Purebred (3 page)

“He’s training horses?”

Aidan’s smile softened the hard planes of his face. “Aye, but not Thoroughbreds. Your Western horses. He has a small horse ranch in a place called South Dakota. Would that be as far as Arkansas?”

“Oh, much farther. Nearly twice as far.”

The smile faded a bit. “Nevertheless, I’m hoping I’ll see him and meet his wife, Ella, sometime this summer.” He forked the last bite of meat from his plate and said, “By the way, the pot roast is excellent.”

“Thanks.” She indicated the platter that still held half the pot roast. “Help yourself.”

“I don’t mind if I do.” Aidan took seconds.

Cat said, “Eat all you want, no rush. When I’m done, I need to get over to the barn to check on the mare I bred this morning.”

“If you would not mind waiting a few minutes, I would go with you to check on Mac Finnian.”

“Yes, of course.”

He ate in silence for a moment, his expression pensive. Then he said, “When I was in the barn earlier, I saw no other workers. Surely Raul is not your only employee.”

A statement that reminded Cat of one of the reasons she was so desperate to take a chance on Mac. “Bernie Hansen is full-time now,” she said, feeling her stomach tighten. “Bernie was off picking up supplies when you came in. And then there’s Vincent and Laura. They come after school every day they can.”

“So you only have two full-time employees and two children.”

On the defensive now, she argued, “Those ‘children’ are teenagers, and they work hard mucking out stalls, hauling bales of hay, grooming horses.”

“But surely that is not enough to run a breeding farm this size when the operation is in full swing.”

“Then I’ll hire another couple men when business picks up.”

“What about a barn manager?”

“I’m doing double duty for the time being. I had a barn manager until recently.”

“You said something about that in Galway. That was weeks ago. Surely you have thought of replacing him.”

She shook her head. “I keep hoping he’ll show up.”

“What happened?”

“I really don’t know. No one seems to. George worked for my parents,” Cat said stiffly, starting to feel like Aidan was backing her into a corner. “I never remember a time when he wasn’t here. He left while I was in Ireland and I’m hoping he’ll come back.”

“If he quit his job, why do you think he might show up again.”

“That’s the thing. He didn’t quit.” Once again, an awful feeling engulfed her. “He simply disappeared. No one knows where he went.”

When Aidan fell silent, Cat bristled.

Was he silently blaming her?

Or silently criticizing her for not replacing George?

And for not adding more workers?

She couldn’t afford to hire anyone else right now, not even a new barn manager. If George came back, she would find a way to pay him again. She hadn’t given up on him yet, even though she couldn’t stop worrying that something had happened to make him leave.

That his disappearance was somehow her fault.

Chapter Four

“I cannot eat another bite. Allow me to help clear,” Aidan said, rising and taking the platter and his plate to the counter.

“Thanks,” Cat muttered, head ducked away from him as she scooped up the flatware and threw it on her plate.

He wondered what he and Cashel had gotten themselves into. Bad enough his partner had attitude and an angry ex-husband, but now to learn Cat didn’t have enough help made him worry that she didn’t have the finances to carry out their contract.

Had he left Ireland simply to waste his time?

The entry fee into a graded stakes race was thousands of American dollars. And what about the six-figure entry fee to the Breeders’ Cup Classic? The hope was that Mac could earn the money through the wins that would qualify him for the world-class meet, or, better yet, that he would win a Breeders’ Cup Challenge race. Aidan was confident that given decent weather conditions and no injuries, Mac could outrun his competition on any dirt track.

But what if the payoff wasn’t enough?

What if he didn’t win a Challenge?

Could Cat really come up with six figures when she apparently couldn’t afford to hire more workers?

Not wanting to get into it now lest he say something that he would regret, Aidan tabled that particular discussion for later. On edge, his gut in a knot, he forced himself to relax. Cat didn’t seem to be having an easy time of it, either.

They remained silent as they finished clearing.

When the last item was in the dishwasher, the leftovers in the refrigerator, she asked, “Ready to take that walk over to the barn?”

“And eager. I want to make sure Mac has settled in.”

Aidan followed Cat out the door and then walked beside her. As if the very action of taking one step after another was medicinal, he felt his inner tension dissolve. A quick glance Cat’s way told him she was more at ease, as well. He had no criticism of the grounds nor the barn, so, enough help or no, she was somehow managing to do things right. He had to give her the benefit of the doubt.

“Dean’s truck,” she murmured, and Aidan followed her gaze to the dark blue truck parked to one side of the barn.

Also noting the old silver sedan parked opposite the truck, he asked, “A couple of your clients?”

“My high school workers are here. And one of my two big clients at the moment. A few weeks ago, Dean Hill decided to change barns, and he wanted me to be in charge of breeding his mares. As a matter of fact, I bred one of his mares this morning. No doubt he’s here to check on her, as well.”

