Chapter Two

Home Sweet Home

Author's note: Misspelled "Ramsay" in chapter one. That'll teach me to use the back of the movie box...caught it once I got home and got my books. Sorry it's taken a bit to get to chapter two-new job and new computer, but at least now I can save everything on CD-RW. (When it's frelling working. Part of the down time has been waiting for Dell to replace a burnt-out CPU on aforementioned new computer. Now the CD-RW is saving things only erratically. Can't borrow Mum's CD-RW, hers just lost its drivers when they upgraded windows and Dell can't provide a replacement. Next time, dude, I'm getting a ThinkPad.)



The shadows of early evening were stretching across the road as Matt finally turned onto the long, straight stretch of road to Lost Acres Farms. Central Michigan wasn't known for fall colors; most of the trees in the wood lots that interspersed farm fields were young conifers, but here and there a brilliant splash of orange and gold marked where an oak or maple had slipped in. Matt would have suggested Sarah admire the scenery, but she was curled up in the passenger seat, her head resting against the window in what looked like an impossibly uncomfortable position. It never ceased to amaze him how she could sleep in almost any circumstance-on top of tack trunks at shows, in the dressing room of a trailer, even leaning against the wall of her horse's stall. She'd nodded off somewhere just after the Ohio state line and hadn't moved since.

There was a thudding from the trailer that reverberated through the pickup's body and he glanced in the rearview mirror. Their trailer was a two-horse, high-roofed European model, and he couldn't see the colt through the two small windows, but he had hauled enough horses to know his passenger wasn't happy. Few horses were after almost twelve hours in the trailer, but their new colt hadn't been thrilled with loading in the first place. They'd arrived at Hopeful Farm's stalls at the sale barn two days after the sale, as arranged, to load the colt. Sarah's plan was to take him back to their farm and spend the next six months conditioning him before shipping him to their trainer's barn to prepare for his two-year-old campaign. It was easier (and cheaper) than sending him to a specialist farm for training with other yearlings, and as Sarah had reminded him several times, her methods had worked wonders with Star. He'd been tempted to remind her that she'd had Star since the filly's birth, and the colt was considerably older and much more set in his ways, but Matt knew when to hold his peace with her.

Alec Ramsay had been waiting for them when they arrived, standing at the stall door. The black colt, already in leg wraps for the long trip, was watching them with what Matt would have called a suspicious expression. He noticed that the mane and tail were neatly done up in shipping braids, the last time the colt would wear the black and white colors of Hopeful Farm.

Ramsey was again wearing the cap pulled down over his faded red hair. Up close, Matt noticed how deeply the lines cut into the older man's face, and how scarred and worn his hands were-a horseman, his appearance said that better than all the record books could have. He watched them get out of the truck and smiled, a bit wearily.

"You've bought a fine colt, Mr. Olivet, Mrs. Olivet." Ramsey had a quiet, confident voice and a firm handshake.

"I could see that in the sales ring," Sarah said, returning his handshake enthusiastically. "I can't tell you how excited we are to have a horse with Satan and the Black in his pedigree."

"Yes, especially at such a bargain price," Matt said nonchalantly, earning him a jab in the ribs from Sarah. "I have to admit I was very surprised at the low reserve." Sarah rolled her eyes and went to the stall door. The colt backed away, nostrils flaring and eyes wide. Matt kept his eyes on Hopeful Farm's trainer. "Is there anything in particular we should know?"

Ramsay studied him thoughtfully for a moment. "He's a good colt," Alec repeated, as if he were considering his words carefully. "But he has the Black's blood in him, even if it's on the bottom. You saw him today in the ring." It wasn't a question, but Matt nodded anyway. "He's got the speed, if you can get it out of him." He turned towards Sarah and the stall. "He's a bit nervous, so mind his teeth." The ex-jockey smiled a bit. "I haven't had a chance to try Henry's hot-potato trick on him." Before Matt could ask for an explanation, Alec started towards the stall. "Since all the papers are signed, we might as well get him loaded. He's still a little sleepy, so he probably won't put up too much of a fight."

"I doubt he could be as stubborn as Star. She got it from her dam-Cinnabar still hates getting in trailers." Sarah lifted the lead rope and fleece-covered halter she'd brought. "Shall I change halters, or do you want to do the honors?"

Alec took the shipping halter from her. "I'd better do it. It'll give me a chance to say good-bye." But Matt thought that there was a slightly uneasy look about the trainer. "If you two can get the trailer set up, I'll get him ready."

