Kentucky Flame

by Jan Scarbrough

  A sudden gnawing in her stomach made Mel nauseous. Something was wrong. Pop had always been careful to keep his barn clean. Even in hot weather, properly stored hay didn’t ignite.

  “What about Royalty’s Reverie?” Mel asked, breaking the silence. She was afraid to hear the answer. The horse was a two-time World Grand Champion and the farm’s breeding stallion.

  “Yes, what about Reverie?” Jake aimed a hard look at the small groom. “He’s out in the far pasture, isn’t he?”

  Dave scuffed the toe of his boot in the gravel. “I put him in the barn this morning. The farrier was coming out after lunch.”

  “Did we get him out?”

  “I don’t think so, but I’m not sure.”

  “Damn! Was he in there?” Jake pivoted and darted toward the barn.

  “What’s he going to do? Raise the horse from ashes?”

  Mel heard the guilt and anger in Dave’s voice. “Don’t blame yourself.”

  It wasn’t Dave’s fault. No one was to blame. Yet a cold, dead feeling settled around Mel’s heart. How would her father take the news? The old stallion had been like Pop’s son. How would Jake cope with the loss of so many show horses and the famous stud so soon after taking charge? How would this tragedy affect Cory?

  Mel watched as two firemen wrestled Jake away from the smoking remains of the building, shoving him hard against the paddock fence.

  “Fool youngster. There’s nothing left in there.” Dave muttered beneath his breath as he left Mel’s side.

  But it was so like Jake. Impulsive. Headstrong. There was an animal quality about him. Like a young stallion fighting against the bit and determined to have his way, Jake had become a man who controlled his own fate. Mel had welcomed the raw sexual power she felt radiating from him as he stood beside her only minutes earlier. What she resented was her reaction to his maleness. The fact that it wasn’t over.

  Mel shivered and turned her back on the ravaged barn. Fate had taken charge of his life, all their lives. Fate had destroyed something fine and beautiful—Reverie, the legacy that was Royalty Farm. Her morbid thoughts obscured her vision. Or was it the tears pooling in her eyes?

  Why did Mel have the uncomfortable feeling that destiny had for some cruel reason thrown her and Jake Hendricks together again?

  Chapter Two

  Had destiny brought Mel back to Royalty Farm?

  Jake gazed out the library window toward the smoking shell that yesterday had been the farm’s training barn. His mouth tasted like ashes and his head pounded. The fierce summer heat shining through the window pummeled his skin. Numb and exhausted, he shut his eyes against the sight. When he opened them, the barn was still a burned out skeleton smoldering in the distance.

  Mel. He hadn’t recognized her yesterday. If he had, he would never have ordered her back into that burning barn. In the fleeting glance he’d given her, with the baseball cap obscuring her hair and eyes, he’d thought she was another groom.

  Later seeing her near the burning barn, her face covered with soot and smudged with tears, guilt and shock had punched his gut. What if she’d been hurt? He would never have forgiven himself.

  Why had she come home? Because she was divorced? Interesting. It must have happened recently, because he didn’t know about it when he’d given up a good job in San Diego and taken the job here. Training at Royalty Farm had been his lifelong dream. He’d never thought of any place else as home.

  Destiny hadn’t brought Mel and him together again. It was Pop O’Shea.

  Vanessa Noble came up behind him, jerking him out of his daze. “How many horses did you say, Jake?”

  He directed a wary look at his boss. “Eight. Reverie was one of them.”

  Vanessa’s green eyes narrowed. The lines of her angular face stretched tight and her thin lips pursed with worry. She flicked a black strand of hair from her catlike eyes. “I’m glad my father isn’t alive to see this.”

  Shifting uneasily, Jake raked his fingers through his hair. “We did what we could.”

  “I know. I’m not blaming you.” Vanessa shook her head. “Excuse me, will you? I need to call the sheriff before Mel and Pop get here. I’ll do it from the living room.”

  Vanessa might not blame him, Jake mused as she left the room, but he blamed himself. Surely, he could have done something more. All through a sleepless night he had relived the nightmare of the fire—the screams of frantic men and dying horses, the horrible stench of burning flesh. He had experienced over and over the nausea and numbness of destruction.

