Thoroughbreds and Trailer Trash (2 page)

A bag of empty cans needed to be pushed aside, and it was a relief when he finally maneuvered the pack of supplements between the blue bag and her spare tire. Usually she was fairly cool with this type of thing, but today she felt jumpy. Hesitant even.

“So that’s it? Nothing else to load up?” He paused, one big hand on the trunk, watching her with an odd expression.

“Yes, that’s all. Thanks.” He seemed to be lingering so she reached out and slammed the trunk, hit by a rush of regret. He was rather nice in an uptight way, even gallant enough to load her car. Yet she’d deliberately fed him misinformation. And he might need a job as much as she did.

“Actually Wally’s been a little stressed lately.” She retreated around the fender to the driver’s side. “Maybe it
is
best to wait until his door opens. But he’s planning a big inventory and cleanup so needs to hire some muscle. I really hope you get the job.”

His eyes hooded as she slid behind the wheel. He didn’t seem the indecisive type, but he definitely appeared to be thinking now. “All right,” he finally said, as though settling something with himself. “Anything else I should know?”

“No. That should do it. Although it does help if you like horses. And maybe smile a little more.” She grinned, turned her key and the engine sputtered to life. “Better hurry before someone else gets in line. Maybe I’ll see you tomorrow. And you can help me…load more things.”

He smiled then, a real smile that made her hands squeeze the steering wheel, and part of her fervently hoped he would land that job.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

“Jenna, Jenna Murphy.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Jenna.”

The raw promise in his voice jolted her more than the Neon’s aging clutch, and the little car bucked twice as it rolled from the parking lot. Definitely a cocky guy. But oh, so cool.

She was still smiling as she sped down the winding driveway, her heart thumping a tad faster than normal. Her gaze drifted to the rearview mirror and she blew out a sigh, inexplicably disappointed to see he’d already vanished.

Chapter Two

“Vitamins, glucosamine, flax. Nothing but the best for you,” Jenna said as she moved her hands over Peanut’s hindquarters, concentrating on the large gluteal muscles at the top of his rump. The pony stretched his shaggy neck, as usual loving his massage.

A pity Thoroughbreds weren’t as tiny as Peanut. It was easier to work on a pony, less than twenty minutes for the little guy, and his massage didn’t leave her shoulder throbbing.

She gave Peanut an affectionate pat then led him across the driveway to graze. Technically the grass on the other side belonged to Three Brooks but it hadn’t been harvested in years, and it saved on buying hay. In better times, her chief worry had been that Peanut might overeat, but now his teeth were worn and his tattered coat hung in chunks. The poor fellow used to be a good-looking pony.

She returned to her sun-dried yard, trying not to look at the ragged shingles hanging from the trailer’s roof. Peanut was showing his age, so was her home. Last year Emily had helped her patch a portion of the roof. They should have fixed it all.

A diesel pickup rumbled over the hill. She shot an anxious look over her shoulder, relaxing as the big vehicle slowed fifty yards out. Wally. A couple of the maintenance men for the Three Brooks mansion drove too fast, but Wally knew to watch out for wandering ponies.

He lowered the window with a wry smile. The fading sun emphasized the deep lines bracketing his mouth. “I need a beer, Jenna.”

It was getting late and her shoulder ached, but Wally looked even more drained. Besides, it probably wasn’t beer he wanted but conversation. Sometimes she thought him lonelier than she was, if that were possible.

She nodded a welcome, slipped into the kitchen and grabbed a couple cold beers. By the time she stepped outside, Wally was stretched on the porch swing. Flies buzzed over the brook but thankfully stayed off the cooler porch. They didn’t seem to bother Peanut who chewed contentedly, swishing his tail and looking like a pygmy in the tall grass.

“Talk to Emily lately?” Wally asked, his gaze fixed on Peanut.

“Today, just for a minute.”

“She should get a part-time job. Her college support is wearing you down.”

Jenna waited a beat, trying to control her annoyance. Wally was like an uncle, but he was always much too critical of Em.

“I don’t want her worrying about money,” Jenna finally said. “Not while she’s studying. She’s barely twenty.”

“You’re only six years older. Look at you.”

