Racetrack Romance BOX SET (Books 1-3) (114 page)

Something hard pressed against her ribs, and she heard Stephanie’s calm voice. “We got you, girl.” Stephanie grabbed Lyric’s rein with one hand and yanked Becky into the saddle with another. Hank stayed beside Lyric, a warm, solid presence—a horse who clearly was used to flailing riders.

“You almost did it.” Stephanie grinned. “And that’s a tough maneuver. I’m surprised you had the guts to try.”

“But I didn’t do it.” Becky sighed and placed her toes in the short stirrups. “If Hank wasn’t here, I would have hit the ground.”

“Still, you tried. Even Slim can’t mount like that. And Lyric isn’t the most cooperative horse in the barn.”

“Hank sure is though.” Becky studied the bay with fresh interest. “Why doesn’t Dino let me ride him?”

“He’s a good horse.” Stephanie gave the gelding an affectionate pat. “He knows his job, and the outriders love him. Saved a lot of riders. Horses too. On the other hand, he turns too fast and will dump a green rider. No, you’re better on Lyric. She only goes one direction. Now get going before I ask why you’re so keen to learn. Or why you suddenly care about your looks.”

Becky pushed Lyric into a canter, anxious to escape Stephanie’s astute eyes. It took a moment to balance in the smaller saddle, but the difference was apparent. The exercise saddle, although smaller, helped her keep a forward position and Lyric loved it. The mare moved more rhythmically—straight, forward and true.

The fresh breeze cooled her throbbing nose. Stephanie had moved alongside so she loosened her reins a notch, and Lyric’s stride extended. Gosh, this mare could motor. And it felt like she had several more gears.

Both girls grinned as they crested the hill and pulled their horses up.

“Not bad for a beginner,” Stephanie said. “We usually eat up here. Did you bring any food?”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Becky said, instantly contrite. Stephanie was probably starving. She’d been at the barn since six and was taking personal time to accompany her. It had been a long time since Becky had enjoyed the company of a woman her own age, and it was almost as much fun as riding with Dino. Almost. “I’ll bring a bunch of granola bars next time,” she said.

“Fill your pockets with mints too,” Stephanie said, “and we’ll have you mounting like Zorro in no time. But I have to pick my daughter up now. Sitter charges double if I’m late. We can ride again tomorrow. This was fun.”

Fun?
Someone like Stephanie thought she was fun. Becky’s heart gave a happy skip. No one but Martha had ever said that. Her parents had pawned her off, her only boyfriend had dumped her, and Craig the Creep had her jumping at shadows. Well, nobody could hurt her now. Lyric made her feel strong. Invincible. “Let’s gallop one more time,” she coaxed.

Stephanie checked her watch. “Okay but we have to be quick. Means I’m not holding Hank back.”

They broke off together. Both horses burst forward, ready to run. Hank was faster at the start, but Lyric quickly caught up and soon they pounded over the ground in tandem. Stephanie clucked at Hank while Becky pushed her hands against Lyric’s neck, asking for more speed.

Lyric dug in. The wind whipped mane against Becky’s face but the sting, the speed, the exultant feeling were glorious, and she forgot about her sore nose. She was holding her own with a real jockey. She shot Stephanie a grateful grin. Felt like she was soaring.

Saw it happen.

Stephanie’s eyes widened, a split second of shock, then her slim body vanished beneath Hank’s hooves.

Becky rose in the stirrups, sawing desperately at Lyric’s mouth. The mare protested, but raw fear gave Becky the strength to slow down and yank her around.

Hank had already circled back to Stephanie, trotting sideways, trying to avoid a dragging stirrup. Lyric, however, snorted and refused to approach the crumpled figure.

Becky leaped off with an impatient curse and charged past Hank, who lowered his head and sniffed at Stephanie’s helmet.

“Fuck!” Stephanie said.

Becky sagged with relief, dropping to the ground on boneless legs. “Don’t move,” she said, pulling out her cell.

“It’s not my neck. It’s my goddamn arm. You’re a nurse. Can’t you splint it or something?”

Becky gulped at the sight of Stephanie’s distorted arm. “I’m calling for help.” Not Martha, God, not Martha. Slim would know what to do. He wouldn’t get upset and have a heart attack.

He answered on the first ring.

“We need a four-wheel-drive truck on the south hill, by the trees,” Becky said, “and an ambulance waiting at the barn.”

“You got it.” Slim cut the connection, and for once Becky appreciated his brevity.

“Fuck,” Stephanie said again. “Please stop Hank from bumping my arm.”

