Eight
Famous Bolt Brook Thoroughbred Farm under Investigation for Illegal Substances
What in the world?Tuck clicked on the notification on his phone. Thanks to internet algorithms and cookies, ever since purchasing a smartphone, he constantly received alerts related to horse racing. Only Tuck never imagined seeing a photo of the McKinneys under that particular headline.
He quickly scanned the article, and with each passing line, Tuck’s stomach tensed, and his heart drummed heavily in his ears. He clicked on the comment section of the article.
How dare they endanger those horses.
Tbredfan4life
No surprises here. That’s how all those big farms make their money. I wouldn’t be surprised if all the horses needed drug testing.
HorsesRtheReason
Maybe they should investigate the daughter as well. She owns her own farm now.
KYBlue2
Everyone who has ever worked for them needs to be investigated.
Not4Sportz
Tuck grimaced.
“Everything okay?” Mordecai asked.
“Uh, not sure.” Tuck glanced up at the vet. He’d forgotten the doc was there to check out Tuck’s animals. “Do you need me to stick around?” He needed to get to Piper’s before she found out about her parents by internet alert or worse.
“No. Everyone looks good. I doubt there will be a problem. If so, I’ll call.”
“Appreciate that, Mordecai.” Tuck tipped his cowboy hat, then rushed out of the stables. Normally, he’d hop on one of the horses and head to Piper’s place that way, but since they were getting their checkups, he’d take his truck.
Lord, I don’t know if what the article claims is true, but please, help Piper through this. The media will be reaching out for a comment if they haven’t already.
He winced. Aaron Wellington would certainly be getting fodder for his magazine feature. Would the journalist make life more difficult for Piper or become an ally?
Tuck put the truck in gear and thought about how emotional Piper had been after her last conversation with the man. He could only pray that he would be the exception and not meet all the stereotypes Tuck had for reporters. Surely working for a magazine made the man more inclined to report the truth.
Piper would be devastated at the allegations against her parents, true or not. Lord, please let them be false.
Even though Tuck had worked for the McKinneys—part-time as a teen and full-time once he’d received his degree—he’d never seen anything to suggest Ian McKinney allowed illegal substances for Bolt Brook’s horses. Then again, Tuck hadn’t been high up on the chain. It was certainly possible to do something illegal without everyone at the farm in the loop. After all, the fewer people who knew, the easier it would be to pass as legit, right?
Don’t speculate.
Tuck punched the code into Piper’s security system, waited for the iron gate to open, and then drove up the black asphalt and parked. He ran up the sidewalk, but his senses took hold before he pounded on the door. If she hadn’t seen the article, he didn’t want to rush into her house like he was being chased. Pulling every ounce of reserve, he knocked twice.
His boots tapped a mindless rhythm as he waited for the sound of a lock turning, but nothing came. He rapped his knuckles against the wood louder. “Come on, Pipsqueak,” he murmured. After a few moments more, he checked his watch.
Maybe she was riding? Or doing something around her farm?
Was it possible she was with Aaron Wellington?
Please, no, Lord. I have a feeling he’d just make the situation worse.
Tuck went around the side of the house. Scanning the horizon didn’t show her on horseback. Every step across the grass brought him closer to Piper’s stables but no closer to an answer. Just as he was about to take another step, a sniffle hit his ears. He froze, eyes darting to the left where the small goat barn stood.
There sat Piper, holding her white Pygmy goat, Ice Ice, while tears streamed down her face. The other goat, Baby, brown with white patches, nuzzled against Piper as if trying to comfort her. Tuck’s heart dropped to his toes like an anvil from a four-story building.
She knew.
He trudged over to the barn and unlatched the gate. At the sound of his steps, Piper looked up. The moment she saw him, sobs tore free. She let go of the goat and launched herself into his arms. He pulled her to him, surrounding her with his arms as tight as he could while she buried her face into his chest. They stood there until his shirt dampened and Piper’s sobs settled to hiccups.
“Want to go inside?” he asked. “I’ll make you some tea.” She always drank tea when something upset her.
She sniffed. “Tea sounds good.”
Tuck wrapped an arm around her shoulders and tugged her toward the house. He didn’t know what to say. Should he tell her it would be okay? What if it wouldn’t? What if her parents had done what they were accused of? Should he offer a Bible verse to give her comfort?
Which one, though?
His mind remained as blank as a sheet of paper. He led Piper inside and headed for the kitchen, where she sat down at the round table taking up space to the far left. She had a dazed look on her face that tugged at Tuck’s heart.
He grabbed her teakettle resting on the stove and filled the navy-blue pot with water. After turning on the gas burner, he perused the tea offerings, then selected an herbal one. He wasn’t a tea drinker, but he’d seen Piper drink tea enough to know this was the one she reached for the most. That and the low quantity gave him a clue.
