Page 46 of Trickster King

Some would fly.

The rest would serve the RPS and enjoy the best care the kingdom could offer.

“Eddie, I’m about to abuse your status as a devilishly cute child for my profit,” I informed our boy.

His eyes widened. “You are? But how?”

“You’re going to buy me that equestrian center, and you’re going to guilt that owner into lowering the price on the land as low as he can go. On the way there, I’ll coach you on the financials. But those horses will not be going to the market.”

Randy sighed. “Your Majesty.”

“My Majesty refuses to see over two hundred horses slaughtered because of idiot owners lacking patience, common sense, and integrity. I can’t stop them from sending horses to market, but if those horses are possibilities for the Grand Prix, they’re excellent animals with decent temperament. Those horses can, if they aren’t suitable for flying, work for the RPS. That will let me tap the RPS budget for horse acquisitions for their sale. At five hundred dollars a head, I would be acquiring RPS animals for thousands each below our budget. How old are our horses when we start buying them?”

“We’ll buy foals,” Randy acknowledged. “All right. You can erase a hundred thousand from the acquisitions; our accounting department will sing for joy over grabbing quality animals for only five hundred a head. That still leaves the issue of a million for the land plus paying the employees.”

“They will be hired by the RPS to care for the herd, and we will convert the center to an RPS training facility. With the number of children I’ve got underfoot, the RPS will be expanding again, and our current facilities can’t handle the load.”

Geoff sucked in a breath. “You could write the entire million off through assigning the property to the RPS because it is a legitimate need.”

Rubbing my hands together, I considered the possibilities. “I will personally hire their Grand Prix trainers unless they show an interest in the RPS. The money I’m saving will go to additional horses or animals for the new hires. Geoff, get on the horn with the accountants. Inform them I’m buying that equestrian center on behalf of the RPS. If I can give them the bill, even better, but if not, they can pay me back for the acquisition.”

Geoff nodded, got out his phone, and stepped out into the hallway.

“Eddie, pick lunch,” I ordered.

The boy laughed and requested the nearest fast food place I could tolerate.

Turning to Randy, I said, “Find some way to get me out of this alive, because when my wife finds out, I’m a walking dead man.”

The head of my detail raised a brow. “She is more likely to praise you for solving a known issue within the RPS, one that has been on your docket for a while. However, there were no sustainable solutions. This is a sustainable solution. I might not be able to help you about the other two ranches, but the equestrian center is something I can help you with, especially as you have plans for Alexander the Great.”

“I was even thinking about sending him to this center, too,” I muttered.

I’d just begun the work of breaking the young stallion to saddle, and he’d proved even more tractable than I’d hoped for. He approached everything with resilient equine curiosity, and I’d taken the gentle approach with him, allowing him to become familiar with the saddle while it was on the ground. Then I’d put the saddle on another horse, showing him how it worked. He’d sniffed it, regarding me with a wary eye.

By the time I’d put the saddle on his back, he’d been ready for it, and while tense and uncomfortable, he hadn’t gone bucking across the arena. He’d stood still but tense, waiting to find out what I would do.

I’d walked him around the arena, praising him at intervals, especially when he showed the behaviors I wanted from him.

It wouldn’t be long until I was on his back giving my wife gray hairs. Once in the saddle, I’d teach that horse to fly.

I’d already caught him jumping on his own, mimicking the other horses we had.

“Well, you can go to the center with him and work on his training during one of your training cycles with the RPS. The center would be excellent for that. It won’t take much to make it secure enough to be a royal retreat.”

“And the other two ranches?”

Our budget allowed for a set number of retreats, which allowed us to do diplomatic business with other kingdoms away from Dallas. Last year, we’d retired an old ranch, as we’d gotten a lucrative offer from a young rancher who wanted a good property and wished to join my cattle program.

As such, I could slide another into the official government budget—if the price was right.

I had three hundred thousand of government money to work with, assuming that the retreat could also be used for one of the various government projects.

“The one might work,” Randy admitted. “The other would be ideal for a rescue project. The listings on both places are questionable, so I’m assuming they’re messes. They’re bargain bin acquisitions. You won’t be adopting any ranchers off it; the situation is more like Micky’s.”

The old rancher’s property, mine as soon as we could help get the man and his wife resettled, would keep me busy and allow me to offer aid to struggling ranchers and some of the unemployed. I’d be able to apply for funding for those projects, especially once I enrolled my ranches into my cattle breeding program.

I ran those as non-profit, with the excess funds going to buying more cattle, buying more land, and funding public services. The amount that returned to the government influenced how much my programs got the following years, something that stressed me out more often than not.

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