Heat Wave (Riders Up) (20 page)

“If you’re serious
about keeping Harrington around, in whatever capacity, why not bring him out to
a few of the social events? So people can meet him and learn that he’s not such
a bad apple after all.”

Maggie gave the
insurance man a crooked smile and sat back down. Five days had lapsed since her
unsettling truce with Ed Harrington. Did she want to keep him in any capacity? A
not-so-tiny voice screamed from a corner of her brain,
Yes
.

“So tell me, what
do people really think is going on out there at the farm? Do they know about
the horses, or do they think we spend all our time in the sack?”

She grinned when
Ben coughed and sputtered.

“To be honest,
since the county fair, there hasn’t been much doubt about whether the two of
you are…ahem…intimate,” Ben said, his cheeks turning rosy.

“Boy, that’s a good
one,” Maggie responded. They hadn’t made love until after the fair. “Goes to
show you what the common consensus knows. What about the horses?”

“Folks can’t seem
to figure it out, and it’s not for lack of trying. I’ve honored my pledge of
secrecy. But it’s just a matter of time now. Because you have so few horses at
the farm, people can’t believe you expect to generate sufficient income to live
on from that enterprise. Of course, they don’t know about the horses you have
stashed in Chicago. By the way, the next quarterly premium is about due on
those animals.”

“And what about Ed
being beaten to a pulp on the streets of this good town? Does anybody wonder
about that? Do they give a damn?”

“Shock, mostly. That’s
not something that’s supposed to happen in our small town. Most have concluded
that riffraff attract riffraff. Many are still concerned for your welfare,
Maggie, but they don’t know how to reach out to you. They feel you’ve turned
your back on them.”

“Me!” Maggie couldn’t
believe her ears.

“If you want them
to ever accept Ed Harrington, then you better start ushering him around and
introducing him about.” Ben Templeton stared directly her. “That is, if you
still plan on living here.”

“Of course I’m
going to stay here,” she retorted. “What would ever lead you to think
otherwise?”

“If you really
succeed in the horse business, Maggie, won’t you outgrow little Beaverhill,
Iowa? There are much more lucrative racing circuits than Prairie Meadows. And I’m
told that you have one of the best trainers in the business with your man,
Harrington.”

Maggie tried to
think before responding. Ben was raising a question that had never crossed her
mind. Of course, she would stay in Beaverhill. The whole thing with race horses
was to save the farm, not to move beyond it.

She rubbed her nose
thoughtfully. “You may have a point, Ben. I hadn’t thought about bringing Ed to
social events. It just seemed right to focus on the horses, and Ed’s a private
sort of guy anyway. But what about the sheriff—is he going to do anything about
looking for the guys who beat up Ed? I’ve got the kids to worry about, too.”

 Ben rolled his
chair back from his desk. “I wouldn’t count on much help there. If you or your
children were attacked, that would be a different matter all together. Even
though people here may not understand you, you still are part of this
community.”

“But not Ed.”

“No, not Ed. People
don’t even know who he is. Maybe someone was settling an old score with him. The
town wouldn’t want to make that their business.” Ben raised his palms upward. “Who
knows who did it and why? Or who hired the guys to do the job? But I don’t
think the sheriff’s office is going to bust a gut digging around for clues.”

Maggie’s brow
furrowed with suspicion. “Does Con-Ex Farms own Sheriff Walker?”

“No, I don’t think
so. But the sheriff and Prater are close. You know, his wife is Prater’s
sister. That banker runs around here like a bull in a china shop whenever your
name comes up. You certainly are not making the man happy. If he could have you
tarred and feathered, he’d certainly supervise the task.”

Maggie grinned. “I
think we gave that up, even here, sometime in the last century or so.” She
frowned and kept her gaze steady at one of the few people she trusted. “So are
you saying you think Prater is behind Ed’s beating? Would his dislike for my
dad and for me go that far?”

