesn't win, Metaxas? She's come so far. Done so much. Do you think . . . ?”

“You know what I think, Ruby. I think she's going to be happy with whatever happens. That's the kind of person she is. She gives it her best shot. That's all any of us can do.”

“That night on the porch when we talked she said she got her strength from her own solitude. She said being alone fit her like a good pair of jeans. Isn't that amazing, Metaxas?”

“It sure is, honey. You're taking her under your wing, aren't you?”

“I am. It's time for her to live.”

“God, I love you, Ruby.”

“You got that guy ready to drill the hole in my medallion?”

“He's in the clubhouse with his portable jeweler's drill, just waiting.”

“Now that's why I love you,” Ruby giggled. “She's going to win, Metaxas.”

Nealy worked the coins in her mouth to be sure she would be able to shout to the horse and not swallow them. “Easy, big guy. Easy. We've been in and out of the gate a hundred times just the way your daddy did it. Do it like a gentleman. I want him to be proud of you. Don't look at those other horses. They're slugs compared to you. You have wings on your feet just the same as Flyby. I want you to use those wings. Here we go!”

She knew she had the lead the moment she broke from the inside rail, and she didn't let up. She was so far over Sharpshooter's head she thought she was going to sail off into the wind. “Fly, baby, fly!” she screamed until her throat gave out, and still she screamed. “You have the lead! You got it! They're eating our dust.” She didn't look to the right or the left as the colt reacted to the thundering hooves behind him. They were all behind her. Sharpshooter knew it, too, as he ripped down the stretch five lengths ahead of the others to equal his daddy's win.

The roar in the stands was music to Nealy's ears! “Wherever you are, Josh Coleman, I hope you saw that!” Nealy shouted.

She turned to see Ricky Vee coming up alongside her. That had to mean he came in second. Dillon Roland must be having a bird.

“Great race, Nealy,” Ricky said. “Super horse. The minute I saw you fly out of that gate, I knew I didn't have a chance. You were so far ahead of me there was no way to catch up. You got yourself one hell of a horse there.”

“He's not mine, he belongs to my two brothers.” She offered her hand. The jockey nodded and shook it. “I'll ride with or against you anytime, Nealy.”

“Nah, this is it for me. I'm getting too old for this.”

“Don't say that. Don't you want a triple Triple Crown? One more and then you really make the old history books. Don't be so quick to hang it up. See you around, Nealy. By the way, I wasn't the one who told your pa who you were. I just want you to know that.”

“Yeah, see you around.”

Nealy suffered through the ceremonies, the interviews, the well-wishers. The coins safely in her hand, she led the new Triple Crown winner back to the barn, where her family was waiting for her. She held out both coins. Metaxas in turn held the medallion out to the jeweler standing next to him. Pyne stuck his penny in his shirt pocket and then buttoned the flap.

“Jesus God, sis, you did it! I still can't believe it. Saying thanks doesn't seem enough.”

“It's enough, Rhy. This is some horse you got here.”

“He's got his daddy's legs, that's for sure,” Pyne said dreamily. “We got us an honest-to-God Triple Crown winner. I knew he was good, but I didn't know how good until I saw you let him go. He flew. He had the race from the git-go. I gotta tell you, sis, no other jockey could have ridden him to the crown. You did it. You brought it home for us.”

“Not bad for a girl, huh?” Nealy said softly.

“Not bad at all,” Pyne said.

“Rhy said to let him rip, and I did. He needs to cool down. Let's all work on him. He needs to feel both your hands on him. Here you go, baby,” Nealy said, pulling a handful of mints out of her shirt. “You get 'em all.”

“That's your secret!” Rhy said, eyeing the candies.

“Plus a few other things that shall remain secret. I'm going to miss him. You take care of him, you hear.”

“You made history today, Nealy,” Metaxas said happily.

“In more ways than you know. Uh-oh, here comes someone I don't want to deal with right now.”

Nealy's brothers edged her out of the way as Dillon Roland approached. “Let us handle this,” Rhy hissed in her ear.

“I want to be the first in line to make an offer for this stallion's first colt,” Dillon Roland said. “Name your price.”

“We would do this . . . why?” Rhy asked in a dangerously low voice.

“To make money, of course.”

“If I had a rat chewing on my leg and you offered to buy it from me, I'd tell you to go to hell,” Pyne said, just as Rhy's fist shot forward to land squarely between Dillon's eyes. “I'm just sorry I didn't do this thirty-two years ago, you son of a bitch!”

Nealy leaned over to peer down at the immaculately groomed horse owner. “I think you knocked him cold, Rhy. I didn't know you had it in you,” Nealy said, her voice full of awe.

