Free Kentucky Showdown by J. R. Roberts Page A

it was behind the house, because he hadn’t seen it.
    Shoemaker returned and said, “Mr. Kingston is in the study.”
    â€œThe study?”
    â€œYes, sir. Follow me.”
    Clint followed the tall, worn-looking trainer down a hall to a room which, like Fontaine’s office, was lined with books, but it was much larger and had a lot more furniture than just a desk and chairs. Kingston and Shoemaker could have been the same age, mid-forties, but the owner looked like the healthier of the two and, also like Fontaine, was dressed impeccably.
    â€œMr. Adams?” Kingston asked.
    â€œThat’s right.”
    â€œWilliam Kingston.” The man stuck out his hand, and Clint shook it. “Ollie tells me you want to talk to us. What’s it about?”
    â€œRacing, I guess,” Clint said.
    â€œWell,” Kingston said, “if you’re looking for a tip on the Derby, I don’t think I can help you.”
    â€œI’ve gotten nothing but tips on the Derby since I arrived,” Clint said. “It’s refreshing to find someone who doesn’t have a tip.”
    Kingston laughed aloud and said, “Well, how about a drink?”
    â€œSure.”
    â€œOllie?”
    â€œSure, boss.”
    â€œBrandy? Whiskey?” Kingston asked.
    â€œI’ll take a whiskey,” Clint said.
    â€œMe, too,” Shoemaker said.
    Kingston handed Clint a whiskey, and Shoemaker a shorter one. He poured a brandy for himself. There were a lot of plush chairs in the room, but they all remained standing.
    â€œSo, what’s on your mind today, Mr. Adams?” Kingston asked.
    â€œI think I should tell you first that Ben Canby is a good friend of mine.”
    â€œCanby?” Kingston said. “Doesn’t he have a horse in the Derby?”
    â€œWe’re not going to get anywhere if we dance around each other, sir,” Clint said.
    Kingston smiled.
    â€œNo, you’re right,” Kingston said. “Canby trains Whirlwind.”
    â€œYes, he does.”
    â€œAre you here offering information, or looking for some?”
    â€œI’m not sure,” Clint said. “We’ve learned that a man named Peter Fontaine sent men out to watch Ben’s horse, your horse, and the horse from the East as they worked out.”
    â€œI thought I noticed something in the distance,” Kingston said. “Fontaine, you say. Isn’t he a big man around these parts?”
    â€œSo I hear.”
    â€œSo he’s looking for an edge before he bets,” Kingston said.
    â€œHave you ever had any dealings with him?”
    â€œI have not,” Kingston said. “In fact, this is my first time east of the Mississippi. I do most of my business in California.”
    â€œDo you know the connections of the other horse? Uh, what is it? Easy Going.”
    â€œI have met the owner, Daniel Farnsworth,” Kingston said. “But I haven’t met the trainer, the Irishman, Seamus Callaghan.”
    â€œI have,” Shoemaker said. “He’s a good man. He’ll have that horse ready.”
    â€œWhat are you thinking, Mr. Adams?”
    â€œI just wonder if all Fontaine is up to is trying to make a winning bet,” Clint explained. “It seems to me a man with his reputation would be after something much, much bigger.”
    â€œLike what?”
    â€œThat’s the problem,” Clint said with a shrug. “I don’t know.”
    â€œHave you asked Mr. Fontaine?”
    â€œI have,” Clint said. “He wasn’t very helpful.”
    â€œWhat about Dan Farnsworth?” Kingston asked. “Have you talked to him the way you’re talking to me?”
    â€œNo,” Clint said. “That was my next stop.”
    â€œWell,” Kingston said, “I hope he’s more helpful than I’ve been.”
    â€œSo do I,” Clint said. He set the glass down on a nearby table. “Thank you for the