“I wish I knew. What
your mom and dad did all those years ago is forgotten by most folks, but I’m
not certain it just hasn’t gnawed on Josh all this time like some open wound
that won’t scab over. I don’t think he’d do anything to really hurt you or the
kids. But Ed? Who knows? Harrington is helping you save the farm, or at least
that’s the plan.”

“So what do you
suggest, Ben—do we just sit tight?”

“Be vigilant. Be
cautious. I expect Harrington’s being beaten had more to do with the land than
with any relationship you may be having with him. I wouldn’t be surprised if
somebody isn’t intent on trying to scare you off the land, but it’s not a large
amount of property. Shouldn’t really be worth that much to anyone. Certainly,
that somebody will tire when they realize you’re not easily frightened. Maybe I’m
just rambling and maybe I’m just hoping, but can’t imagine Con-Ex Farms or
Prater or anyone else who would wish to do you physical harm.”

Maggie nodded,
hoping he was right, and rose to leave. “Thanks, Ben,” she said, hugging the
slightly embarrassed man. “You’ve given me a lot to think about.”

As she opened the
door to step out of the office, Ben said, “Why don’t you think of bringing
Harrington out to the Harvest Festival in October? That would be a natural
opportunity for folks to see that the man is human—that he probably breathes
and laughs pretty much like the rest of us.”

Maggie turned,
smiled and waved. She walked toward her truck. Why not invite Ed? As long as he
realized she wasn’t trying to seduce him, maybe he would be willing to go. It
might be fun. If nothing else, it would be fun to watch some of the town
gossips trip over themselves trying to get the scoop on what was happening out
at the Anderson farm.

For that matter,
she’d like to know what was going on out at the Anderson farm herself. Maggie
chuckled and her step became lighter.

“So, your friend
Templeton thinks I ought to come out of my hole, huh?”

Maggie glanced at Ed,
who sat at the kitchen table while she started supper.

Running the palm of
his hand over his head, he said, “I knew something like that was coming. Once
you took me to the fair, people were bound to ask questions or figure on their
own that one plus one makes two.”

“Do you mind?” Maggie
quizzed, cutting up chunks of ham for a casserole.

“Not on my account.
I don’t give a damn what people think of me. But I do care what they say about
you.” Ed paused. “And what about Johnny and Carolyn? Will they get hassled at
school?”

Maggie turned and
leaned against the counter. “Don’t ever think,” she insisted, waving the knife,
“that what we have had or may have in the future is something that bothers me. I
would shout my love for you from the rooftop if I didn’t think it would scare
you off.”

Ed’s cheeks flamed
and Maggie grinned in response. She was done being angry with him—and with
herself, for that matter. He might bring her more pain, but damn if she was
going to run away from him or from her feelings. Subtlety and escape had never
been her strong suit. He would just have to deal with her, one way or the
other. “Don’t worry, I’m not about to climb the roof. Though it is a thought. Apparently
the kids are handling whatever is coming down at school. Both of them confide
in me when they’re having trouble.”

“I wonder how long
that will last,” Ed quipped. “Aren’t teenagers supposed to be at odds with
their parents? I thought that was part of growing up.”

“I’m sure they’ll
have their moments. Carolyn is probably testing the limits as we speak. Won’t
be long and it will be Johnny’s turn. Sometimes I wish they could stay just
where they are and never grow up.”

“Some wishes aren’t
possible. Peter Pan found that out.”

“Well, you old
faker,” Maggie chided, returning to her work. “You know more about kids than
you like to admit.”

“In case you
forgot, I was one once.” Ed rose to begin setting the table. “I was close to an
owner and his family for awhile back in Chicago. He had three of the cutest
little girls you’d ever see. We all went to watch
Peter Pan
on stage. I
guess it made a lasting impression.”

“Do you miss not
having your own?”

