Winning Ways Page 9

  He smiled knowingly, his expression hinting that he recognized her discomfort. She blanched and looked away, trying to compose her thoughts.

  He changed the subject. "What are your plans for the rest of the season?"

  Relieved to focus her thoughts on something less stimulating, she answered quickly. "Karma and Ashiiqah are both qualified for the regional show in September."

  He nodded, but his expression held a shadow of tension. She moved past the brief distraction.

  "If I do well at the regional show, I'll take them to the Nationals in Albuquerque. I need some serious wins on these horses - especially Karma - if I want to build name recognition for the farm. Otherwise, I'll be just another breeder."

  Kurt signaled the waiter for the check, then sat back in his chair and gave her a quizzical look, as though analyzing her words.

  "You'll probably do okay at regional, even though there'll be some pretty big-name trainers there. But don't get your hopes up for the nationals. That's big business. A loss at that show can put your farm off the map just as quickly as a win can put it on."

  She straightened up, her indignation rising quickly.

  "What do you mean, big names? Names don't have anything to do with winning."

  He snorted. "Boy, you really are naïve! At a certain level in the horse business, money talks - whether it's Arabians or Quarter Horses or Thoroughbreds. Money makes the really big decisions. It's a fight-for-blood environment."

  Bristling at his patronizing attitude, she snapped, "That's not true. My father never paid to win a class."

  She pushed away from the table and stood up, ready to walk out of the restaurant. God, I can't stand this man!

  "Whoa, Liz, hear me out." He took her hand, looking at her sympathetically. "Please, sit down and let me explain, okay?"

  Grudgingly, she returned to her seat, not feeling receptive to whatever he planned to say.

  "Things were different when your father showed his horses. That was the ‘real' horse business. So much has changed over the last twenty-some years. The breed has become a commodity, an investment. The reality, now, is that there are some heavy-hitters in the Arabian industry, people who have more money than you or I could possibly imagine. People who have no real interest in the horses themselves. Business tycoons. Royalty from other countries. Mafia-types. They can pay anyone to do anything."

  He watched her for a moment, then continued.

  "Some of the big-name trainers are paid so much money, and have such free rein, that they become celebrities in the show world, and that generates even more power. Some of the horses that pull off big wins don't have a fraction of the outstanding bloodlines that yours have. But enough under-the-table payoffs, plenty of slick advertising, a big enough trainer name...it makes a difference in the ring."

  "What are you getting at? I just beat Bill Benton twice!"

  "That won't be your only problem."

  She stared into dark brown eyes that seemed to reflect sincerity and apology for his comments. Remembering Colleen's warning, Liz intuitively knew what he wanted to say.

  She looked him straight in the eye. "I'm a woman, right? That's what will keep me from reaching the top with my horses?"

  The expression on his face told her she'd hit the bulls-eye.

  The effects of the wine meshed with Liz's anger, confusion, and the deep weariness of a very long day. She wanted to fall into bed and lose herself in sleep, but still had work to do at the stalls. Karma's championship class would be the next afternoon, and she had to be ready.

  Stepping up into the truck, her thoughts were on the tense conversation. Why had he brought up the subject of show politics? They rode along for a few miles, wrapped in uneasy silence, Liz still mulling over his views on the business of showing horses. Finally, she decided to pursue it.

  "Tell me why you think I can't succeed as a woman in the show ring."

  Kurt squeezed his eyes shut for a second, then glanced over at her. "Have you ever looked around at the exhibitors in a class? Do you see many women?"

  She gave him a blank look. "Of course. There are lots of women showing Arabians at most of the shows I attend."

  He snorted. "That's right. And most of the shows you attend are small, local shows. And most of those women are owners showing in the amateur classes. C'mon, Liz, how many big-time, really successful female professional trainers have you seen?"

  She couldn't answer him. She'd never paid any attention to the people in the ring, only the horses. The silence grew around them. What is he trying to prove? There must be a reason he's trying to discourage me from showing my horses, and I don't think it's because he's afraid I'll lose, or have my feelings hurt. Her misgivings started to mount.