“How many mares does he own?”

“He brought eleven here. But they’re not being bred to Dangerous Illusion. That’s my stallion. He’s a little high-strung and low on the champion totem pole. Dean brought his own stallion. You might have heard of him—False Promise.”

“I know the name.”

“You should. Last year he won three consecutive graded stakes races, was third in the Kentucky Derby and won the Preakness.”

“I remember…didn’t he have a twin who raced, as well?”

“Right, but unfortunately, Memory of You broke down as a two-year-old, so his career ended and he never had the chance to make a name for himself. False Promise was headed for the Breeders’ Cup Classic and probably Horse of the Year, but a fracture to his rear right leg just before the Belmont Stakes ended his racing career, too.”

Having experienced one of the horses he’d trained breaking down himself, Aidan could imagine the owner’s despair at such a horrible turn of fate. “Thankfully the horse survived. And the jockey.” At least the accident wasn’t the tragedy that Aidan knew it could have been.

“Yes, both survived and the horse healed well,” Cat said, as they entered the barn. “His racing career might be over, but at least he can stand at stud and possibly sire future champions.”

A consolation, Aidan thought, one that could never make up for the loss of a dream. Most owners didn’t get more than a single chance at a really fine colt or filly that could win the high stakes races. Winning was the dream of every owner and trainer and jockey, of every groom and hotwalker who came into contact with a fine piece of horseflesh. A whole team of support staff considered the horse their own.

He assumed the dream would be the same for the breeder. Isn’t that why Cat made the deal with them? She wanted Mac to cover her broodmares and perhaps give her the next generation of winners. He’d felt that spark burn in her at their first meeting.

Would she sell the foals? he wondered. Or did she have dreams of racing them herself? Not unheard of if she had the finances to do so.

Cat stopped in the aisle. “I’m going this way.” She indicated a direction away from Mac’s box stall. “Would you like to meet Dean? You never know when he might be looking for a new trainer or know another owner who’s looking to hire someone.”

“Aye, thank you.”

Another way to make some necessary money, Aidan thought. Kind of Cat to help him outside of their contract. He’d come to America not knowing what to expect from her, and while she did seem too much on edge, he suspected she had good reason. He thought she really was a caring sort, as he’d heard when she’d spoken of her missing barn manager. He needed to revise his thinking a bit, not be so uptight around her. Her intentions were good, and she’d gotten Mac and him here. He had to trust she had the financial assets to carry through. Perhaps that was why she hesitated hiring more help. A matter of budget.

Perhaps if he relaxed, he could more easily control what the dream had foretold.

He followed Cat down a side aisle and toward the back, where a silver-haired man—Dean Hill, he assumed—was deep in conversation with Raul. Both men appeared intense, as if they were arguing about something.

Was there a problem with the mare?

Then the client looked up to see them coming and dismissed Raul, who quickly headed for the back of the barn.

“Ah, Cat, there you are,” Hill said. “I just came to check on Fairy Tail.”

“She has seemed fine all day.”

“She looks good, and Raul said her appetite is normal,” Dean said, his dark gaze zeroing in on Aidan. “New client?”

“New partner, new venture,” Cat said. “Dean, this is Aidan McKenna, one of Ireland’s best trainers.”

Aidan started at the unexpected compliment and held out a hand to Hill. The man was younger than his silver hair indicated, perhaps in his early forties. His narrow face was smooth but for a few crinkles at the outside corner of his brown eyes.

Dean looked him up and down before taking the offered hand. “McKenna…that’s familiar.”

Aidan noted the other man’s fierce grip as they shook. His was trim but muscular. “My brother Cashel and I are trainers. We own McKenna Racing. A few years back, we had a horse place in the Arlington Million.” And with their share of the winnings, they’d had enough money to buy an exceptional filly they had trained from the owners they worked for. Plus they’d been able to pay an exorbitant stud fee to get Mac.

“So you’re what?” Hill asked. “Expanding to the U.S.?”

“Something like that, at least for the racing season.”

“And at least one breeding season,” Cat added. “That’s where I come into the partnership.” She stepped back. “Excuse me while I look in on Fairy Tail.”

“Good, good,” Dean said without taking his eyes off Aidan.

Odd that the man didn’t follow Cat into the stall, Aidan thought. When Mac’s dam, Bold Lass, was being bred, he’d wanted to know every detail of everything that was going on. Then again, the owner did have eleven mares. Perhaps he’d had too much experience to want to know every detail.

“So what are your immediate plans?” Hill asked.

“To run my colt in some upcoming graded stakes races.”

“Your colt. You mean you train him.”

“And own him, as well. My brother Cashel and I bought his dam and bred her.”