  Turning away from the window, Jake paced the confines of the library. This was still Bert Noble’s room. It reflected his masculine presence even though the man had been dead for two years. His eldest daughter hadn’t changed a thing.

  Oversized, brown leather chairs dominated the decor, along with a massive walnut desk. Bookshelves, crammed with tarnished silver trophies and books on Saddlebred horse breeding lined two walls. Above the fireplace mantel hung an oil painting of Royalty’s Reverie with a younger Pop O’Shea in the saddle. Horse and rider were making a victory pass at the World’s Grand Championship at the Kentucky State Fair. The stallion’s eyes shown with the look of eagles as he proudly wore the winning tri-colored ribbon in his brow band.

  Jake gazed raptly at the painting. The horse had been the prime example of an American Saddlebred. “Kentucky Saddlers,” pioneers had called them. These splendid animals had helped settle the frontier. They had carried Southern soldiers into battle during the Civil War. Today they were show horses and pleasure horses.

  Jake loved the breed as much as he loved Mel.

  The errant thought drew him up sharply. He frowned and forced himself to focus on the picture. Reverie had been a once-in-a-lifetime show horse, but now the old Saddlebred was dead. Shifting his weight, Jake stuck his hands into his pockets. It didn’t seem possible.

  “Hello again, Jake.”

  Jake turned and his response died on his lips. Mel had paused at the threshold as if she was afraid to enter with him standing there alone. Something tightened in his chest. He gritted his teeth. She didn’t look like a boy now. She was beautiful. More beautiful than he remembered.

  In the shafts of late morning light flooding from the picture window, her cascade of dark auburn hair gleamed with red highlights, creating a dramatic frame for her fair oval face. Her amber eyes sparkled under curling black lashes. Caution was written in her expression, and as she tilted her chin upward, a look of wariness shadowed her eyes. She was petite and dainty still, with an air of quiet dignity and reserve about her. Wearing her Kentucky jodhpurs as if she had been born in them, she seemed molded inside the gray riding pants that clung to her hips and knees, tapering down her legs, and flaring around black, ankle-length riding boots like sixties bell-bottoms.

  For a moment, tension shimmered between them.

  Mel drew herself up, tossed her hair out of her eyes and walked into the room with an air of confidence

  Jake extended his hand to greet her. This was silly. He was acting as if they had never meant anything to each other, never been sweethearts. Realizing his palm was damp, Jake wiped it on the leg of his jodhpurs before he again put out his hand.

  Mel’s eyes were unreadable. He felt as uncomfortable as a green colt at his first show. Their gazes connected just as their fingers touched.

  The palm of her right hand was covered with a white bandage.

  “Mel? I thought your hands were okay.” He turned her palm over.

  Jake heard her intake of breath and felt her hand tremble in his.

  “They’re fine,” she said, “but Pop wanted to bandage them.”

  Mel gingerly pulled her hand from Jake’s grasp and walked away from him.

  “I’m surprised to see you back in Kentucky. I assumed you liked California,” she said with a trace of sarcasm in her voice. Something akin to anger flicker into her eyes.

  Yes, that old battle was still going on between them. Not that he was surprised. A
fter all, he’d broken their engagement and left Kentucky for a job in California. But that was ten years ago.

  “I couldn’t pass up this opportunity,” he replied. “I said I’d be back someday.” He met her challenge with a smile.

  She turned abruptly and crossed to an empty chair. “Pop should be along in a minute.”

  Seating herself, she crossed her right leg over her knee. The tip of her booted foot jutted from beneath her jodhpurs, and she raised her eyes to glare at him from beneath her black lashes.

  He’d been right not to marry her, he thought. Although they had never communicated since his move to California ten years, Jake knew about Mel’s four-year equestrian degree from William Woods College in Missouri. He’d read about her career many times in the various horse show publications, and her fine wins at the big shows in Kansas City and Louisville.

  “Jake!” Pop shuffled into the library, breaking the uneasy silence.

  “Pop.” Jake stepped forward, hand outstretched. The old man’s fingers gripped his like the talons of a great bird.

  “I’m glad you’re here,” the old trainer said.

