Kentucky Showdown (3 page)

Daniel Farnsworth watched carefully as his groom walked his three-year-old, Easy Going, around the corral.

“What do you think, Mr. Farnsworth?” his trainer, Seamus Callaghan, asked. “How's he look?”

“He looks damn good, Seamus,” Farnsworth said. “Take him back in.”

Callaghan waved to the groom, who immediately walked the horse back into the stables.

“You still intend to work him before the Derby?” Farnsworth asked.

“Just a light workout, boss,” Callaghan said. “I want to keep him loose.”

“Have you seen Sunday Song since he arrived?”

“No, I ain't,” Callaghan admitted.

“Well, I have,” Farnsworth said. “He's looking damn good. Too good.”

“Don't worry, boss,” Callaghan said. “Easy Going is in the best shape of his life.”

Farnsworth, a businessman who had entered the horse-racing world only five years before, looked his trainer over. While he himself was sixty, and wore three-piece suits every day, the trainer—in his fifties—always looked as if he'd slept in his clothes—in the barn. Maybe that was good, that he looked like he spent all his time in the barn with his horses. So far, Callaghan had been very good at his job, training three champions for Farnsworth. But this horse, Easy Going, was easily the best horse they'd ever had. Farnsworth affectionately called the animal “Big Red,” for the color of his coat.

Farnsworth had actually found the trainer in Ireland and brought him over to condition his horses.

“I pay you a lot of money to make sure Big Red is in top condition, Seamus.”

“I know you do, sir,” Callaghan said. “Don't you worry. Yer money's not goin' to waste. I'm doin' my best work with this horse.”

Farnsworth turned and looked at the house he'd rented, along with the stables and the corral. Behind the house was a half-mile racetrack that had not been used in a while. Farnsworth had paid to have the track redone, so it would be in condition for his horse to run on safely.

“All right,” Farnsworth said, “I'll be in the house if you need me.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Just remember,” the businessman said, “it's not only the race and the purse that's at stake. I'm going to be making a sizable bet on Big Red.”

“I understand that, boss,” Callaghan said. “Don't worry, he'll be ready.”

“He better be.”

Callaghan watched his boss walk up to the house, then turned and went into the barn to examine Easy Going again, just to make sure.

* * *

A few miles away, at the Two Chimneys Farm, two men were also standing, watching a horse, but these men were of comparable age, mid-forties. One was William Kingston, the owner of Sunday Song, and the other was Ollie Shoemaker, one of the finest trainers in the Thoroughbred racing world. He'd been training horses in the United States for twenty years, had trained half a dozen champions. He had already won two Kentucky Derbies.

Sunday Song was standing still, the groom holding his reins. The animal knew he was being inspected.

“Look at him, Ollie,” Kingston said.

“I am, boss,” Shoemaker said. “He looks great.”

“He is great,” Kingston said.

“He's gonna be my third Derby champ.”

“And mine,” Kingston said. “We're going to be the greatest owner-trainer combination in racing history.”

“Not to mention rider.”

The jockey was to be Lorenzo Capp, who had ridden all of their champions already. The little black man was considered to be one of the best, if not the best jockey in the sport.

“He's gonna be here tomorrow, right?” Kingston asked.

“Yeah, boss,” Shoemaker said, “he'll work the horse in the morning.”

“You think the others are working their animals before the race?”

“If I know Callaghan—and I think I do—he will be.”

“We're lucky Two Chimneys was available for training,” Kingston said. “Best training track I've ever seen.”

“That's right,” Callaghan said. “And only the best for Sunday Song.”

“Come on,” Kingston said, putting his arm around his trainer, “let's go and get something to eat.”

When Clint came to the table for supper, Ben Canby was already there.

“You don't miss many meals, do you, Ben?”

“Do I look like I miss any meals?” Canby asked. “I'm sixty-five years old, Clint, but I still have the same strength I did when I was forty. I keep myself well fed, and healthy. And yeah, ever since Elena came here to cook for us, I don't miss any meals.”

“By the way,” Clint said, taking his seat, “I met somebody else today, somebody you didn't introduce me to.”

“Who's that?”

“Girl named Alicia.”

“Oh,” Canby said, “Alicia.”

“Yeah,” Clint said. “She looks like she has a good hand with horses. With Eclipse anyway.”

“The groom I introduced you to?”

“Frank?”

“Right,” Canby said, “Frank Dunlap. Well, Alicia's his daughter.”

“She told me she was Whirlwind's groom.”

“Well, maybe she is,” Canby said. “I mean, Frank's the groom, but he's training Alicia for the job.”

“Seems to me she thinks she has the job already.”

“Yeah, well, that's Alicia.”

“She said she might come to supper.”

“Frank and Alicia know they can always come here for their meals,” Canby said, “but they rarely do.”