Sarah obligingly went to the back of their trailer, and Matt followed to help her lower the heavy tailgate ramp. They'd already filled a hay net from the bale they'd brought from the farm-grass mix with timothy and a sprinkling of alfalfa, hopefully not so rich the colt would overeat and colic on the trip home. They'd have a chance to water him at the rest stops along the way. "He looks even better up close, doesn't he?" Sarah enthused as they checked the ramp and opened the two front escape hatches. "He's got fire in his eyes!"

Matt shrugged uneasily. "I don't like that his old owner won't give us a straight answer."

"Matt," she sighed, stopping on the edge of the ramp with her hands her hips, "sometimes you can be such a pessimist."

He stepped around to the side of the ramp and held up his arms. Laughing in spite of herself she put her hands on his shoulders and let him lift her down. "And you can be such an optimist," he countered, keeping his hands on her waist for a moment. "I just don't want you to get hurt."

"We'll be fine," Sarah said. "I've never seen you this worried about a horse!"

"We've never had a horse like him before, either of us." He turned back to the stall. Ramsay had the colt out, the fleece-lined halter startlingly white against the dark coat. The black regarded them and the trailer with suspicious distrust, and started to dance to the side. A gentle hand on his neck, a few words murmured too low for them to hear, and the colt settled again.

"I'd better put him on," Alec said, as he brought the colt forward. "He's used to me. Better stand back." The colt lunged forward against the lead shank, and Alec placed a hand on his shoulder. The black hide trembled and the colt was still. Alec waited a moment, and then took a step onto the ramp. Sarah and Matt moved back farther as the colt stepped up onto the ramp with his forelegs. Hooves planted squarely, he stopped, his back legs still on the ground and his lead line taut. Alec waited a moment, standing calmly by the right-hand stall, as the colt stretched his neck out to its full length, snuffling at the unfamiliar trailer. "Usually he won't put up too much of a fight," Alec said, so quietly he might have been speaking only to the colt. "But he has to do it his way, just like all his family."

The colt sniffed again suspiciously, pawing at the ramp. To his left, there was nothing but the ramp's edge, and to the right, there was the rest of the ramp, Alec, and Matt and Sarah, well back to keep from crowding him and causing alarm. The line was now slack between him and Alec, and his ears were pricked forward rather than pinned. The wide nostrils were still flared and the thick, full tail twitched back and forth as if he was considering whether to go forward into the left-hand stall, or back off the ramp completely and force them to start again. Matt had been loading horses since he was old enough to hold a lead, and had seen many behave like their colt was now-they weren't going to fight a huge battle, but they weren't sure they wanted to cooperate, either. At least he didn't seem like the kind who would sooner snap a lead shank than get aboard the trailer.

With a suddenness that startled even Alec, the colt leapt the rest of the way onto the ramp, landing with his hind legs tucked well under his body. Rocking back on his haunches he half-reared, and Matt was sure he'd go over. Instead he twisted sideways, not towards the clear edge on the left but to the right, the long way round and straight at them! Sarah was already lunging one way and Matt the other as the colt made a huge jump, landing between them and aiming down the shed row. It was sheer luck that the flying lead line was between the colt and Sarah and that she was able to grab it, using his own momentum against him. Setting back against the lead, she dug in her heels and threw the colt off-balance. He wheeled around her and she closed on his head, stopping him mid-plunge. In a pure battle of strength, the colt would have won, but with the added leverage she was able to push him around, back towards the trailer.

To Matt's surprise, and he could see Alec's as well, Sarah was laughing as she lead the colt back. "He certainly has to have things his own way, doesn't he?" she said, bringing him back around to the ramp. The colt hesitated again at the top of the ramp, but this time it was only a brief pause before he trotted up into the trailer. Alec moved quickly, putting up the back bar and hooking the safety catch. Matt reached up through the escape hatch and unhooked the lead line, snapping on the shorter trailer tie. He knew he was being silly, but he could have sworn the colt glared at him at the indignity.

Alec helped Sarah secure the trailer ramp, then turned and offered her a hand. "You've got yourself a good colt there," he said. "A handful, but he does have potential. Satan was a lot like that." He smiled at the memory. "You already have yourself a great mare-I was fortunate enough to see her at the Belmont. How is Star Voyager?"

Sarah beamed like a proud parent. "She's doing quite well, actually. Hopefully she'll be able to race another season, if they don't pack too much weight on her. It's good for racing to have a champion to follow, but not if they give her so much to carry that she breaks down."

Alec nodded. "That was one reason I eventually retired the Black." There was no sadness in his voice as he talked about the great horse. "Henry always used to pitch a fit about the weights, but you know, I think he was proud, in his own way, that we had a horse so great they had to put that much on him." He laughed softly. "Never stopped him from complaining about it. The Black never seemed to notice. But then he was a great horse." He paused, his eyes seeming to fix on a point somewhere in the air between them.

