Page 48 of Irish Rebel
“Keeley, hurry, come with me.” Oblivious to the intimacy of the scene she’d burst in on, Mo grabbed her hand. “I need backup. The bastard.”
“What? What’s happened?”
“If he thinks he’s going to get away with it, he’s got another think coming.” Dragging Keeley, Mo barreled through the stables, turned and charged toward a stall.
Keeley could already hear the voices raised in argument. She saw the man first. She recognized him. Peter Tarmack with his oiled hair and cheap pinkie ring made a habit of picking up horses in claiming races, then running them into the ground.
The jockey was a familiar face as well. He was past his prime and, like Tarmack, was known to enjoy a few too many nips from the bottle at the track. Still, he picked up rides now and again when a regular jockey was sick or injured.
“I tell you, Tarmack, I won’t ride him. And you won’t get anyone else to. He’s not fit to run.”
“Don’t you tell me what’s fit. You’ll get up and you’ll ride, and you’ll damn well place. You’ve been paid.”
“Not to ride a sick and injured horse. You’ll get your money back.”
“What you haven’t already put in a bottle.”
Because Mo was quivering and had sucked in a breath to speak, Keeley squeezed her hand hard enough to grind bone. “Is there a problem, Larry?”
“Miss Keeley.” The jockey yanked off his cap and turned his wrinkled, flustered face to hers. “I’m trying to tell Mr. Tarmack here that his horse isn’t fit to race tonight. He’s not fit.”
“It’s not your place to tell me anything. And I don’t need one of the almighty Grants’ damn whelps interfering in my business.”
Before Keeley could respond, Brian had moved in. She blinked and he had hauled Tarmack up to his toes. “That’s no way to be speaking to a lady.” His voice was quiet, the eye of a storm. And the storm, with all its vengeance, was in his eyes. “You’ll want to apologize for that, while you still have teeth to help you form the words.”
“Brian, I can handle this.”
“You’ll handle what you like.” He kept his eyes on Tarmack’s now bulging ones. “But he’ll by God apologize with his very next breath.”
“I beg your pardon.” Tarmack choked it out, wheezed in air as Brian relaxed his grip a little. “I’m simply trying to deal with a washed-up jockey—and one I’ve paid in advance.”
“You’ll get your money back,” the jockey replied, then turned to Keeley. “Miss Keeley, I’m not getting up on this ride. He’s half lame from a knee spavin, and anybody with eyes can see he’s hidebound. He ain’t fit to race.”
“Excuse me.” Her voice viciously cold, she pushed past Tarmack and moved into the box to examine the horse for herself. Within moments, her hands were shaking with rage.
“Mr. Tarmack, if you try to put a jockey on this horse, I’ll have you up on charges. In fact, I’m damn well having you up on charges regardless. This gelding’s sick, injured and neglected.”
“Don’t hang that on me. I’ve only had him a couple weeks.”
“And in a couple weeks you haven’t noticed his condition? You’ve been working him despite it?”
“Now you look.” He started to take a step forward and found himself looking eye to eye with Brian again. “Listen,” he said, his tone shifting to a whine. “Maybe you can be sentimental when you’ve got money. Me, I make my living moving horses. They don’t run, I go in the red.”
“How much?” Keeley laid a hand on the gelding’s cheek. In her heart, he was already hers. “How much did he cost you?”
“Ah... ten grand.”
Brian merely shoved a finger into Tarmack’s breastbone. “Pull the other one. It has bells on it.”
Tarmack shifted his shoulders. “Maybe it was five thousand. I’d have to check my books.”
“You’ll have a check for five thousand tomorrow. I’m taking the horse tonight. Brian, would you take a look at him, please?”
“Wait just a minute.”
This time it was Keeley who turned and she who shoved Tarmack aside. “Be smart. Take the money. Because whether you do or don’t I’m taking this horse with me.”
“The knee needs treatment,” Brian said after a quick look. It burned his blood to see how the injury had been neglected. “We can deal with that. From the look of him, I’d say he has a good case of bots. He needs tending.”
