“No, I don’t think so. But the sheriff and Prater are close. You know, his wife is Prater’s sister. That banker runs around here like a bull in a china shop whenever your name comes up. You certainly are not making the man happy. If he could have you tarred and feathered, he’d certainly supervise the task.”
Maggie grinned. “I think we gave that up, even here, sometime in the last century or so.” She frowned and kept her gaze steady at one of the few people she trusted. “So are you saying you think Prater is behind Ed’s beating? Would his dislike for my dad and for me go that far?”
“I wish I knew. What your mom and dad did all those years ago is forgotten by most folks, but I’m not certain it just hasn’t gnawed on Josh all this time like some open wound that won’t scab over. I don’t think he’d do anything to really hurt you or the kids. But Ed? Who knows? Harrington is helping you save the farm, or at least that’s the plan.”
“So what do you suggest, Ben—do we just sit tight?”
“Be vigilant. Be cautious. I expect Harrington’s being beaten had more to do with the land than with any relationship you may be having with him. I wouldn’t be surprised if somebody isn’t intent on trying to scare you off the land, but it’s not a large amount of property. Shouldn’t really be worth that much to anyone. Certainly, that somebody will tire when they realize you’re not easily frightened. Maybe I’m just rambling and maybe I’m just hoping, but can’t imagine Con-Ex Farms or Prater or anyone else who would wish to do you physical harm.”
Maggie nodded, hoping he was right, and rose to leave. “Thanks, Ben,” she said, hugging the slightly embarrassed man. “You’ve given me a lot to think about.”
As she opened the door to step out of the office, Ben said, “Why don’t you think of bringing Harrington out to the Harvest Festival in October? That would be a natural opportunity for folks to see that the man is human—that he probably breathes and laughs pretty much like the rest of us.”
Maggie turned, smiled and waved. She walked toward her truck. Why not invite Ed? As long as he realized she wasn’t trying to seduce him, maybe he would be willing to go. It might be fun. If nothing else, it would be fun to watch some of the town gossips trip over themselves trying to get the scoop on what was happening out at the Anderson farm.
For that matter, she’d like to know what was going on out at the Anderson farm herself. Maggie chuckled and her step became lighter.
“So, your friend Templeton thinks I ought to come out of my hole, huh?”
Maggie glanced at Ed, who sat at the kitchen table while she started supper.
Running the palm of his hand over his head, he said, “I knew something like that was coming. Once you took me to the fair, people were bound to ask questions or figure on their own that one plus one makes two.”
“Do you mind?” Maggie quizzed, cutting up chunks of ham for a casserole.
“Not on my account. I don’t give a damn what people think of me. But I do care what they say about you.” Ed paused. “And what about Johnny and Carolyn? Will they get hassled at school?”
Maggie turned and leaned against the counter. “Don’t ever think,” she insisted, waving the knife, “that what we have had or may have in the future is something that bothers me. I would shout my love for you from the rooftop if I didn’t think it would scare you off.”
Ed’s cheeks flamed and Maggie grinned in response. She was done being angry with him—and with herself, for that matter. He might bring her more pain, but damn if she was going to run away from him or from her feelings. Subtlety and escape had never been her strong suit. He would just have to deal with her, one way or the other. “Don’t worry, I’m not about to climb the roof. Though it is a thought. Apparently the kids are handling whatever is coming down at school. Both of them confide in me when they’re having trouble.”
“I wonder how long that will last,” Ed quipped. “Aren’t teenagers supposed to be at odds with their parents? I thought that was part of growing up.”
“I’m sure they’ll have their moments. Carolyn is probably testing the limits as we speak. Won’t be long and it will be Johnny’s turn. Sometimes I wish they could stay just where they are and never grow up.”
“Some wishes aren’t possible. Peter Pan found that out.”
“Well, you old faker,” Maggie chided, returning to her work. “You know more about kids than you like to admit.”
