Irish Rebel

by Nora Roberts

  "What's the matter?"

  "Nothing." Travis shrugged it off and rose. "Getting old."

  "Don't be ridiculous."

  "Yesterday you were riding on my shoulders," he murmured. "The house was full of noise. Clomping up and down the steps, doors slamming. Scattered toys. I don't know how many times I stepped on one of those damned little cars of Brady's."

  Turning back, he ran a hand over her hair. "I miss that. I miss all of you."

  "Daddy." In one fluid movement she rose and slid her arms around him.

  "It's the way it's supposed to work. Three of you off at college, Brendon moving around to get a handle on the business of things. It's what he wants. And you, building your own. But… I miss the crowd of you."

  "I promise to slam the door the very first chance I get."

  "That might help."

  "Sentimental softie. I love that about you."

  "Lucky for me." He gave her a quick, hard squeeze, then glanced over as the phone rang again. "Actually I didn't stop in for sentiment, but to give you some business advice." He drew her back. "You need help around here."

  "I'm thinking about it. Really," she added when he angled his head. "As soon as I straighten things out I'll look into it."

  "I seem to recall you saying the same thing six months ago."

  "It just hasn't been the right time. I've got it all under control." Even as she said it, the phone rang again.

  "Keeley, getting help doesn't mean you won't be in charge, doesn't mean it won't be your school."

  "I know, but… it won't be the same."

  "I'm here to tell you nothing stays the same. The farm's more than it was when it passed to me, and less than it will be when it passes to you and your brothers and sisters. But I've put my mark on it. Nothing can change that."

  "I guess I just don't want it to get away from me."

  "You've already proven you can do it."

  "You're right. Of course, you're right. But it isn't easy to find the right person. It would have to be someone good with kids and horses, and who'd be able to pitch in with the administrating to some extent and wouldn't quibble about shoveling manure. Plus I'd have to be able to depend on them, and get along with them. And they'd have to be diplomatic with parents, which is often the trickiest part."

  Travis picked up his soft drink again. "I might be able to point you in the right direction there."

  "Oh? Listen, Dad, I appreciate it, but you know, a friend of a friend or the son or daughter of an acquaintance. That kind of thing gets very sticky if it doesn't work out."

  "Actually, I was thinking of someone a little closer to home. Your mother."

  "Ma?" With a half laugh Keeley sat again. "Ma doesn't want this headache, even if she had time for it."

  "Shows what you know." Smug now, he drank. "Just mention it to her, casually. I won't say a word about it."

  By the time the day's lesson was over, and the last horse groomed and fed, Keeley dragged herself into the house. She wanted nothing more than a long bath and a quiet night. And if she ducked the evening plans, her cousin Mo would dog her like a hound. Better to face an evening out than weeks of nagging.

  She moved through the kitchen, into the hall. Her father was right, she realized. How would any of them get used to the quiet? No one was shouting down the stairs or rushing in the door or playing music so loud it vibrated the eardrums.

  She paused at the top of the steps, looking right.

  There was the room Brady and Patrick shared. She still remembered that during one spat Brady had run a line of black tape from the ceiling, down the wall, across the floor, and up again, cutting the room in half.

  One had been marked Brady's Territory. The other he'd dubbed No Man's Land.

  And how many times had she heard Brendon pound a fist on the wall between his room and theirs ordering them to keep it down before he came in and knocked their heads together?

  When she passed Sarah's room, she saw her mother sitting on the bed, stroking a red sweater.

  "Ma?"

  "Oh." Adelia looked up. Her eyes were damp, but she shook her head and smiled. "You startled me. It's so bloody quiet in this house."

  Keeley stepped in. The room had bright blue walls. The curtains and spread picked up that bold hue and matched it with an equally vivid green in wide stripes. It should have been horrible, Keeley mused, as she often did. But it worked.

  And it was completely Sarah.

  "Do you and Dad share the same brain?" Keeping her voice light, Keeley sat on the bed. "He was feeling sad this morning over the same thing."

  "I suppose after all these years together, you pick up the same vibrations or whatever. And Sarah called just a bit ago. She's desperately in need for this particular red sweater, which she can't think how she forgot to take with her. She sounds so happy and busy and grown up."

  "They'll all be home next month for Thanksgiving, then again for Christmas."

  "I know. Still, if I could think of a way to get away with it, I'd deliver this sweater myself instead of shipping it. Lord, look at the time. I've got to get myself cleaned up and changed for dinner. And so do you."

  "Yeah." Keeley pursed her lips in thought while her mother smoothed the sweater one more time and rose. "I'm running behind today," she began. "I seem to be running behind a lot lately."

  "That's what happens to successful people."

  "I suppose so. And adding on this class is going to crowd my time and energy even more."

  "You know I'll give you a hand when you need it, and so will your father." Adelia walked out of the room and into her own to lay Sarah's sweater aside.

  "Yes, I appreciate that. I guess I'm going to have to seriously consider something more formal and permanent, though. I really hate to. I mean, taking on an outsider, it's difficult for me. But…"

  Keeley let the word hang, surprised when her mother—who usually had something to say—remained silent.

  "I don't suppose you'd be interested in working part-time at the school?"

  Adelia turned her head, met Keeley's eyes in the mirror over the bureau. "Are you offering me a job?"