  Jake was touched. “I’m sorry I couldn’t do more yesterday.”

  Pop settled down in one of the chairs facing Vanessa’s desk and cleared his throat. “The horse business is tough.”

  “I agree with that,” Jake said with a wry smile. He moved toward an empty chair as Vanessa came into the room.

  “I could use a stiff drink.” His new boss walked to the window and glanced at the charred ruins of the barn. “The state police think it was arson.”

  Like a boxer taking a punch, Jake sat down with a whoof. A knife-like pain shot through him and he gripped the arms of the chair.

  “Who’d do such a thing?” Mel’s question met a long silence.

  Finally Vanessa turned to face them and shook her head. “They haven’t a clue.”

  “Could be those scalawags at Neely Hills,” Pop spoke up. “They were always jealous of us. Tried to cheat me out of a decent mare last year.”

  Vanessa’s expression was bleak. “I really don’t think Jim Neely would be involved in something so heinous.”

  “Maybe it’s those real estate developers you told me about, Pop,” Jake suggested.

  Mel sat forward in her chair. “What do you mean?”

  “Land’s valuable. Even out here in Simpsonville.” Pop shrugged his shoulders. “Seen all them fancy subdivisions out there just past Middletown? The city of Louisville is a comin’ this way. Development. Progress. Damn shame.”

  “Are you saying developers want to buy Royalty Farm?”

  “Yes, they’ve offered,” Vanessa said, “but let’s not speculate about how this happened. It won’t do us any good until we learn more from the police.”

  “Damn right,” Pop agreed. “Thing is, we gotta go on. What ya gonna do now, boy?” He turned to Jake, his eyes narrowing. “Got any plans?”

  “Other than winning the World’s Grand Championship, no. That’s what I was brought here to do.” Jake looked at Mel. He suppressed a sinking feeling that had nothing to do with championships, but everything to do with reunions.

  Pop grinned and slapped his hand on his knee. “Damn me, boy. I knew you were a man right after my own heart.”

  “I see no way we can go to the Junior League Horse Show in Lexington tomorrow like we planned,” Vanessa commented.

  “Harrumph.” Pop blew out a breath of air. “What do you do when you fall off a horse?”

  “You get right back on,” Mel offered softly before Vanessa answered.

  Pop nodded his head, his white hair as short and blunt as his words. “Yes, damn me. You get right back on, pick up the reins and get on with the show.”

  “But, Pop,” Vanessa interrupted. “Jake told me all of our tack was destroyed. Where will we get saddles and bridles? I don’t have enough ready cash right now to replenish our equipment.”

  Pop turned a sympathetic gaze on his employer. “I know you don’t, honey, but we’ve got friends. The Saddlebred community will come through for us. Our friends will loan us the tack we need.”

  They sat quietly a moment digesting Pop’s words. Maybe the old man was right. A niggling bit of optimism seeped into Jake’s heart.

  “Which horse do we take, Pop? I just got here, remember? You know ’em better than I do.”

  “Got the horse for ya,” Pop said with another nod. “A big bay son-of-a-gun we call Dreamcatcher.”

  “Out of Reverie’s last good crop of foals, by a Supreme Sultan mare,” Mel stated quietly.

  Jake cocked an eyebrow at her. She tilted her head and smiled at him a little too sweetly. She was letting him know she kept up with Pop’s operation even if he didn’t.

  “We saved him?” Vanessa scanned the list of deceased horses.

  Pop puffed up like a proud peacock. “Mel did.”

  Jake tossed Mel another look, and she returned his glance with that same look of annoyance. What was wrong with her? This wasn’t a competition.

  “He trots like a dream,” Pop was saying, “and his slow gait is perfection. He’s comin’ on well and should be ready in time.”

  Jake hesitated, absorbing Pop’s information. “Are you saying we should go to Lexington on Sunday?”

  “Damn right. Lexington, and then Shelbyville. Those two shows should set us up right for the championship in August.”

  When no one spoke up, Pop cleared his throat again. “With all respect to you, Vanessa.” He nodded his head in her direction. “I know it’s tough for you right now, money-wise. This fire is gonna set you back even more.”

