Dark Horse: Bad Boy Cowboy Romance

by Westlake, Samantha

  The next few seconds would determine whether I left the track today with my head held high, basking in the praise from the rest of the high ladies and gentlemen in attendance here today, or if I'd have to slink out through the back, hoping that I could avoid most of the commiseration. If I lost, I knew that most of the ladies and gentlemen would offer their apologies to me, but I would simply have to stand and listen and take it all, without any way to truly make myself feel any better.

  Come on, Merlot, I hissed to myself. You can do this! Just one last, powerful, all-out run to the finish line, and then you can go home and run around in the fields behind my farmhouse as much as you want! A million sugar cubes!

  The announcer fell silent. For just a moment, a hush fell over the entire stadium as probably close to a thousand Virginia Derby attendees leaned forward, many of them clutching the tickets that marked their wagers.

  The man standing down above the track lifted the starter pistol higher up in the air - and pulled the trigger.

  The bang of the pistol echoed across the Derby arena in unison with the clang as the gates blocking the horses into their pens dropped.

  And then, with a roar that rebounded back from the throats of every spectator in the crowds, the horses surged forward, out of the gate and barreling down the track.

  This was it. I was barely aware that I was shouting, that I kept on bouncing up and down on my toes, cheering loudly for Merlot.

  Come on! This is it!

  Chapter five

  I cheered wildly, loudly, as the horses came pounding out of the gate, their hooves throwing up little clouds of dirt and dust as they charged forward down the first stretch, heading for the first turn.

  And sure enough, I saw my own horse, Merlot, come pulling out into the front of the pack! With his burgundy coloring that matched his namesake, he was impossible to miss. He looked strong and sure, charging up near the front of the pack.

  The pack of horses reached the first turn. For a moment, I almost cursed at the jockey as he didn't quite take the curve on the inside - but then I saw him use Merlot's speed to pull around some of the inner horses as they became tangled up trying to not collide with each other, and I cheered once again.

  Across the back stretch, Merlot galloped second from the lead! By this point, the horses were starting to stretch out a bit, putting some space between themselves and their competitors, and Merlot solidified his position in second place. I had to remind myself to keep on breathing, barely aware that I was holding my breath in as I watched.

  The second turn. Once again, the jockey led Merlot out a little wider - but barely halfway around the turn, he whipped the reins and spurred Merlot on to greater speed.

  I knew the maneuver. The jockey still had his eyes on first place, and he was looking to put on more speed to overtake! It was a risky move - as he pulled into that last turn before the straightaway, the other horses would have a chance to pass on the inside. The jockey had to rely on getting enough speed, along with an open path, to surge past the others at the last second.

  Sure enough, the other horses passed by Merlot. I saw my own horse toss his head at the sight of the others passing by, and I grinned broadly to myself. Knowing Merlot's spirit, there's no way he wouldn't want to pass his competition!

  And then, as the horses thundered into the straight final section of the track, he started to accelerate.

  At that straight stretch, he started off near the back - but he quickly passed the back horses, still building up speed. I could feel my mouth open, but I couldn't hear any of the cheering coming out of my mouth.

  Faster, faster! He climbed up to fourth place, closing in on where the second and third place riders were neck and neck, fighting for position. He was going to do it!

  But then, I saw the third place jockey glance back over his shoulder at Merlot - and then pull his horse over to the side to block Merlot's advance!

  I gasped, falling back down onto the balls of my feet. The third place jockey, apparently deciding that he couldn't pass the second place horse, had decided to block Merlot so that he wouldn't drop down to fourth place! The move was pure dirty racing, but it wasn't forbidden in the rules.

  Merlot searched for a way to get past the rider and horse directly in front of him, but there just wasn't enough time or track left. The horses thundered over the finish line, and I dropped my hands, groaning in dismay.

  Merlot finished in fourth place.

  It wasn't good enough to place.

  For a moment, although I was certain that there was chatter and commentary coming from all of the high society members around me, I couldn't hear a single thing. Instead, a high-pitched ringing filled my ears as I turned away from the glass windows.

