Leaping Hearts (30 page)

Riding him proved more arduous. Even though they had a good session, A.J. was in agony. With every leap into the air, and through the dozens of hard landings, she had to bite her lip to keep from yelping. To hide her distress, she took to avoiding Devlin’s eyes for fear he’d read her discomfort.

As they led Sabbath back to the stable, she tried to discuss the day’s work but by then her arm was throbbing. When Devlin offered to help groom the stallion, she saw the simple courtesy as a lifesaver. With him preoccupied with a curry brush, she had time to rush into the tack room and swallow two more pills. When she came back, he was putting a blanket on the horse.

“You ready to try some more work around the water?” he asked.

A.J. nodded, stripping off her chaps and then freeing Sabbath from the crossties. As she was leading the stallion out of the barn, Devlin stopped her.

“You look tired.”

“I’m fine.”

He put his hands on her shoulders. “You don’t need a rest?”

“We don’t have time for breaks,” she said brusquely, then tempered the words with a smile. “At least not until later tonight.”

His eyes grew sensuous. “Say, I don’t know if you’re aware of this but there happens to be some loose hay up in the loft.”

“Really?”

“Uh-huh. Bet it’d be good to roll around in. Just in case we can’t wait to get up to the farmhouse.”

A.J.’s body flooded with heat. She glanced out at the jumps. “Let’s get going. The sooner we start—”

“The sooner we’re done,” he finished, dropping a lingering kiss on her lips.

In a hurry, A.J. led the stallion into the ring and then over toward the water. Immediately, he began to buck in fear and protest. Over and over, they approached and retreated, getting a little closer every time. Stroking his neck when she could and keeping her movements slow and reassuring, she put aside her physical pain and tried to calm him.

After more than an hour, A.J. led the stallion out of the ring, feeling discouraged and exhausted. She put Sabbath into his stall and removed his halter and then Devlin came over with an armload of grass and dropped it over the door. They both stared ahead as the horse ate, the soft rustling of a muzzle against grass the only sound in the barn.

A.J. was rolling her mother’s solitaire back and forth between her fingers when Devlin finally spoke.

“You’ve got to slow down.”

She looked up at him in surprise. “What do you mean?”

“I’m worried about you.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re exhausted.”

“We worked hard today.”

“You’re coming off a fall. You need to ease back into all of this.”

“I don’t have that luxury,” she said softly. “I don’t have the time to take it easy.”

“A.J., I know you’re focused on the Qualifier but you run the risk of burning out if you keep up this pace. I know you don’t want to hear this but I think you need to consider the bigger picture.”

Her breath left in a rush. “That’s what I’m doing. There’s always a water jump at the Qualifier, along with a whole host of other things. The crowds, the noise, the other horses. Sabbath’s going to be beside himself. We need to prepare him—”

“You’re not going to fix him in two months. No one could.”

“But—”

“And nobody wants you to hurt yourself trying. Especially me.” Devlin tucked a strand of hair behind her ears. “Working yourself to the bone is not the answer.”

“There’s just not enough time,” she said to herself.

L
ATER THAT
afternoon, A.J. went up to Devlin’s study. Smiling at his organized but daunting stacks of paper, she took a seat in his creaky old wooden chair and settled in for some sleuthing by unfolding Sabbath’s bill of sale and pedigree. The prior owner’s name was one she recognized and she recalled him owning a stable located in Lexington, Kentucky. After some footwork with a phone operator, A.J. got the number and dialed. The gruff voice that answered didn’t inspire confidence.

“Yeah?”

“Mr. Tarlow?” she asked. In the background, she could hear stable sounds like hooves clapping on concrete and whinnies echoing through a barn.

“Hold on.” The phone was dropped, landing hard on something metal. The racket was still ringing in her ear when someone else got on the line.

“Albert Tarlow here.”

“This is A. J. Sutherland. I bought a Thoroughbred, Sabbath—”

“The sale is final!”

“I know, I know. I just wanted to ask you a couple of questions about him.”

“What kind of questions?” He sounded suspicious, like a man being offered a package that was ticking.