  Vanessa nodded, agreeing. “I have been stressed financially lately. I suppose insurance will pay for the barn, but you know I couldn’t afford to insure the young horses.” She circled the desk to come closer to them. Sitting against its edge, she rested her hands on the polished wood. “Do you have a suggestion?”

  “The Five-gaited World’s Grand Championship is the key,” Pop told them. “We gotta win it. If Dreamcatcher does it, his stud career is assured. We’ll have customers knocking at our door for his services. With Jake here takin’ my place, and Mel here to help him, we can start bringin’ in payin’ clients.”

  “You mean train other people’s horses?” Vanessa looked perplexed.

  “Yep. An’ they’ll pay handsomely for it too.”

  “But, Pop, Royalty Farm has always been private.”

  Jake heard the agitation in Mel’s protest. He was surprised himself. Pop O’Shea was talking revolution. Nevertheless, Jake liked what the canny old trainer was saying. He was used to training horses for wealthy clients.

  “Times are changin’, darlin’. Folks gotta diversify to survive. Might have had a chance if it wasn’t for losing so many horses. Money don’t come easy around here anymore.” Pop glanced at Vanessa for confirmation.

  “Pop, you are astute,” she said with affection.

  “Don’t know about that.” Pop shrugged. “I do know we can’t be countin’ on just one horse. Gotta double our chances.”

  Vanessa leaned forward. “What do you mean?”

  “Gotta have another horse ready for the championship.” Pop’s look was smug. “Royalty’s Dreamer. That little black mare is fine as crystal. We’ll show her in the ladies’ classes, and if she wins or places well in the qualifier, we’ll show her in the Saturday night stake with Dreamcatcher. We’ll have two horses in the World’s Grand Championship.”

  Jake didn’t like the swerve his stomach took. “Ladies’ classes?”

  “Yep. Mel will ride the mare. She’s got mighty fine credentials, don’t ya know? Did a bang up job for Mrs. Pepperdine in Missouri until she decided to come home. Damn glad she did too.” Pop nodded his head and patted Mel’s hand.

  Could Vanessa afford to hire two trainers at Royalty Farm? But, he had to admit to himself, his objection was more than that. Could he handle seeing Mel each day, working with her as if there had never been anything be
tween them?

  “Finally got rid of that scoundrel she was married to,” Pop went on when Jake and Vanessa didn’t speak up. “Never did like that guy.”

  “Pop.” Mel frowned at her father.

  He waved Mel’s protest off with a flick of his hand. “Hold your horses. I told you not to marry that guy, but you got a mind of your own. Now seein’ that Jake here is gonna be in charge, now that I’ll be put out to pasture, the boy here could use another pair of hands.”

  “I don’t believe Jake has any idea of asking for my help.” Looking up, Mel sought confirmation from the new trainer. “I came home to take care of you, Pop.”

  Jake’s lips tightened. The old man was putting him in an awkward position, and what aggravated him worse was Pop knew what he was doing. He could very well use another trainer, but to ask Mel, who sat with her jodhpur-clad legs crossed, revealing a delicious expanse of taut thigh beneath the stretchy fabric, was asking for trouble. He swallowed hard and glanced around him, his gaze finally coming to rest on Mel again. Her eyes were narrowed, daring him.

  Once he broke their engagement, there was bad blood between them. Could he risk taking her on with so much at stake?

  “I’ll have to defer to Vanessa, Pop. With the fire, I don’t know if we can afford more help,” he said.

  Rubbing his chin, Pop glanced sideways at his daughter and back at the farm’s owner. “Don’t know. Seems to me two chances to win the big one would be better for the farm than one. Won’t have to be for long. Couple of months.”

  “Jake has made up his mind.” Mel stood up.

  “Now don’t go cutting out on me, Mel,” Pop complained, placing a hand on her wrist and forcing her to sit down. “The boy needs more hands and legs for what he wants to do if he’s gonna rebuild this place into the best damn show barn in the country.”

  “But it already is the best show barn in the country,” Mel argued.

  “Hasn’t been in years. Just wouldn’t admit it,” Pop went on, looking from Mel to Jake. “You need a good trainer, boy, and Mel’s the girl for you. Looks like a marriage made in heaven.”