Page 22 of Trickster King

I almost told Geoff to bite his tongue, except he never lied on matters of money. Instead, I stared, blinking at him. “But which one?”

“Remember that gangly legged thoroughbred colt you picked up from the meat market last year?” the RPS agent replied. “The one you introduced to every mare with a foal in the stable until you made sure he had a full belly for the first week he was with you?”

I remembered; Jessica had jolted me four times because I wanted to take a whip to the assholes who’d taught the colt the meaning of fear. Within six months, I’d tamed the beast, educating him that men weren’t actually terrifying and making sure any interested and able RPS agents visited him in the morning. I’d already done the preliminary work to break him to saddle, using Morning Glory’s old saddle to begin the work when he’d showed an interest in joining the school horses in the arena to learn.

I’d named him Twilight Rose, hoping he’d bloom after adversity.

“While I think the world of Twilight Rose, and I’ve worked him through most of his abuse symptoms, I was unaware he’s a half a million dollar horse.”

“Remember how you had me do a lineage check of his papers because you know nothing about thoroughbreds and just saw a cute foal in need of salvation?”

“Well, his dam had died and they were going to butcher him because it’s a lot of work raising a foal without his mother. It just happens I have a few mares who don’t mind an extra mouth to feed as long as we supplement with goat’s milk.”

Well, the mares had allowed the little foal to have some milk, and I’d spread the load of the foal without a dam as much as I could while searching for a mare who’d lost her foal and would accept the colt. Jessica had forgiven me for buying the mare from her previous owner.

Some things she accepted would happen, and if I needed to buy a mare to provide milk for a foal, we bought a mare.

“You have a ridiculous number of mares who’ll accept an extra mouth to feed because you have a functional empathy talent, you become desperate to save the foal, and the mares will spare some milk for the little one to make you calm down,” Geoff replied.

I scowled at the reminder I had a habit of flaring under stressful circumstances involving foals in dire need of a mare who could provide milk. “All right. I didn’t do my due diligence for Twilight Rose. Why is he selling for so much?”

“His sire has won several notable races, his grandsire is also a champion, his great grandsire is a champion, and his dam is a champion. His greatdam has won several important races and has a history of producing winners. This has resulted in a rather energetic bidding war. The bidder I’ve selected was not the highest, but I feel he’s the best owner for Twilight Rose. He has a history of taking great care with his thoroughbreds, he pays out for recovery for horses broken to saddle early, and he uses healing talents to maintain the horse’s health during the early riding process. As such, none of his thoroughbreds suffer like Spartacus or Barbara Anne. The other potential owners do not take those extra steps.”

“You mean his dam was a champion,” I corrected.

“No, is a champion. His dam is alive and well, and we’ll discuss the reasoning for the separation of colt and dam later.”

I read between the lines; somebody had either stolen the colt or the dam or abuse had somehow been involved, and Geoff didn’t want Eddie to be around for the conversation. “How much is he selling for?”

“Three million,” Geoff announced. “After taxes.”

I did the only thing I could think of when presented with a figure I couldn’t comprehend. I got up and headed for the kitchen to bake. “Talk to me again after I have cake,” I ordered.

Randy snickered. “I told you we shouldn’t have told him the price for his colt. Now he’s going to be questioning that all night long.”

I stopped in the doorway dividing the dining room and the kitchen. “Three million? After taxes?”

“And that wasn’t even the top offer, it was just the best offer going to a home we thought would be best suitable for him,” Geoff replied. “Go make your cake and don’t forget to eat your soup when you’re done putting it in the oven. Take your time coming to terms with his sale value. Truth be told, I was expecting a million and a half for him considering his lineage. But we have his track times from when you’d been running Barbara Anne, and he has enough promise three million is probably a bargain for him.”

Randy cleared his throat, which did a good job of keeping me from fleeing to the kitchen. “If it makes you feel better, I have lines on some cattle you can spend some of your windfall on, and you can buy your wife that promising yearling you’ve been eyeing when you think nobody is watching.”

Busted. “Well, I can certainly afford her now,” I admitted, raising a hand to scratch my temple. “I better tie ribbons onto that filly and get her nice tack to sweeten the present up.”

“I’ll get an offer for you,” Randy promised. “Eddie, why don’t you go learn some of your dad’s baking secrets while he comes to terms with the situation. Take your soup with you, and take his into the kitchen, too. Maybe that way he’ll actually eat.”

“Okay.” He got up and obeyed, and I shuffled out of his way, considering the agents through narrowed eyes. “My baby sold for three million?”

Geoff nodded. “You saved an exceptional horse that had no business going to the meat market in the first place. But he’s worth three million now because of how you tamed him and taught him to love the track before he even carried his first saddle.”

With a lot to think about, I retreated to the kitchen to bake my worries away, hoping the ranch had enough flour to contend with my newfound anxiety over the sale of my rescues.

FIVE

“Why can’t I ban meat markets?”

While it took me three hours, I accepted the idea I’d somehow plucked an exceptional horse from the meat market. However, I struggled to understand why someone would have dumped such a valuable horse to be turned into someone’s dinner. I hunted for Randy, found him in the barn bringing in my cows from their pasture, and waited until he had them all rounded up and secured to crossties before asking, “What sort of idiot dumps a horse worth three million dollars?”

“The kind who can’t afford to raise a racer, can’t afford to feed yet another mouth, and bought a pregnant mare with zero idea of the value of her foal. I tracked down the broodmare, and she was scheduled for market, so she’ll be showing up at the palace tomorrow afternoon. I asked the seller to add a bunch of bows and deliver her directly to the queen. I’ve also tracked down the mare’s trophies and put in a request for photographs of them. It turns out the previous owner doesn’t care about the trophies or ribbons the mare earned, so they’ll be delivered sometime tomorrow afternoon as well. I even asked three times if the owner was sure he wanted to dump the mare for a pittance.”

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