Chapter Three
Back in the saddle. For most of the day.
One more thing Asher had not anticipated for his first day home in years.
And he could not say he minded all that much.
Now, a last dance with a certain cowgirl to close out his day, well, he would not mind that, either.
Shaking his head, Asher blamed the heat and his lack of a cowboy hat and proper sun protection for scrambling his thoughts.
He dismounted from Derby Dreamer and complimented the two-year-old thoroughbred on a solid workout then handed the reins to Owen, the stable’s hotwalker.
Owen was less than shouting distance away when Derby Dreamer reared, broke loose from Owen’s hold and sprinted out of the pasture.
Fortunately, the spirited colt darted in Asher’s direction, and he had the racehorse under control fairly quickly.
Owen jogged over, his cheeks the same flame-colored red as his hair. He exhaled hard, his words coming out in a puff. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what happened.”
This was the third time that afternoon Owen had told Asher the very same thing. And the third horse who spooked with the twenty-some-year-old groom.
Owen added, “I can take him now.”
“It’s all right.” Asher ran his palm over the colt’s sleek gray neck and shook his head. “Me and Derby Dreamer seem to have bonded. I’ll cool him down and take him to his stall.”
Owen chewed on his bottom lip and eyed Asher. “Are you firing me, then, for too many mistakes?”
“Not today,” Asher said.
Owen’s shoulders lowered. “What should I do?”
Asher checked the walking ring, noted the horses already there cooling down and said, “Come with me. We can hand-walk Derby Dreamer together.” Asher turned the colt toward a path that circled the perimeter of the property and asked, “How long have you been here, Owen?”
By the time Asher led Derby Dreamer into his stall, he knew Owen’s entire history.
The kid was working to pay for his classes at the local college.
He wanted to be a veterinarian but needed large animal experience on his application.
He’d been working at the Blackwell Stables for two weeks, was bright and eager to try.
Asher walked Owen through a proper rubdown, left the kid with Derby Dreamer and went to find Joe to figure out how to get Owen the proper training he needed.
He found Joe in the tack room, inspecting a broken bridle. “I know Owen is new around here, but the colts I worked with today seemed more than a little high-spirited.”
“They are,” Joe acknowledged. “They are all on the younger side of two.”
Asher frowned. “But those workouts today are meant for a more mature two.” One that was able to focus and compete.
“We’ve accelerated our training program slightly,” Joe admitted. “The twos have not been sanctioned. We need to get them racing sooner rather than later.”
But Asher’s father was meticulous about every stage of his training program.
He had personally curated and designed the program over years of breeding and racing to produce elite racehorses capable of winning.
There was no skipping or rushing through any phase.
Ever. Asher said, “Dad would not like this.”
“Your father was focused entirely on Sovereign’s Pride. And that is why the twos are behind in their training.” Joe shook his head and continued, “Now we need revenue, and the juvenile races are our chance until the sanctions are lifted on the threes.”
If the sanctions weren’t lifted, the juvenile races were their only chance not just for revenue, but to prove the Blackwell Stables still produced quality racehorses.
A trainer shouted for Joe. He grabbed a different bridle from the wall, then eyed Asher. “Don’t forget to stretch yourself. You need to be back in the saddle first thing tomorrow morning.”
Asher rolled his shoulders against the stiffness already tightening across his lower back from the hours spent riding and said, “Then I proved myself.”
Joe nodded and stepped around Asher then glanced back. “You look like you might have even enjoyed yourself, too.”
“I did have fun,” Asher admitted.
“You don’t have to look so surprised.” Joe chuckled and shook his head. “It’s allowed around here, even for a serious-minded business guy like you.”
Asher had fun twice in one day. First, dancing with Kelley at the diner and then riding. That had to be some sort of record. He took it for what it was—a moment to clear his head. After all, he’d long since outgrown making a habit out of fun.
Besides, he was serious now about preserving his twin’s legacy, and chasing fun would not lead to reliable revenue streams or the reputational damage control they needed to survive the doping allegations. Of that much Asher was sure.
Asher walked down the stalls until he found the one marked Sovereign’s Pride.
The colt was sleek and muscular, standing at 16.
