Page 28 of Demons

“Oh,” I replied.

I wasn’t good with small talk in general, but this was Thatcher. He didn’t seem to be much for conversation. I’d brought a book with me and considered getting it out of my purse to read. But he was still looking at me as he drank more of his Bloody Mary.

“Your water,” the lady said, coming up beside me, then placing it on a coaster that had the Shephard Ranch emblem on it.

“Thank you,” I replied.

“Can I get you anything else?”

I shook my head.

She shifted her gaze to Thatcher. She might be older than him, but the immediate warmth that touched her face made it clear she was attracted to him.

“Mr. Shephard, can I get you anything?”

“Bring out a tray of fruit and cheeses with the cookies once we are in the air,” he told her, barely flicking a glance in her direction.

“Yes, sir,” she replied.

I reached for my glass and took a long drink before putting it back on the table beside me and then studied my hands like a weirdo. My only other option was looking at Thatcher, and this seemed the easiest of the two.

“Have you studied the other horses and the jockeys you’ll be up against on Saturday?” he asked.

My head shot up, and I nodded. “Yes. Several times. Nightly,” I admitted.

Winning this race was vital. I wanted to ride for the Shephards, but I knew losing a race that their horse was favored to win would be bad. I’d be tossed aside quickly, and they’d move on to someone else.

“Taze is a threat,” he said, his dark eyes still on me.

I wished he’d turn on a television or something and stop looking at me. I might be able to relax a little.

“Yes, but Bloodline is better. McGuire is riding Taze in this race. He has gained a few pounds since his last win, and he drinks the night before the race for his nerves. In an early race, it affects his performance.”

Thatcher raised an eyebrow slightly as he studied me. “That’s thorough.”

I shrugged. “It’s best to know your opponent’s weaknesses. McGuire was a last-minute exchange too. He’s not been working with Taze. The jockey who had been scheduled to ride him was newer but hungry. She would have been more of a competition. But she had a fall two weeks ago and broke her ankle.”

I was still nervous. Even with all this knowledge and the fact that I was riding the best horse there, I feared I would make a mistake. I’d trained, worked on my upper and lower body strength, eaten clean, stayed off alcohol, but that didn’t make me foolproof. Nothing did.

“When did you shift from barrel racing to thoroughbreds?” he asked me.

Surprised, I stared at him for a moment. He remembered. Or he heard that I’d once barrel raced. I shouldn’t read into that. It was more likely the latter. His family had probably done a complete background check on me before offering me the job.

“Uh, I made the switch about seven years ago. Slowly at first. I had to train and work to get my jockey license. But my interest came when I was given the chance to go to a race. Watching the track, seeing the jockeys, the energy of the place. It was something I’d never known existed. I wanted it.”

He leaned forward and set his empty glass down. “Tim Markson is a smart man. He knew potential when he saw it.”

How did he know about Tim Markson? How thorough was the background check they had done on me?

Tim Markson wasn’t from around here. I’d met him at a rodeo in Nashville. He’d approached me after a race and mentioned that he thought I’d be a good jockey. Then, he invited me to his stables and had his trainer take me out on a thoroughbred. Two weeks later, he took me to my first race. I had fallen in love with the world of thoroughbred racing that day.

“What do you know about Tim?” I asked.

Thatcher smirked. “He might not be on our level of success in the racing world, but he’s consistent. It takes wealth to truly have a winner. He makes ends meet, and with what he has, he can produce some impressive horses. But they’ll never make it to the winner’s circle,” he finished.

That wasn’t what I’d been asking. “How did you know about my connection to him?”

Thatcher looked amused. I didn’t see how this was funny, but I waited. “We don’t let a jockey ride for us unless we know their history.”

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