Was the reporter right? Was he throwing it away? Was he disrespecting Mere’s memory by altering his training?
Stop.
“That’s your reply?” the reporter asked. “You believe you’ll beat Silas Scott?”
“Without a doubt,” he answered, ignoring the twist in his gut.
“That’s it,” Briggs announced. “Mr. Cress and Miss Lamb have a race to run.”
Raz stared across the square and met Zen Dougie’s gaze. “No, no, Briggsy, I’ve got a race to win.”
“Sorry, our champ’s got a race to win. And with that, thank you for coming out. Any questions regarding the upcoming championship fight can be directed to my associates. And a word of caution. If you’re new to this part of the country, the Rocky Mountain oysters aren’t from the ocean,” the agent added as the media dispersed.
“How are you holding up, Briggsy? Keeping your distance from the food tents?” he asked, doing everything he could to maintain a breezy attitude—anything to get the reporter’s words out of his mind. He couldn’t let one question throw him off. He’d be ready. There wouldn’t be a repeat of what happened a year after Mere’s passing. There would be no panic attacks, no trembling hands, no gasping for breath on the bathroom floor. Thanks to Libby, he’d be as solid as an ox. He’d fulfill his promise to Mere. He could do it. He could be the best. He could have it all.
Briggs directed a few of his aides to speak with the different media outlets, then slid his mobile into his pocket. “I’m fine—a little smarter and a little wiser when it comes to my choice of lunch in Rickety Rock, that’s for sure,” the man offered, then threw a furtive glance at Libby. “Just so you know, that matter you sent my way has been taken care of.”
“And?” Raz asked, keeping his voice low.
“And the offer was accepted.”
“I appreciate your help, Briggs.”
“What matter?” Libby asked. He looked over and found her watching them closely. But before she could ask another question, Plum lunged forward as a trio of butterflies flitted through the square.
“Whoa,” she called, reining in the donkey. “What is up with the butterflies? I’ve seen more than twenty butterflies flit by in the last hour.”
“Easy, now,” he said, patting the Jennie’s side. “You can chase the butterflies after the race.” The donkeys were loaded with thirty-three pounds of mining equipment for the burro race. Plum’s pack shifted from side to side as she whinnied and whined. While the old girl loved to chase insects, she never complained. Something had her keyed up. There was an odd energy about the day. Beefcake must have sensed it as well. He got in on the action, stomping his hoof and tossing his head. Raz followed his burro’s line of sight and found what had set off his donkey. But it wasn’t anything related to a vortex or the pull of the moon.
Dougie and his burro Ace had positioned themselves by the starting line. Ace craned his neck, looking at Beefcake just as Doug mimicked the movement to get a glimpse of Libby.
Enjoy the view while you can, boyo.
The wanker had tied crystals to his donkey’s pack. But he’d need more than the psychic energy from a bunch of rocks to win today. Raz checked his watch. They had ten minutes until race time. He scratched behind Beefcake’s ears. “Don’t worry, you big blooming arse. We’ve got this.”
“I’m going to find Luanne,” Aug said. “Have you got this in hand?”
“I always have it in hand.”
“Erasmus?” the man said, then threw a furtive look Libby’s way.
“Yeah?”
“Remember what you’re fighting for.”
That was a bloody odd thing to say.
He understood what he was up against. Silas Scott would be a formidable opponent, and he needed to be ready to face him. And he would be—with Libby in his corner.
“Augie, Dad, the animals are acting crazy. I saw two donkeys rearing up on their hind legs, and look,” Sebastian remarked, pointing to the sky. A flock of birds glided in on the breeze, swooped down, then circled above the square before breaking off in every direction. “They’ve been doing that all day.”
“Interesting stuff, Sebastian. You be good now, lad, and help your father stay on track,” Aug said, clapping the boy on the shoulder.
“I will, sir,” the lad replied.
Raz cocked his head to the side, sizing up his trainer. Aug had known him for more than half of his life, and the man never shied away from speaking plainly. He couldn’t make heads or tails of this cryptic language.
Aug said goodbye to Libby, then faded into the crowd as Maud and Bob waved.
“You’re getting a taste of what happens in Rickety Rock when the vortex strengthens, and there’s a full moon coming,” Bob said as the pair surveyed the birds, making another loop above the square.
“Anything can happen under these conditions,” Maud added. “But win or lose, Bob and I wanted to thank you.”
“Thank us?” Libby repeated. “We should be thanking you. You both were kind enough to share Plum and Beefcake with us, and you showed us the burro racing ropes.”
“That’s much appreciated, Libby, but like my brother always says, the donkeys know. And they knew you’d do right by them,” Maud countered.
“And the extra publicity has helped the town by leaps and bounds. We’ve never had this many folks sign up for the Ass-in-Nine. Not to mention, the money you raised for the donkey rescue will allow us to build another barn,” Bob crooned when a rollicking British accent cut through the air.
“What’s this? Did I hear that my grandson is actually an upstanding member of this community? There must be pigs flying all over town along with these nutty birds.”
“Granny, you made it,” he exclaimed as the woman made her way toward him with Madelyn at her side. Her arthritis usually left her hobbling with a slight limp, but she walked smoothly across the square today.
“We arrived just now. Madelyn’s driver is taking our things to the cottage on the Victorian’s property.”
“You certainly look prepared,” Madelyn remarked, her red scarf flowing in the breeze as she assessed the donkeys. “And it appears Rickety Rock agrees with you.”
“This donkey is Plum, and this donkey is Beefcake,” Sebastian chimed, introducing his great grandmother and Madelyn to the burros.
“Donkeys are marvelous creatures. I had one growing up,” Madelyn tossed out.
“You had donkeys growing up?” Sebastian asked as he took in the posh woman.
Good question! That nanny matchmaker was one hell of an enigma.
“I’ve lived an interesting life,” the woman said with a coy twist of her lips. “Now, Finola, dear, I see two of my former clients. I’ll leave you here with your family. I’m sure you’ll be in good hands,” the woman purred, waving toward the street where Rowen and Mitch and their families had pulled up.
He returned his attention to his grandmother. “Are you feeling all right? How’s your hip?”
“Yeah, Gran, you’re walking fast,” Sebastian added.
“You’ve been keeping up with the yoga moves, haven’t you?” Libby asked, embracing his grandmother.