  Kurt's tone became a little less patronizing. "I'm not saying you can't ever win some classes as a woman, or without buying your way into the ribbons. I'm just saying the odds are tough. You need to be aware of it going in. Don't be surprised by anything that happens at the big shows that really count."

  He patted her hand like a father consoling a child who'd lost a toy. Liz pulled her hand away, crossed her arms, and stared out the window.

  Why am I being so obstinate? He's been around this business a lot longer than I have. He's bound to have some insights. Another minute passed in silence. Here I am, finally with the man I've been daydreaming about, and I'm spoiling it.

  "Kurt, I understand you are only trying to help. I'm sorry I acted so cranky about it. You just don't know what I've been going through since I moved to California."

  He didn't respond, and she continued.

  "I've been beating my head against the wall, trying to establish my practice here. I can't seem to break through the good-ol-boy barrier, no matter how good I am at what I do. And now, you're telling me the problem extends into the only joy I have - showing my horses. Can you blame me for being upset?"

  His hand covered hers again, his voice sincere.

  "I know, Hon, but sometimes there are things so far out of your control, that it makes more sense to find another way to make a mark on the world."

  Liz gazed at his shadowed profile. I wonder how you would know something like that. What is your secret, Mr. Cowboy?

  20

  Liz's earlier fatigue had disappeared by the time they returned to the show grounds.

  "Kurt, you don't have to stay while I work Karma. Don't you have a long drive back?"

  He grinned. "I'm not driving back tonight. I want to stay and see the fireworks tomorrow." His expression turned serious. "Besides, you shouldn't be down here at the barns alone late at night. You don't even have anyone watching the horses when you're not here."

  "What are you saying? About the horses, I mean."

  He gave her a solemn look and reached for a lunge-line hanging on the wall.

  "Just be aware that there are folks out there who would do bad things to keep a good horse from winning. You should always have someone at your stalls, especially at the big shows."

  "You are kidding, aren't you?"

  One look at his face told her he wasn't.

  She pressed the issue. "Is that why you got so upset when you found me in your mare's stall that morning?"

  "Something like that."

  He turned and entered Karma's stall. She started to pursue the conversation, but was immediately distracted by her colt's meek attitude as Kurt haltered him.

  "How did you do that? He acts like you've hypnotized him."

  "Actually, I don't know." He grinned. "I guess I'm part horse."

  More than ever, she wanted to know more about the real Kurt.

  "Y'know...you know a lot about me, and I know nothing about you."

  "One of these days, we'll play true confessions, but for now, shouldn't you work your champion yearling?"

  She recognized the put-off. There's something he doesn't want me to know, but I want to understand him. I'll just have to find out on my own.

  Still under Kurt's magical influence, Karm
a stood quietly while Liz attached the lead rope. Having a professional like him around could sure make my life easier. The thought zapped her brain like a cattle prod, and she glanced sideways at Kurt's firm body, instantly feeling the stir of excitement again. And definitely more interesting.

  Together, they walked through the night to the lighted exercise paddock, and Liz went to the center. Karma remained the picture of obedience, although he looked back twice to locate Kurt. The colt's good behavior was short-lived. Once he started around the circle, Liz felt his tension in the line, and tried to communicate to him through the lead. He bucked and jumped and walked on his hind legs. He stopped and wouldn't go forward. Oh, no, don't do this now, not when I have an audience that just told me I couldn't succeed because I'm a woman. Let me at least look like I have some control!

  Kurt materialized at her side. "Mind if I give you a couple of tips?"

  "Wouldn't you know he'd act up when someone's watching?"

  "Well, if he misbehaves tomorrow, you can kiss your championship good-bye."

  She handed him the lunge-line and stepped back. Karma had stopped prancing and stood quietly, his attention locked on his new handler. Kurt clucked softly and stepped toward the colt, who immediately trotted perfectly around the circle, head held high.

  Liz watched, admiring the way Kurt handled her "bad boy" with a skill acquired through years of experience, and some other mysterious craft.

