Winning Ways (22 page)

"Come on! You know what I mean. Pretty clever to sedate Liz's colt to keep him from making the class this morning."

Kurt lunged forward, nearly knocking the man off his feet.

"Benton, that's a damned lie, and if I find out you're spreading it around, I'll break your scrawny neck!"

The trainer backed out of Kurt's reach, and threw out one last barb.

"You take good care of my horse, ya hear?"

Kurt watched him saunter off, astonished that the trainer had been so bold in his accusations. Of course! It's a perfect cover for whoever did it, since my past record is already tainted.

He stowed Ebony's trophy in the tack trunk, and angrily flung the exhibitor card into the corner. He was now damned sure that Eve Aliqua and Bill Benton were conspirators.

He took a deep breath and started down the aisle. He'd rehearsed over and over what he would say to Liz, but nevertheless, his stomach tightened at the prospect of apologizing. He'd done a helluva lot of it since meeting her. When he walked into her stall area, his heart fell. The old man was there, which meant that Liz wasn't.

Patrick looked up, a frown spreading across his weathered face, his tone possessive.

"What'er you doin' here?"

Kurt's smile faded and he glowered at the belligerent old man.

"I came to see Dr. Barnett."

Patrick turned his attention back to his magazine.

"She's over watchin' classes."

The pleasure driving class had just started, and a large crowd of spectators filled the arena. Kurt scanned the seats on both sides of the ring, but didn't see Liz. She's probably not very interested in performance classes. After looking around once more, he headed back to his stalls, his thoughts turning to another woman.

Eve seemed pretty damned sure of herself about the outcome of this show. Thinking about Benton's veiled accusation, anger rushed in, but common sense told Kurt that his original notion was valid: Bill Benton would not jeopardize his career for Eve Aliqua, no matter how much he wanted Ebony. Kurt came to terms with the suspicion that his boss really was the culprit. Now, how to prove it?

Liz emerged from the restrooms in time to see Kurt leave the arena. Her pulse jumped. Was he looking for me? She started after him, then hesitated, unsure she wanted to face him. Maybe he was in the arena for some other reason. He'd very likely still be angry. If she apologized, would he even accept it? Probably not. She'd badly bruised his ego by doubting his honesty, and that would be hard to repair with a man as strong as Kurt.

The Native Costume class had just entered the ring, and Liz stared, fascinated by the elaborate and expensive costumes of horses and riders. The native trappings of the Middle East magnificently enhanced the classic beauty of the Arabian horse. The riders in the ring below had obviously researched the customs and raiment from many of those countries, coming up with exotic outfits that sparkled under the lights and flowed on the air currents generated by the cantering horses. Liz watched the entire class, the gorgeous display transporting her to distant lands, her problems forgotten.

By the time she headed back to the barn, it was late. Kurt hadn't returned, reaffirming her suspicion that he'd been in the arena by coincidence. She said goodnight to Patrick, and retired to the tack stall, exhausted and unable to think of anything but ending the day. The barn lights dimmed and the noise level dropped to a distant hum. She squirmed, trying to get comfortable on the hard bales of hay. Checking the phone once more to be sure it was working, she exhaled and gazed up at the dim angles of the barn rafters. The tension eased out of her muscles, and she drifted into a hazy, half-conscious state.

In an instant, she came fully alert, her pulse racing. Footsteps? Raising herself up on an elbow, she listened hard, trying to filter out the sound of her own heart crashing against her ribs. A shadow fell across the doorway.

"Liz?"

Kurt stepped into the stall, and she fell back against the hay, closing her eyes, fighting a sickening wave of fright.

She struggled to sit up. "You frightened me nearly out of my wits!"

He sat down next to her on the bale, his face even with hers. His features were soft and Liz searched them for a hint of his feelings. He reached over and stroked her hair, concern shadowing his face. His shirt cuff brushed her cheek and she inhaled deeply, the scent bringing back the memory of their night together. A familiar longing came over her, and she leaned her head into his hand, savoring the warmth of his touch. His voice caressed her mind.

"Listen, you go to sleep. I'll stay up with the horses."

She felt deeply moved by his efforts to make amends. Now's my chance to tell him how wrong I was. She raised her eyes, but Kurt was looking at the ground.

"Liz, I have something to tell you. You'll probably hate me forever, but I owe it to you."

The warm feelings disappeared, and a chill blew through her chest. She watched his face closely as he struggled to begin.

"When I told you about my past, I neglected one important detail."

As he looked at her, a rosy glow crept over his cheeks.

"A few months after my suspension, I heard a rumor that my boss had hired someone to drug that horse. She'd been so jealous of my girlfriend that she'd set out to destroy me. And she succeeded. I had suppressed my grief, tried so hard to push the past aside. When everything came crashing down, I no longer cared about anything. Everything I'd touched had crumbled, without exception. I never tried to get my record cleared. I just let Della get away with it. I was paralyzed."

Liz spoke softly. "Why are you telling me this? I already know you weren't responsible for what happened this morning."

He took a deep breath. "Because I think I know who drugged your colt."

Her voice cracked. "Who!"

His hands came up defensively. "Hold on, I might not be able to prove it, but I'm almost positive Eve had something to do with it."

Liz said nothing, her insides turning to lead. Why would Eve do something like that? In the next instant, an answer slammed into her brain. She rose and stalked over to the stall door, trying to suppress the urge to scream insults at him. She took a deep breath and turned back to face him.

"So, you've been sleeping with Eve to keep your job. Just like New Mexico. Is that what you're saying? That when you made love to me, it was just recreation?"