At that moment they heard the front door open, and moments later Frank the groom entered the dining room with Alicia. She had cleaned herself up, changed clothes, run a brush through her hair. She was beautiful. Frank Dunlap was also wearing clean clothes, and had combed his hair with a part in the middle. He didn't look happy. Clint had a feeling his daughter had cleaned him up.

“Sorry we're late,” Alicia said.

“You better tell Elena you're both here for supper,” Canby said.

“I will,” Alicia said, “and I'll help her serve.” She went into the kitchen.

“Haven't seen you this clean in months, Frank,” Canby said.

“Alicia's idea,” Frank said, taking a seat. “Can't figure out why, though.”

Canby looked at Clint and said, “I think I might know.”

* * *

Elena and Alicia came out carrying huge platters of food and set them in the center of the table. One was piled high with steaks, cooked to varying degrees, from rare to well done.

The other platters were filled with potatoes, onions, carrots, and rolls.

“Clint,” Canby said. “You first.”

Clint used his fork to spear a rare steak onto his plate, then followed with the vegetables, and a couple of rolls. Canby grabbed one of the well-done steaks. Frank also took a rare one, while Alicia's was medium rare.

As they cut into their meat, it looked to Clint as if each steak was cooked perfectly.

“Elena is a genius,” Canby said.

“Where'd you find her?” Clint asked.

“In town,” he said, “running a small café. When her husband died, I offered her a job, and she took it. She lives here, and cooks for us.”

“Lucky you,” Clint said.

He put a piece of meat in his mouth, and it also melted there it was so tender. He followed that with bites of potatoes, onions, and carrots, all cooked perfectly. He broke a roll, buttered it, and placed it in his mouth.

Genius was an understatement . . .

* * *

Over dinner, Alicia asked, “How long will you be staying, Clint?”

“I'm not sure,” Clint said. “I'm here for the Derby, but if you win—”

“
When
we win,” Canby said, cutting him off, “Clint will have to stay for the celebration.”

“I don't have anyplace to be,” Clint said, “so we'll see.”

Frank didn't talk, he just shoveled food into his mouth.

“I haven't met the jockey yet,” Clint said. “Who is he?”

“He's a good boy,” Frank said.

“His name is Davy Flores,” Canby said. “He's won races for us in the past, but this is his first Kentucky Derby.”

“Did you think about getting someone more experienced?”

“I did,” Canby said. “I considered it, but in the end I had to stay loyal to Davy. He knows the horse.”

“Whirlwind loves him,” Alicia said. “He won't run for anybody else.”

“Have you ridden him?” Clint asked.

“Once,” she said. “I couldn't get him out of a canter. But he runs like the wind for Davy.”

“Where is Davy?” Clint asked.

“He'll be here tomorrow,” Canby said, “and he'll spend the next two nights. He lives in town, has a job. I'm the only trainer who uses him. After he wins the Derby, though, I think he'll start getting offers from some of the others.”

Frank Dunlap speared another steak, so Clint did the same. They were too good to pass up.

Alicia stopped at one, while Canby also reached for a second.

“I'm going to go into the kitchen and help Elena,” Alicia said. “I'll see you later.”

She spoke as if addressing the table in general, but Canby knew she actually meant the comment for Clint.

Alicia walked into the kitchen while the three men piled their plates high with more meat and vegetables.

The man in black knocked on the door of the house. When the door was opened to him by a middle-aged man, the visitor said, “I'm here to see him.”

“Come this way.”

He followed the middle-aged man down a long hall to an office, where he entered and sat in front of a desk.

“What do you have for me?” the man behind the desk asked.

“Confirmation, I suppose,” the man in black said. “It seems to be Clint Adams.”

“So what's he doin' here?”

“From what I hear, him and Canby are friends.”

“That's it?”

The man in black shrugged.

“Keep lookin',” the man behind the desk said. “I want to know more.”

The man in black shrugged and said, “As long as you pay the freight.”

The man behind the desk opened a drawer, took out an envelope filled with cash, and tossed it over to the man in black. It landed in his lap.

“I'm payin' the freight,” he said.

The other man picked up the envelope and said, “You're the boss.”

“Yes,” the man behind the desk said, “I am.”

The man in black turned and left.

* * *

Moments later, the man who had answered the door entered.

“Do we really need him?” he asked.

“I think we do, Gage,” the man behind the desk said. “I think we do. Especially if Canby's guest turns out to be the Gunsmith.”

“When will we know for sure?” Gage asked.

“Soon,” the other man said. “Soon.”

“Before the race?”

“We definitely need to know before the race,” the man said. “Blacker will get it done.”

“Blacker,” Gage said, shaking his head. “What came first for him, the clothes or the name?”

“It doesn't really matter,” the other man said, “does it?”

