Racetrack Romance BOX SET (Books 1-3) (104 page)

“Only the owner’s rep,” she said, but very softly. This was too great a day to worry about semantics.

By asking Becky to come in her place, Martha had given her the best gift ever. From the time she and Dino had returned from the last race, everyone in the shedrow had treated her like a princess. Sure, it helped that Dino had dropped a flat of beer in his office along with chips and tortillas and announced that she’d bought them—all the staff had been delighted to help celebrate Chippy’s win.

All but Slim. She glanced over her shoulder to where he slouched against the wall by Echo’s stall. He hadn’t been at all happy when Dino had ordered him to stay.

At least it had given Echo more time to recover. The filly looked energetic now. Her head poked over the door, hay protruding from her mouth. Her shrill neigh made Slim wince but energized Chippy, who raised his head and answered.

“Don’t you mind that filly, Chip,” Red said, not interrupting the rhythm of his skillful hands. “You’ll have a new best friend tomorrow.”

“Do you think Chippy and Echo are friends because they look alike?” she asked.

Red laughed. “No, it’s just that horses hook up fast. These two were shipped in the same trailer so that made them good buddies. Echo is herd bound at the best of times.” He smiled. “Chippy will get over it. Track relations are always temporary.”

“Yeah, guess so,” she said, refusing to look in the direction of Dino’s office. For three glorious hours at the races, she’d had him all to herself. But it was seven o’clock now and several people had drifted in from other barns.

One girl looked like Stephanie and was probably an exercise rider. The other was taller and spoke with some sort of accent, but they both had throaty laughs and were clearly enthralled with anything Dino said or did. Becky pasted a smile on her face and tried to block their flirtatious giggles.

Shane strolled down the aisle, clipboard in hand, and paused by Chippy’s stall. “How’s the champ now?”

“Seems to have come back fine,” Red said. “Dino wants me to use that new liniment Doc left. I’m almost finished here.”

Shane nodded and turned to Becky. “Want a last beer before you and Slim hit the road? A final celebration for your betting success?”

She laughed. “You’re the one who taught me how to bet. Thanks for that, Shane. I’m sixty dollars richer because of you.”

“Thirty.” Dino’s lazy drawl sounded behind her. “You still have to pay for the beer and chips.”

She checked over his shoulder, relieved to see the fawning girls had vanished. “Be glad to,” she said. “It was a great day. No wonder Martha loves this.”

“Martha only watches stakes races. Doesn’t generally leave her box. And never drinks beer.” Dino’s smile deepened as he flicked the brim of her hat. “Doubt she owns a ball cap that says ‘Hot Fillies’ either. But it was a good day, in spite of the scratch.” His voice lowered. “Echo is fine to ship now, and Slim’s itching to hit the road. But if you’re uncomfortable driving with him, I can take you home.”

She paused, stunned by his generous offer. She definitely preferred Dino’s company, but it was a lot of extra driving and she’d heard him schedule three works for six a.m. tomorrow. It wouldn’t be reasonable to ask him to drive her home when he had to be at Lone Star so early. “It’s okay,” she said. “But thanks. What do you think is bothering Slim?”

Dino’s gaze hooded as he glanced at Shane and Red, and he guided her away from Chippy’s stall. “Not sure.” His voice was low and regretful. “Slim was never a joker. But he used to be good with the horses. Since Malcolm died, he’s different. I’m going to suggest to Martha we bring in another barn manager—on a temporary basis of course. Give Slim some time to work out whatever’s eating him.”

Becky blew out a regretful sigh. She didn’t think it would be that easy; Slim was Malcolm’s long-time manager, and Martha stuck rigidly to her husband’s wishes.

Dino misunderstood her silence. “Slim’s not doing his job. And he should never have questioned my decision to scratch the filly. Something’s wrong, and I can’t let poor judgment hurt the horses.”

“Of course,” she said slowly. “But sometimes Martha is very stubborn…and loyal. Slim might be just worried about his daughter.”

“He’s worried about something. Regrettably it’s not the horses.” Dino’s jaw clamped. “And that’s my job. So tomorrow I’ll be talking to Martha. I also want to use a private shipper instead of having Slim haul. Now do you want a drive home, or what?”

