Ride a Dark Horse Read online

  Cassie gritted her teeth.

  Hysteria was imminent, guaranteed, if this jerk didn’t get out right now. “No, no, I’m fine. Will you please just leave!”

  “Well,”Caleb drawled, the word easing slowly through his lips. “If that’s what you want.” He grinned at the blush that was stealing over her collarbone. Her face must be the color of a fire hydrant by now he thought with unholy amusement. He couldn’t resist torturing her just a bit more. “I hope we’ll be seeing more of each other in the near future.”

  He turned, heading for the door, pausing one last time with his hand on the knob. “By the way you’re a real knockout. See you around, Slim.”

  Laura Moore

  Ride a Dark Horse

  POCKET STAR BOOKS

  New York London Toronto Sydney Singapore

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  An Original Publication of POCKET BOOKS

  A Pocket Star Book published by

  POCKET BOOKS, a division of Simon & Schuster Inc.

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  Copyright © 2001 by Amey Begley Larmore and her licensors

  All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever. For information address Pocket Books, 1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020

  ISBN: 0-7434-2162-0

  POCKET STAR BOOKS and colophon are registered trademarks of Simon & Schuster, Inc.

  Prologue

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  Epilogue

  to Charles

  Ride a Dark Horse

  Prologue

  T he pounding of the stallion’s hooves broke the quiet of the afternoon. Horse and rider gained momentum as they rounded the end of the ring and headed toward the last row of jumps. Closer and closer the rider neared, gathering and steadying his mount. Ten yards, five yards, and then it happened. Again. The two men leaning against the fence winced.

  “Hell. The stupid bastard’s eating dirt again. How many times does that make it now, Caleb?”

  “Eight, nine . . . I think I’ve lost track. Tell me, Hank, when are you going to find a real rider to work with Orion? I’m getting damned tired of these jokers. If we don’t find someone who can stay on his back long enough to finish the course, I think I’ll take over. I couldn’t do any worse than these chumps.”

  Hank Sawyer looked at the man he considered a second son and grinned. He had watched Caleb grow from a gangly wiry kid into a six foot two inch, one hundred eighty pound man. At thirty-two years of age, Caleb Wells was solid muscle. Broad shouldered and lean hipped, he radiated power and grace—even when shaking his head in disgust at Hank’s soon-to-be former rider. The long, curling ends of Caleb’s dark hair brushed the collar of his navy blue flannel shirt. He’d rolled his sleeves up, exposing strong, sinewy forearms. Even in the chilly March air Caleb preferred to be in shirtsleeves. He rarely wore coats, at most slipping on a heavy fisherman’s sweater and a denim jacket should the Virginia weather turn really cold. His casual attire suited his lifestyle. As a veterinarian, specializing in equine medicine, he wore clothes that could withstand the wear and tear his profession demanded.

  Hank leaned his elbows against the top of the rail and turned his attention back to the fallen rider, watching closely as the man rose shakily to his feet, caught the stallion’s reins, and awkwardly remounted.

  After reassuring himself that the rider wasn’t too rattled by his spill, he called out, “All right, take him over that line again. Then you can warm him down. And try to stay on top of him this time!” This last bit was muttered under his breath. No point adding insult to injury.

  Rubbing a hand over his lined face, Hank turned once more to the younger man. “Listen, Caleb, I know you’ve got the ability to continue Orion’s training, but we’re going to need someone who can show him this coming season, too. You’re just too damn busy. You know how much time it takes. Do you really want to give up your practice to train and show him? After all these years of hard work? I know it’s frustrating to watch these riders get on Orion and make a hash of it, but there’s got to be somebody out there.” He grimaced as he turned to observe the rider cir-cling around the ring on the horse that was his and Caleb’s pride and joy. “Preferably someone with a modicum of talent. That’s what we need if we want Orion to win and be sought after as a stud. Look, I’ll start calling around. Get out some mailings. Maybe we’ll get lucky.”

