Winning Ways (30 page)

Liz's heart warmed at the mental image of foals frolicking in the pastures again, their contented and watchful dams grazing nearby. As she cleaned stalls, she considered the future of Legacy Arabians. Well-bred horses always brought decent prices. Nothing like Benton's inflated price tags on animals that were boosted into stardom by God-only-knew what means - but certainly prices that would fit within the market. Her ambitious dreams of being a sensation in the show ring now seemed so shallow, and she questioned her motives again. Why did I feel I needed to prove something? The very fact that she'd kept some of her father's horses and had continued the bloodlines was, in itself, a memorial to Ben Barnett, but she hadn't seen it until recently. She smiled with fond memories. One famous horse trainer in the family is surely enough.

Trekking up to the pasture to collect the horses, an idea struck her. Maybe I felt I had to justify having such excellent horses - do something important with them, more than just love and enjoy them. She watched the mares follow Fair Lady down the hill toward the gate. Karma meekly brought up the rear, and Liz chuckled. Men do not rule in a horse herd. The females make the decisions, and the males obey.

Her mirth faded. That's exactly what I did with Kurt. I enforced the rules, and true to herd pecking order, he followed them to the letter.

That evening, Liz lay curled up on the study couch, reading about a new medication for colic. After ten minutes of fighting to keep her eyes open, she rolled off the cushions and tossed the medical journal onto the desk. As she flicked off the light, the phone rang.

She groaned. "Oh, please, not an emergency right now. I need to go to bed."

She composed her voice. "Dr. Barnett. Legacy Arabians."

The line echoed with long distance.

"Hey."

Her heart leapt into her throat.

"Kurt! Oh, my God!" She shivered with delight - and relief at finally hearing his voice again. "How are you? Where are you?"

She heard the smile in his voice - probably amusement at how giddy she sounded.

"I'm good. How 'bout yourself?"

"I'm fine, really busy."

She couldn't believe the mindless exchange. She had a million things she wanted to say, but fear of another rejection reared its ugly head. A heavy silence thickened between them. She swallowed hard, then opened her mouth to say something else - anything to break the quiet.

His voice sounded solemn. "I've really missed you, Liz."

Anxiety tightened her chest. She'd waited so long to hear from him, and now she couldn't even speak.

His voice continued its soft, melodic voyage. "You have every reason to hang up on me. I've treated you badly, and caused you a lot of trouble. I just wanted to hear your voice again, and tell you I'm sorry."

His voice dropped as though he were going to end the conversation.

"No, wait!" She struggled to regain control. I'm not going to let him slip away again. She willed herself to be calm. She had to keep him on the line. "I heard you quit Aliqua. Where are you?"

He cleared his throat. "I'm on the road again."

A crackling noise echoed in the silence between them, then he spoke.

"When I realized what Eve had done to you, my long-lost conscience jumped up from wherever it had been hiding all those years, and I had to make a serious decision. It scared the hell out of me, thinking about giving up the job I'd had such a hard time getting, but I knew I couldn't work for dishonest folks any more."

Listening to the strength in his voice, her heart swelled with love and admiration for his courage.

His tone became more confident. "Even before the end of the regional show, I'd planned to see if I could trap her into admitting she'd drugged Karma. When I returned to the farm after that show, she started hedging about Ebony's sales commission, and that really ticked me off. Then the damned mare attacked you, and that did it. Seeing you battered and bleeding as a result of Eve's unethical dealings put me right over the edge."

Liz reflected on the days he'd spent, tenderly caring for her and her horses. His voice brought her back to the present.

"I packed up and handed over my keys. It felt really good."

"You knew you were going to quit when you left here?"

"Yeah, and I'm sorry about that. I just couldn't tell you, because I wasn't sure if the truth would ever come out, and I was afraid you wouldn't pursue it."

"I did, and the attorney was fairly optimistic in the beginning, but not long ago, he wrote and told me that the only way to clear my name would be to find someone who saw something that night. I simply haven't found the strength to pursue it."

She winced at how wimpy she sounded.

His tone was sympathetic. "I was afraid of that. Finding old witnesses is a tough call."

Liz wanted to move past the subject. "Where've you been for the past two months? Looking for work?"

"Yes and no. I headed for New Mexico first. I had some old business to finish."

Liz waited. Further explanation didn't seem to be imminent. The unfinished business probably had to do with his original suspension. How can I get him to tell me where he is?

"Liz, I know it sounds like I'm hedging, but I've done a lot of soul searching about my past...and my future. I'm in the process of getting my name cleared on the old mess in New Mexico, and it's taking longer than I expected." He sounded nervous. "I didn't want to call you until I could tell you the good news, but it looks like I'll have something in writing any day now. I hope."

"That's wonderful! Then what are you going to do?"

He hesitated for a moment, as though choosing his words carefully. "I don't know yet. Depends on some other things in my life."

His guarded tone made her very nervous.

A second later, he spoke again. "Are you planning to go to that Arab art show in Oakland, the week after next?"

The abrupt change of subject caught her off guard.

"I have the invitation, but hadn't made any plans yet, because Colleen just came home from the hospital. She's not supposed to go out for a couple more weeks."

"Meet me there. Please?"

She closed her eyes, imagining herself standing next to him again, feeling his strong arm around her shoulders, inhaling his wonderful scent. His voice pierced her thoughts.

"Liz, please. I want to see you again. Start over."

She pictured his face, the corners of his eyes crinkling with his beautiful smile. Leaning into the phone, she felt their lips so close, yet so far.

"Me, too."

Ten minutes later, the phone rang again. Colleen's still-weak voice held breathless excitement.

