The Gift Horse

by Jami Davenport

  How had all this crap come to rest on his shoulders?

  Until two years ago, he’d never known failure. Not that he hadn’t feared it, and feared it with an intensity that would have paralyzed a weaker man.

  He’d been the golden boy, the perfect son. Everything he did, he did to impress his father and further prove that he deserved the trust his family placed in him. Every accomplishment, every dollar he’d made, every deal he’d brokered, he’d done for his father and his family.

  All his life, his parents held him up for his brothers to emulate. Not that they had emulated him. They’d resented him at times. At other times they’d been grateful that he shouldered the burden and left them to play and party.

  He was the oldest son, the heir to the throne, the man in control. He’d never questioned his future, never deviated from his family’s expectations, and never shirked his responsibilities. People said he was driven, too ambitious. He didn’t care as long as he never failed his father and his family. Then his world had tilted on its axis. His father wasn’t a part of his life anymore. He’d lost his best friend.

  He should’ve seen the writing on the wall back then. He recalled good old Dad’s reasons for inviting Carson’s baby brother back into the family fold. Jake would be the company’s heart and soul, while Carson was the brains and had the business savvy. Those words stung at the time and still did. How could Jake be the heart of that business when Carson had devoted his entire life to its success at the exclusion of all else?

  Before the heart attack, dear old Dad could’ve cared less if his company had a heart or a soul. Then the rules changed. Carson was transformed from a World Series contender to a basement dweller with one swift kick to the ass. And now, he’d just turned down his chance to get out of the minor leagues.

  His father had him right where he wanted him. Even worse, he was stuck with an expensive four-legged investment that would drain what remaining resources he had. Then there was the matter of that sassy horse trainer. Especially that horse trainer, the one his sister wanted fired.

  His life couldn’t get any more complicated or confusing.

  Chapter 5—The Guilt Trip

  “Julie! Stop! Right now!”

  Anger sizzled through Sam and burned so hot she smelled the acrid smoke and felt the heat from the flames. Any hotter and she’d spontaneously combust.

  The teenage brat yanked Poet to a halt in the center of the arena a few feet from Sam. The frustrated horse ground his teeth on the bit. If this kept up the poor animal wouldn’t have any teeth left.

  “This horse is being a jerk.”

  “No.” Sam forced calmness into her voice. “He is doing exactly what you’re asking him. You need to ask correctly; then he’ll give you what you want.”

  “I am,” Julie pouted.

  Sam wanted to yank the brat off the horse and strangle the selfishness out of her.

  “Okay, let’s try it again. Do a ten-meter circle at the end of the arena, and then ask him to leg yield down the long side. Keep your weight centered; don’t twist your body.”

  “I’m not!” Glaring defiantly at Sam, Julie muscled her horse into a trot. The sweet bay gelding complied, trying to please. She circled and trotted down the center of the arena.

  “Push him off your left leg, look to the right, and guide him over to the wall. Don’t drop your outside rein.” The teenager looked straight ahead and pulled the horse off-balance with her right rein, contorting his body in such a way that it was impossible for him to move sideways. Frustrated, Julie gave him a sound smack with the whip and jab with her spurs.

  Sam clenched her fists. “Straighten him! Stop using that whip! You need to ask him correctly. Don’t punish him for your mistakes.”

  And so the lesson went, the surly teenager argued with every word, and Sam bit her tongue. She longed to grab that whip and use it on her.

  Glancing to the side, she spotted Julie’s father, a prominent Seattle businessman leaning against the rail. He frowned at her admonishment of his darling daughter. He’d done a lot of frowning during this lesson.

  “Cool the horse out, Julie, and call it a day.” Sam had had quite enough, so had the poor animal.

  As she walked out of the arena, the father called her over. Even his expensive suit couldn’t disguise the sleaze factor of the man.

  “What kind of performance was that, Ms. MacIntyre?”

