“I still can’t believe you got two million,” Karl said again, drawing her attention back.
“Why?”
“That horse is unproven. I mean, two fucking million dollars.”
“Stop repeating the amount. I know how much it was.”
Karl picked up his beer and looked at her over it. “Sorry. I just never dreamed he’d fetch that much. Not yet.”
“A thing is worth what someone is willing to pay. Mr. Phillips wanted that horse. He probably would’ve paid more. But I like him, and that wouldn’t have been right. I asked for what we put into him. That was enough. Plus, he hired you. That’s got to be worth something to you.”
Karl put down his beer and nodded hard. “I tell you . . . I’m still in shock.”
Elise tore at her label and said, “I know you will be good to Whirlwind. And so will Mr. Phillips. No matter what you might think, I do care about Whirlwind.”
Karl looked at the tabletop. “I know.” He lifted his head and said with a mischievous grin, “What are you going to do with all that money?”
Elise released a giggle. “I’ve no idea. Travel. Go to school. Rescue horses.” She shrugged.
Karl lifted his bottle toward her to toast. “Here’s to the road not taken.”
Elise tossed her head back and laughed freely. They clinked bottles. “To the road not taken!”
* * *
Hannah sat at the computer. Her fingers flew over the keyboard. A few more sentences and she’d finish this report. She typed the last word and placed a period. Then she sighed and reached for her wine. It was a lovely white wine, chilled. She took a sip and smiled. She’d forgotten how much she loved chardonnay. Angel drank only red wine and so she’d joined him. Now, with him gone, she went back to white. There were lots of little things like that, all of which made her feel freer. Delightfully selfish. And, she had to admit, despite the occasional bout of pain, happier.
She closed her computer and rested her fingers on the top. Her new makeup line was drawing some important attention. She’d set up some meetings in New York. As soon as this storm passed, she could pack up her car and go. God, she couldn’t wait. It’d only been a few days up here in the mountains but it felt like a frigging lifetime. She swirled her wine, watching the liquid form peaks and valleys on the glass.
A lot happened in these few days. The hurricane had hit the Florida coast, and there was some serious flooding and wind damage further north in the Palm Beach area. Her condo would be covered by insurance. But she feared Gerta’s farm might have been hit hard.
She couldn’t stop the sudden feeling of pleasure at the thought. It was terrible of her to feel that, she scolded herself. She should be ashamed of herself. She took another drink to swallow her smile.
A scratching on her leg brought her attention to the little fawn-colored Chihuahua begging to be picked up. She reached down to pull him to her lap. He kissed her face while she laughed and halfheartedly told him to stop. Then he settled in her lap while she petted him behind one of his very large ears.
“You’re my hot little boy now, aren’t you?” she crooned.
* * *
There is something in the air tonight, Angel sung in his mind as he slowly walked across the grassy hillside, Whirlwind’s great breadth behind him. The sound of the wind rustling the leaves in the trees filled the night. It was soft and moist and the branches were swaying. There were no ominous signs of the storm’s arrival. Just a heightened tension. A sense of expectancy that was almost sensual.
He was walking Whirlwind past the paddocks when the horse became unusually animated, stopping and sniffing the air. Then he heard the high, insistent whinny of a mare from the paddock.
It all became suddenly clear. Angel cocked an ear. That was Butterhead. Earlier, he had turned Butterhead out in the paddock to give her some fresh air and grazing time after being cooped up for so long. He planned to bring her in after he settled Whirlwind.
It was no wonder Whirlwind was pulling back, jerking his head up, ears twitching. Angel had to maneuver him in circles to get him to calm down. As he did so, he admired the remarkable strength and sinewy definition of the stallion’s muscles. They glistened with a fine sweat. In the dim light of the distant arena he saw the horse’s wild, bright eyes and prancing hooves. This was a magnificent horse, in his prime and ready to perform. There was no doubt in Angel’s mind that someday Whirlwind would stun the equestrian world. With Karl riding him, this horse would become an international champion, maybe one for the books. If so, when he retired, he would also gross millions of dollars as a stud. Charles and Grace would multiply their investment many times over.
What a horse, he thought again, as Whirlwind settled. It was Gerta who first saw the potential in the two-year-old. Gerta who had brought Karl to America to train the young horse. She’d been the orchestrator of Whirlwind’s forthcoming success. And yet, she would not reap a penny from it. Nor he, he thought ruefully.
Butterhead whinnied high and loud from the shadows, followed by an insistent kicking of the gate. Whirlwind responded immediately, pulling away from Angel and threatening him with his hooves. He was determined to reach the mare. Angel pondered how there was no questioning that this stallion and this mare certainly liked each other. It had been love at first sight. Like him and Gerta, he thought.
He looked up at Whirlwind as an idea set root in his mind. The natural affinity of these two horses for each other increased the fertility and decreased the odds of aggression or injury. They had, as it were, chemistry. It seemed to him that nature was calling.
No, he told himself, pushing where this idea was heading out of his mind. He paced farther away from the paddock, feeling the stallion’s resistance. Could Butterhead even conceive at fifteen years of age? He did the math in his head. If Butterhead did conceive, she would produce a foal in the spring. An excellent time. Fortuitous.
He heard the cry of his mare and stopped in indecision. He reached up to vigorously scratch his scalp. Aieeee, he groaned. What was he thinking? Did he dare do this? he wondered. If something should happen to Whirlwind, Charles would never forgive him.
But, he thought, stopping his scratching and standing still, what a gift it would be to give Gerta a foal from Whirlwind.
Angel looked up at the stallion. His nose was high in the air, doing the flehmen response. Oh, yes, he was ready. Eager. Across the field, he could hear the restless stomping and screaming of his mare. The sweet songs of love, he thought to himself.
It was wrong. Of course it was, he thought as he began leading Whirlwind back to the paddock. Once at the gate, he removed the tack from the anxious horse. The wind gusted, seeming to inflame the stallion all the more. He heard Butterhead before he saw her. Her golden form was pressed against the fence, waiting.
Angel stopped at the gate and looked up at Whirlwind. “Okay, my man,” he told him. Then he pointed his finger. “But if you do anything to hurt my little girl, I’ll come after you. Comprende?”
Whirlwind whinnied and stomped his foot impatiently.
Angel stood before the gate. He made a quick sign of the cross. Then he opened the gate and released Whirlwind into the paddock. The stallion bolted and disappeared into the night. He listened to the sound of hooves running in the distant darkness.