Ed nearly dropped a
plate. “Kids? Me? Nope. Doubt I’d be a very good father over the long haul. They’d
want more than I have to offer.” He filled a couple water glasses. “I like
other people’s kids, though, in small doses.”

Maggie turned to
look directly at the man who was slowly healing physically. Would he ever heal
emotionally? At least enough to recognize what he wanted and what he had before
him. “Cassie Travers seems to think you do great with her kids. I heard them
calling you
uncle
. And that little Eddie is going to think you’re real
special as he grows up.”

“Maybe. He’s just a
little thing now.”

“You seem to get
along very well with my kids. Johnny worships you and Carolyn says you’re the
greatest teacher.”

“That’s different,”
Ed protested, looking away from Maggie. “They’re Johnny and Carolyn—my
students, my helpers.”

The pride and
pleasure in his voice as he spoke of her children reassured Maggie immensely. Ed
Harrington might not realize it yet, but he was gradually becoming comfortable
with his situation at the farm. She sensed that he was even becoming more at
ease with her. While she didn’t want to be as comfortable as an old shoe or
petted like a family dog, she welcomed this period of calm reconnecting without
the tension of the chase. Would he ever be ready to pursue her, to love her?

The sudden spasm of
heat shooting through her loins caused Maggie to gasp audibly. She saw Ed turn
and look at her suspiciously. She sneezed, trying to cover up her response to
those delicious images cascading through her mind of him pursuing her and them
making love until overcome by exhaustion. Maggie turned and wiped the sink and
counter.

At last, when she
was more under control, Maggie asked, “So what about getting out into the
community socially?”

- o -

Ed jarred himself
from his own reverie. She’d been so quiet for so long it was difficult not to
simply focus on her body. Maggie Anderson had to have the tightest little butt
he’d ever had in his hands. Unwanted memories let him feel again her firmness
and her electrifying response to his touch.

Shaking his head,
he tried to refocus on her words. What the hell had she said? “Probably wouldn’t
hurt much. Folks know I’m here. Templeton’s right. It’s harder to tell stories
about someone you know—well, maybe not really a lot more difficult.”

“Yeah, they’ve
known me all my life.”

Why did she have to
look so pained? What did she expect when she invited a drunk into her life? “We
both know small towns and rural communities, Maggie. I got away from one once. What
I like about the big city is you can be anonymous.”

“But people die in
the cities and no one shows up for their funerals.”

“True. There are
advantages both ways, I expect. I do love the peacefulness of this place.” He
closed his eyes, reconstructing the open fields, the canopied maple trees, and
the refurbished paddocks. He hesitated. “I think getting out more might help
the uneasiness that sometimes exists between the two of us. Maybe it’ll help
being around other people. And it’ll give me an opportunity to develop my own
impressions of your neighbors. After all, one or more of them aren’t behaving
very neighborly toward you and your friends.”

“Okay, Dick Tracy,”
Maggie said, looking amused, “by the time the Inaugural is run, you should be
fairly well healed. We’ll start taking you out of your dog house and show you
around a bit. The town holds a Fall Harvest Festival Dance. That should be fun.
I love to dance.”

Ed scowled at her. Dance!
She had to be insane.

“If any other
female so much as breathes on you,” Maggie scolded, “I’ll chain you back on
your leash.”

“I didn’t have
dancing in mind when I thought about socializing. Besides, I don’t dance.”

“I bet you will by
the time the Festival gets here,” Carolyn teased, strolling into the kitchen.

“Maggie,” Ed complained
half heartedly, “how come your kids have ears like elephants until I want them
to do something?”

“I don’t know. Somebody
once said that’s the way teenagers grow up.”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

On the following
Wednesday, Maggie sat beside Cassie Travers in the pickup truck pulling a horse
trailer down the Prairie Meadows shedrow. In the trailer rode Capote’s Dream,
who would run in Sunday’s Inaugural Stakes.