  “Excuse me?” Sam disliked this pompous man as much as his daughter, but she needed the money. His daughter took three lessons a week along with her sister. So wealthy it was obscene, their parents bought incredible horses for their children and spent countless dollars on shows, equipment, and training. Currently, Sam trained six horses that were owned by Julie’s parents or their friends. That put a lot of money in her pocket, money she desperately needed. Though, there were times when she wondered how much more she could take, money or not.

  “I don’t like your tone with my daughter. She’d better be ready for that show in two weeks. We’re expecting big things.”

  “Mr. Schrader, I assure you. She’ll be ready if she applies herself and stops blaming her horse for her mistakes.”

  “I paid enough money for that damn animal that it should be able to trot around that arena on its own. See to it that he does what she tells him to do.” Adam Schrader moved closer to her. Even his overpowering cologne couldn’t drown out the rank coffee smell on his breath. “So have you considered my offer?”

  Sam backed up a few steps. “I’m sorry, but the mare is sold.”

  “What? I told you I’d work something out with you.”

  “We had a serious offer.”

  “My offer was serious.” His little pig eyes narrowed.

  “The owner couldn’t afford to turn it down.”

  “You can’t afford to turn me down.”

  “I’m sorry, but you indicated you weren’t willing to pay her price.” The cheap bastard couldn’t have bought a plow horse for what he’d offered for Gabbie.

  “I offered Burke a fair price.”

  “She’s sold. I’ll be glad to find another horse.” Sam met his angry glare with a steady gaze, yet she trembled inside. The man wielded intimidation like a sinister sword.

  “I wanted that one, and you knew it. This is not good, Ms. MacIntyre. Without me, you’d be nothing. Don’t forget who’s given you an opportunity to ride some very nice horses. This is how you repay me?” He stamped his foot like a spoiled child and leaned closer.

  Sam leaned back, almost gagging over his rancid breath. “I’m sorry. I sold the horse to Joe Reynolds.” Someday, she’d build her business to the point where she never had to deal with the Schraders of this world.

  Schrader frowned, his anger turning to surprise. “Joe Reynolds bought that horse?”

  “Yes, he did.”

  “For his daughter?”

  “No, for his oldest son.”

  “Carson? Incredible.” Schrader shook his head. He rubbed his double chin as he took stock of this new development and what it might mean to him. Or more likely, how he could exploit it to his advantage.

  “Please understand I was in an uncompromising position. I didn’t have a choice.” Sam abhorred lying, but sometimes it served its purpose. She’d begged Harlee to help her find a buyer for Gabbie so Adam Schrader couldn’t buy her. She never dreamed that Harlee’s father-in-law would come through with the money.

  “You can’t afford to make me unhappy. So tell me, how are you going to rectify this?” The disgusting man smirked as he lounged against a stall door and lit a cigarette. Sam stared at him in disbelief. Smoking? In a barn? Her barn? Her Horses? Her mind zeroed in on the glowing red tip of that cigarette with the single-mindedness of a guided missile.

  “Put it out,” she warned through gritted teeth.

  He ignored her and made a show of inhaling then blowing smoke in her face. He tapped the cigarette on a nearby saddle rack, watching as ashes fell to the ground.

  Overwhelm
ing fear rippled through Sam, stripping her tenuous control and stealing her sanity. She stomped on the ashes as if they were a campfire blazing in the middle of the aisle. Small tremors rolled through her body. Her throat constricted as the despicable man swam in front of her blurry eyes.

  Oh, no. No. Not that. Control. Stay in control. She reached out blindly and gripped the side of a stall.

  “Overreacting, aren’t you?” Schrader grinned, a predator moving in for the feast. “I’ve heard you have an affinity for fire, especially when it pays big dividends.” He smirked and delivered the final blow. “Too bad about that little casualty.”

  Sam wrapped her fingers around a nearby manure fork and imagined it was Schrader’s neck. “Put. It. Out.”

  “When I’m ready.” Schrader eyed the manure fork, as if he thought she’d use it on him. She just might.

  “No! Put it out now!” she shrieked. Her voice cracked and revealed a weakness she never meant to expose, most of all to this man. Smoke drifted toward her. Her hands shook. She gasped for breath.

