Almost Home

by Barbara Freethy

  Sam jogged along behind him, stopping now and then to bark instructions at the exercise riders taking the other horses around the track.

  "Wait up, Zach," Sam said as they reached the first barn area.

  "I've got things to do," Zach complained, but still he stopped. He'd been following Sam's orders since he was sixteen years old, and even though their positions were now on equal footing, he still respected Sam enough to listen to whatever he had to say.

  "I want you to think seriously about getting Rogue to Churchill this weekend," Sam said again.

  "It's too early. He'll get stale."

  "What are you afraid of?"

  He hated to admit that he was afraid of anything, but he was. "Once Rogue gets to the track, everyone will be watching him, clocking him, gossiping about him. You heard the talk at Keeneland. Without that stumble at the gate, he would have won, and everyone knows it. They're itching for another look at him. At Churchill there will be distractions and new faces. I want Rogue quiet, rested, ready to go."

  "Rogue knocked around the barn in Florida and you almost had to scratch him. He stumbled at Keeneland because he didn't like the crowd or the gate. He's fidgety away from home. He didn't get settled in at Keeneland or at Gulfstream Park. The only times he's won were the times he got to the tracks early. Think about it."

  He didn't have to think about it. Sam was right. He was making excuses. Now that the Derby was so close, he was getting nervous, thinking maybe he wasn't ready yet -- maybe Rogue wasn't ready yet.

  "You used to think your horse couldn't lose," Sam said. "Then you saw that it could happen. Now you're not so confident, and neither is Rogue. That's why you're both skittish. The moment of truth is about to arrive, and you're not sure you're ready."

  "How the hell do you read my mind?"

  "Easy. I know you. I know how much you want to win this race."

  "The moment of truth," Zach echoed quietly. He was afraid to find out what was going to happen, afraid that he would fail. But this time was different. He'd searched for the right horse for years, and when he'd found Rogue, everything had come together, the perfect horse for the perfect dream finish at Churchill on the first Saturday in May.

  He could see it all in his mind -- Rogue taking the last turn, sprinting down the stretch, the Stanton colors of burgundy and gold a bright, dazzling glow of brilliance, and Rogue crossing the finish line, going into the winner's circle, the roses draped across his back.

  Zach knew it could happen. It had to happen. He'd invested every part of himself in Rogue, until he barely knew where the horse ended and he began. Sam had warned him not to let the Derby mean everything, but how it could mean less? It was the ultimate in horse racing, the most exciting two minutes in sports.

  Two minutes. That was all it would take to send him higher than a kite or crashing to the ground. Zach couldn't afford to make any mistakes, and every time he thought about the Derby, all of his insecurities came rushing to his mind.

  He'd thought once or twice in his life that he had a chance to make it, really make it, and each time he'd lost. What if it happened again? What if Rogue wasn't good enough? What if he wasn't good enough?

  "Rogue has what it takes." Sam read Zach's mind again with uncanny perception. "But he needs to know it. He needs to be around the other horses. He needs to feel the excitement leading up to the Derby."

  Zach looked over to the ring where one of the grooms was hot-walking Rogue to cool him down from his workout. Rogue was still antsy, high-stepping, tossing his head in the air. He was the kind of horse who had to make sure you always knew he was the boss.

  "You're right. Rogue needs to go to the track. I'll make arrangements to take him down on Sunday."

  "Good boy. Now, if only I could get you to believe in yourself."

  "I'm fine. You don't have to worry about me.”

  "Maybe you ought to give that sweet blonde a call. See how she's feeling. See if she needs some company."

  "I have work to do. Besides that, it's six o'clock in the morning. I don't think that city girl will be up before noon."

  "Now you're making excuses for yourself. Maybe Rogue could teach you a thing or two about confidence."