“I’ll travel with Slim and the horses,” she said. “Slim is always okay with me.” Not quite true but she didn’t want to admit otherwise, not when Dino looked so angry. Funny though, he didn’t scare her. His anger was different from the anger of other men. Controlled, never mean. And he and Shane had been wonderful company. Her voice softened. “Thanks for the great day. It really was fun.”

A smile curved his mouth. “Beer does that, Becky.”

“I didn’t drink that much.” She grinned back. “You cut me off at four.”

He reached down and again flicked the brim of her cap. “Should have cut you off at three before you started ogling all those jockeys,” he drawled. “Come on. We’ll wrap that filly and get you on the road.”

Slim looked relieved when Dino turned and signaled for Shane to bandage Echo. “It’s damn late,” Slim said. “Who’s wrapping Chippy?”

“Chippy’s staying,” Dino said, his voice curt.

“But that wasn’t the plan. The gelding runs good from Conrad’s.”

“And he’ll run good from here too. So might Echo and all the other horses.” Dino’s voice hardened, and there was no evidence of any drawl now. His words were clipped and challenging.

Slim’s face reddened and for a moment, it looked like he was going to argue.

Becky stepped between them. “I meant to tell you this morning, Slim,” she lied. “Martha asked that Chippy stay at Lone Star.”

“If that’s what she wants, fine.” Slim wheeled, not looking at her. “Don’t matter to me. I’ll get the trailer.”

Slim stomped away and she debated the wisdom of asking him to wait so she could collect her carrots. He’d been wanting to leave for hours. Still, Chippy deserved something other than his usual peppermints, and it was her last chance to treat the gelding. She glanced down the aisle.

Shane was still wrapping Echo’s legs so she probably had about five minutes to grab the carrot bag from the cab and rush back. If she hurried, she wouldn’t delay Slim one bit.

Decision made, she rushed from the barn and jogged after Slim. He must have heard the crunching gravel but didn’t slow. Didn’t even look back.

“I need to get the carrots Martha sent for Echo,” she said, panting from the sprint. “They’re locked in the truck. I think Chippy deserves a few, don’t you? Won’t take but a minute.” She knew she was babbling because, despite her assurances to Dino, Slim’s presence was rather unnerving. Clearly the man wanted to get home.

Slim raised his hand so quickly she flinched, but he merely pointed the remote. The truck lights flashed, slashing the night with red. Door locks clicked.

“Thanks.” She inched her way through the gloom, swung open the passenger door and grabbed the bag of carrots from beneath the seat. “I’ll meet you by the shedrow. Promise to be really fast.”

She rushed back to the barn, almost tripping in a pothole, but the barn lights were a friendly beacon. Dino, Shane and Red stood in the illuminated aisle beside a bandaged Echo. The filly looked vastly different from the tired animal that had stepped off the trailer. Her head was high, eyes bright and she craned her head, nickering repeatedly at Chippy.

“Where you going with those carrots?” Dino asked, his voice amused.

“I promised Chippy a couple,” she said. “I’ll go in the stall so the other horses don’t see.”

“You do that,” Dino said. “Maybe he’ll stop calling to the filly too.”

Chippy looked at her with inquisitive eyes when she entered his stall. She pulled out three carrots, remembering how Lyric had grabbed the bag, almost devouring a piece of plastic. And plastic wouldn’t be good for a horse.

She held out a carrot. Chippy sniffed then took such a tentative bite it dropped in the straw. “Hurry up, fellow,” she said, bending down and scooping it up. But there was no rushing him—he ate exactly like Echo. Agonizing slow nibbles, so different from the gluttonous Lyric and almost every other horse she knew.

She leaned over the door and nervously scanned the aisle. Echo had disappeared, along with the men. Slim was probably waiting, probably cursing.

“I’ve got to go, fellow. You’re too slow. You’ll have to pick those other two off the floor.” She snapped the carrots in bite-size pieces, watching as he snuffled at the straw. “Thanks for trying so hard. You’ll always be a champ to me.” She gave his neck a grateful pat and rushed outside.

Slim and Dino fastened the ramp, and Echo’s frantic neigh reverberated throughout the trailer. The men, however, were silent, the air taut. Becky pulled open the door and scrambled into the passenger’s seat, eager to escape before Slim and Dino had an irreparable argument.

Dino walked up and when she lowered the window, he dropped a
Racing Form
on her lap. “Give that to Martha,” he drawled. “She’ll probably want to take a look at Echo’s race, even though we didn’t run. There’s a nice picture of Malcolm on page fourteen. I think she’ll like the article.”