  Schrader raised one eyebrow. “Take it easy. I won’t burn your barn down. I’ll leave that up to you.”

  Shaking with rage, she raised her voice. It sounded shrill and on the edge. “You bastard. Put out that cigarette before I cram it up your—” She waved the manure fork in front of his face, brandishing it like a sword.

  “Adam, good to see you.” Carson snatched the manure fork from her hands and stepped between the two, effectively cutting off any further remarks.

  Sam fumed and stared at his broad back. Asshole. Jerk. How dare he interfere? This was her battle, not his. A small voice of reason reminded her who owned her dream horse. She slapped her errant conscience down and ignored it. Ranting was more satisfying.

  Sam pushed on Carson’s back, but she’d have better luck moving an old-growth fir with her bare hands. He was rooted to the spot. In fact, he infuriated her by ignoring her, but not before he cast a scathing warning over his shoulder. Even she wasn’t stupid enough to cross the invisible line he drew in the sand. She stood behind him, jaw clenched, her hands in tight fists, fingernails digging into her palms.

  “Adam, I need you to put out that cigarette. We can’t have smoking in the barn. You know what sticklers insurance companies are.” Carson leaned on the manure fork, a deceptively casual pose. He might sound friendly and unthreatening, but the hint of steel in his voice contradicted his harmlessness.

  Sam admitted to being a teensy bit impressed. Even so, she preferred a good butt-chewing over Carson’s brand of persuasion. She wanted to ream Schrader until he couldn’t sit down for weeks.

  “No problem, Carson. I didn’t realize it was an insurance issue.” Schrader glanced at Sam. “If I’m asked nicely, I’m more than happy to cooperate.”

  “Let’s step outside. You can finish your smoke out there.”

  “Good thing you came along. She was about to spear me with that fork. She’s rude and rough around the edges.” Schrader’s voice drifted back to her location in the barn aisle. “What was your brother thinking to hire someone like her?”

  “The old trainer left them in a bind. You know how irresponsible these horse people are.”

  “Do I ever.” Schrader looked pointedly at Sam. “I still can’t imagine what your brother was thinking.”

  “She appears to do an adequate job.”

  “She’d better do more than adequate with that attitude and reputation.”

  Carson said something Sam didn’t catch, but it made Schrader laugh. She wanted to throw something. Men. They were making fun of her, and she knew it.

  Several minutes later, Schrader and the princess brat tore down the driveway in his luxury car. Sam braced herself as Carson strode toward her. Lines of determination were etched on his handsome face.

  “You could be a little more tactful, Samantha.” His admonishing tone grated on her stretched-too-thin nerves.

  “I won’t tolerate smoking in the barn.”

  “Tolerate? Hell, you’d think the guy committed a felony.”

  She advanced on him, but he held his ground. “Maybe he did! What do you know? Have you ever seen the results of a barn fire? The horses...The smell...” A strangled sob escaped her lips, and she looked away.

  He sobered and had the good sense not to push her. “Can’t say I have.” His voice softened, as did his expression.

  “You don’t want to. It’d melt the coldest heart.” She swiped at a lone tear that slid down her cheek. “Hell, it’d even melt yours.”

  “Are you calling me a cold-hearted bastard?”

  “If the heart fits, freeze it.”

  Carson’s jaw grew rigid. His eyes blazed with anger. At least the man did have some emotions. “I’m not letting you bait me into an argument.”

  “What’s the matter, pretty boy? Afraid you’ll lose?”

  “No, I’m afraid I’ll reduce you to a pathetic, simpering pile of X chromosomes.”

  “Bullshit.”

  Carson shrugged. His calm demeanor clicked back in place. She didn’t like it. She wanted to shake up his world, make him scream or yell or do something that betrayed his humanity. “You’d be wise to control your smart mouth and temper around Schrader.”

  “Is that a threat or a warning?”

  “A suggestion. I know what he’s capable of.”

  “Mr. Schrader is a friend of yours?” It figured. Two peas in a pod. Of course they were friends.

  “Adam? Not really. Actually, I barely tolerate the guy, but I play the game. The man can be a formidable enemy. He could ruin you, Sam. You don’t want that.”

