Almost Home Part 5

"It's been happening all year. I'm not stupid, J.T. No matter what you think about me otherwise, you better not think that."

His gaze dropped away. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Yes, you do."

Almost twenty-eight years of marriage lay between them, but instead of the comfortable familiarity of old lovers, they were separated by a huge wall of disillusionment, distrust, and betrayal.

"Zach Tyler would destroy you," J.T. said. "He's a snake in the gra.s.s."

"Well, at least he's not in my bed, like you are." She slid out from under the sheets, grabbing a blanket and a pillow. "If anyone is going to destroy me, it will be you. Think about what I said, J.T., and remember-one more fight, one more affair, one more humiliation, and I'll be on the phone to Zach Tyler faster than you can spit."

"You're bluffing. You'd never sell out half of your family farm to Zach Tyler."

"Try me."

"Let's try him in the gate now," Zach said to the exercise boy who had breezed Rogue around the training track at Stanton Farms. It was barely 6:00 A.M. and the dirt track was soft and moist, the heavy morning mist still clinging to the nearby trees, giving the area an almost eerie appearance. Zach loved the early morning workouts. Here in this mist-shrouded world, he felt like anything was possible.

The exercise boy walked Rogue over to the practice gate where another man was waiting. Rogue should have been used to the gate by now, but no matter how many times they practiced, he still got testy when the gate closed behind him. And this morning was no exception.

"Get in, Rogue," Zach muttered as the horse balked at entering the gate. "I'm going over there."

Sam Jamison put a hand on his arm. "He's got to do it without you, just like he will at the track."

"He's a stubborn son of a b.i.t.c.h."

"Just like you, doesn't want to do what anybody tells him to do," Sam said, chewing on a straw of gra.s.s as he leaned over the rail. "Gotta have it his own way."

"If you have something to say, why don't you just say it," Zach replied, his gaze still focused on Rogue. Thankfully, his big ugly baby finally went into the gate and came out of it without a hitch. He motioned for the exercise rider to take Rogue once more around the track at an easy pace. Then he turned to Sam, who was regarding him with kindly, amused eyes. "What's stuck in your gut?" he asked.

"Rogue needs to be at Churchill. We should have taken him straight there, instead of letting him think he could get comfortable and lazy here at home."

"He likes being here, and we've got plenty of time to get to Churchill."

"Rogue needs to get used to the barn there, the atmosphere, the track."

"We've got two and a half weeks."

"Why are you stalling? Colin would like to see Rogue there by this weekend at the latest, but he told me you're thinking the following week."

Zach shrugged. "Rogue gets special attention here, my attention and yours. I think it's better for him."

"You're babying him."

"I'm heating him carefully, that's all." Zach walked along the rail as the exercise boy took Rogue off the track and headed back toward the barns. There were a dozen more horses to be worked, but he could leave those workouts to Sam.

He needed to get back to the barns where the early morning ch.o.r.es were in full gear. It took several dozen employees to keep the farm operating at its peak, and Zach was in charge of making sure none of those employees screwed up.

While he would have liked spending all his time with Rogue, he had a job to protect as well as a dream to chase, and Stanton Farms was almost as important to him as Rogue.

Sam jogged along behind him, stopping now and then to bark instructions at the exercise riders taking the other horses around the track.

"Wait up, Zach," Sam said as they reached the first barn area.

"I've got things to do," Zach complained, but still he stopped. He'd been following Sam's orders since he was sixteen years old, and even though their positions were now on equal footing, he still respected Sam enough to listen to whatever he had to say.

"I want you to think seriously about getting Rogue to Churchill this weekend."

"It's too early. He'll get stale."

"What are you afraid of?"

Zach hated to admit that he was afraid of anything, but he was. "Once Rogue gets to the track, everyone will be watching him, clocking him, gossiping about him. You heard the talk at Keeneland. Without that stumble at the gate, he would have won, and everyone knows it. They're itching for another look at him. At Churchill there will be distractions and new faces. I want Rogue quiet, rested, ready to go."

"Rogue knocked around the barn in Florida and you almost had to scratch him. He stumbled at Keeneland because he didn't like the crowd or the gate. He's fidgety away from home. He didn't get settled in at Keeneland or at GulfstreamPark. The only times he's won were the times he got to the tracks early. Think about it."

Zach didn't have to think about it. He knew Sam was right. He knew he was making excuses. Now that the Derby was so close, he was getting nervous, thinking maybe he wasn't ready yet, maybe Rogue wasn't ready yet.