Clint was on the front porch when the door opened and Canby came out. He was carrying two cigars.

“Care for one?”

“Sure,” Clint said, accepting, “why not?”

Canby scratched a lucifer to life and they lit both cigars with it.

“Alicia's interested in you,” Canby said. “I've never seen her look the way she did tonight.”

“Don't worry,” Clint said.

“I'm not worried,” Canby said. “You could do worse. But you'll have to be careful of Frank.”

“Is he protective of her?” Clint asked. “I couldn't tell at supper. He was too busy eating.”

Canby laughed.

“Frank doesn't know what's happening,” he said.

“And you do?”

“Oh yeah,” Canby said. “Alicia's twenty-two, Clint. She's a woman.”

“I thought she was older.”

“She just looks older,” Canby said. “But twenty-two is a full-grown woman. And she knows what she wants.”

“I didn't come here for trouble, Ben,” Clint said.

“Maybe not,” Canby said, “but you've got some . . . the female kind.”

“That may be the worst kind.”

* * *

They smoked their cigars, and then Canby said good night and went back inside. Frank Dunlap had already left. That meant that Alicia was still inside, supposedly helping Elena clean up.

Clint was thinking he should have gone up to his room when the door opened again and Alicia came out.

“Oh,” she said. “I didn't know you were out here.”

Since her hair looked freshly brushed, he doubted that was true.

“I'm headed home,” she said.

“Where's that?”

“Bunkhouse in the back,” she said. “We all share it. My dad, Eddie, some of the others.”

“You sleep in the bunkhouse with the men?”

She smiled and said, “They treat me like one of the guys.”

“Is that the way you want to be treated?”

“By them,” she said, “yes.”

They stared at each other for a few moments, then she broke the silence and said, “I'll be checking the horses before I turn in.”

“Okay.”

“In the stables.”

“Right.”

“Alone.”

“I understand.”

She was beautiful in the moonlight, her hair as black as the darkness. The skin of her hands and face had been browned by the sun, but he suddenly found himself wondering what the skin beneath her clothes looked like.

“Good night, Clint.”

“Good night, Alicia.”

As she walked to the stables, he tried to push the thought of her naked body away, but couldn't. Neither could he ignore the invitation, both in her voice and in her eyes.

She was a woman, all right.

And trouble.

Lots of trouble . . .

* * *

Alicia checked on Whirlwind first, going into his stall and inspecting him thoroughly to make sure he hadn't done anything to injure himself. She ran her hands up and down his legs, along his flanks, then went to his head and just stroked him for a while.

“You're a good boy,” she told him. “You're gonna run their legs off.”

She patted him one last time, and left the stall, making sure the door was locked.

She moved into Eclipse's more common open stall, went in alongside him, and patted his flanks, his neck, and then moved to his head. She stroked his nose and spoke to him.

“You better take it easy on my baby tomorrow,” she told him. “Just give him a light workout, okay?”

He nodded his big head, as if he understood what she was telling him.

She came out of the stall and saw Clint standing there.

“Oh,” she said, “you surprised me . . . again.”

“Sorry,” he said, “I was coming out to check on Eclipse.”

“He's doin' fine,” she said. “In fact, I checked on both of them.”

“How did you do that exactly?” he asked.

“You really want to know?”

“Well, sure.”

She walked up to him.

“Well, first I feel their legs to be sure they're okay.”

She crouched down and ran her hands up and down one of Clint's legs, then the other. As she did, she noticed the bulge in his pants.

“Then what?”

“Then I check out their flanks.”

She stood, ran her hands over his thighs, and his buttocks. As she did, she leaned against him, feeling his hard cock press up against her.

“And then what?” he said into her hair.

She drew back and looked him in the eyes.

“Then I rub their nose,” she said, using two fingers to rub up and down his nose. “Sometimes I kiss them on the nose.” She leaned forward and kissed his nose. He put his arms around her and kissed her on the lips. She opened her mouth to him, and he explored her with his tongue.

“Did you really come out here to check on Eclipse?” she asked.

“What do you think?” he asked. “You pretty much invited me out here, right?”

“Right.”

“So,” he said, “here I am.”

She looked around, found an empty stall, and said, “Let's put some hay in here.”

Together they collected enough straw to make a bed in the empty stall.

“All right,” she said, unbuttoning her shirt.

He unbuttoned his and they peeled them off. Her breasts were full and heavy, with dark nipples. She reached out and ran her hands over his chest. They kissed again, this time pressing their bare skin together. Then he reached for her belt and undid her trousers, pulling them off, pausing only to remove her boots to make it easier for her.

She did the same to him, tossing his pants aside, and they fell onto the bed of hay together, naked and very eager.

“We'll have to be quiet,” he said into her ear, “so we don't spook the horses.”

“Or anyone else who might hear us,” she whispered back to him.