“I didn't think I did either. It was for you, Nealy. Pyne and I were never really sure he was the one until we read that contract you had Pa sign for the colts. None of Flyby's progeny can ever be sold to Dillon Roland or his associates or anyone connected in any way, shape, or form with Dillon Roland or under any other name, corporation, or holding company he might use. I don't know if that's when Pa figured it out or not. Hell, you know what he was like. He could have known from the beginning. You just never knew with him.”

“I think he's coming to.”

“What the hell was that for?” Dillon said, rubbing his head and blinking away tears.

“If I have to tell you, then you're dumber than I thought. Now get the hell out of here. Just the sight of you offends my family,” Rhy snarled through clenched teeth.

“Look, everyone, isn't it beautiful?” Ruby said, showing off the gold medallion with the double safety latch and a triple-braided eighteen-inch gold rope.

“Great race. Wear it in good health, Ruby.”

“I will. I'll never take it off. Never.”

“Did you say something, honey?”

“No. Just talking to myself.”

“I have a surprise for you two lovely ladies. We are not heading back to Kentucky today like we planned. Instead, I reserved two luxurious suites at the Plaza in Manhattan. You two ladies are going to get âthe works,' you know, hair, massage, manicure, pedicure, whatever, and then we are going dining at a fabulous restaurant so we can celebrate. I've also taken the liberty of inviting a very old, dear friend. We are going to party and celebrate your good news, honey, and Nealy's superior win. Are you with me?”

“I'm your girl, honey. Wait a minute. All we have is what we're wearing. Did you . . . ?”

“Of course. Everything is waiting for you. Can we go now?”

“Nealy?”

“Just one minute.”

They watched as Nealy walked over to the new Triple Crown winner. She wrapped her arms around him and kissed his long nose. “You made me real proud today, but the real glory is all yours. It's stud heaven for you now, big boy.” She laughed in delight when the horse nudged her pocket. “How'd you know I had one left?” Sharpshooter tossed his head back and whinnied. To her brothers, she said, “You need to buy these mints by the case. Call me, okay?”

“You bet!”

“I'm all yours. A massage is going to feel soooo good. Oh, God, you want me to get in a limo when I'm full of mud and muck.”

“Nealy, Metaxas owns the livery company.”

“Is there anything he
doesn't
own?”

“There might be one or two things, but I don't know what they are. Who cares? In my whole life I have never been this happy,” Ruby said as she reached for Metaxas's arm. Nealy reached for the other.

“Let's go, ladies. Our carriage awaits!”

Nealy Coleman Diamond Clay's destiny walked into the restaurant as if he owned the place, which he did, and headed straight to the best table in the house. There were no menus at
La Petite,
and if a guest dared to ask the price of any dish he knew instantly by the frown on the waiter's face that he had committed a serious faux pas. Four dishes were served nightly, and the tables turned over once. The first seating was at seven, the second at ten. Their guest list was reserved six months in advance.
La Petite
was one of six high-end, outrageously priced restaurants owned by one Kendrick Bell and Metaxas Parish.

The introductions and amenities over, Nealy's insides were twanging, and her head was buzzing. This was definitely a man she would like to get to know better. A lot better.

“I'm sorry I'm late. I was upstate this morning checking on one of the other restaurants, and then this afternoon I took two guests to Belmont for the race. It was spectacular, even though I didn't win a lot of money. I knew Sharpshooter was favored to win, but I couldn't see myself betting on a horse ridden by a female jockey. I bet on the one that came in second. So did my guests. What is this world coming to? Females riding in horse races! My mother laid down a bundle on Sharpshooter and crowed all the way back home. No offense, ladies, but horse racing is definitely a man's game.”

“Really,” Ruby said.

“Amazing,” Nealy said.

Metaxas opened his mouth to say something, then changed his mind when his wife kicked him none too gently under the table.

“Does that mean you think women should, you know, stay in their place?” Nealy queried.

“Well, no, not exactly. There are some things women shouldn't do, in my opinion. Women are nurturers and mothers. I like women to be women. I like them to look like women and dress like women.”

“Really,” Ruby said.

“Amazing,” Nealy said.

Metaxas played it cool and kept his mouth shut.

“Why is it I feel like I'm doing all the talking?”

“Because you are,” Nealy said sweetly as she looked him square in the eye. He wasn't good-looking at all. His nose seemed off center and his jawline a tad too defined. His hairline was receding, but he had wonderful eyebrows and incredible dark eyes that were now staring at Nealy, a frown starting to build on his face. She knew somehow that he had a beautiful smile.

“I'm sorry, I do tend to monopolize conversations. What were you saying?”

“I agreed with you that you were doing all the talking. I understand you own this place.”

BOOK: Kentucky Rich

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