  Kurt commanded the horse to halt, and Karma stopped in his tracks. Transferring the whip to the other hand, Kurt gave it one small snap at ground level, and Karma pivoted on his hind legs, and trotted in the opposite direction. Liz shook her head. He makes it look so easy. I spend hours fighting this colt, and along comes a cowboy who can make the horse stand on its head if he asks it to.

  Kurt nodded toward Amy's stall. "You showing that bay mare tomorrow?"

  Liz stopped picking Karma's hooves and looked up. "Yes, but I can work her in the morning."

  She unhooked the colt and put him into his stall, then tossed in a flake of hay. When she returned to the aisle, a mischievous grin rippled across Kurt's face.

  "I want to show you something."

  She laughed. "You've already impressed me. What else can you do?"

  A seductive look slipped into his eyes, and she immediately regretted her choice of words.

  His voice deepened suggestively. "Come over here and I'll show you."

  She giggled nervously, her cheeks burning. "Ahhh, I mean with horses."

  Beckoning her to follow, he walked over to Amy's stall. The elegant mare stood motionless, watching him with interest. He stepped inside the door, talking softly, then moved to her head and turned to face the same direction as the horse. Bringing his right hand up beneath her chin, he snapped his fingers loudly and stepped toward the open stall door. Amy moved forward with him, staying exactly at his shoulder. Kurt "led" the horse out of the stall and into the aisle. When he stopped, she stopped. He started forward again, and the mare followed.

  Astonished, Liz watched Amy walk freely down the aisle beside the handsome cowboy. He brought the horse back to where she stood, and reached for the halter hanging on the wall.

  He grinned. "She hears the snap and thinks she's attached to the lead line."

  "Doesn't say much for being very bright, does it?"

  "Doesn't have anything to do with being smart. Horses are creatures of habit and response. She's well trained, so it works." He grabbed a brush and started smoothing it over the mare's sleek coat. "Just don't try it with a green horse."

  At that moment, Liz knew she'd fallen under the same spell as her animals.

  A quick glance at her watch jarred her. "Oh, man, it's midnight. I have to go. I didn't realize it had gotten so late."

  A self-conscious smile played at the corners of his mustache. "Sorry. I lose track of time when I'm working with horses. Come on, I'll walk you out to the truck."

  The night was quiet as they moved across the parking lot. At Liz's truck, he stepped up close and gently grasped her shoulders.

  "You get some rest. You're gonna clean house tomorrow."

  He kissed her softly on the forehead, then waited while she climbed into the truck.

  "Lock your doors."

  Liz watched him disappear into the darkness, her heart thumping, her shoulders tingling where his hands had rested, her guard completely down.

  The scent of Liz's perfume still lingered inside Kurt's truck. How many lady trainers wore perfume? As he'd watched her work with the colt, his thoughts had raced, knowing he shouldn't be helping her, that he was just digging himself in deeper. He knew he shouldn't have given her such a hard time about the pitfalls of showing horses. Well, dammit, it's true! She'll find out for herself soon enough, and there's nothing I can do to save her.

  The charitable thought surprised him. He'd never considered another trainer's feelings or goals. Extremely competitive, he'd lived his life to win with his horses and make a name for himself. He shook off thoughts of the past, focusing instead on Eve's "incentive plan" and his own future. His life held no room for sentimentality, romance, or sympathy. On this trip, he'd learned what he needed to know. Now, he had to figure out what to do with it.

  21

  The next morning, Liz glanced up and down the aisle frequently as she prepared Amy for her class. By gate call, Kurt still hadn't shown, and Liz's distraction puddled into disappointment.

  Only four exhibitors waited by the in-gate. Few owners bothered to show older mares in halter classes, concentrating instead on their younger broodmare prospects. A quick assessment of the competition convinced Liz that her chances of a blue ribbon were excellent.

