Free Heat Wave (Riders Up) by Adriana Kraft Page B

“We can afford to help out in this way. And we
want too.”
    “But why would you?
You hardly know me.”
    “There are lots of
reasons,” Clint answered soberly. “We’ve struggled before, like you. It’s good
to see a woman with grit and determination doing what she can to save a piece
of her heritage for her family. Reminds me of another woman I know fairly well.”
He flashed a smile at his wife.
    “And,” he added,
nodding in Harrington’s direction, “it’s good to see someone give another human
being a chance to prove himself. It’s simply the right thing to do. Don’t turn
us down, Maggie Anderson. You don’t want to deal with my wife’s Irish temper.”
    Maggie gave him a
weak smile and reached to cover her twitching cheek.
    “It’s good
business, Maggie,” Harrington said softly. “For them, as well as for you. If
you succeed, and I fully expect that you will, you’ll be back to buy more
horses. If you get in over your head, you’ll risk losing the farm. And these
folks will have one less buyer.”
    She didn’t know if
his logic was correct, but Maggie knew when she was surrounded. As gracefully
as possible, she lifted her orange juice glass and declared, “To the Anderson
Racing Stable based in Chicago.” She paused, catching her breath and soaking up
the warmth and hope of the three beaming faces regarding her intently. “I hope
you know what you’re doing. I’m not at all certain what I’ve gotten myself
into, but it’s too late to turn back now.”
    “That’s my girl,” Harrington
murmured.
    Clint and Cassie
swallowed, busying themselves by soaking up syrup with stray pieces of pancake
and leaving Maggie to stare questioningly at Harrington, who seemed completely
unaware that he’d vocalized what was so evidently on his mind.
     
    “They’re nearly
ready to load,” Cassie said, looking toward the Arlington Park starting gate. “We
just want the filly to run a clean race without injury.”
    Maggie nodded,
listening intently. It wasn’t easy to do. There were so many distractions. The
excitement of the crowd thrilled her. Everything was so colorful, from the
jockey silks to the characters analyzing racing forms or peering through
binoculars at the horses warming up.
    It didn’t matter to
Maggie that she knew nothing about handicapping. She was here to learn about
the business of horse racing. And Cassie Travers was a very astute instructor.
    Maggie’s temples
throbbed with anticipation and apprehension. As they stood by the rail at the
finish line, she knew they were in the process of buying a horse. There was no
seller present; there would be no handshake between buyer and seller. Yet she
was definitely buying a race horse.
    Twenty-five
thousand dollars of her money lay in a box in the stewards’ office which would
go to the owner of horse number three, Jill’s Pride, in the upcoming race. It
was called claiming. The owner of the horse had entered the filly in a
twenty-five thousand dollar claiming race, essentially saying if someone wanted
to buy the horse for that price, he was willing to sell.
    Cassie thought the
animal would make a good claim since she believed the current trainer had
dropped Jill’s Pride out of the allowance ranks to pick up a relatively cheap
win. The bettors thought so too—the filly was the current betting favorite. Yet
there was also the possibility that something was physically wrong with the
horse.
    Crossing her
fingers and toes, Maggie thought time stood still while the horses entered the
starting gate. She knew unless there was a competing claim, she’d own Jill’s
Pride when she crossed the finish line. win or lose, or even if the horse
dropped dead out of the starting gate. She didn’t want to think about that.
    Although the
winning time for the sprint would only take about a minute and twelve seconds,
for Maggie it might as well have been an hour and twelve minutes. Mercifully,
the race came to an end with Jill’s Pride finishing a