  “The hell of it is, even if we find someone halfway decent, Pamela will probably come up with a way to nix it. Jesus,” he bit out in frustration as he raked his fingers through his thick, dark brown hair. “You’d think she wants Orion to end up finishing last in every class, the way she keeps shoving these nobodies down our throats. Damn her and her lawyers.”

  Hank made no reply knowing Caleb would brush aside words of sympathy. The boy had been chastising himself over the debacle of his marriage and his divorce for far too long now. He watched Caleb’s eyes flash with self-contempt and the lines around his mouth deepen as if forcing down a bitter taste.

  Caleb leaned his tall body into the fence, shoved his hands in his faded jeans’ pockets, and considered his friend’s advice. As a rational argument, Caleb knew Hank was right, that they should once again resume the tedious process of trying out potential riders for the stallion. Perhaps this time they might luck out and find someone gifted enough to ride Orion. But as Caleb lifted his head and watched his stallion take a large double-oxer in an effortless leap, resentment and anger filled him. Because of his appalling lack of judgement, his stallion, a horse he had helped foal, had helped train, a horse filled with such incredible potential was, figuratively speaking, being left to rot. Such a stupid waste.

  For the thousandth time, Caleb cursed the day he laid eyes on Pamela, his ex-wife.

  But to give up would mean that Pamela had won whatever twisted game she was playing. No way would he let her have that satisfaction, too. Technically, she might be the owner of Orion, but Orion was Caleb’s horse, one hundred percent. Come hell or high water, he was determined to regain rightful ownership of his stallion. And when that day came, Caleb intended for that slip of paper the lawyers and the judge had written, giving Pamela full ownership of Orion, to have as much value as a piece of toilet paper. Then Pamela could stick it where the sun didn’t shine.

  “Okay, Hank, we’ll do it your way ” he agreed finally. “Find another rider to give it a go. But make sure he knows how to ride a spirited stallion like Orion.” Caleb shook his head skeptically. “I hope to hell we can find someone with balls enough to do it.”

  1

  A s Cassie Miller drove the Jeep Wagoneer down the sloping hill that led to the farm’s driveway she caught herself chanting, “I think I can, I think I can.” Glancing ruefully at her reflection in the rearview mirror she prayed that her nervousnes
s wouldn’t ruin her interview.

  The entrance to the driveway was marked by the sign Five Oaks. Pulling in, she steered the Jeep over to the side of the well-graded dirt road, cut the engine, and twisted around to face the backseat.

  “Okay, kids, time for a face and hands check.” Two small children looked back at her with matching deep blue eyes and golden curls. They waited expectantly.

  “All right, you guys, stick ’em up!” Cassie said in her best James Cagney voice. The two giggling five-year-olds raised their hands to the level of the front seat and showed them to Cassie for inspection. Cassie took Jamie’s and then Sophie’s, examining each in turn.

  “Excellent! We’ve got two clean pairs of hands here. Now Jamie, how many fingers have you got? We don’t want any missing.”

  Jamie looked down, wiggling his fingers. “One, two three, four, five ” he began and rushed on, “six, seven, eight, nine, ten!”

  “That’s terrific. Now I know you’ll be able to shake hands politely with Mr. and Mrs. Sawyer.”

  “What about me?” clamored Sophie, eager to be included in the game.

  “Have you got ten fingers, too, Pumpkin?”

  “Yes!” crowed Sophie triumphantly. “Just look!”

  “Why, imagine that! You’re right! What luck. You do have ten fingers.” Cassie pretended to wipe her brow. “Whew! I was so worried! But what about your faces? Are those peanut butter and jelly sandwiches you had at lunch in your tummies or on your cheeks?”

  “In our tummies!” cried both children, this time a little doubtfully.

  “Hmm, I guess they look clean enough.”