Jenna leaned her head against the swing.
Yeah, look at me
. A crumbling trailer, an ancient pony and a sister who no longer needed her. She felt old, alone and rather scared. But at least one of the Murphy girls was going to college.

Wally tilted the bottle.
Glug, glug
. He swiped his mouth and glanced longingly over his shoulder. “Got another beer in there?”

So much for studying her massage book; Wally seemed really down. She rose, clicked open the screen door, grabbed another beer and filled a plate with spicy pepperoni. This was better anyway. Wally was always good company—as long as he didn’t snipe at Emily.

“You’re a sweetheart,” Wally said, gratefully accepting the second beer along with the sliced meat. “There’s something damn special about this front porch. Looking over the valley makes me feel like a king. Your dad sure set things up right.”

“He was a lazy asshole who spent more time in jail than out, and made Mom miserable.”

“Agreed, but he sure built a nice porch.”

Jenna sighed, enjoying the smells, the reddening sunset and the nostalgic sound of peeper frogs and their promise of summer. Wally was right. Her dad had done one good thing. He’d found the most beautiful spot in the entire county.

Wally’s arm moved and a white envelope dropped on her lap. “Unfortunately things are going to change a bit,” he said, his words muffled with pepperoni. “That’s the last of those.”

She opened the envelope and flipped through the bills. Two hundred and twenty dollars. Em would be thrilled. “What do you mean, the last?”

“The new owner is tough, a stickler for rules. And the sale went through much quicker than expected.” Wally burped, and Jenna inched away from the overpowering smell of pepperoni and beer. “He’s going to be a pain in the ass,” Wally went on. “Even clamping down on the construction crew. Staff will have to walk the line.”

She shoved the bills back in the envelope, quickly crunching numbers. After sending Em’s money, there’d be sixty dollars to last until the end of the month. It’d be tight. “I always walk the line,” she said, tucking the envelope into her back pocket.

Wally chuckled. “But sometimes it’s the wrong side.”

“Can’t help it. Bad blood and all.” She tried to speak lightly, didn’t want to reveal how his words hurt, but the fact was undeniable. The Murphy family was trash.

“Jenna,” Wally said quickly. “What I meant is we can no longer look after every sick animal that knocks on our door. These people want to see a profit.” He took a thoughtful sip of beer. “Should be plenty of work though. The Burkes have a lot of contacts. They’re in the process of negotiating contracts with major race stables so eventually we’ll receive quality horses. Unfortunately Three Brooks will be closed to the public.”

“What?” Jenna blinked in dismay. “What about the locals? If a horse is hurt, you mean we can’t help?”

“Not anymore.” Wally blew out a resigned sigh. “Derek wants to offer pricey rehab to an elite clientele, along with top staff and expanded facilities. He’ll be explaining all this in a staff meeting tomorrow.”

“Who’s Derek?”

“Derek Burke, their cleanup guy. He’s moving into the big house…taking over for a while.”

Jenna stiffened, straining to see Wally’s expression through the gloom. “The Three Brooks mansion? But you’ll stay in the apartment at the Center? You’re still the manager?”

“Far as I know.” Wally ripped a slice of pepperoni into three ragged pieces, his voice gruff. “But frankly it would have been better if the Canadians hung on to ownership. They didn’t come down much. Never interfered.”

Jenna squeezed her hands, her heart aching for Wally. He loved the town, the people, the horses. To her knowledge, he’d never turned down a fundraiser or any sponsorship request. But paying clients were few, and business had slowed to a trickle. It was a miracle he hadn’t laid anyone off. For his sake, she hoped the new boss would be easy to work with…and didn’t know much about massage.

She swallowed and glanced over her shoulder, resolving to stay up late and study another chapter in the library book. All her knowledge had been learned from her mom or by experimentation, and her massage technique was rather unorthodox. Maybe the new guy wouldn’t approve.

Maybe there’d even be a test. Her stomach churned at the thought. She always felt stupid when people talked about college and university and degrees. Street smart, book dumb, her father had always said, usually with an approving wink.

“Thanks for the heads-up,” she murmured, scrambling to her feet and scooping the empty bottles off the table.