Becky had already noticed he hid his emotion behind a lazy drawl but his thoughtfulness affected her, so much that she almost drawled herself. “That’s very kind, thanks. She keeps a scrapbook of Malcolm and his achievements. I didn’t even notice the picture.”

Dino nodded, his dark eyes seeming to search her face. He looked past her at Slim and his voice hardened. “We have a few things to discuss, Slim. Eleven a.m.” Then he stepped back.

She raised her window and Slim eased the truck and trailer toward the exit. A security guard checked their papers, glanced at Echo and waved them through. Yawning, she slumped against the seat, glad now that Slim wasn’t a big talker.

“The old lady isn’t going to be happy about Echo not running,” Slim said. “You better tell her it was an unnecessary scratch. Don’t know what Dino was thinking.”

Becky smothered her groan. “It looked to me like Echo wasn’t fit to run,” she said mildly.

“Nothing wrong with that filly. Did you see how she acted when we left?”

“She looks good now,” Becky admitted.

“Fucking Dino is trying to maximize his bonus at the expense of the old lady, me and everyone else.”

“What do you mean?”

“He earns a bonus if he keeps the win percentage on homebreds over twenty percent. You watch. He’ll enter that filly next week in an easier race. Whenever he wants to make a change in the race schedule, he just calls the old lady and lays on the charm.”

Slim’s cell buzzed and he jammed it against his ear. “I’m driving,” he muttered. Silence. “Don’t know. We’re taking the filly home now.” His voice was slightly more deferential.

Becky closed her eyes and leaned against the seat, trying to pretend she wasn’t listening. Whoever was on Slim’s phone did most of the talking while Slim only grunted.

Slim gave a last grunt and closed the phone. “You sleeping or are you going to help me stay awake?”

She twisted in surprise, but he seemed to be talking to her. “Help you stay awake, of course,” she said quickly although she couldn’t imagine what they’d talk about. The only talking Slim wanted to do was on his phone. Maybe it was the same person who’d called him by the rail. Stephanie or Jocelyn maybe?

“I should check on Martha,” she said, “but my battery is dead. Could I borrow your phone?”

Slim tossed over his cell as he maneuvered the truck and trailer into the center lane then sped past a line of dawdling vehicles.

She flipped open the phone, pretending confusion with the screen as she checked his list of callers. Five calls today. Three were the same number. She repeated the number until it was seared in her memory then called Martha.

Jocelyn answered on the second ring, sounding rather grumpy and advising that Martha was asleep. Becky cut the connection.

“Did Jocelyn say anything about the scratch?” Slim asked.

“I don’t think Jocelyn is very interested in horses,” she said.

“That’s what you think.” He gave a cryptic snort.

Chapter Fourteen

“Did you see the Thorntons yesterday?” Martha asked as she listened to Becky’s stories about the track. “I’m wondering if Chelsea wore her new diamond necklace.”

“Didn’t see them. We watched from the rail.”

Martha shuddered in distaste. “It’s so crowded down there. Dino should have taken better care of you.”

“Oh, he took great care,” Becky said quickly. “Shane did too. It was a lot of fun.”

“Malcolm used to like hanging around the rail, but not me. He was so proud when a horse he bred made it to the winner’s circle.”

“Is there such a difference with homebreds? Malcolm didn’t breed Chippy and the race was a claimer, but watching him was still a thrill.” Becky gestured over her shoulder. “And he won that nice plaque.”

“It’s not the same.” Martha gave a dismissive sniff. “Malcolm studied bloodlines, matching broodmares with studs, breeding the best to get the best. He wanted to make a name for our stable. Chippy is just an auction horse. Those type come and go. They’ll never be part of the Conrad family.”

Becky’s throat tightened, and she averted her head.
Family
. The word always filled her with longing. For most people, life centered around it. Yet she could hardly remember her parents, only their constant yelling and, more painfully, their obvious relief when she’d been yanked from their care and made a ward of the state. Since then she’d had foster homes, lots of them, but never family. She’d lived with Martha longer than she’d ever lived anywhere—

“Bring over that shoebox in the closet,” Martha said. “I’ll show you why homebreds are so special.”

Glad for the distraction, Becky retrieved the cherished pictures and centered the box on the table in front of Martha.

“These are pictures of Malcolm’s favorite foals from the first hour of birth. Aren’t they darling?”