  In fact, both Sophie and Jamie’s faces fairly glowed, Cassie having taken the precaution of arming herself with packets of moist towelettes for the trip. She leaned over and kissed their soft cheeks, marveling once again at the beauty of her two little imps. She was so proud of them. Had been from the day they were born.

  “You two certainly look smart to me. But let’s make sure of one last thing. Your shoes. Are they on the right feet? We can’t have you going off to an interview with shoes on the wrong feet!”

  “But Mom,” cried Jamie in an aggrieved tone. “ You’re the one who’s gonna get the job. We’re just kids.”

  “I don’t know about that. If I get this position at Five Oaks, you two will be my assistants.”

  “We will?” Jamie’s small voice rose with excitement.

  “Of course. And I’ll also need both of you to take care of Topper and Pip. Those ponies are a big responsibility.”

  “Yes, Mommy, we know.”

  “And, kids, I need you to be on your best behavior. Mr. Sawyer was super nice about letting you two tag along while I talk with him about working here.”

  “We know Mommy, Uncle Alex and Thompson told us that, too.”

  “About a zillion times.”

  “No, it was a quadrillion times.”

  Cassie smiled. “Right, well, don’t forget. I’m counting on you. Now that that’s settled, how do I look? Any muck on my face?”

  Now it was the children’s turn to inspect Cassie. Treating the matter with utter seriousness, they leaned forward, bending at the waist to look at her more closely.

  Sophie pronounced judgement. “You’re the most beautiful mommy in the whole wide world!”

  A bittersweet lump formed in Cassie’s throat. She swallowed hard before attempting to speak.

  “Thank you, Pumpkin. I love the two of you very much. You’re so wonderful to me.”

  “But Mommy ” interrupted Jamie, who already knew he didn’t like gooey kisses and hugs and wanted to stop things before they got out of hand, “Your hair is coming out again.”

  “Oh, dear ” cried Cassie in mock dismay. “Mr. and Mrs. Sawyer will just have to see the wild side of me.” As a child, Cassie’s hair had looked like Jamie’s and Sophie’s, but over the years the corkscrew curls had softened, so that now they more closely resembled riotous waves that flowed down to the middle of her back. But whenever she tried to tame it, pulling it back into a knot at the nape of her neck, as she had done for the upcoming interview strands escaped and framed her face with golden curls.

  “Well, we’d better get a move on before I lose my courage and drive us straight back to New York. I faxed the Sawyers and told them to expect us at about three o’clock. It’s just three now.”

  Cassie turned the key in the ignition and pulled the car back onto the driveway. The farm, she already knew was spread out over two hundred acres of prime Virginia horse country. When Cassie had seen the job announcement, offering a dual position as trainer and rider for Five Oaks, she’d immediately faxed her résumé and crossed her fingers. Professionals from all over the country would be responding to the ad.

  She’d been thoroughly elated, as well as a bit astonished, when she received a call from Hank Sawyer asking her to come down for an interview.

  The driveway stretched for nearly a quarter mile with white wooden-fenced pastures on either side. Cassie and the children could see horses grazing on the new grass. As they reached the horse barns, pastures gave way to riding rings with brightly colored jumps set at various heights. Behind them, Cassie noticed a large indoor ring. The driveway ended in a wide circle around which stood five enormous oaks.

  Cassie parked, opened her door, then let the children out of the back. They clambered down from their seats, chattering excitedly. Cassie stood silently, taking a moment to gaze at the beauty of her surroundings.

  There were four barns in all, two attached together to form a T shape with the third one off to the side. As Five Oaks was a breeding farm, Cassie assumed that the separate barn was used for the brood mares. A fourth barn was set off at a distance. She noted with approval the pristine condition of the buildings. Painted white with dark green trim, they shone invitingly in the afternoon sun. Muffled noises and the occasional whickering of horses floated out on the air.

  “Come on kids, take my hands and let’s go find Mr. Sawyer.”