The gelding’s concern was obvious, and Becky backed him up. Lyric remained thirty feet away, oblivious to the drama, intent on taking advantage of the opportunity to graze.

“Slim’s coming,” Becky said. “I’m going to see if I can rig a splint. An ambulance can’t get up here so we’ll get you out in his truck.”

Stephanie forced a smile through bloodless lips. “Just remember, I was in the lead when my stirrup broke.”

“It broke?” Becky’s gaze drifted to Hank’s saddle. The right stirrup dangled in two strips, and the iron hung uselessly by the horse’s knee. The broken leather might be of some use though. She rose and pulled it from the stirrup bar. Hank stood like a rock, and Becky’s appreciation for a good pony horse swelled.

“Is the bone sticking out?” Stephanie asked.

“No, nothing’s protruding. It looks good.” Becky forced her voice to remain calm as she gathered some sticks and wrapped the leather around Stephanie’s arm. Stephanie didn’t make a sound. God, she was tough. “Have you broken bones before?”

“Collar bone three times. Ribs twice, nose once, pelvis once.”

“Jesus.”

“But this is the stupidest yet.” Stephanie gave a weak smile. “Not even on the track. This was a quiet trail ride.”

“I’m sorry.” Becky’s voice caught. “If I hadn’t asked you to gallop that last time, it wouldn’t have happened.”

“Lucky it was me. I know how to fall, and Hank won’t kick a rider’s head off. Who knows what Lyric might have done.” She stared at her arm. “I think Hank clipped me with a hind foot though. Did you see me fall?”

“No, I’d passed by the time you hit the ground.”

“Sure. Rub it in.” Stephanie made a face. “Where the hell is Slim?”

Hank lifted his head, ears pricked. A blue diesel truck rumbled through the trees and up the hill. Water dripped from the truck’s muddy fender. Slim had obviously taken the shortcut over the riverbed.

He leaped out, his eyes anxious. “Where are you hurt, Becky?”

“It’s not me. It’s Stephanie.”

Slim recoiled, and the stunned look on his face would have been humorous in any other situation.

“Just my arm,” Stephanie said. “Help me up. The Rangeland Hospital is closest.” Her face blanched as Becky and Slim helped her rise, but the splint kept her arm relatively immobile.

“Can you lead these horses back?” Slim asked Becky as he slammed the passenger door. “I’ll call from the hospital.”

Becky nodded, stepping closer to Hank, fortified by the gelding’s steady presence. Hank seemed to share her misery and watched the truck rumble away before taking a half-hearted nibble of grass. Lyric, however, munched with a complete lack of interest in events.

Becky rubbed the back of her neck, uncertain how cooperative the mare would be. It might be easier to ride the gelding and lead Lyric, but Hank’s saddle only had one stirrup. The escort riders at the track made ponying look easy but the actual mechanics of it were daunting. Of course, that was assuming she could even catch Lyric.

She led Hank closer to the mare, pretending they were only joining to graze. Lyric raised a suspicious head but decided they were no threat, and Becky snagged the reins before the mare guessed her intentions.

Good thing too. She wasn’t in a mood to chase after the willful mare, especially with the prospect of a two-mile hike and the temperature rising. She organized the horses—Lyric on her right, Hank on her left—and began the trek.

Luckily they were subdued from their gallop, and if they thought it odd she was walking, they didn’t show it. However, she did feel silly, leading two saddled horses. The phone chirped, jarring her rhythm, and she juggled Lyric’s reins, managing to jam the phone to her ear by the fourth beep.

“Hi, Becky,” Deb said. “Martha wonders if you’re joining her for lunch.” The nurse’s voice lowered. “She’s fine but as usual wants only you.”

Lyric took advantage of the stop to grab some grass, and Becky struggled to balance the phone and keep the mare from stepping on the drooping rein.

“I’m hurrying.” She untangled the rein from Lyric’s left leg. “Be there in about an hour.” She closed the phone but Hank, puzzled by the delay turned and now faced both Becky and Lyric.

Click!
Lyric’s teeth snapped as she lunged forward and bit Hank.

The gelding wheeled, desperate to escape her teeth, and yanked the reins from Becky’s hand.

Becky froze but the obliging gelding only walked a few steps then stopped and stared as though awaiting further instructions. He seemed the type who wanted to help, unlike Lyric, who made everything difficult. Unfortunately, Lyric had the saddle with two intact stirrups, and it would be impossible to switch saddles with Hank, who was clearly afraid of the bossy mare.