Cassie turned
toward their assigned barn. Maggie tried to take in everything around her. A
groom bathed a high-strung bay. Other horses walked methodically in circles on
hot walkers. Clumps of men and women gathered here and there huddled in
discussion.

Maggie could hardly
contain the excitement and the tension coursing through her body. “It’s hard to
believe we finally have a horse running here. Thanks for bringing him all the
way from Chicago,” she said, turning toward her companion. “I’m sure you could
have found a race for him up there.”

Cassie shook her
auburn curls vigorously. “We’ve been aiming Dream for this race since you
bought him. It’s a very credible stakes race, and you need to become familiar
with the operations at your home track.” Cassie directed a warm smile at Maggie.
“Being here is a nice change for me; it’ll be good to get away from the
pressure of the home circuit for a few days. Clint is picking the kids up from
their grandmother this weekend. So where else would I rather be? This will be
fun. I’m eager to show you around.”

After getting
Capote’s Dream settled into his stall, Cassie guided Maggie through the stable
and track area explaining what was happening and trying to prepare her for her
first big race. “I always use the same groom when I run a horse here at Prairie
Meadows. Juan can gentle a horse as well as anyone I’ve ever worked with.

“Saturday night,
Jessica Wilder will arrive. She’s the jock I’ve told you about. She and Dream
have a beautiful relationship. Jessica works him in the morning and has taken the
time to get to know the animal. It’s one thing for a rider to hop on the back
of a horse during the afternoon races; it’s another for her to exercise the
horse during workouts and to develop an understanding for how the mount reacts
to different race conditions. I wouldn’t trust anyone else to ride Dream in
such an important race.”

“Will she join us
back at the farm for Carolyn’s birthday party Sunday evening?”

Cassie grinned. “She’ll
have to head back right after the race. Of course, we’ll be celebrating a
victory as well as a birthday.”

“I wish I could be
that confident.”

“Don’t worry. We
all go through race jitters. Wait till the day of the race—you won’t be able to
sit in one place for longer than a minute.”

Maggie couldn’t
decide if Cassie’s words were comforting or simply added to her own anxiety. As
they walked over the grounds, Cassie continued to impart useful information,
but Maggie had difficulty concentrating and remembering.

The place pulsated
an earthy, sensual allure. Smells of horse sweat, leather, hay, sour mash,
rubbing alcohol, and manure blended into an aroma as scintillating as many
essential oils. Occasionally, Maggie heard the echo of hammer meeting metal as
farriers worked to protect the hooves of the high priced runners. And there was
the low murmur of chatter coming from groups of trainers, grooms, and exercise
riders plotting courses of action.

The backstretch
area resembled a small town. Many of the grooms and some of the jockeys stayed
in large dormitories. A sign over the café doorway promised good food at cheap
prices. Over a thousand horses were stabled on shedrow during race season,
requiring considerable coordination and cooperation among all who worked and
lived on the grounds. And the area was restricted to licensed owners, trainers,
and workers.

Maggie brushed a
palm against the owner license ID suspended from her blouse pocket. This was
her world now. A chill skittered up her spine. She belonged here, though that
was still difficult to accept. Would she ever really belong?

“Horses going for
their morning workout enter through that gate,” Cassie said, pointing to a
small contingent of horses and riders making their way along a lengthy path
leading from the barn area to the track. “We’ll give Dream a brief workout over
the track Friday morning. Nothing too serious. I just want him to get a feel
for the dirt surface under him. All tracks may look the same, but each is
different, has its own character in terms of the mixture making up the dirt,
sharpness of turns, and buildings and towers around the perimeter.”

“Do you think he
really has a chance to win?” Maggie asked again as they retraced their steps
toward the parking lot.

Cassie rolled her
eyes skyward. “By the way, there’s the tack shop. You can get anything
imaginable for a horse or rider in there. How many times are you going to ask
that question? Yes, I think Capote’s Dream has a very legitimate shot at
winning.