“In case you forgot, I was one once.” Ed rose to begin setting the table. “I was close to an owner and his family for awhile back in Chicago. He had three of the cutest little girls you’d ever see. We all went to watch Peter Pan on stage. I guess it made a lasting impression.”
“Do you miss not having your own?”
Ed nearly dropped a plate. “Kids? Me? Nope. Doubt I’d be a very good father over the long haul. They’d want more than I have to offer.” He filled a couple water glasses. “I like other people’s kids, though, in small doses.”
Maggie turned to look directly at the man who was slowly healing physically. Would he ever heal emotionally? At least enough to recognize what he wanted and what he had before him. “Cassie Travers seems to think you do great with her kids. I heard them calling you uncle. And that little Eddie is going to think you’re real special as he grows up.”
“Maybe. He’s just a little thing now.”
“You seem to get along very well with my kids. Johnny worships you and Carolyn says you’re the greatest teacher.”
“That’s different,” Ed protested, looking away from Maggie. “They’re Johnny and Carolyn—my students, my helpers.”
The pride and pleasure in his voice as he spoke of her children reassured Maggie immensely. Ed Harrington might not realize it yet, but he was gradually becoming comfortable with his situation at the farm. She sensed that he was even becoming more at ease with her. While she didn’t want to be as comfortable as an old shoe or petted like a family dog, she welcomed this period of calm reconnecting without the tension of the chase. Would he ever be ready to pursue her, to love her?
The sudden spasm of heat shooting through her loins caused Maggie to gasp audibly. She saw Ed turn and look at her suspiciously. She sneezed, trying to cover up her response to those delicious images cascading through her mind of him pursuing her and them making love until overcome by exhaustion. Maggie turned and wiped the sink and counter.
At last, when she was more under control, Maggie asked, “So what about getting out into the community socially?”
- o -
Ed jarred himself from his own reverie. She’d been so quiet for so long it was difficult not to simply focus on her body. Maggie Anderson had to have the tightest little butt he’d ever had in his hands. Unwanted memories let him feel again her firmness and her electrifying response to his touch.
Shaking his head, he tried to refocus on her words. What the hell had she said? “Probably wouldn’t hurt much. Folks know I’m here. Templeton’s right. It’s harder to tell stories about someone you know—well, maybe not really a lot more difficult.”
“Yeah, they’ve known me all my life.”
Why did she have to look so pained? What did she expect when she invited a drunk into her life? “We both know small towns and rural communities, Maggie. I got away from one once. What I like about the big city is you can be anonymous.”
“But people die in the cities and no one shows up for their funerals.”
“True. There are advantages both ways, I expect. I do love the peacefulness of this place.” He closed his eyes, reconstructing the open fields, the canopied maple trees, and the refurbished paddocks. He hesitated. “I think getting out more might help the uneasiness that sometimes exists between the two of us. Maybe it’ll help being around other people. And it’ll give me an opportunity to develop my own impressions of your neighbors. After all, one or more of them aren’t behaving very neighborly toward you and your friends.”
“Okay, Dick Tracy,” Maggie said, looking amused, “by the time th
e Inaugural is run, you should be fairly well healed. We’ll start taking you out of your dog house and show you around a bit. The town holds a Fall Harvest Festival Dance. That should be fun. I love to dance.”
Ed scowled at her. Dance! She had to be insane.
“If any other female so much as breathes on you,” Maggie scolded, “I’ll chain you back on your leash.”
“I didn’t have dancing in mind when I thought about socializing. Besides, I don’t dance.”
“I bet you will by the time the Festival gets here,” Carolyn teased, strolling into the kitchen.
“Maggie,” Ed complained half heartedly, “how come your kids have ears like elephants until I want them to do something?”
“I don’t know. Somebody once said that’s the way teenagers grow up.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
On the following Wednesday, Maggie sat beside Cassie Travers in the pickup truck pulling a horse trailer down the Prairie Meadows shedrow. In the trailer rode Capote’s Dream, who would run in Sunday’s Inaugural Stakes.