  "And maybe I could teach you to mind your own business," Zach called after Sam as the trainer headed back to the track. He had no intention of contacting Katherine Whitfield. He knew trouble when he saw it, and the last thing he needed was her kind of trouble. No, with any luck, she'd taken his advice and gone back to California, back to where she belonged, because it sure wasn't here.

  This was his world -- a world of barns and horses, big fat tomcats and early morning swallows, smells of ammonia, liniment, and manure. He loved the farm; he'd worked every job, from groom to exercise rider to trainer to farm manager. He'd been kicked a dozen times, thrown on his ass a few more, and still he loved the challenge of the horses, the purest breed, the most pampered, the most spoiled, and in his mind the most wonderful.

  The horses didn't lie. They were who they were. Some downright mean, some generous, some stupider than a fence post, some craftier than his old man. But he could talk to the horses. He could understand them. And they could understand him.

  He didn't need to mess up his simple life with a woman, at least not that woman.

  The sun began to break through the mist as dawn turned to day and Zach hurried to keep up with the never-ending chores. The next three hours would be the busiest ones of the day. And with a little more luck he could keep his mind on business and start thinking with his head instead of his...

  * * *

  Katherine woke up Thursday morning with a bruise on her forehead and a dent in her heart. Zach Tyler had taken a swing at her resolve. She told herself not to think about him or his unnerving prophecy that her father might not be the man she wanted him to be. Her mother wouldn't have gotten involved with a jerk.

  Her mother...

  She wished she could remember more about her. But over time the memories had dimmed. One thing remained clear. Her mother had never wanted to talk about her biological father. In fact, her mother's love life had always been kept away from her. Even when her mother had come to tell her she was marrying Mitchell, there had been little explanation. She'd simply said it was time for Katherine to have a father.

  She'd been thrilled. She'd always wanted a father, always wanted to be like everyone else. Never mind that Mitchell barely spent two minutes with her before the wedding ceremony; he was tall and strong and handsome and he lived in a big house and promised her a bed with a canopy. She hadn't thought much beyond that at the time. Then her life had come to a crashing halt nine months later, and she'd been left alone with a man who had no idea what to do with her.

  Their relationship had been awkward over the next year, each lost in grief and unable to reach out to the other. Then Cecily had come into Mitchell's life, taking him even further away from Katherine. Cecily and Mitchell had been a couple in love, interested in having a social life. The last thing they'd wanted to do was spend time with a child who didn't belong to either one of them.

  She didn't blame them for not loving her. She wasn't their daughter and yet they'd provided her with a good home, a good education, a good start in life. She'd always be grateful for their support. Her life could have been a whole lot worse.

  She needed to call Mitchell and tell him where she was. Sitting up, she reached for the phone. Mitchell answered on the third ring, his voice crisp and efficient.

  "Whitfield residence," he said.

  "It's me, Katherine."

  "Katherine. How are you?" His voice warmed ever so slightly.

  "I'm fine. How was your trip?"

  "Terrific. Fabulous weather, incredible food. We ran into the Smythes, too. Played some nasty games of poker with that William Smythe. I think he cheats."

  "You always say that."

  "It's true."

  For a moment she felt like she was back in her real life, listening to her stepfather talk abou
t his friends. And for that moment, she was tempted to pack it all in, to go home, to give up. Then her gaze drifted to the chest in the corner, and she sighed, knowing she could never resume that life until she knew more about the quilt and her mother.

  "Oh, Cecily says hello," Mitchell added, shouting something to his wife. "She said you should come by sometime and look at the pictures we took. She already had them developed."

  "That sounds good. I'd love to see them. But it will have to be in a few days."

  "Whenever. How are things at the office?"

  "Actually, I'm not at the office."

  "You're not?" He sounded mildly surprised. "Are you ill?"

  "No. I'm in Kentucky."

  "Good heavens! What are you doing there?"

  "It's a long story. When you were in Mexico, I went into the attic to get my scrapbooks. I started looking through the boxes up there and I discovered an old hope chest."

  "What does the chest have to do with Kentucky?"