“Horses are coming
in from around the country for this race. A hundred-fifty-thousand-dollar purse
attracts owners and trainers who don’t use this track as their home base. But
Dream will be competitive at this level. He’s already won some decent allowance
races at Arlington.

Cassie waved to an
acquaintance leaving the parking area. “If he wins here, we’ll probably leave
him with you and Ed for the winter. Dream deserves some rest. We’ll start again
in early spring, if you still want me to handle him for you.”

“Of course, I want
you racing him where he’ll do his best. But,” Maggie insisted, grabbing Cassie’s
arm bringing them both to a halt, “if we win here, I want you to start taking
your ten percent trainer’s fee. It’s only fair. Our share of such a large purse
would make my life secure, at least until another crop is planted.”

Chuckling, Cassie
patted Maggie’s hand. “Okay, I know how important that is to you. But the word
secure is not one usually associated with horse racing.”

“But you do all
right.”

“Sure, but it’s the
sale of breeding stock and promising young prospects that’s our base; any
profit from racing is whipped cream on top.”

Apprehension
suddenly overtook Maggie as they neared Cassie’s red pickup. “I don’t know if I’ll
ever be able to do all the things you have to do at the track. Placing your
horse in the right race to win seems to be a skill developed over long years of
experience. And how do you decide to take the risk to drop your favorite horse
into a claiming race where anybody with enough money can take him away from
you?”

“Whoa, girl,” Cassie
cautioned, climbing into the truck. “You don’t have to do it all at once. You
have Ed to help. I don’t plan on dropping out of the picture. If you don’t want
to do the track management piece of the business, you can work with the horses
on your farm and then turn them over to other trainers. Or, hopefully, the ban
on Ed will be lifted soon and then you’ll really be set up nicely.”

“Do you think that’s
likely?” Maggie asked hesitantly. That’d be wonderful news for Ed—but what
would prevent him from simply moving back to Chicago, with nothing resolved between
the two of them? She instantly felt guilty for the selfish thought.

“One of Clint’s
contacts is chasing down a new lead. Clint’s fairly optimistic. And he doesn’t
usually lean toward optimism in these kinds of matters.”

“That would do so
much for Ed,” Maggie said, brightening. “Sometimes he behaves like a free and
easy spirit, and then he just clouds over, sinking back into his depression. You
know then he’s remembering what he had and how he lost it.”

As they drove back
to the farm, Cassie returned to the topic of Ed Harrington. “You all looked
like a real comfortable family last night. Ed seems to be fitting in quite
well.”

Glancing at Cassie,
Maggie tried not to blush. “You could say that, but he was on his best behavior
last night.” She paused. “The kids adore him.”

“And you don’t.”

Maggie couldn’t
hold back a chuckle. “I didn’t say that. Ed’s afraid of commitment. He doesn’t
think he’s good enough for me. He thinks I deserve better. I think he’s a fool.”

“Wow. You just said
a lot. If he lets you go, he’s a double fool in my book,” Cassie said, pulling
around a slow driver. “Though men and women seldom move at the same pace in
these matters. Guess there has to be a pursuer and a pursuee.”

“So which were you?”
Maggie giggled.

“Oh, well, with us?”
Cassie wrinkled her nose. “Clint was definitely the pursuer in the beginning. Then,
I almost did too good of a job of getting away and I ended up having to chase
him all the way to California to corral him.”

“I’ll bet he wasn’t
hard to catch.”

“It had its moments,”
Cassie whispered, giving Maggie an unhurried smile.

Maggie smiled. “I’ll
guarantee you my man is not going to get away, no matter what he might be
thinking. I’m not pursuing at the moment. I agreed to a truce—temporarily. But
I’m scheming.”

“Ah, a woman after
my own heart. Men may usually be stronger than us physically, but if we want ‘em,
they don’t even come close to matching our cunning. I’m putting my money on
you, girl.”