Wally rose with a rueful smile. “You know I’ll always look after the Murphy family. Long as they let me.”

She waited until the lights of his truck disappeared then crossed the road and whistled for Peanut. He ambled from the dark and poked his muzzle into her hand, whiskers tickling as he snuffled for the tiny piece of carrot.

“Time for bed, mister.” She guided him by his forelock to the kennels. Luckily he was small. Years ago, they’d raised foxhounds and the old mesh kennel was perfect for a tiny pony.

Perfect for her father too. He’d been too lazy to build a shelter or paddock, or perhaps he’d been in jail at the time. Memories blurred. She did remember her mother selling eggs and puppies, desperately trying to raise money for her horse-crazy daughters. Now it seemed natural to keep Peanut in a dog kennel and compensate by giving him the run of Three Brooks’ vast acreage.

“Sleep tight, little buddy,” she whispered. He pressed his head against her stomach and blew out a long sigh, his version of a goodnight kiss. She latched the gate and trudged through the dark toward the illuminated porch.

Beer always made her drowsy and she settled at the kitchen table, yawning as she flipped open the thick book:
Massage and Chiropractic for Equines
. Everyone assumed she had a college diploma. Wally had desperately wanted an effective horse masseuse on staff so had quietly fudged her resume, and everyone had been happy.

Besides, she
did
help horses. Clients were always pleased when their animals walked away much improved. Peanut was a great testimonial, still very limber for a senior citizen. She’d been massaging him for years so she must be doing something right.

Still, it was best to be prepared.

She propped the heavy book on the table. Her sister was probably studying too, and the notion that they were doing the same thing was rather comforting. Hopefully, Em wasn’t missing home too much and could concentrate on her courses, especially since her high school marks hadn’t been great, and Jenna was no longer around to help.

Fluttering moths distracted her, bumping loudly against the porch light, and she forced her attention back to the page. So much of this massage stuff was common sense, so simplistic her mind wandered. She needed to fertilize the vegetable garden, check on a lame donkey and she’d intended to ask Wally if the scowling man with the hint of a smile had landed a job.

She yawned twice, closed the book in defeat and crawled into bed with an equine heat pack tucked against her shoulder.

The sound of a vehicle woke her sometime during the night, but she was too tired to check the clock. She fell back to sleep, vaguely curious as to why the maintenance people were working so late.

Chapter Three

Derek Burke strode into the meeting room and scanned the group of silent, anxious faces. He didn’t have to check his notes—thirty-seven employees, including a manager, grooms, handlers, exercise riders, and technicians—plus one masseuse. It was the masseuse who intrigued him.

She’d been stealing and his first impulse had been to hand her a pink slip. Yet she’d bristled when he’d criticized the manager and he admired loyalty. It was going to be a tough transition and unwise to alienate employees at this early stage. Most of the staff lived in the district, an area plagued with high unemployment. Some unpopular policy changes had already been implemented and it seemed likely he’d have to replace the affable manager.

He glanced sideways at Wally Turner and his disdain churned. Staff might like Wally but the man didn’t even have enough initiative to keep the aisles clean. The accountants had also reported disturbing discrepancies and Three Brooks, operating at thirty percent capacity, should have achieved a healthier cash flow. There definitely needed to be an accounting, and he was prepared to cut and slash.

But first, soothe the masses.

Wally introduced him to a cautious scattering of applause. He studied the faces, memorizing the truculent who might cause trouble, and outlined the new goals and policies of the Center. “There will be no immediate layoffs,” he said. “In fact, all employee credentials will be reviewed and salaries adjusted to industry standards.”

The Burke public relations people had advised that his expression was much too grim so he concluded his speech with a tight smile. A big-busted lady near the front returned an inviting smile but his scowl was quick and automatic, and she averted her head.

And then they were finished. More applause, louder this time and clearly spiked with relief. Plenty of time now to weed out the poor performers, the hapless, the liars.

He lifted a hand, raising his voice so as to be heard over the buzzing crowd. “One final item. I’d like Jenna Murphy to meet me in my office.” He deliberately refrained from saying ‘please.’ He had nothing but scorn for the Canadians and the permissive corporate culture they’d fostered.