  His casual reply caught her off guard. "You knew about the chest?" For some reason Katherine had thought her mother had hidden it away up there.

  "Of course I knew about it. I was the one who carried it up to the attic when your mother moved in with me."

  "Then it did belong to my mother?"

  "Yes. Why?"

  It was her mother's chest, her mementos, her memories.

  She felt suddenly energized and revived. Although she'd believed the chest belonged to her mother, there had been a tiny doubt in her mind and a fear that she'd come to Kentucky for nothing. "Did Mom ever show you what was in the chest?"

  "I never asked."

  "She never told you about Kentucky or..." Katherine hesitated, not sure she should continue.

  "Or what?"

  "My real father?"

  He didn't answer for a moment. "Your real father, huh?"

  "Yes." Katherine drew a nervous pattern on the top of her leg.

  "I told you before that I don't know anything about your father."

  "I just wondered if you'd forgotten anything, if maybe the chest reminded you of some lost conversation."

  "I don't think so. Hang on a second."

  She waited as she heard him answering the cook's questions about dinner. She wondered how he could stop and calmly discuss broccoli versus peas when she'd just told him she was in Kentucky looking for her real father. But then, she and Mitchell had rarely found the same topics of interest.

  "All right. What did you say?" Mitchell asked, returning to their conversation.

  "I said I came to Kentucky to see if I could find my biological father." She paused. "I hope this doesn't upset you, my looking for him."

  "Why should it?"

  "Well, it doesn't mean I care any less about you.”

  "Of course it doesn't."

  Mitchell was being so reasonable, so objective, so dispassionate, Katherine wanted to scream. She knew it didn't make sense, but part of her wanted him to care, to be angry, to feel jealous of her search, because that would mean he wanted her affection, her love, her loyalty.

  "Have you found him yet?" Mitchell asked.

  "Not yet."

  "What about your job?"

  "I'm taking a few days off."

  "Well, take all the time you need. One of the benefits of knowing the boss."

  Knowing the boss, not being the boss's daughter. Somehow there'd always been a distinction. "Thanks."

  "Just a minute," Mitchell said again.

  She waited as he once again conversed with someone, Cecily perhaps, as they seemed to be discussing weekend plans, golfing and tennis -- or was it tennis and golfing?

  "I have to go, Katherine," Mitchell said abruptly. "Call us in a few days, won't you?"

  "Sure. You know I love--” Her voice was cut off by the dial tone. "Love you," she finished, hanging up the phone. It had always been this way, her needing their love far more than they'd ever needed hers. Well, no matter. Talking to Mitchell only made her more determined to find her real father. Someone who couldn't possibly ignore her...

  Chapter Five

  He was being a fool, Zach told himself as he parked his truck across the street from the Paradise Inn. He'd finished his business at the hardware store, and it was almost one, past time to be getting back to the farm, but instead he was checking up on Katherine. He told himself that he just wanted to make sure she wasn't suffering any side effects from yesterday's accident, but that was just an excuse. He wanted to see her again. He wanted to find out if she'd made any progress in her search for her father. He wanted... hell, he wanted everything he shouldn't want.

  As he walked toward the hotel, he prayed she was already gone. Then she'd be out of his sight, off of his mind, and a good, safe distance away.

  A statuesque redhead dressed in a gray trench coat that seemed completely out of place on a warm April afternoon came out the front door of the hotel and paused to take her sunglasses out of her purse. When she saw him, she sent him a saucy look.

  "Well, hello there, Mr. Tyler. How nice to see you," she drawled.

  Leeanne Brooks Callaway had grown up in Paradise; one of four children born to Bernadine and Benjamin Brooks, owners of the third largest stud farm in the area. Leeanne's three brothers ran the stud farm now and were intensely competitive. Usually they were their own worst enemy, fighting amongst themselves instead of fighting the other farms for business. Leeanne often stopped by the big house to see Claire and Harry. Claire treated Leeanne like a daughter and had told Zach that the redhead's wild side was a cover for insecurity. He didn't believe that for a second. He knew wild when he saw it, and right now he was looking at it.