"You used to think your horse couldn't lose," Sam said. "Then you saw that it could happen. Now you're not so confident, and neither is Rogue. That's why you're both skittish. The moment of truth is about to arrive, and you're not sure you're ready."

Zach sighed and looked into Sam's wise old eyes. "How the h.e.l.l do you read my mind?"

"Easy. I know you. I know how much you want to win this race."

"The moment of truth," Zach echoed quietly. It was true. He was afraid to find out what was going to happen, afraid that he would fail. But this time was different. He'd searched for the right horse for years, and when he'd found Rogue, everything had come together, the perfect horse for the perfect dream finish at Churchill Downs on the first Sat.u.r.day in May.

He could see it all in his mind-Rogue taking the last turn, sprinting down the stretch, the Stanton colors of burgundy and gold a bright, dazzling sight of brilliance, and Rogue crossing the finish line, going into the winner's circle, the roses draped across his back.

Zach knew it could happen. It had to happen. He'd invested every part of himself in Rogue, until he barely knew where the horse ended and he began. Sam had warned him not to let the Derby mean everything, but how it could mean less? It was the ultimate in horse racing, the most exciting two minutes in sports.

Two minutes. That was all it would take to send him higher than a kite or cras.h.i.+ng to the ground. Zach couldn't afford to make any mistakes, and every time he thought about the Derby, all of his insecurities came rus.h.i.+ng to his mind.

He'd thought once or twice in his life that he had a chance to make it, really make it, and each time he'd lost. What if it happened again? What if Rogue wasn't good enough? What if he wasn't good enough?

"Rogue has what it takes." Sam read Zach's mind again with uncanny perception. "But he needs to know it. He needs to be around the other horses. He needs to feel the excitement leading up to the Derby."

Zach looked over to the ring where one of the grooms was hot-walking Rogue to cool him down from his workout. Rogue was still antsy, high-stepping, tossing his head in the air. He was the kind of horse who had to make sure you always knew he was the boss.

"I believe in Rogue," Zach said. "You're right. He needs to go to the track. I'll make arrangements to take him down on Sunday."

"Good boy. Now, if only I could get you to believe in yourself and have some courage. You're as yellow as my aunt Edith's face without her makeup."

Zach laughed. "Haven't you done enough for one morning?"

"Maybe you ought to take a chance and give that sweet, reckless blonde a call. See how she's feeling. See if she needs some company."

Zach frowned at him. "I have work to do, a lot of it. Besides that, it's six o'clock in the morning. I don't think that city girl will be up before noon."

"Now you're making excuses for yourself. Maybe Rogue could teach you a thing or two about confidence."

"And maybe I could teach you to mind your own business," Zach called after Sam as the trainer headed back to the track. He had no intention of contacting Katherine Whitfield. He'd had a hard enough time saying good night without taking her in his arms and seeing if she tasted as good as she looked.

No, with any luck, she'd taken his advice and gone back to California, back to where she belonged, because it sure wasn't here.

This was his world-a world of barns and horses and big fat tomcats and early morning swallows and puddles of water, smells of ammonia, liniment, and manure. He loved the farm; he'd worked every job, from groom to exercise rider to trainer to farm manager. He'd been kicked a dozen times, thrown on his backside a few more, and still he loved the challenge of the horses, the purest breed, the most pampered, the most spoiled, and in his mind the most wonderful.

The horses didn't lie. They were who they were. Some downright mean. Some generous. Some stupider than a fence post, some craftier than his old man. But he could talk to the horses. He could understand them. And they could understand him.

He didn't need to mess up his simple life with a woman, at least not that woman.

The sun began to break through the mist as dawn turned to day and Zach hurried to keep up with the never-ending ch.o.r.es. The next three hours would be the busiest ones of the day. And with a little more luck he could keep his mind on business and start thinking with his head instead of his...

Katherine woke up Thursday morning with a bruise on her forehead and a dent in her heart. Zach Tyler sure had taken a swing at her resolve. She told herself not to think about him or his unnerving prophecy that her father might not be the man she wanted him to be. Her mother wouldn't have gotten involved with a jerk.

Her mother. Katherine looked into the mirror as she brushed her hair, wondering if she knew any more about her mother than she knew about her father. They'd spent twelve years together, but in those years Katherine had been a small child. She'd been content to curl up in her mother's arms and read a book, to walk through the park hand in hand, to laugh at a silly show on the television. They'd never really talked about her father. Even when Evelyn had come to tell her she was marrying Mitch.e.l.l, there had been little explanation. She'd simply told Katherine it was time she had a father.