Maggie peered out
at the track from a box seat in the clubhouse. The days leading up to the
Inaugural had flown by too rapidly. She’d loved talking with Cassie about
horses and men. They agreed that both had a number of things in common. While a
horse was a gregarious animal typically found in herds, he was also a wanderer,
resisting human notions of confinement. When the horse sensed imminent danger, he’d
flee. And horses lacking in self-confidence were particularly prone to spook at
the slightest provocation.

She’d miss Cassie
when she went back to Chicago on Monday.

Maggie and Ed
already planned a trip to the Travers’ farm in October to purchase their long
awaited broodmares. Midnight Dancer was at the top of her list, if she could
still afford the beauty. Given everything the Travers were doing for her and
Ed, Maggie wanted to give them all the business she possibly could.

She had readily
agreed with Cassie’s suggestion to go directly to the clubhouse rather than
standing by in the saddling paddock. Her bundle of jangled nerves would not
help Capote’s Dream one bit.

Both kids were off
getting food. How could they eat with the race coming up? She warmed
remembering Ed wishing all of them good luck before they drove to the track.

“Good luck,” he’d
said, before kissing her on the top of the head. “Remember, we can’t win them
all.”

She hadn’t missed
the moist glaze in his eyes. He badly wanted to be with them for the race. But
that wasn’t possible.

Obviously, he was
concerned about how she might handle the disappointment of losing. Cassie was
confident. Jessica Wilder, who she’d met earlier that morning, was thrilled to
have the ride and believed in Capote’s Dream. And Maggie’s own bones were
humming with enthusiasm. Still, her nerves were strung out tight, as if she’d
been on a caffeine binge.

Maggie watched
Johnny climb the concrete steps balancing chips and cheese dip and a large pop.
Maggie’s stomach roiled in protest.

Smiling bravely,
she welcomed her birthday girl back to her seat. Carolyn clutched a large salty
pretzel and a pop. She was so excited by the crowd and by the prospect of
seeing one of their own horses race.

“Mom. Take a
moment, bend over and take a deep breath or two,” Carolyn counseled. “You don’t
want to pass out and miss the race.”

Although not
wanting to, Maggie took Carolyn’s advice. It would be totally embarrassing to
keel over before her horse ran.
Good God, when will this race start? Why is
it taking forever?
Slow motion was a flash compared to this waiting. She’d
never been very good with waiting.

Her nails dug into
her bare thighs. Even with the air conditioning going strong, she was pleased
she’d finally decided on shorts and a tank top for the day. People came to
watch the horses, not her. Any more clothing and she would’ve suffocated.

This was big. This
race could make a huge difference for Anderson Racing Stables. It could make
saving the farm a pure fanciful wish or a plausible reality.

At last the horses
stepped onto the track for the post parade. Fidgeting with her program, Maggie
peered closely at the number six horse. Capote’s Dream looked splendid. His
coat gleamed, announcing to all to take notice. He looked proud and ready to do
battle for honor and glory. The four year old seemed so big compared to the
horses they’d been working with on a day-to-day basis at the farm. And there
was Jessica Wilder with her game face on decked out in black and red
colors—Anderson Racing Stables colors. Scottish colors; her dad would have
liked that.

“He’s up on his
toes nicely,” Cassie said, scurrying to sit down. “Dream is going to run a big
race.”

“I’m sure he’ll do
his best,” Maggie managed to murmur. “I just wish it was over. The pit in my
stomach is terrible.”

“You’ll get
accustomed to it,” Cassie said, chuckling. “Sort of.”

Maggie stared so
hard at the starting gate her eyes hurt. At last the gate sprang open and the
horses were racing. She was surprised at how quickly Capote’s Dream raced to
the front of the pack. Front running horses had won nearly every race that day.
Crossing her fingers, she urged her horse on. He entered the backstretch four
lengths in front. This was a critical juncture in the race—would he maintain
his speed around the turn? Or would the closers pass him by?