Flora stared meaningfully at me over the top of her glass. “So tell me,” she said, her voice lowering, “is it true that Dean Atkins found some kind of new wonder drug?”
I sucked in a breath, not sure how much to disclose to anyone about my suspicions. “I don’t know,” I answered truthfully. One shouldn’t lie to the fae. “But if he did, I sincerely hope the stewards find out about it and are able to test for it. Horse racing has had enough trouble lately without a new scandal.”
“Very true. Well, whatever it is, I trust you’ll stay on top of it.” She lifted her glass, and with that, I knew a member of the fae court had just given a goddess orders.
Chapter 3
My meeting with Flora didn’t last very long after that. I chatted with a few other owners, one of whom was considering sending his horses to me, and I regretfully told him my barn was full at the moment and suggested an up and coming trainer who might have some room. I was tired of the same trainers making it to the winner’s circles of the big races time and time again. If I could encourage an owner with somewhat deep pockets to send a horse to a promising trainer and perhaps increase their profile all the better. My partner might be the goddess of luck, but I knew horses—and horse people.
With a horse on the first race of the card, I hurried back to my barn aisle, hanging up my blazer in the trailer to keep it clean. I met Shel a few steps later.
“Diadem is about to head to the saddling area. I’m glad you made it.” She handed me a cap with the farm’s logo on it. I put it on, thankful that I’d be swapping out caps during the day. One of the grooms would come with the winning owner’s hat if we won, so I could wear it in the winner’s circle and in all the photos. Hat hair… I didn’t care.
“Great. Get someone rubbing Chantel’s legs. She’s picky about running if she hadn’t had her massage. And…” My voice drifted off as Kel led Diadem, a beautiful chestnut gelding that sparkled like a crystal, toward the saddling area. “And that’s my cue. When you get a moment, text Betsy and tell her that Flora will be sending a couple of horses, so let’s make sure those end stalls are nice and clean by the time I get back. She said end of next week. I wouldn’t be surprised if the horses show up tomorrow. You know Flora.”
“Yes, I do,” Shel replied. Though the owner might play the diva on days like today, even if she did it in designer shoes and without a care for money, she pitched in and helped when it wasn’t race day. She gestured to the paddock. “You better get going.”
“I should, thanks.” I strode over to the area in time to help tighten the girth on Diadem. The gelding stood, ears pricked, muscles ready to go with a burst of speed. I patted his shoulder. We’d have a good day.
Gabriella met up with us on our way to the paddock. A diminutive Latina, her eyes sparkled with excitement and determination. She knew her job, and I trusted her to do it. We discussed orders, though she’d ridden him before and I had all my faith in him. The short race of seven furlongs wouldn’t give us much time to maneuver. We’d have to see how he felt coming out of the gate and if he went to the front, he needed to stay there. The field of six made for a fairly open race. Our only competition came, of course, from one of Dean’s horses, a young gelding who hadn’t yet had a chance to falter under Dean’s hand. The bay horse stood like a rock, unperturbed by any of the action in the paddock, and when the call for rider’s up came, I gently boosted Gabriella into the saddle.
“You got this,” I told her.
“I know, boss.” She smiled. Then staff led the horse to the short walk onto the track.
I used the brief post parade to size up the competition. Other than the gelding, the remaining horses in the field might beat us if they caught a lucky break. However, most appeared too immature, or to unfocused, to really go head to head. It was like putting a jumping bean into a cannon, firing it, and seeing what happened. It might take the lead, or it might peter out and be flailing in the back of the pack. I sensed no malice among the trainers. The horses were young. Diadem might be two, but he had the maturity and demeanor of a seasoned four-year-old. He knew his job and wanted to do it.
Good training did that, though I tried not to take much credit for it. My staff did a lot of work; I simply had the ability to see potential in people and use it. The horses loaded into the gate. Diadem had the number two spot, not bad because he wouldn’t get squished on the rail, and yet not so far out that he had to make up much ground. Not that there’d be any difficulties with that in a field this small.
The horses settled. My heart pounded with excitement as it had for millennia when mortals first started to race horses and chariots. I drew a deep breath. The bell rang and the gate flew open.
The horses burst onto the track. Diadem shot forward as if he’d been fired from a bullet. Two strides and he clearly took the lead. Behind him, Dean’s gelding pushed ahead, settling in half a length behind Diadem. The other horses, fanned out, one young horse on the end going extremely wide at the start and hustling to make up ground. He wouldn’t.
I focused on my horse. The