“About his background.”

“I don’t know how much I can help you. I didn’t own him
for all that long, although I must say he made a vivid impression.”

“He tends to,” A.J. said wryly. “Were you aware of any problems he had with water?”

“What didn’t he have problems with? He kicked up a fuss about the stall he was in, the riders, the trainers, his hooves—do you know he hates blacksmiths?”

“Yes, but it was the water I wanted to—”

“That horse went through three blacksmiths. He thought they were punching bags, I’m quite sure. Never seen anything like it and I’ve seen a lot of things.”

“About the water—”

The man interrupted her again, his voice wistful. “But that animal had so much potential. When he decided to jump, which wasn’t often, he was incredible. Are you having much luck with him?”

“Some.”

“You must have the patience of Job.”

It was more Noah’s territory she was interested in, A.J. thought.

“Mr. Tarlow, I specifically want to know if you tried to take him over any water jumps.”

“Only once.” The man laughed grimly. “Planted one of my riders in the dirt so hard I thought we were going to have to dig the poor guy out. After that, I decided to sell the horse. Even if we could get him over the uprights and the oxers, which was a big
if
in my mind, I knew no one had a chance on his back over water. That horse put up such a stink over a six-inch-deep puddle, you’d swear it was out to get him.”

“Did he have any trouble with hoses or wet ground?”

“I do recall a groom turning the hose on him after a workout to help cool him down. That horse went crazy, and I mean really crazy. Trampled two of my men, tore out a pair of crossties like they were dental floss and ran around, dragging chains behind him, until he wore himself out. Nobody could catch him.”

“How long did you own him?”

“Only six months or so. It seemed like years.”

“Who did you buy him from?”

“My cousin picked him up for his own use and dumped him here when it became obvious the stallion was a handful. Always told Billy, you get what you pay for. He figured he’d gotten a deal but really he’d done the previous owner a favor by taking that animal off the man’s hands.”

Just like you did for me,
his tone said.

“Any idea where your cousin got him?”

“Don’t know that, although I think he’d been passed around a lot before Billy got him.”

“Thanks so much,” A.J. said.

“Good luck,” the man replied, hanging up.

Looking over Sabbath’s pedigree, she found the name of his broodmare and her stable and was able to track the place down. Unfortunately, the manager couldn’t recall anything in particular about the stallion’s time as a colt. He’d been sold as a yearling to another stable, the name of which escaped the woman.

Frustrated, A.J. leaned back in the chair, tapping a pen on the edge of the desk and trying to decide what she should do next. Offhandedly, she noticed a stack of bills in front of her and glanced at the top one. It was for the vet who’d come to check Sabbath’s leg after her fall. She picked it up and looked at the next one, which was from the feed store, and the next, which was from one of the blacksmiths they’d used. Then there was another from an insurance company, one from a tack shop and then a hardware store’s statement.

She frowned as she added up the amounts. The total was staggering. Devlin had incurred thousands of dollars of debt in her behalf. Why hadn’t he told her?

Then it dawned on her. She’d never paid him a cent. They’d agreed from day one she’d pay him a reasonable trainer and board fee but it had been well over a month and she hadn’t given him a thing. She resolved to write him a check.

A.J. froze.

And cover it with what? she wondered. All two hundred dollars in her bank account? Groaning, she thought about how poor she was.

Buying Sabbath with her own money was the first independent
thing she’d done in her life. She wouldn’t go back on the decision but it occurred to her that being headstrong wasn’t the same thing as being self-sufficient. Cutting that $30,000 check and walking away from Sutherland’s, letting go of her safety net and taking a long-overdue step toward adulthood, it had all been necessary. She just hadn’t thought out the financial particulars and now she was paying for it.

Or not paying, as the case may be.

As she confronted a stiff bill with a sagging wallet, she was determined to carry her own weight and not ask Devlin to suck up her expenses. He wasn’t earning any income now that he wasn’t competing and she had no idea what his net worth was. Anyway, even if he had deep pockets, he didn’t owe her a living. She would have to find a way to pay her own way.