There was a thud and the trailer rocked, startling them all. Sarah laughed. "Sounds like he's ready to go."

Alec, started from his revere, nodded. "Yes, he doesn't like standing around and waiting." He offered his hand again. "It's been a pleasure, Mr. Olivet, Mrs. Olivet." Without waiting to watch them go, he turned and walked down the shed row, his cap pulled low over his eyes.

Sarah didn't wake up until they were turning into the drive at Lost Acres, lifting her head and blinking blearily. "Are we there already?"

"It might seem like already to you," Matt said, guiding the truck around to the gravel lot by the barn. "I'm the one with road hypnosis."

"You could have turned on the radio," she said, stretching and twisting stiff muscles. "I wouldn't have minded."

"Well, you looked kind of cute," Matt said. "I didn't want to disturb you."

"What were you doing watching me instead of the road?" she retorted, then, softening, "Besides, we're married now-you don't have to flirt with me."

"I like to keep my hand in," he teased back. There was another thud from the trailer. "I think our passenger is ready to stretch his legs."

"So'm I," Sarah yawned, opening the door. "After we get him squared away, I'm taking a nice hot bath and going to bed-and don't get any ideas, I mean sleep."

"Wouldn't dream of it," Matt said, stifling a yawn of his own. "Let's get him settled in and worry about unpacking our stuff tomorrow."

Sarah went around to the front hatch, while Matt dropped the trailer ramp. "Ready?" he asked, standing to one side as he reached for the butt bar behind the trembling black hindquarters.

"Just a sec." Sarah reached up through the escape hatch, but the colt jerked his head up and away. "I haven't got the lead line on yet. Almost-there!" There was a snick of metal as the lead line clipped to the halter. "I'll get it around his neck and get-look out, he's coming back!"

Matt unhooked the bar and jumped off the ramp as the colt's head shot up and back, snapping the panic-release tie that had held him in the trailer. With another of the powerful leaps he'd demonstrated while loading, he was onto the ramp, turning on his haunches, and he was off, lead line flying behind him. "He's headed for the ride!" Matt said as Sarah bolted around the trailer to join him.

The ride was a mile-and-a-quarter long track with a firmly-packed footing of sand and wood chips, bordered by PVC fencing rather than the more proper stone wall or hedges. It wound along the edge of the swampy woods Sarah insisted was a "wetland" and in a loop around the two large pastures. The stable Matt's grandfather owned in England had something similar, and there as here it was used for flatwork and building endurance. Normally, it was closed off by a gate behind the stable yard, but today the top two bars were lowered. The colt, lead and trailer ties flapping, cleared the bottom rail with a good two feet to spare and took off down the ride. Sarah and Matt, realizing pursuit was more or less futile until he decided to slow down himself, stopped at the gate and watched. The colt was headed down the ride, weaving back and forth across the track, his head in the air, tail streaming behind.

"Matt, when he gets to the quarter pole, start clocking him." Sarah was leaning against the fence, her eyes fixed on the fleeing horse.

Matt's watch, a Christmas present from Sarah last year, had a stopwatch. Ostensibly it was for timing his Grand Prix rides, but he'd found he used it more for clocking fast quarters at the track. The colt was approaching the far curve, and from there it was a quarter-mile to the next turn. As he passed the fence post, Matt pressed the start button. He pressed it again as the black colt made the far turn, paralleling the main road back towards them.

"What was it?" Sarah was still watching the colt as he stretched out. The white socks were flashing along in a bright blur beneath the dark body.

Matt stared down at the numbers and blinked. "Well . . . considering it's pretty deep footing . . . and he's still stiff from the trailer . . . ."

Sarah finally tore her eyes off the horse and glared at him. "Matt . . . ."

"Twenty-five. Even."

She didn't say anything for a minute. Then, slowly, she turned back to watch the colt. He was slowing a little, coming around the sharpest turn. The horses in the paddocks were stirring, trotting in circles and watching the new arrival. The colt was kicking out every other stride now, bucking away the kinks of the long trailer ride. "Twenty-five."

"Yeah."

"On a deep track."

"That's right."

"After a twelve-hour trailer ride."

"Mm-hm."

"We may have a racehorse."

Matt didn't say anything to that. The colt's hind legs glanced out again, rattling the fence, and the horses in the paddock spooked away. It was nonsense, but he would swear the colt was looking for a way out. "If we can catch him," he murmured. If Sarah heard, she made no reply.