  Leeanne was married to Jimmy Callaway, president of the First American Bank. She had three grown children, lots of money, social standing, a good family background, and a beautiful house. But she was itching for something, and Zach didn't intend to scratch that itch.

  "Mrs. Callaway." He tipped his head in greeting. "What brings you to Paradise this morning?”

  "Business."

  "At the hotel? That sounds like funny business to me.”

  She sent him a wickedly inviting smile. "My favorite kind."

  "You? I'm shocked."

  "You'd be surprised what goes through my head sometimes."

  "I'm sure I would be."

  She tilted her head to one side. "I suspect you're visiting that lovely little blonde up on the third floor. Maggie Harper told me Miss Whitfield has been holed up in there since J.T. threw his drink at her last night. I must admit I'm dying to meet her. I heard she ran into you yesterday afternoon. Seems like she's stirring up all the men around here."

  Leeanne Callaway didn't know the half of it. "I wouldn't know about that," Zach said. "You have a nice day."

  "I bet it won't be as nice as yours," she said as he moved past her. "You be careful now, Mr. Tyler. You know what happened the last time you went visiting a beautiful blonde."

  He opened the front door of the hotel and shut it quickly behind him. The last thing he needed was a reminder that Katherine was probably not all that different from Crystal. They both came from money and from the big city. They were both blond, restless, and looking for something in Paradise that probably didn't exist outside their imaginations.

  He didn't intend to let himself get sucked in again. He had a plan, and he'd stick to it. He didn't need a woman in his life. He could get sex when he wanted it. And he didn't care about companionship, affection, love and faith, and all that nonsense. He didn't need to sleep with his arms wrapped around someone or listen to her breathing through the dark of the night. He didn't need a woman to rub his shoulders when he was tired or express sympathy with a smile. Because the smile could turn at any second. The hands could stop. The love could end. And having it and losing it was far worse than never having it.

  He walked up to the front desk. Maggie Harper looked up from her computer.

  "Mr. Tyler," she said in a voice that mixed awe with dislike. "What are y
ou doing here?"

  She acted like he was about to rob her. "Ring Miss Whitfield's room for me, would you?"

  "Oh, I don't know. Miss Whitfield said she didn't want to be disturbed."

  "Just call her.”

  Maggie reluctantly reached for the phone on the desk. Before she could dial, Katherine's voice rang across the lobby.

  "Zach?"

  He turned his head, sucking in a breath as she stepped off the elevator. He'd thought she was pretty yesterday, but today she was awesome. When she walked across the lobby, everything went from black and white to vibrant, beautiful color. Wearing a short red and black floral skirt that showed off long, slender, tanned legs and feet encased in strappy high-heeled sandals, she looked like the typical California girl. Her knit top clung to her full breasts, and her blond hair fell loosely about her shoulders.

  He wanted her.

  The realization almost knocked him off his feet. He couldn't rationalize it away. It was all he could do not to reach for her, not to cup her sweet face and kiss those soft lips and pull her down to the floor and...

  He felt a rush of heat sweep through him. So much for not wanting a woman.

  "Zach," she said again, a curious but wary gleam in her eyes. "Were you looking for me? I'm just on my way out." She moved quickly to the front door, as if she didn't want to hear his answer in front of Maggie's questioning gaze, which was fine with him.

  He followed her onto the front porch where she slipped on a pair of sunglasses to protect her eyes from the bright sunlight.

  "That's better," she said. "So, did you come to check up on me or try to convince me to leave town again?"

  "Maybe both. Where are you headed this morning?"

  "Golden's."

  "Ah -- returning to the scene of the crime."

  "Hardly a crime, and I never really saw the place." She checked her watch. "Since it's just after one, I'm hoping there won't be any fights in progress."