And A.J. was determined not to throw herself on her father’s financial mercy. She wasn’t going to compromise her newfound independence from him simply because of money.

With a flash of insight, she realized how easy she’d had it while under her father’s wing. Even though she’d never been paid anything for her work at the stables, there had always been plenty of money. Her father was generous with cash and had covered all her expenses, in school and out. All her clothes, her tack, the horses she rode, the cars she drove, the meals she ate and the vacations she went on…Garrett took care of it all. She had no credit cards in her own name, had never paid a phone bill, couldn’t remember the last time she’d written out a check to some kind of vendor.

Sure sounded like the life of a princess, she thought, struck by what a bizarre existence she’d had. Between Peter running the business of Sutherland Stables, and her father taking care of her so well, she’d become completely divorced from her own finances. Why hadn’t she noticed before now?

Because she’d never actually paid for anything until now, A.J. thought, her fingers seeking out the solitaire and rolling it around.

So how was she going to cover her debt?

Maybe she could just sell something.

The trouble was, she didn’t really own anything. Which she guessed made sense considering she’d never really bought anything with her own money. Well, except for wildly unpredictable Thoroughbred stallions with water phobias and the predilection for torturing blacksmiths.

Why couldn’t she have started out with something a little less ambitious? Like a goldfish?

She mentally thumbed through the things she used on a daily basis. The convertible was in Sutherland Stables’ name for the write-off; her furniture back home was more the mansion’s than hers; her clothes had been bought on credit that her father covered. Besides, she didn’t imagine there was a huge market for used barn boots.

What was she going to do?

Her fingers stilled, the solution painfully clear.

God, growing up hurts, she thought, dropping her hand to her lap.

Chester showed up for breakfast the next morning with a saucy grin. Devlin and A.J. were just sitting down when the man walked in.

“Good mornin’! Good to see ya set m’ place at the table. Didya miss me?”

“Welcome back,” A.J. said, smiling up at the man.

“How’re you feeling?” Devlin asked suspiciously.

“Right as rain. Fit as a fiddle. All the usual.” Chester slid into his chair and picked up his spoon. “I’m ready to get back to work. Couldn’t stand kicking around the house yesterday. Hey, listen. After the trainin’, I was thinkin’ I could retrofit those water pipes that busted. The plumber said he fixed the line but—”

“You’re doing nothing but the bare minimum today and I’m going to be watching you,” Devlin said. “If you’re not on good behavior, you’re back on the bench.”

Chester opened his mouth to argue but obviously thought better of it.

“Fine,” he grumbled. “If the two a’ you want to play nursemaid, that’s your business.”

“Glad you see the light,” Devlin said with a grin.

Down at the barn, they fell into their regular rhythm of work but it was strained under the surface. A.J. had to perform many of her tasks with one hand, which meant she was slow and dropped things. The worst for her was picking out Sabbath’s hooves. She had to use her arm to do the job, and, by the time she was finished, beads of sweat were dotting her forehead from the pain. She was forced to sit down and recover, cradling her arm in her lap while pretending to make small talk with Chester. After a while, the pain passed but it took longer than the day before.

Devlin had his own concerns. He was worried Chester would overdo it and unsure how much lifting and pulling was safe for the man to do. The groom behaved himself for the most part, but when he came down from the loft with a heavy load of hay, Devlin had to step in.

“You sure you should be carrying all that?”

“Humpin’ bales a’ hay is what they make men for.”

“It’s what they make wheelbarrows for.”

“Aww, come on. I’ve been toting this kinda load for years.”

“And maybe it’s time you eased up.” Before the man could argue, Devlin pointed a finger to the back of the barn. “You know where it is.”

Moments later, Chester showed up grumbling but pushing the wheelbarrow.

“Much better.”

“Hate this thing,” Chester grumbled. “Wheel’s bent cockeyed an’ the barrel’s too shallow.”

“So buy a new one. You’re going to spend a lot more time using the thing, so you better like it.”

Chester looked as if he was going to squabble.

“Tell you what,” A.J. offered. “I’ve got some errands to run today. We’ll hijack the truck and pick up a new one together.”