Cassie turned toward their assigned barn. Maggie tried to take in everything around her. A groom bathed a high-strung bay. Other horses walked methodically in circles on hot walkers. Clumps of men and women gathered here and there huddled in discussion.
Maggie could hardly contain the excitement and the tension coursing through her body. “It’s hard to believe we finally have a horse running here. Thanks for bringing him all the way from Chicago,” she said, turning toward her companion. “I’m sure you could have found a race for him up there.”
Cassie shook her auburn curls vigorously. “We’ve been aiming Dream for this race since you bought him. It’s a very credible stakes race, and you need to become familiar with the operations at your home track.” Cassie directed a warm smile at Maggie. “Being here is a nice change for me; it’ll be good to get away from the pressure of the home circuit for a few days. Clint is picking the kids up from their grandmother this weekend. So where else would I rather be? This will be fun. I’m eager to show you around.”
After getting Capote’s Dream settled into his stall, Cassie guided Maggie through the stable and track area explaining what was happening and trying to prepare her for her first big race. “I always use the same groom when I run a horse here at Prairie Meadows. Juan can gentle a horse as well as anyone I’ve ever worked with.
“Saturday night, Jessica Wilder will arrive. She’s the jock I’ve told you about. She and Dream have a beautiful relationship. Jessica works him in the morning and has taken the time to get to know the animal. It’s one thing for a rider to hop on the back of a horse during the afternoon races; it’s another for her to exercise the horse during workouts and to develop an understanding for how the mount reacts to different race conditions. I wouldn’t trust anyone else to ride Dream in such an important race.”
“Will she join us back at the farm for Carolyn’s birthday party Sunday evening?”
Cassie grinned. “She’ll have to head back right after the race. Of course, we’ll be celebrating a victory as well as a birthday.”
“I wish I could be that confident.”
“Don’t worry. We all go through race jitters. Wait till the day of the race—you won’t be able to sit in one place for longer than a minute.”
Maggie couldn’t decide if Cassie’s words were comforting or simply added to her own anxiety. As they walked over the grounds, Cassie continued to impart useful information, but Maggie had difficulty concentrating and remembering.
The place pulsated an earthy, sensual allure. Smells of horse sweat, leather, hay, sour mash, rubbing alcohol, and manure blended into an aroma as scintillating as many essential oils. Occasionally, Maggie heard the echo of hammer meeting metal as farriers worked to protect the hooves of the high priced runners. And there was the low murmur of chatter coming from groups of trainers, grooms, and exercise riders plotting courses of action.
The backstretch area resembled a small town. Many of the grooms and some of the jockeys stayed in large dormitories. A sign over the café doorway promised good food at cheap prices. Over a thousand horses were stabled on shedrow during race season, requiring considerable coordination and cooperation among all who worked and lived on the grounds. And the area was restricted to licensed owners, trainers, and workers.
Maggie brushed a palm against the owner license ID suspended from her blouse pocket. This was her world now. A chill skittered up her spine. She belonged here, though that was still difficult to accept. Would she ever really belong?
“Horses going for their morning workout enter through that gate,” Cassie said, pointing to a small contingent of horses and riders making their way along a lengthy path leading from the barn area to the track. “We’ll give Dream a brief workout over the track Friday morning. Nothing too serious. I just want him to get a feel for the dirt surface under him. All tracks may look the same, but each is different, has its own character in terms of the mixture making up the dirt, sharpness of turns, and buildings and towers around the perimeter.”
“Do you think he really has a chance to win?” Maggie asked again as they retraced their steps toward the parking lot.
Cassie rolled her eyes skyward. “By the way, there’s the tack shop. You can get anything imaginable for a horse or rider in there. How many times are you going to ask that question? Yes, I think Capote’s Dream has a very legitimate shot at winning.
“Horses are coming in from around the country for this race. A hundred-fifty-thousand-dollar purse attracts owners and trainers who don’t use this track as their home base. But Dream will be competitive at this level. He’s already won some decent allowance races at Arlington.