  I felt Dahlia's hand pat me on the shoulder. I knew that the gesture was intended to be comforting, but I couldn't feel anything but shame and embarrassment. I knew that my cheeks were flushing red, but I couldn't control my own reactions.

  Fortunately, and it was a small comfort indeed, Marsden must have managed to correctly read my emotions. The man immediately threw his arm around me and turned, heading towards the door that led out of the VIP area. As the ringing slowly faded from my ears, I heard a couple of onlookers call out to me, presumably to offer some sort of condolences for my loss in the Derby, but Marsden just flapped one hand back at them as he kept me moving forward.

  At the entrance to the box, however, Marsden stopped, letting go of me and instead placing his hands on my shoulders. "There you go," he said, not unkindly, as he peered down at me from his height. "Now, why don't you go find the restroom and get yourself cleaned up?"

  Maybe he hadn't managed to correctly read my emotions. "What?" I asked, blinking as tears threatened to well up in the corners of my eyes.

  Marsden gestured at my flushed face and puffy eyes. "You know, put some makeup on this or something. Take a few minutes to cry, or whatever. I thought you wouldn't want to be seen in public like this."

  "Marsden, my horse just lost," I said in disbelief. "I'm not interested in talking to anyone, right now!"

  "What?" The man looked utterly confused. "But Jillian, these are our peers. Many of them might even be at our wedding. We need to make a good show for them-"

  "Excuse me? Might be at our wedding?" I burst out. "Marsden, what would you know? Since we got engaged, you haven't said a single thing about our wedding! As far as I know, you've left it all up to me!"

  I was distinctly aware of other people near us doing their best to listen in without making it obvious that they were doing so, but I couldn't keep my voice down. All of the sorrow still weighed heavily in my breast, but now some of it was twisting into red-hot little wisps of anger, curling up to steam out the top of my head.

  Across from me, of course, Marsden had no idea what was going on. Once again. "Jillian, of course I'm going to provide a guest list for my side-"

  "And I'm going to do everything else, I see!" I shouted. "You know what, Marsden? You can go rub shoulders with all of your friends here - but you can do it alone! I'm going down to get my horse, and then I'm taking him home!"

  My fiancé blinked, his eyebrows furrowing. "Okay. Should I come by and bring you some food-"

  "No! And you know what? When I'm ready to talk to you again, I'll let you know! Until then, I don't want you to even show up at my place!"

  I could feel tears actively streaming down my face, now, as I shouted, but I couldn't cut them off. Instead, furiously blinking in a futile attempt to hold them back, I turned and stormed out of the VIP box, heading for the stairs that led down to the track. My makeup was surely a runny mess on my face, and I could feel my cute little hat and dress both sitting askew on me as I stormed off, but I couldn't bring myself to care.

  I just needed to get away, get out of this confined place with all the people and noise and sympathetic faces, I knew. I had to get back home, back to my farmhouse, back to where I knew that, aside from Merlot, there was no one else around for miles.

/>   A ride, I thought wildly to myself as I hurried down the stairs. That was what I needed. A nice, long ride out in the country, along the trails on my family's property, to give myself a chance to clear my thoughts. Maybe the fresh air would help me sort through all of the bundled-up emotions raging inside my head.

  I made it down to the backstage area and had Merlot climbing up into the trailer when I heard my name called out from behind me. "Gilly! Gilly, wait!"

  I turned and looked back at Dahlia Remont as she skidded to a stop. She glanced down at the straw beneath her feet, not providing any traction for her delicate little shoes, but she didn't remark on it. Instead, she kept her eyes up on me. "Gilly, what are you doing?" she called out, looking up at me.

  "What's it look like?" I gestured to Merlot, halfway up the ramp into my trailer and glancing curiously back at the two of us. "I'm getting out of here before I have to deal with accepting a bunch of fake apologies and condolences from all the other people up there. I just can't stand it!"