He rose to his feet, visibly shaken. "No! Liz, please sit down and hear me out. You're on the wrong track."

She crossed her arms over her chest. "I can hear you just fine from here."

He took a deep breath. "First of all, I haven't been sleeping with Eve. I learned my lesson good on that one."

A small twinge of relief sneaked through Liz's anger.

Kurt continued. "Bill Benton offered Eve a huge amount of money for Ebony, on one condition - that the colt win the regional title so Bill could take him to the nationals."

Liz narrowed her eyes. Bill Benton, again.

Kurt walked to the side of the stall and absent-mindedly fingered a lead rope hanging there.

"Eve offered me a double commission on the sale. A lot of money, Liz...my big break."

The emotions scrambling through her brain made her dizzy, but she felt mostly despair, followed by anger.

"So, all your attention over the past couple of months has only been about business. You were spying on me?"

He shook his head. "In the beginning, yes, but I - "

She didn't let him finish. "You gave Eve the ammunition she needed to remove Karma from the class. To ruin me."

She felt used and naïve. Both Kurt and Eve had taken advantage of her.

Kurt stood quietly until she'd finished her tirade, then came to stand directly in front of her. He searched her face with his sad, dark eyes.

"Liz, I never dreamed she'd go to such lengths. I'd planned to try to win the class fair and square. Our horses were perfectly matched, it would have been thrilling." He looked down at the floor. "I've made a real mess of my life, and as a result, you've caught some of the backlash."

He looked up again, directly into her eyes. "But I promise you, I'm going to get to the bottom of this, and clear your name."

She didn't even try to keep the contempt from her voice.

"Just get out!"

"My treasures do not chink or glitter,

They gleam in the sun and neigh in the night."

                                                                                                          - Old Arab Proverb

Liz stood in the center of her cozy kitchen, soaking up the rich warmth of the oak barn-board paneling that glowed with the late afternoon sun streaming through the window. The comfort of being back home wrapped around her like the security of a cocoon. The events of the past few days had drained and saddened her. She felt as though she never wanted to venture out again.

Through the window, her beloved red barn was a bright spot against the brittle, late-summer colors. Legacy was her treasure, and she had the control to make it as large or small as she desired.

I'll never again let shallow ambition bring harm to my beautiful horses.

In her mind, Liz had left the business of showing Arabians. During the drive home from San Francisco, she'd thought long and hard about that decision. At first, she'd questioned herself about cowardice, about being a quitter. However, the longer she thought about it, the more convinced she became that it would be possible to breed and sell fine quality horses without putting them through the rigors of the show ring. She didn't need to prove anything to anyone. More importantly, she did not want to be one of the desperate players in the risky winning game.

The sun dropped behind the mountains, casting soft shadows over the land as she walked toward the barn. Heads popped over stall doors, eager for supper, and Liz beamed at her stable of beauties.

"You'll all live like royalty. I promise."

Later that day, the woman who'd cared for the horses during Liz's absence stopped by to pick up her check. Her uneasy manner told Liz something was wrong.

"Hi, Mandy. You don't look very happy."

"I'm tellin' you, that gray mare is a piece of work. First, she pinned her ears at me when I went into the stall to feed her. That made me kinda nervous. Then, the next day, out in the pasture, she wouldn't come, and wouldn't let me catch her to bring her in."

Mandy hesitated, prefacing her words with an apologetic look. "I left her outside all night. It was getting dark, and I had to leave. I'm really sorry - I know you never leave your pregnant mares out at night."

Liz inhaled slowly, telling herself to remain calm. Mandy had been around horses all her life, and Liz had assumed she could handle most situations. This one must have been particularly difficult.

"How'd you get her back into the barn?"

"The next day when I turned everyone out, she'd gotten over her snit, and wanted to come in. She spent all day inside."

Fearing she'd say something she might regret, Liz decided not to discuss the issue further. After Mandy left, Liz went to the barn and watched Muscala for a while.

"I wish I knew what your problem is."

Eve showed up in the tack room bright and early, her manner brisk and confident. "Where is it?"

She looked around the room, spotted the trophy sitting on the file cabinet, and quickly moved over to pick it up.

Kurt watched her out of the corner of his eye, seeing greed work its seductive magic on his boss. She turned, her face glowing with self-satisfaction.

"You did a great job, Kurt - thank you. Billy says the colt was fabulous in the class." She laughed. "This was one time he didn't mind losing."

Kurt nodded, but said nothing. Interesting. She's already talked to Benton.

Eve parked herself on a stool in the corner and watched him work for a few minutes. He sensed she had something to say, but he kept his head down, polishing the cold, steel bit in his hands. The silence grew thick and, finally, she spoke.

"Billy's going to pick up Ebony tomorrow morning. He wants plenty of time to work with him before the nationals."

Kurt's gut tightened. The game plan has changed. He narrowed his eyes and looked directly at her.

"He's already signed the contract?"

She shifted her gaze to the floor. "Not yet, but I've agreed to let him keep the horse at Fire Stone while I'm drawing it up."

Kurt exploded. "Eve, that's ridiculous! Nobody lets a valuable horse go to a buyer without a signature. And insurance!"

She gave him a disdainful look. "Well, that really isn't any of your business, is it?"

Kurt knew immediately where the rest of the conversation would go. He rose from the bench and stepped toward her, his chest tight with anger.

"When do I get my commission?"

She looked away and cleared her throat. "I won't be able to pay you until I have most of the money. It'll be six months, at the most, but probably sooner."