Katherine hadn't been against the idea. In fact, she'd secretly been thrilled. A father. She'd always wanted a father, always wanted to be like everyone else. Never mind that Mitch.e.l.l barely spent two minutes with her before the wedding ceremony; he was tall and strong and handsome and he lived in a big house and promised her a bed with a canopy. She hadn't thought much beyond that at the time. Then her life had come to a cras.h.i.+ng halt nine months later, and she'd been left alone with a man who had no idea what to do with her.

Their relations.h.i.+p had been awkward over the next year, each lost in grief and unable to reach out to the other. Then Cecily had come into Mitch.e.l.l's life, taking him even further away from Katherine. Cecily and Mitch.e.l.l had been a couple in love, interested in having a social life. The last thing they'd wanted to do was spend time with a child who didn't belong to either one of them.

Katherine didn't blame them for not loving her. She wasn't their daughter and yet they'd provided her with a good home, a good education, a good start in life. She'd always be grateful for their support. Her life could have been a whole lot worse.

Katherine set down her brush, knowing she needed to call Mitch.e.l.l and tell him where she was. He and Cecily would be back from their Mexican cruise by now. She made a face at herself in the mirror, knowing deep down in her heart that they probably hadn't noticed she wasn't around.

Walking over to the bed, she sat down with one leg tucked up beneath her and reached for the phone. Mitch.e.l.l answered on the third ring, his voice crisp and efficient.

"Whitfield residence," he said.

"Mitch.e.l.l, it's me, Katherine."

"Katherine. How are you?" His voice warmed ever so slightly.

"I'm fine. How was your trip?"

"Terrific. Fabulous weather, incredible food. We ran into the Smythes, too. Played some nasty games of poker with that William Smythe. I think he cheats."

"You always say that."

"It's true."

For a moment Katherine felt like she was back in her real life, listening to her stepfather talk about his friends. And for that moment, she was tempted to pack it all in, to go home, to give up. Then her gaze drifted to the chest in the corner, and she sighed, knowing she could never resume that life until she knew more about the quilt and her mother.

"Oh, Cecily says h.e.l.lo," Mitch.e.l.l added, shouting something to his wife. "She said you should come by sometime and look at the pictures we took. She already had them developed."

"That sounds good. I'd love to see them." Katherine twisted the phone cord between her fingers. "But it will have to be in a few days."

"Whenever. How are things at the office?"

Katherine took a deep breath. "Actually, I'm not at the office."

"You're not?" He sounded mildly surprised. "Are you ill?"

"No. I'm in Kentucky."

"Good heavens! What are you doing there?"

"It's kind of a long story. When you were in Mexico, I went into the attic to get my old sc.r.a.pbooks. I started looking through the boxes up there and I discovered an old hope chest."

"What does the chest have to do with Kentucky?"

His casual reply caught her off guard. "You knew about the chest?" For some reason Katherine had thought her mother had hidden it away up there.

"Of course I knew about it. I think I was the one who carried it up to the attic when your mother moved in with me."

"Then it did belong to my mother?"

"Yes. Why?"

It was her mother's chest, her mementos, her memories. Katherine felt suddenly energized and revived. Although she'd believed the chest belonged to her mother, there had been a tiny doubt in her mind and a fear that she'd come to Kentucky for nothing.

"Did Mom ever show you what was in the chest?"

"I never asked."

"She never told you about Kentucky or..." Katherine hesitated, not sure she should continue.

"Or what?"

"My real father?"

He didn't answer for a moment. "Your real father, huh?"

"Yes." Katherine drew a nervous pattern on the top of her leg.

"I think I've told you before that I don't know anything about your father."

"I just wondered if you'd forgotten anything, if maybe the chest reminded you of some lost conversation."

"I don't think so. Oh, hang on a second."

She waited as she heard him answering the cook's questions about dinner. She wondered how he could stop and calmly discuss broccoli versus peas when she'd just told him she was in Kentucky looking for her real father. But then, she and Mitch.e.l.l had rarely found the same topics of interest.

"All right. What did you say?" Mitch.e.l.l asked, returning to their conversation.

"I said I came to Kentucky to see if I could find my real father." She paused. "I hope this doesn't upset you, my looking for him."