  "It sounds awfully strange when you put it that way, but yes. But don't do it because you feel obliged. Only if you think you'd have the time or the inclination."

  Adelia spun around, her face brilliant. "What the devil's taken you so long? I'll start tomorrow."

  "Really? You really want to?"

  "I've beendying to. Oh, it's taken every bit of my willpower not to come down there every day until you just got so used to me being around you didn't realize Iwas working there. This is exciting!" She rushed over to give Keeley a hug. "I can't wait to tell your father."

  Keeping her arms tight around her daughter, Adelia did a quick dance. "I'm a groom again."

  "If I'd known you were available, Dee, and looking for work, I'd've hired you." Burke Logan, settled back in his chair and winked at his wife's cousin.

  "We like to keep the best on at Royal Meadows." Adelia twinkled at him across the table in the track's dining room. He was as handsome and as dangerous to look at as he'd been nearly twenty years before when she'd first met him.

  "Oh, I don't know." Burke trailed a hand over his wife's shoulder. "We have the best bookkeeper around at Three Aces."

  "In that case, I want a raise." Erin picked up her wine and sent Burke a challenging look. "A big one. Trevor?" Her voice was smooth, shimmering with Ireland as she addressed her son. "Do you have in mind to eat that pork chop or just use it for decoration?"

  "I'm reading theRacing Form , Ma."

  "His father's son," Erin muttered and snagged the paper from him. "Eat your dinner."

  He heaved a sigh as only a twelve-year-old boy could. "I think Topeka in the third, with Lonesome in the fifth and Hennessy in the sixth for the trifecta. Dad says Topeka's generous and a cinch tip."

  At his wife's long stare, Burke cleared his throat. "Stuff that pork chop in your mouth, Trev. W
here's Jena?"

  "She's fussing with her hair," Mo announced, and snatched a french fry from Travis's plate. "As usual," she added with the worldly air only an older sister could achieve, "the minute she turned fourteen she decided her hair was the bane of her existence. Huh. Like having long, thick, straight-as-a-pin black hair is a problem. This—" she tugged on one of the hundreds of wild red curls that spiraled around her face "—is a problem. If you're going to worry about something as stupid as hair, which I don't. Anyway, you guys have to come over and see this weanling I have my eye on. He's going to be amazing. And if Dad lets me train him…"

  She trailed off, slanting a look at her father across the table.

  "You'll be in college this time next year," Burke reminded her.

  "Not if I can help it," Mo said under her breath.

  Recognizing the mutinous look, Erin changed the subject. "Keeley, Burke tells me your new trainer is a natural with the horses, with Travis and with cards as well."

  "And I hear he's gorgeous, too," Mo added.

  "Where'd you hear that?" Keeley demanded before she could bite her tongue in two.

  "Oh, word gets around in our snug little world," Mo said grandly. "And Shelley Mason—one of your kids? Her sister Lorna's in my World History class, ahuge bore by the way. The class, that is, not Lorna, who's only a small bore. Anyway, she picked Shelley up last week from your place and got a load of the Irish hunk, so I heard all about it. Which is why I'm planning on coming over as soon as I can and getting a load of him myself."

  "Trevor, give your sister your pork chop so she can stuff it in her mouth."

  "Dad." Giggling, Mo snatched another fry. "I'm just going to look. So, Keeley, is he gorgeous? I respect your opinion more than Lorna Mason's."

  "He's too old for you," Keeley said, a bit more sharply than she intended and had Mo rolling her eyes.

  "Jeez. I don't want to marry him and have his children."

  Travis's laugh prevented Keeley from snapping back with something foolish. "Good thing. Now that I've found someone who comes close to replacing Paddy, I don't intend to lose him to Three Aces."

  "Okay." Mo licked salt from her fingertip. "I'll just ogle him."

  Annoyed, and feeling ridiculous at the reaction, Keeley pushed back her chair. "I think I'll go down and take a look at the field, and check on Lonesome. He's always a little sulky before a race."

  "Cool." Mo sprang up. "I'll go down with you."

  Mo rushed out of the dining room, heading out past the betting windows at a fast clip, so that Keeley was forced to step lively to keep pace. "It's going to be so much fun for you, having your mom work at the school. There's nothing like a family operation, you know. Which is all I want. I mean, come on, I don't have to go to college to be a trainer. If I already know what I want to do, and I'm learning how to do it every day right at home, what's college going to do for me?"

  "Expand your brain?" Keeley suggested.

  Ignoring that, Mo hurried outside where the air had turned crisp. "I know horses, Keeley. You understand what it's like. It's instinct and experience and it'sdoing ." She gestured widely. "Well, I've got time to nag my parents into submission."

  "No one does it better."

  With a laugh, Mo hooked her arm through her cousin's. "I'm so glad to see you. The summer just winged by, you know, with all of us so busy with stuff."

  "I know."

  They made the turn for the shedrow and the world was suddenly horses.

  Some were being prepped for the next race. In the boxes, grooms wrapped long, thin legs that would carry those huge bodies in a blur of speed and power. Trainers with keen eyes and gentle hands moved among the horses to pamper a skittish ride or rev up another.

  The hot walkers cooled down horses who'd already ran. Legs were examined, iced down. Through the sharp air came the hoofbeats that signaled another field was coming back from the race. Steam rose off the horses' backs, turning into a fine and magical mist.

  "Of all the shedrows in all the world." Brendon came out of the stables,