Page 53 of Irish Rebel
“Your father named him Tempest in a Teacup, as he’s got a small build, but he’s full of spirit. You don’t often ride this way in the morning.”
“No, but I wanted to see the progress. And my new assistant is handling things at the office.”
He glanced over. She’d taken the band out of her hair. It flowed wild over her shoulders, but her face was cool and very serious. “Assistant is it? When did this happen?”
“Yesterday. My mother’s working with me at the school now. Contrary to some beliefs, I don’t insist on handling all the steps and stages by myself, when help is offered.”
“Touchy still, are you?”
“Apparently.”
“Well, you’ll have to snarl at me later. I’m busy. Jim! Hold him steady now,” Brian called out as Tempest shied a bit at the gate. “That one still objects a bit to being penned in. There, that’s it,” he murmured as the horses were loaded and the back gate shut. He held a finger over the timer, plunging when the gates sprang open.
The horses flew out.
He wondered if there was anything that gave his heart more of a knock than that instant, that first rush of speed, that blur of great bodies surging forward on the track.
But through the thrill of it, his eyes missed nothing. The stretch of legs, the clouds of dirt, the figures riding low over the necks.
“She wants the lead, right from the start,” he murmured. “Wants the rest tasting her dust.”
Caught up, Keeley leaned over the rail as the horses made the first turn. The thunder of hoofbeats drummed in her blood. “She runs well in a crowd. You were right about that. Tempest is a little nervy.”
“We might try a shadow roll on him. He wants the outside. He’s about endurance. The longer the race, the better he’ll like it. There’s Betty now. She wants the rail. Aye, she’ll hug it like a lover.”
Without thinking, he laid his hand over Keeley’s on the rail. “Just look at her, will you? That’s a champion. She doesn’t need any of us. She knows it.”
With his hand warm and firm over hers, Keeley watched the horses streak down the backstretch with Betty nearly a length in the lead. Pride and pleasure tangled inside her.
When Brian let out a shout, clicked his watch again, she started to turn, to indulge the giddy thrill by throwing her arms around him. But he was already drawing away.
“That’s good time, damn good time. And she’ll do better yet.” He nodded, his eyes tracking as the riders rose high in their stirrups and slowed their mounts. “I’ll find the right race for her, give her a taste of the real thing.”
Giving Keeley an absent pat on the shoulder, he vaulted the fence.
She watched him go to the horses, to stroke and compliment Tempest, give the rider a few words before moving on to Betty.
The filly pranced flirtatiously, then lowered her head to nibble delicately on Brian’s shoulder.
You’re wrong, Keeley thought. Whatever she knows, whatever she is, she needs you.
And so, damn it, do I.
After he’d stroked, nuzzled, praised, and the horses were led away to be cooled down, Brian jumped over the fence again to pick up his clipboard.
“I’d hoped your father would be down to see her first run with a field.”
“I’m sure he would have. He must be tied up with something.”
With a grunt in response, Brian continued to scribble notes. “Well, I’m running more of the yearlings this morning, so he’ll see plenty. How’s the gelding?”
“Comfortable. The swelling’s down a little. I want to wait until after my class today to drench him. It’s a messy business and I don’t need a half dozen kids coming around once it starts to work on him.”
“Best to wait till late in the day anyway. You want a good twenty-four hours between his last feeding and the drenching. I can do that for you if you’re busy.”
The automatic refusal was on the tip of her tongue. She nipped it off, took a breath. “Actually, I was hoping you’d find time to take a look at him later.”
“I can do that.” He glanced up, saw how set and serious her face was. “What is it? Are you that worried?”