Becky’s nose and feet hurt. She was hot, worried about Stephanie, and Martha wanted her. She wasn’t a good enough rider to pony Hank from Lyric’s back but if she removed Hank’s bridle, at least he wouldn’t step on the reins and hurt his mouth. And he’d already proven he’d stay with Lyric and Becky.

She slipped off his bridle with only a slight qualm, hung it over her shoulder and stepped up to Lyric’s side. Keep eating, girl, she willed, as she took a running start, made a desperate leap and vaulted onto the horse’s back.

It wasn’t pretty, and she had to pull herself up the last couple of inches, but she was in the saddle. She’d done it.

Lyric still hadn’t moved, chomping at the grass like it was her last meal. Becky pulled Lyric’s head up and pointed the mare in the direction of the barn while the ever-patient Hank trailed behind. Now they could make better time. Twice he came too close, but Lyric simply swished her tail and Hank was content to remain a length back.

They crossed the rolling green pasture, past the bluebonnets and goldenrod. Even when they entered the manicured drive flanked with clover, Hank kept his respectful position. Lately the Conrad grooms had been more attentive, and Cody rushed from the barn with a halter and lead line.

“Heard Stephanie fell off this old guy.” He shook his head in disbelief and haltered Hank.

“She didn’t fall off,” Becky said. “Her stirrup leather broke.” Actually it was Becky’s stirrup that had snapped, and her own guilt rubbed raw. She was the one who’d asked to switch saddles; she was the one who’d pleaded for another gallop. She dismounted and pulled out her phone. “Did you hear from Slim yet?”

“No, they’ll be awhile. It’s always a wait at Rangelands. Poor Steph.” Cody buckled the halter and coiled Hank’s lead. “More medical bills, and now no paycheck.”

“No pay? Why not?”

“Can’t ride, don’t get paid. Them’s the breaks.” Cody grinned at his wit and turned Hank toward the barn.

Becky pulled Lyric away from the long grass by the barn and rushed after the groom. “But that’s not fair,” she said.

“The horse industry isn’t fair.” He shrugged with total acceptance. “Money’s scarce, workers aren’t.”

Her feet dragged as she led Lyric into her stall. Surely Martha and Malcolm had some sort of insurance. She looked after her own coverage but her policy had been in place when she accepted the nursing job, and Malcolm had topped off her salary to compensate.

She couldn’t remember what he’d said about the standard Conrad plan, although nothing appeared standard with Malcolm. Still, she was positive Martha would want to look after Stephanie. In fact, Martha would be very upset when she heard about the accident.

If she heard.

Becky slipped off Lyric’s bridle, her mind churning as she wiped grass off the snaffle. Maybe she shouldn’t tell. But Martha often watched the horses during their morning gallops; she’d notice a new rider. And perhaps there was no need to worry about Stephanie’s finances. Cody could be wrong, and it was possible Malcolm had insurance for his staff.

Shouldn’t be hard to find out.

Her movements quickened as she unbuckled the girth. It was definitely time for another visit to Malcolm’s grim office.

Chapter Twenty-Two

“He’s the family lawyer, Ted. He won’t mind coming out to amend a few clauses. There’s no need for you to bring the documents.” Martha closed the phone, shaking her head at Becky. “So rude. That boy has his mother’s personality but got his bad manners from his father. That side never had any breeding.” Her frown deepened. “Still glum, dear? You must understand people are hurt all the time. Riding is a gamble.”

“But I can’t believe there’s no insurance.”

“I said there
probably
isn’t any. Workers move around so they’re usually hired as casual labor.” A hint of defensiveness crept into Martha’s voice. “Stephanie did float from track to track. She only settled down after she had a baby.”

“But that’s more reason to look after her,” Becky said. “And what about Jill?”

“Jill? That was a while ago. And Malcolm handled it. Gave Slim a promotion as well as a house to live in. People nowadays want everything for free.” Her back stiffened.

Becky forced a soothing nod. No need to upset Martha before they knew all the facts. It’d be easy enough to get the key from the jewelry box and check Malcolm’s desk. “Slim said Stephanie had a clean break and should be back riding in six to eight weeks,” she added.

“Did Slim call Dino yet?” Martha asked, her posture still tight. “He’ll need a new rider for tomorrow, especially with Echo racing on Friday.”

“Not sure if he did.” Becky tugged out her cell. Slim had sounded frazzled on the phone. Besides, it had been a full day since she’d seen Dino; she’d be happy to call. More than happy.