  They entered the shaded interior of the larger barn. Rows of box stalls flanked a wide concrete aisle. The barn smelled of horses, leather, hay, and creosote, a scent that was as familiar to Cassie as the smell of her own home. As familiar and as loved. Hooked up to a pair of cross ties, a large bay was being groomed by a man wearing an Orioles baseball cap. He looked to be about thirty, and from his dark olive complexion Cassie guessed him to be Mexican.

  “Excuse me. Could you please tell me where I might find Hank Sawyer?” The man stopped brushing but continued to lay his hand on the horse’s shoulder in a soothing gesture. A smile spread across his features when he saw the young woman holding the hands of two almost identical children.

  “He’s in the office. Follow this aisle down and then make a right. His office is around the corner.” From the man’s slight accent, Cassie knew that her guess had been right.

  “Thanks a lot.”

  The trio moved past the horse and Cassie ducked her head under the cross ties.

  “Mommy ” Sophie whispered excitedly as they began walking past the long line of stalls. “Can we say hello to the horses as we go by?”

  “Yes, a couple, but let’s not be late for our appointment.” Cassie knew only too well just how much time it might take two five-year-olds to say hi with this long a row of box stalls. Many of the horses standing with their ears cocked forward and their necks arched gracefully over the stall doors, seemed as inquisitive as the two chidren. They observed the humans’ progress down the aisle toward the office.

  The door to the office was shut, so Cassie let go of Jamie’s hand and knocked. From within, a voice called out instructing them to come in. Cassie, Jamie, and Sophie stepped inside. Behind a large desk piled high with stacks of papers and books, a man stood and came forward to greet them.

  “Hello, you must be Cassandra Miller. I’m Hank Sawyer. You’re right on time. Hope the trip down from New York wasn’t too exhausting.”

  He paused a moment, his glance
lighting on the two small children standing at her side. “And what are your names?”

  “Hello, Mr. Sawyer, I’m Jamie Miller.” Jamie stretched out his small hand. Hank shook it with a solemn smile, his large hand engulfing the tiny one. Sophie thrust out her hand, too, determined to be as grown-up as her brother.

  “Hi, Mr. Sawyer, I’m Sophie. Jamie and I are twins. He was born before me. But I can count to twenty faster.” She boasted proudly.

  “That’s true for the moment, Sophie, but Jamie’s catching up to you. I’d keep practicing.” Cassie glanced at Hank Sawyer. “Thanks again, Mr. Sawyer, for letting us impose on you this way. Sophie and Jamie learned all about the Baltimore Aquarium in school this year. They were desperate to come, so we’ve turned the trip into a three-day cultural adventure.”

  “The aquarium’s a fascinating place, and the harbor too. You’ll enjoy it. We’ve taken our grandchildren there quite a few times. Just let me telephone my wife so that she knows you’ve arrived.” Hank turned to his desk and picked up the phone. As he dialed, he looked up, “Make yourself comfortable. On the wall over there are photographs of some of our horses.”

  Sophie and Jamie scrambled over to the wall to peer excitedly at the pictures of horses soaring over fences; horses standing in the judges’ circle, blue ribbons hanging from their bridles; riders smiling as they leaned down to shake hands with women in sequined gowns. Cassie thought she could make out the younger features of Hank Sawyer as well as another, unidentified man.

  As she waited quietly while Hank spoke into the phone, she took the opportunity to observe him unobtrusively. He looked to be somewhere between fifty-five and sixty. His full head of hair was silver, cut short to reveal the strong bones of the face. It was a kind and open one, with laugh lines bracketing the corners of his mouth. The lines etched into his brow and the deep gold tone of his skin, even this early in spring, attested to the hours he spent under the sun. Cassie liked the way his eyes had crinkled up at the corners when he’d smiled at Sophie and Jamie. She’d also seen the shrewdness and intelligence in them, something she’d expected to find. One couldn’t survive in the horse business, let alone run such a clearly successful establishment as Five Oaks, without those qualities.