  “I can take care of myself. I have been for years.”

  “I doubt you’ve run across someone like him.”

  Sam snorted. “I can handle him. I don’t need your help.”

  Carson crossed his arms over his chest and shook his head. “I’m not offering my help. I’m offering advice. Schrader’s dishonest, ruthless, and pushes the legal limit. We pretend to be friendly, but I’m sure he likes me as well as I like him.”

  “Really? I’m impressed. Rich. Handsome. And a brain, too. Incredible.”

  “Why do I get the feeling that you’re mocking me?”

  “Because I am. Mr. Reynolds, I have work to do. Are you here for a purpose other than to harass me?”

  “I’m here to see my horse. What did you think?”

  “So much for an absentee owner,” Sam muttered under her breath. “I thought you were selling her?”

  “It would appear that I’m not. At least not in the near future.” He studied her with a shrewdness that made her swallow her next biting remark. “What is a horse like that worth?”

  “Right now?”

  “Does it make a difference whether it’s now or later?”

  “Yeah, it makes a big difference. Right now, she has a reputation as being difficult and inconsistent. I think I can earn her trust and make her into a competitor.”

  “How long will that take?”

  She was tempted to tell him it’d take years, but honesty was one of her flaws. “I think I can have her winning consistently by next year. By then she could easily be worth a quarter of a million or more. This horse has Olympic potential.”

  “You have until the end of the summer.”

  “What? I...”

  “This may not have been my idea, but I don’t do anything halfway, not even something I’m forced into.”

  “Now, why doesn’t that surprise me?”

  “I expect to see this horse performing up to my expectations. If it doesn’t, I’ll hold you responsible.”

  “This is a horse, not a motorcycle or a sports car. I’ll do the best I can, but there are limits.”

  “I’m certain there are. See to it that you don’t find those limits with this horse. My brother and sister-in-law put a lot of faith in your abilities. I’m not that gullible. I’m impressed by results.”

  She raised her arm in a mock salute. “Aye, aye, Captain.
”

  “Smart ass.”

  “Tight ass.”

  “Shouldn’t you be riding my investment rather than trading barbs with me?”

  “Oh, but this is so gratifying.”

  “It’d be more gratifying to see what I’m paying for. My brother filled me in on your training fees.”

  “What’s the matter? Will it make a dent in your small change?”

  “No, not even close.” He shot back.

  “Well, you’re a little late to see her ridden today. I’ve already finished with her. If you’d like to make an appointment for another day, I’ll be certain to accommodate your busy schedule.”

  She gave him credit for countering her every jab. They volleyed words back and forth like neither wanted to be the one who dropped the verbal volleyball.

  “I’ll be back at eight tomorrow morning to see my horse perform.” His icy tone left her frostbitten. The man was gorgeous when he was pissed. Her heart raced a few laps around the block and left her breathless.

  “Yes, sir.”

  He turned to leave.

  “And, Carson?”

  He paused in mid-stride and glanced over his shoulder. “Yes?”

  “You don’t have to check your smile at the door. There’s no penalty for enjoying yourself.”

  He grumbled something and left the barn. Sam broke into laughter. By the time she was finished with that man and his horse, she’d find a way to burrow under his cool professionalism and make him laugh. Not because his happiness mattered to her, but because he’d be more pleasant to deal with.

  For a man who didn’t give a darn about horses, he showed more than a casual interest. Of course, that shouldn’t surprise her.

  What had he said? He didn’t do anything halfway, even things forced on him.

  Chapter 6—The Big ‘If’

  Carson strode down the sidewalk at his normal brisk pace. No dawdling or wasting time. Bridget’s twin, Brad, the family comedian and charmer, accused him of never smelling the roses. Hell, he didn’t even like flowers, why would he take time to smell them?

  Resentment coursed through him, resentment toward his father, mother, hell, resentment at his entire family for putting him in this position. Carson: dependable, responsible, serious. Always expected to be perfect, never allowed to be himself, never able to follow his dreams, only the dreams others had for him.