Free Hollows 11 - Ever After by Kim Harrison Page A

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    “Yes, sir,” the manager said, squinting up at him, and we all looked at a fiery-tempered horse only now coming into the paddock. She was high stepping and beautiful, her jockey needing every ounce of his attention to keep her in bounds. Frustrated? I’d say she was that already. It was obvious to me she was pissed she’d been held back when everyone else got to go back to the stables.
    The wailing of an ambulance drew my attention to the nearby service road, and everything became more serious. Seeing it, the manager sighed. “She’s not a bad horse, sir.”
    “She’s magnificent.” Trent frowned as Red squealed and snapped at the horse next to her. “But if she doesn’t learn that playing with others is more fun than playing alone, we will be the only two to know it.”
    “Trenton . . .” Ceri cajoled, a hand to her eyes. “The sun is getting hot, and the girls will be napping before we get to the woods.”
    Trent raised his hand acknowledging her, then turned back to his manager. “We’re done with practice. Tomorrow take her and Managed Detail on a ride and let them go. He has more endurance and can bring her to exhaustion. She’ll gate next time.” Pulling Tulpa together, he angled to the gate between the two paddocks. A stable hand ran to open it. Turning, Trent looked over his shoulder. “Treats every hour!” he reminded him. “Don’t forget. And I want a call as soon as you know how Ben’s collarbone is.”
    The manager jotted a note on his clipboard. “Yes, sir.”
    “And keep her away from everyone else. I want Managed Detail her best frenemy.”
    The older man smiled. “Yes, sir. Enjoy your ride.”
    Molly barely moved an ear as Trent rode up, but my heart gave a thump. Blinking, I looked away, pretending to fix my boot but taking sideways glances at him. Damn, he looked good, his trim physique—usually only hinted at underneath a suit—defined and definite in the jeans and button shirt he had on. I think normally he would be in full English garb but he had dressed down either for gate practice or me. I didn’t mind. I rather liked seeing that wisp of chest hair and his muscles moving behind his shirtsleeves. Ray looked sweet beyond description in her sturdy pale green riding dress complete with white leggings, soft boots, and matching hat, happily playing with the bells woven into Tulpa’s mane. Seeing her there only layered “paternal” over everything and hit just about every button I had. No. Working for Trent would be a mistake. A big mistake.
    “Ready?” he said, the sun and wind in his hair, and Jenks snorted, rising up from Lucy and making the little girl whine.
    “Rather,” Ceri said as she nudged her horse into motion toward the far gate. A hand waited to open it for us. “Red is not suited for the track, dear. Why do you insist on tormenting that animal?”
    Waiting for Quen to go first, Trent smiled. “You have to admit my methods have good results.”
    “Yes, but why?” Ceri insisted, her hand gentle on the reins as she angled her horse closer to me. “Let Red be who she is. She’s better tempered to the Hunt and will make a magnificent courser.”
    Trent turned in the saddle to look behind him at the stables. “That mare is going to break women’s hearts and men’s fortunes, Ceri. I want the world to know her name. She will never be forgotten.”
    Confused, I turned to Quen. “Red?”
    The man brought his eyes back from the edge of the woods where he’d been scanning, always on alert. “Her papered name is Kalamack’s Sunrise Surprise. But we call her Red.”
    Really. I looked at Trent, his horse predictably out front. “Because of her color? That’s original.”
    Quen leaned closer with a creak of leather. “No, her attitude. Red zone? Danger? We’d put a red collar on her if everyone didn’t know to look out for her already. She bit Trent three hours after she was foaled.”
    Passing through the gate to open field, Trent looked at his