“So you’re expanding the business,” Hill said.

“In this one case. I’m a trainer at heart,” Aidan admitted. “I’m more interested in training colts and fillies to win than in producing foals.”

“Why bring him here to run him on dirt?”

“That’s the grand challenge. Mac Finnian is faster on dirt than he is on grass.”

Hill’s eyebrows shot up. “Well, well, he’ll probably be running against one of my colts eventually. I have a training farm just down the road, and I have a couple of colts who are ready for the right race. I’ll have to keep an eye on you.”

Before Aidan could question him about which colt, which race, Cat left the broodmare’s stall saying, “Fairy Tail looks good.”

Hill gave her a once-over, as if meeting her for the first time. “As do you, dear Cat. I don’t believe I’ve ever seen you in such elegant splendor.”

Cat laughed. “What? Muck-covered jeans and sweatshirts aren’t elegant?”

“You’re a natural beauty, no matter what you wear.”

Aidan listened to the interchange in silence. Considering how charming Hill was being, he must be taken with Cat. Aidan didn’t blame him. The fine-looking lass had invaded his dreams, after all. “Glad to meet you, Hill. I need to see to my colt now.”

“And I need to get going. I have some business to take care of myself.” The man focused back on Cat. “I’m confident that together, we’re going to produce a spectacular crop of foals next spring.”

“That’s the plan.”

“Two down and nine to go.” Hill indicated Fairy Tail. “Or perhaps it’s three and eight.”

Aidan started to move off.

“Hopefully. And hopefully the first foal born will be a champion,” Cat said, then called, “Aidan, wait up.” She rushed to catch up to him. “I would like to check on Mac myself.”

There was a touch of possessiveness in her tone that made Aidan clench his jaw. He told himself that she simply wanted to see to the colt’s welfare now that he was in her barn, and he couldn’t fault her for that.

Horses along the aisle hung out their heads as they passed. Aidan patted every one on his side and noted that Cat did the same on the other. Her love for horses was evident in her gentle touch and in the soft murmurings with which she greeted each mare. All twelve box stalls in the aisle were in use.

“So all of these are Hill’s mares, and two of them already pregnant.”

“That kind of surprised me, too, that both got pregnant in their first season. We’ll see about Fairy Tail. Another of Dean’s mares is about to ovulate, as well. The vet’ll palpate her tomorrow to see if she’s ready to meet False Promise.”

“This lad?” he asked, when they reached the end of the aisle where a blood bay stallion with a white star on his forehead dozed in his stall.

Aidan stopped at the door to take a better look. Cat stopped next to him, too close for his comfort. Her arm brushing his left a swath of heat shooting through him.

“That’s Dean’s champion,” she confirmed.

“Aye, he’s a handsome lad. He should sire some grand foals.”

“Fingers crossed. I have other clients, too. They share the aisle on the other side of the barn. Right now, only eight of the stalls are in use. Martin Bradley brought in four of his broodmares and his own stallion from his farm,” she said, mindful of Jack’s threat to bring in the horses she used to own, as well. “My own horses—six mares, a stallion, a teaser and two geldings—are in the middle aisle. Plus Mac,” she added.

Again she spoke in a possessive tone, as if the colt belonged to her. Aidan fought a twitch of discomfort.

“Mac won’t be there for long,” he assured her. “The first stakes race is barely two weeks away. We need to get him in a stall at the track so he can start working out there every morning and so I can find a jockey. Unless you’ve already made all the arrangements.”

“No, of course not. I got the paperwork going, and I planned to take you over there tomorrow, so you can see the facility and the stalls available. How would I know your preference?”

Aidan told himself to relax already. He didn’t need to go looking for trouble. No matter that he’d feared he’d gone from the frying pan into the fire, Cat wasn’t his older brother. She wasn’t making decisions for him as Cashel would.

“In the meantime, I have a short track opposite the pastures.” She moved away from the stallion. “You can start stretching Mac’s legs tomorrow before we go to the track if you want.”

“That sounds like a fine idea, though he won’t be breaking any speed records with me on his back.”

“Just think of how much faster he’ll be when he gets a lightweight jockey.”

A few seconds later, Aidan heard a man’s deep voice call out, “Cat, you in here?”

“Over here, Martin,” she called, then lowered her voice. “My other best client.”

A burly man with unnaturally dark hair, as if it had been dyed, popped out of the far aisle. “We brought Sweetpea Sue a little early.”

“We?”

He stepped his aviator glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Simone is putting her in the stall next to Quick Pick.”

Cat forced a smile. “No problem.”

“The problem is Quick Pick isn’t pregnant yet.”

“Quick Pick was a maiden. You need to be patient, Martin. We’ll try again as soon as she goes back in season.”