Page 85 of One in a Million

Brooks watched as one of his employees led a small group of tourists along one of the trails leading from the stables to the stillhouses. The sun, which had shone strong throughout the day, was beginning to slide lower in the sky, and the tourists, the fifth tour group today, would’ve already been given a personal introduction to a few of his thoroughbreds and were now on their way to tour his distilleries and sample his best whiskey.

The unique blend of horses and bourbon on one estate had enabled Brooks’s business to thrive. The only element that could substantially enhance Original Sin’s value would be the prestige of having a Derby winner born, raised, and trained on the estate. Another Round, Brooks’s soon-to-be three-year-old thoroughbred, fit the bill. But now, with the Derby only nine months away and qualifying races already underway, Brooks had no trainer to see him through to the finish line.

“You need a trainer whose horse has won before,” Rhett said.

A rueful laugh burst from Brooks’s lips. “I’ve already been down that route. No one at that level will give me the time of day on account of my name—or rather, lack thereof—and the fact that they know of my rivalry with Spencer and want no part in it.” He glanced at Rhett and managed to smile. “Not that that’s the only reason I hired you. You’re an excellent trainer.”

“I know the best there is. Someone who’s trained a Derby winner. Someone who’s beyond Spencer’s influence and whose hands are clean. Someone with integrity and honor.”

“Who is he?”

Rhett’s mouth twisted. “She.”

Brooks frowned. “No woman is on record as having trained a Derby winner.”

“No. She wouldn’t be.” Rhett dipped his head. “She’s never been officially named as a winning trainer—she’s only served as an assistant and only for one Derby race. But everyone on the backside knew she was behind that win. The woman behind the man, so to speak. And lucky for you, you know the man. Her grandfather’s your neighbor, Earl Ellis. The guy that owns Lone Oaks Crossing.”

Brooks recalled the name of both the man and the property, but he’d only seen him once, from a distance. Five years ago, the day the construction crew had broken ground on Brooks’s house, Earl had appeared between the oak trees that divided their properties and watched from afar for over an hour as the crew worked. Eventually, Brooks crossed the field and introduced himself.

Earl, his tan, leathery skin creased with age and a world-weary expression on his face, had given his name, shaken Brooks’s hand, and said one thing before he clucked his tongue to the mare he was mounted on and rode back to his home.

What you got right there’s a dream. Best keep your eyes open and hold it tight.

“I only met him once,” Brooks said. “And I haven’t gotten a good look at his land. Just saw the outskirts from a distance when I broke ground here.”

“Lone Oaks Crossing used to be a breeding and training farm but it’s run-down now,” Rhett said. “Earl’s best days as a trainer have been behind him for quite a while, I’m afraid. Ever since his granddaughter left, really. Now he just boards horses occasionally to make ends meet.” He reached into his back pocket, withdrew a tightly folded paper, and held it out. “Her name’s Jo Beth Ellis. She has the touch but left the sport and Lone Oaks some time ago. Hasn’t trained a horse in years, from what I’ve been told. Been teaching at a high school across state instead.”

Brooks strode across the porch, took the paper, and unfolded it. Two phone numbers, the name of a local hospital, and a hospital room number were scrawled on the page.

“That first number,” Rhett said, “which won’t do you any good right now, belongs to Earl, and the second to one of his friends, Frankie Kyle. I gave her a call earlier, trying to track Earl down, and she told me he had a stroke sometime early this morning. She was still at the hospital with him when we spoke.”

Brooks frowned. “How’s he doing?”

“Good, from what Frankie told me, though she said he’ll have a ways to go before he’s back on his feet. She also mentioned that Jo’s on her way into town to see him.” He gestured toward the paper. “Earl’s room number is on there in case you decide to give it a go. I expect you’ll find Jo there if you go tonight or first thing tomorrow morning.”

Brooks grimaced. “A hospital isn’t an appropriate place to pitch a business venture.”

Rhett nodded. “I agree. But it’s an opportunity to introduce yourself, and it may be your only chance to snag a word with Jo. She didn’t leave the sport on very good terms and, from what Frankie told me, doesn’t make it out this way often. You have a lot of convincing ahead of you.”

Brooks looked at his stables again, his hopes sinking. Until now, everything had played into his hands. He was so close to success—so close!But without a trainer, his plan was shot. And Spencer, who’d taken advantage of the weaknesses of others, would ruin more lives.

“To beat Spencer, you need Jo,” Rhett advised. “You either go all in now or fold.”

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