  After a second Dahlia nodded. "Yeah, they can be pretty bothersome and shallow," she agreed, waving one hand and letting me resume putting away my horse. "But Gilly, are you going to be okay?"

  I looked curiously at her as I stepped out of the trailer, closing the doors on Merlot. "What do you mean?"

  "I mean..." Dahlia shrugged helplessly. "You lost, and then went storming out with Marsden, and then yelled at him and told him to basically get lost. Are you okay to go home on your own? Do you want me to come with you, maybe spend the night? We could get drunk and have a fire, roast marshmallows, eat ice cream and watch stupid movies?"

  The thought made me smile, but I shook my head. Instead, I stepped forward and threw my arms around Dahlia, pulling her in close against me.

  "You're a good friend, Dolly," I whispered to her as I hugged her. "But I think that I just need some alone time. I'll be all right - I promise - but I need to work through losing the race on my own."

  "Well, if you change your mind, I'm just a phone call away," my best friend promised me as she and I separated, but at least the worried look had left her face. "Be safe, okay Gilly?"

  "I will, Dolly," I promised back.

  And then, once I had double-checked the locks on Merlot's horse trailer, I climbed into the attached truck and headed back to my house.

  Chapter six

  As soon as I pulled up the driveway to the old country farmhouse that I called home, I backed the trailer up to the pasture and opened up the back doors. Merlot wasted no time at emerging out from the metal wheeled enclosure, tossing his head with irritation at being penned up but perking up his ears at the sight of his familiar pasture.

  "Go on, stretch your legs," I told him as I unfastened the harness from him so that he was no longer encumbered. "I'll call you in for some dinner, and then we'll go out for an evening trot before you turn in, to keep your muscles limber."

  Of course, the horse didn't understand a word I said, but from the way he neighed at me and tossed his head and mane back and forth, I could almost pretend that he did. Once his bridle and harness was off, of course, he immediately went trotting out into the grass, occasionally bending down to grab a bite before moving on.

  I carried the bridle and tack over to the nearby barn, connected to the pasture by the long stretch of fence that I carefully maintained. I unlocked the barn door, slid it back, and then stepped through to unlock the doors on the inside of the pen so that, if he chose to do so, Merlot could come inside.

  I pulled down some fresh hay from the upper level of the barn, grabbing the pitchfork that I kept nearby to shovel it down. I added some oats and barley as well, a treat for him. Even if he hadn't won at the Derby today, I knew that my horse wasn't to blame. He'd run his hardest - he had just been edged out by a dishonest maneuver from the jockey on the beast in front of him.

  When I descended down from the ladder, Merlot was there, nudging at me with his nose as I climbed down. "Sorry, no apples or carrots for you right now," I apologized to him, patting him on the nose as he bumped up against me. "Maybe when I come out to take you for a ride, I'll bring you something."

  He seemed content to whicker at me, blowing out his lips, as I headed back out of the barn and up to the farmhouse.

  Inside, I immediately stripped out of my fancy dress, dropping it into a pile on the ground. There was already a pile of other clothing down on the floor, and I made a vague mental note to clean up at some point in the future when I wasn't feeling so depressed and frustrated.

  Flopping down onto my bed, still dressed in little more than my underwear, I let out a sound of pure annoyance into my pillow, sounding somewhere between a grunt and a sheep's bleat. I knew that this downturn wasn't my fault, but I still felt so upset about it!

  And, one annoyance piling on top of another, I counted up all the issues that currently weighed on my mind. Merlot's loss was bad on its own, but did Marsden really have to be such a boor about it? I did my best to care about his family's cattle work, listening and nodding whenever he blathered on over one of the deals that he'd just struck. Couldn't he at least pretend to show some interest in my activities?

  And now, with the wedding coming up at some future, to-be-determined date, he wasn't even pretending to care about helping out with the planning! As far as he looked at it, his job had ended the moment I accepted his ring.