2 hands. His coat was a deep golden brown.
His mane and tail black. His blaze pure white.
At first glance, the colt was perfect. A racehorse in its prime, ready to work.
Asher could envision Pride rounding the bend toward the finish line and crossing first for an impressive and indisputable win.
There was something regal about the horse, as if he knew he was meant to be the best.
Yet, on second glance, there was something fragile about the horse.
Asher extended his arm over the stall door, palm open and fingers extended in the same way Joe had taught him when he was four and his father decided it was high time the twins learned how to ride.
Pride watched him with caution and flattened his ears, alerting Asher that all was not well with the champion.
Big E joined Asher at the colt’s stall.
“Pride is too agitated and very unsettled.” And that bothered Asher a lot.
“Hasn’t been the same since we came back from the Dust and Diamonds Derby.
We’ve tried everything we know,” Big E mused.
“Dr. Eisler checked him. Got Doc Julia’s treatment plan right there.
” Big E tipped his head toward the clipboard hanging on the outside of the stall then he added, “Doc says the drugs need time to work out of his system.”
“How long does that take?” Asher asked.
“Each horse is different.” Big E shrugged. “Could be days or weeks.”
Asher watched Pride and held the horse’s gaze as if the colt was going to let him in on his secrets.
I know a little bit about how you feel. And like the racehorse, Asher was not certain quite how to cut through his own discontent.
He supposed they were both waiting for the feeling to pass.
Asher only hoped it wouldn’t be much longer for both of them.
“Maybe you’ve got an idea,” Big E suggested.
“I’m the wrong brother.” Asher took a step back. “You want Nathan or Caleb. They’ve always had a sense for horses and their needs.” Nathan bred horses and Caleb was something of a horse whisperer; at least that was what the family always called him.
“But you’ve got the sense for numbers.” Big E tapped his temple. “From what I’ve heard and learned about you and your job in the city.”
Asher lifted one shoulder. “I’ve managed well enough.”
“More than well,” Big E stated. “You’ve got an MBA with a concentration in finance from a renowned university. You’re a director at your firm and you closed more deals than any of your peers by almost double last year. If I’m not mistaken, you’re on pace to do the same this year.”
He was. Until Asher got a call about his father’s sudden death.
Asher had been standing in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows in his corner office in a downtown high-rise, working late as usual.
He had listened to the voice mail from Joe twice.
The first time buckled his knees. The replay found him dropping onto the leather couch as if he didn’t know how to stand on his own anymore.
Asher had sat on that couch until the sun came up, certain the start of a new day would see him back to rights.
And yet, like Pride, Asher had been out of step ever since.
Asher scratched his chin and said, “You’ve done your homework on me.”
“You’re family.” Big E chuckled. “I like to celebrate my family’s successes. Also, I find it helpful to know who I can count on and for what.”
Asher shifted and studied the older cowboy. “Why do I get the feeling you called me here for more than exercising and conditioning the horses?”
“Because I did,” Big E said, his voice low. He glanced around the stables, nodded at a pair of stable hands and Joe, then he added, “Let’s take a stroll. With this many ears in the building, there’s sure to be some listening in going on.”
Asher walked beside Big E until they reached the pasture the farthest away from the practice tracks and stables. A trio of horses grazed in the far corner, their tails swishing and their ears flickering.
Big E hitched his boot on the bottom fence post and considered Asher. His words were frank and matter-of-fact. “I need you to do an in-depth review of the stable financials.”
Now, that was cutting to the chase. Asher liked Big E all the more. He asked, “Is there a problem?”
“That’s what I want you to find out,” Big E said and tipped his hat back. “Given you didn’t flinch at my request, I’ll keep it plain and direct. We need to figure out if Walter was desperate enough to dope his own horse to win the Triple Laurel Legacy Circuit.”
There was no way to misunderstand that directive. Asher exhaled, low and hard. “Do you believe Walter cheated?” Asher’s father was many things. Set in his ways. Stubborn. Gruff. But dishonest in business was not one of them, was it?
“I’ve seen good cowboys so desperate they’ve done far worse,” Big E mused. “If a cowboy has got nothing to lose then it seems anything is possible.”