Cassie waved to an acquaintance leaving the parking area. “If he wins here, we’ll probably leave him with you and Ed for the winter. Dream deserves some rest. We’ll start again in early spring, if you still want me to handle him for you.”
“Of course, I want you racing him where he’ll do his best. But,” Maggie insisted, grabbing Cassie’s arm bringing them both to a halt, “if we win here, I want you to start taking your ten percent trainer’s fee. It’s only fair. Our share of such a large purse would make my life secure, at least until another crop is planted.”
Chuckling, Cassie patted Maggie’s hand. “Okay, I know how important that is to you. But the word secure is not one usually associated with horse racing.”
“But you do all right.”
“Sure, but it’s the sale of breeding stock and promising young prospects that’s our base; any profit from racing is whipped cream on top.”
Apprehension suddenly overtook Maggie as they neared Cassie’s red pickup. “I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to do all the things you have to do at the track. Placing your horse in the right race to win seems to be a skill developed over long years of experience. And how do you decide to take the risk to drop your favorite horse into a claiming race where anybody with enough money can take him away from you?”
“Whoa, girl,” Cassie cautioned, climbing into the truck. “You don’t have to do it all at once. You have Ed to help. I don’t plan on dropping out of the picture. If you don’t want to do the track management piece of the business, you can work with the horses on your farm and then turn them over to other trainers. Or, hopefully, the ban on Ed will be lifted soon and then you’ll really be set up nicely.”
“Do you think that’s likely?” Maggie asked hesitantly. That’d be wonderful news for Ed—but what would prevent him from simply moving back to Chicago, with nothing resolved between the two of them? She instantly felt guilty for the selfish thought.
“One of Clint’s contacts is chasing down a new lead. Clint’s fairly optimistic. And he doesn’t usually lean toward optimism in these kinds of matters.”
“That would do so much for Ed,” Maggie said, brightening. “Sometimes he behaves like a free and easy spirit, and then he just clouds over, sinking back into his depression. You know then he’s remembering what he
had and how he lost it.”
As they drove back to the farm, Cassie returned to the topic of Ed Harrington. “You all looked like a real comfortable family last night. Ed seems to be fitting in quite well.”
Glancing at Cassie, Maggie tried not to blush. “You could say that, but he was on his best behavior last night.” She paused. “The kids adore him.”
“And you don’t.”
Maggie couldn’t hold back a chuckle. “I didn’t say that. Ed’s afraid of commitment. He doesn’t think he’s good enough for me. He thinks I deserve better. I think he’s a fool.”
“Wow. You just said a lot. If he lets you go, he’s a double fool in my book,” Cassie said, pulling around a slow driver. “Though men and women seldom move at the same pace in these matters. Guess there has to be a pursuer and a pursuee.”
“So which were you?” Maggie giggled.
“Oh, well, with us?” Cassie wrinkled her nose. “Clint was definitely the pursuer in the beginning. Then, I almost did too good of a job of getting away and I ended up having to chase him all the way to California to corral him.”
“I’ll bet he wasn’t hard to catch.”
“It had its moments,” Cassie whispered, giving Maggie an unhurried smile.
Maggie smiled. “I’ll guarantee you my man is not going to get away, no matter what he might be thinking. I’m not pursuing at the moment. I agreed to a truce—temporarily. But I’m scheming.”
“Ah, a woman after my own heart. Men may usually be stronger than us physically, but if we want ‘em, they don’t even come close to matching our cunning. I’m putting my money on you, girl.”
Maggie peered out at the track from a box seat in the clubhouse. The days leading up to the Inaugural had flown by too rapidly. She’d loved talking with Cassie about horses and men. They agreed that both had a number of things in common. While a horse was a gregarious animal typically found in herds, he was also a wanderer, resisting human notions of confinement. When the horse sensed imminent danger, he’d flee. And horses lacking in self-confidence were particularly prone to spook at the slightest provocation.
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