  Which meant that I had to deal with all the wedding planning - and although I'm sure he's not going to help out with the plans, he'll certainly not hold back on complaining if he doesn't agree with one of the choices I make.

  I groaned again, punching my pillow a couple of times for good measure. Yes, I did love the man, but there were times when I really questioned my own judgment! Couldn't I have picked a man who thought about things, even a little bit?

  Sitting up a little, I pulled my left hand out from under the pillow, tilting it so I could see the ring that still sparkled and glinted on my finger. It really was a nice ring, I had to admit. It was big and flashy without becoming ostentatious. I'd had to get it resized, of course - Marsden apparently hadn't even realized that fingers came in different sizes - but it still looked wonderful on my finger.

  I gave myself another minute of sulking time, but then pulled myself up from the bed with a grunt of effort. Enough time moping, I told myself. Time to actually make myself useful, do something productive.

  Looking out through my second floor bedroom window, I could see the sun descending down towards the horizon, lighting up the sky in brilliant greens and yellows. I estimated that I still had about an hour and a half of daylight before the sun dropped below the horizon - enough time for a ride, if I ate quickly.

  I pulled on some jeans and a cotton shirt, keeping my clothes loose so that I could catch a breeze while out riding, and then headed back downstairs to put some food in my nearly empty stomach. At the Derby, the waiters always insisted on serving little delicacies with the champagne, but those single bites never managed to do anything more than take the edge off of my hunger. And the champagne on a nearly empty stomach never helped matters.

  Opening my fridge, I grimaced at the lack of selection. Aside from one jar of peanut butter and another of jelly, I didn't have much that looked edible. I poked at a few stalks of limp, flaccid celery, but decided not to risk touching it.

  Instead, I grabbed the peanut butter and jelly jars, along with a handful of carrots. I pulled a loaf of bread off the counter and obtained a butter knife from one of the drawers nearby. I'd eaten so many peanut butter and jelly sandwiches over the years that the process of preparing the sandwich became nearly automatic.

  I chewed on the sandwich automatically as I considered what I had to do over the next week. I'd still receive calls full of condolences, I knew, and I'd have to field those. I'd need to come up with some sort of statement, something about how I was disappointed, but would work even harder to see my horse place next year. Something I could repeat over and over to all these callers without the wor
ds souring too much in my mouth.

  Meanwhile, there was never any shortage of work to do around my house. I'd noticed the kitchen faucet dripping recently; surely, plumbing couldn't be too hard to learn, right?

  As well, I needed to make my weekly check of the fences that enclosed my pasture. I had to check the stocks of hay in the barn, make sure I didn't need to order more for Merlot. I also remembered that I had a couple of riding lessons scheduled during the week; the tutoring didn't bring in much, but given my lack of family riches, I could use even the meager paycheck. And I did enjoy helping the young women (and the occasional young man) learn how to handle their horses, how to ride with ease and skill.

  Once my sandwich was gone, I swept up the last few carrots into my hand and headed out to the barn. Merlot had left the barn, probably gallivanting off somewhere in the pasture, but I slipped two fingers into my mouth and blew out a sharp whistle.

  By the time I had the saddle and tack lifted down from their hooks, my horse had arrived, whinnying and butting his head up against my hand as he caught the smell of the carrots. I gave him one to snack on, and then tossed the riding blanket and saddle onto his back once he was distracted with chewing.

  It didn't take more than a few seconds to saddle the horse up, cinching the belt tight around his waist and making sure that the halter fit snugly on his head. I gave him the second carrot to eat, and then grabbed the pommel of the saddle and hauled myself up astride him with a single swift motion.

  "Let's go for a little ride, Merlot," I suggested, patting the animal on the flank as I turned him towards the barn's open doors. Merlot gave a little whicker of agreement and walked out of the barn.

  Outside, I glanced up at the sky, noting an oncoming wave of clouds with slight unease. That looked like some bad weather, probably hitting later this evening. But I already had Merlot all saddled up and ready to go; no reason to postpone the ride because of a little rain! I'd ridden in worse conditions before.