“Want to talk about it?” he asked.
Her eyes darted to his face, then away. She shook her head.
Maybe she needed a snack too. No telling when she’d eaten last. He opened the fridge and assessed the contents. He grabbed some already cooked bacon, a tomato, and fresh lettuce. After toasting two slices of the sesame bread she had, Tuck made his favorite comfort food—a BLT.
He placed the sandwich in front of her as the kettle began its soprano ascent to a screech. He readied her tea and set the mug on the table before her, pleased to see half her sandwich already gone. Tuck took the chair opposite her and watched as she began sipping her tea.
“A reporter called me this morning. Asked me if I wanted to make a comment regarding the accusations against my parents.” Piper’s voice was low and shook every few words as if she were holding back more tears. “You can imagine my shock.”
“I was hoping I’d be the one to break the news.”
Piper tilted her head as if to say, What can you do? “I definitely would’ve preferred that.”
“Did you make a comment?”
“No. I hung up and turned off my cell, then searched on my laptop for an article.”
Tuck winced inwardly. “You didn’t read any comments, did you?”
“Maybe...”
“Piper.” He groaned.
“I know. I know. But what was I supposed to do when I saw it trending on X? Of course I clicked on the hashtag.”
Did he even want to know? “There’s a hashtag?”
“Oh, you must have clicked on a news outlet like an old person.”
Tuck chuckled, thankful she could still crack jokes. “It’s the only way to get reliable news.”
“Maybe so, but X will have you know #McKinneyGate is not a surprise. Obviously, my parents only produce such champion Thoroughbreds because they use blood-doping agents.”
Well, if the world had assigned a hashtag, the news was worse than Tuck had anticipated. He thought it would only stick to the horsing community. “Did it say how many tweets were associated with the hashtag?”
“About ten thousand.”
Tuck let out a low whistle. Last time he saw that much noise was during Netflix’s live reunion for season four of Love Is Blind. A live reunion that didn’t happen live and ended with fans upset with one of the cohosts. Tuck knew horse racing had a huge base tuned in to either watch or bet. But was it really that many who tweeted this morning?
“Have you called your folks?”
Piper’s eyes flashed. “Like they called me to inform me they were facing a criminal investigation?”
“Maybe they were trying to spare you.”
She threw her hands into the air. “My parents are being accused of tampering with champions. If they’re found guilty—” She swiped at the tears now running down her face. “Why wouldn’t they tell me something this huge, Tuck?”
“You know they’ve always tried to shield you from too much media attention.”
“I’m an adult!”
Tuck sent up a prayer asking for wisdom. He understood where Piper was coming from, but he also understood the desire to shield a loved one from drama.
“I know that. So do your parents. But you’ll always be their child, no matter how old you get. Believe me, my mom tells me that often. Your folks are great at shielding you from unwanted public attention. How do you think you got to be so normal while some of the other trust fund babies became brats?”
“I hate that you’re right.” She sniffed. “It just hurts. Feels like another exclusion.”
Could he just tuck her into the crook of his arm and never let go? Probably not. Seemed like shades of her parents ... 2.0 style.
He stroked his beard. “I imagine it does. Try thinking about what they’re feeling. Their whole lives are on display for the world to see and become judge and jury. If anything paints them in an untrustworthy light—regardless if it’s true or not—the public will use that to execute them on social media. It’s sort of like what Lamont went through.”
Lamont was practically a monk. So even though pictures of him and Nevaeh had been plastered all over the internet suggesting he wasn’t representing a Christian walk, Tuck had never doubted his innocence. Once he heard the true story, Tuck had been grateful to live in Kentucky and not under a microscope like Lamont did in Hollywood.
But apparently, the spotlight had now been directed toward Eastbrook, with Piper’s folks under the hot lights.
“I’m so self-absorbed,” Piper murmured.
“No, you’re not. You’re human. Anyone would react the way you did.”
Her lips pursed. “So you’d run into your fields, grab a goat, and sob your guts out?”
“I don’t have any goats.” He winked. “But I did go grab the girl and let her sob her guts out somewhere a little more comfortable than sitting in dirt and grass.”
Piper tossed her balled-up tissue at him, and he juked to the side, letting it sail past him.
“Do you want me to take you to Bolt Brook?” he asked as he stood.
“Yes, now that you’ve talked some sense into me.”
“You’ll get through this, Pipsqueak.”
He held out his arms, and when she walked into them, Tuck said a little prayer of thanks that he could be there for her in this way.
In any way, honestly.
Lamont
I don’t even know what to say. Know Nevaeh and I are praying for Piper and her family.
Chris
Same. I’m sure the media storm is hard right now, but God’s got her.
Tuck
Appreciate y’all more than you know.