Heroes of Heartbreak Creek 02 by Where the Horses Run

Author:Where the Horses Run [Run, Where the Horses]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Group US
Published: 2014-06-09T17:00:00+00:00

Seventeen

“May I sit?”

Cathcart scowled, his jaw clamped tight.

Taking that as a “yes,” Rafe settled into the chair facing the desk, his right ankle resting atop his left knee, his hands hanging off the ends of the armrests. “I understand you intend to enter Pembroke’s Pride in a race next month.”

Cathcart’s eyes narrowed.

“With Stevens laid up,” Rafe went on, when it was apparent he wouldn’t get a response, “I’m guessing you’ll need a trainer.”

“I already told Hammersmith that with Stevens injured, you would be handling Pembroke.”

“I’d like to hear it from you.”

Cathcart considered that for a moment. Tension easing, he leaned back in his huge chair, the ink-stained fingers of his right hand tapping a rhythm on the wooden arm. “Think you can get the stallion ready in time?”

“As ready as he’ll ever be.”

More thinking. Tapping. “Can he win?”

“Doubtful. But possible.”

Greed sparked in Cathcart’s eyes. He leaned forward. “How possible?”

“Depends on who his trainer is, and who rides him in the race.”

“What if I asked you to do both?”

“Are you offering me the position of trainer and rider?”

“I am.”

Rafe flicked a gob of mud off the boot resting on his knee, watched it thump against the desk, then slide to the carpet. “Ordinarily I’d say I was too big to race him. But since we haven’t the time to accustom the horse to an unfamiliar rider, I’d say yes to both.” He looked up with a smile. “But it would cost you.”

“How much?”

“The horse. Win or lose.”

Silence. Then a harsh laugh burst out of Cathcart. Shaking his head, he sat back again. “You must think I’m a fool. I’ll not part with my best horse. And anyway, why would I give him up now? You might decide not to enter him. Or if you let him run and he wins, the purse would go to you, not me.”

Rafe pretended to give that some consideration. “Then how about this? You give me a signed Bill of Sale today, but date it the day of the race. That way, you still have full ownership until he runs.”

A sly expression came over Cathcart’s ruddy face. “Dated the day after the race. That way you won’t try to pull him out at the last minute.”

“If your main concerns are the winner’s purse, or me pulling him out before the race,” Rafe said thoughtfully, “then date the bill for later that afternoon. Hammersmith said the race starts at ten o’clock. So date the bill for later . . . say, noon. And you still pay the entry fee.”

Cathcart studied him for so long, Rafe started to sweat. Then finally, the Englishman nodded. “Deal.”

Rafe mentally raised a fist in triumph. “Then draw up the papers. As soon as they’re signed and witnessed, I’ll begin the stallion’s training.” He rose and started for the door.

“That’s it?”

Rafe turned.

“You expect me to just give you the horse? He’s a valuable animal. Worth a lot of money.”

“You’re right,” Rafe agreed. “But then, so is my training. With my help, you have a chance—a slim one, but still a chance—of making back what he’s worth plus a great deal more.

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