"Liz! Have ya seen the new issue of the registry bulletin?"

"No, what's going on?"

"Eve Aliqua's been permanently suspended! And that black colt she sold to Bill Benton was stripped of its national title! I'll bet ol' Billy's ticked!"

Liz reeled with the news. "Are there any details?"

"Nope. Nary a one."

Colleen fell into a coughing fit, and managed to squeak out a good-bye.

Liz stared at the phone. Had Eve actually found her conscience?

The California Arabian breeders group had quite a reputation for putting on fabulous fund-raising events. Liz hadn't attended the last two galas, and she looked forward to this one.

The auction invitation had promised works by many famous and popular equine artists, including a piece by Robert Vavra. Liz's happiness grew as she flew down the highway. Even though she couldn't afford to buy anything, the prospect of being with Kurt again made her heart sing.

I'm not going to make any more stupid mistakes with him. Wherever he's been and whatever he's been doing, it's none of my business. Now is the only thing that matters. It's time to take a chance. She gulped at the thought. Taking a chance could mean things might not work out the way she wanted. Then, her father's words from the past echoed in her head. "Lizzie, if you don't ever take any chances, you'll never know the opportunities you missed."

She passed through the outskirts of Oakland, and found the street leading to Mills College, where the auction would be held. Stone gates towered twenty feet over the drive, marking the entrance. She drove slowly down the beautiful, tree-lined road, watching for signs to the College Art Museum.

The daylight had faded into dusk by the time she pulled into a parking space in front of the elegant Spanish Colonial building that housed the museum and art center. Old-style lanterns around the stucco building cast their golden glow on the ivory-colored walls and the lush shrubbery planted below.

As Liz locked the truck, the area around her suddenly exploded into brilliance, illuminated by thousands of colored Christmas lights. She gazed at the display, feeling a sense of joy and longing that had been locked away since her father's death. I want all this back. Resolving that she would shop for Christmas decorations the very next day, she started toward the entrance to the building.

As she climbed the wide steps, she looked up at the immense, marble Chinese dogs grinning down at her from their guard pedestals. Inside the door, she showed her invitation to the man at the registration desk, and took an auction number. She tucked it into her purse, feeling guilty that she wouldn't be using it.

The entrance to the exhibit lay straight ahead. I'll just wait here 'til Kurt arrives. She'd agreed to meet him around seven, but he hadn't said where. She settled onto a marble bench in the entrance hall and watched the large crowd of guests milling around, sipping wine, talking, laughing.

Each time the doors to the museum opened, her heart stopped. Each time, it wasn't Kurt. She stepped outside twice to see if he might be waiting by the front door. At seven-twenty, her stomach felt as though she'd swallowed lead. She rose from the hard bench, and followed the signs down the stairs to the restrooms. Her pain reflected in the mirror, and she blinked furiously. He's just caught in traffic or something.

Taking a deep breath and trying to compose herself, she headed back upstairs. I'll wait in the lobby for another fifteen minutes. If he doesn't show up, I'll go in and look at the exhibits. If I'm being stood up, I might as well enjoy the artwork before I head back.

Her chin quivered at the thought.

Okay, I've had enough of this foolishness. Liz rose and walked stiffly toward the entrance to Gallery One.

"Liz! Wait!"

Bill Benton strode up to her, smiling like a long-lost friend. Startled to see him, she wasn't sure what to say.

"Hi, Bill. Fancy meeting you here."

"I'm Celia's lackey tonight. She donated the food, and a couple of paintings. I'm supposed to be shopping for clients." He grinned wickedly. "You ready to talk business yet?"

Liz shook her head, feeling her shoulders droop.

"No, I'm finished with that stuff. It's not my world."

He cleared his throat, his face shadowing with sympathy. "It can be a real snake pit, that's for sure." He met her eyes, traces of apology tightening his jaw. "What a mess. I sure wish you had sold me your colt. Ebony was a waste of a good horse and a lot of my time."

Liz felt a surprising twinge of compassion - she knew the feeling of deep disappointment.

"You can still show him next year."

"Nah. Celia's suing Eve Aliqua for fraud. The horse will most likely be sold. And frankly, after all the scandal, I'd just as soon not have anything to do with him."

"What happened? If you don't mind me asking."

His face darkened with recollection. "At Nationals, after the stakes classes were finished, we were all partying in the skybox. Eve got a snootful." He shook his head. "She's never been able to hold her liquor. Anyway, just about everyone had gone, and Celia was joking around, using the trophy for a mirror. You know, fluffing her hair and so on.

"Out of the blue, Eve says, ‘You should be thanking me, Celia. You'd have been in deep shit if that Barnett woman's horse had been in the ring.'"

Liz's stomach lurched, and she felt the blood drain from her face. Bill nodded at her recognition of his disclosure.

"You don't know Celia, but she's never been able to stand Eve Aliqua. The stupid bitch stood right there and as good as confessed to taking your colt out of the running. In front of witnesses."

He chuckled. "Celia wasn't about to let a chance like that go by. She filed a complaint with ASC, and that was it." He smiled sheepishly. "What is it they say? ‘You can't win 'em all'?"

Liz shook her head in wonder. I think it's, ‘what goes around, comes around.'

Bill offered his arm. "You going in for the auction? They're getting ready to start."

"No, I'm waiting for someone, but thanks. Maybe I'll see you later."

A large number of art pieces had been donated for the event. Three rooms of the museum were hung with exquisite oils, watercolors, pen & ink drawings, and photographs - all of magnificent Arabian horses. Several pedestals held fine sculptures in bronze or marble.