  The class went flawlessly, and Liz observed how quickly the judge assessed the other entrants. He made his decision as soon as he saw Amy. Feeling almost smug, Liz ran beside her mare on yet another victory lap and grinned, recalling Kurt's comment about "cleaning house." Another quick look at the grandstand, and disappointment edged into her happy thoughts. His absence dampened her elation, and that irritated her. Why should I let anything detract from the excitement of this win?

  As she left the ring, a short man approached her, his even white teeth sparkling through a crooked smile.

  "Congratulations. Nice mare. Is she for sale?"

  Liz gazed at the familiar tanned face.

  He offered his hand. "Bill Benton. Fire Stone Farms."

  "Liz Barnett. Legacy Arabians."

  He grinned. "I know who you are. So, is the mare for sale?"

  At close range, Benton was nice-looking, but his arrogant, almost condescending attitude detracted from his physical appearance.

  "No, this is one of my best broodmares. She produced the colt I showed yesterday in the yearling class."

  Liz felt a tiny thrill as she zapped the "big-name" trainer.

  "Huh. If she's already one of your best broodmares, why are you showing her? Is she in foal?"

  Liz's hackles rose. Another guy trying to tell me what to do.

  "I'm showing her to promote my farm name. She's open this year. I'm giving her a rest."

  Benton rolled his eyes and sighed. "Oh, I see. Being a good mommy, are we?"

  A snarling response snapped into Liz's thoughts, but Benton stepped back and tossed out a limp wave.

  "If you change your mind, give us a call. We're in the book."

  He swaggered off, leaving Liz feeling ridiculous and very much like an amateur.

  Kurt stood in the shadows by the arena entrance, his jaw tightening with concern as he watched Liz talking to Bill Benton at the rail. If I know Benton, he's trying to buy something. Kurt's stomach pitched at the possibility that the sale on Ebony might fall through if the trainer took a notion that Karma was a better stallion. Benton walked off and, even from a distance, Kurt saw that the conversation had upset Liz.

  He pasted a smile on his face as she approached.

  "Hey, congratulations, again. I see you had a little visit from Billy-Boy." />
  "What a nasty man! He wanted to buy Amy."

  Kurt felt a rush of relief, then laughed. "He's nasty for wanting to buy your horse? I'd say that's a real compliment. Fire Stone touches nothing that isn't first-class."

  Liz frowned. "No, I mean he's just obnoxious. He started giving me a hard time for showing a broodmare, then made snide comments about the fact I didn't breed her this season."

  Kurt softened his tone. "That nasty man is a steam-roller in the ring, and the more important the show, the nastier he gets. Better to have him for a friend than an enemy." He hesitated. "Are you going to sell her?"

  Liz's scowl deepened across her features.

  "Why would I do that? She's part of my breeding plan."

  Kurt waded in, knowing the water was deep and treacherous.

  "Isn't money part of your plan, too? I'd say a chance to sell a horse for a good price is pretty critical to expanding a breeding farm. Having your breeder prefix integrated into the Fire Stone herd wouldn't hurt you much, either."

  Liz's voice rose with irritation. "I've had just about enough of know-it-all men telling me what they think I'm doing wrong. This horse is one of my father's last foals. She's special to me. She produces excellent babies. And I'm keeping her!"

  Snapping Amy's lead rope a little too hard, Liz strode forward, followed by the surprised mare, who tossed her head and danced sideways. Kurt caught up with her.

  "Easy, Liz. I'm only pointing out the obvious. If you have personal reasons for keeping the mare, that's fine - we all have our favorites. Just don't jeopardize your breeding program with sentimental decisions. Remember, you recently added a truly outstanding mare to your barn, one that cost you a lot of money. No offense to your father, but Fair Lady is three times the horse Amy is. The name of the game in breeding is to keep the best, and cull the rest."

  His inner voice goaded him. Like Eve did with Muscala.

  Liz heard everything he said, and knew in her heart that he spoke the truth, but her anger overruled her common sense. In the past twenty-four hours, Kurt had brought up obstacle after obstacle to her plans for Legacy. She was sick of it and wanted to be left alone.