Page 54 of Trickster King

“And you think about racing, and your heart wants to fly again. I get it. And those RPS agents won’t let you ride the real broncos and bulls, will they?”

“Not a chance in hell,” Randy stated, coming over and glaring at me. “You’d tame the broncos, adopt the bulls, and then become upset because none of them were willing to buck you off. You’re happier feeding them treats and caring for them after their retirement—or using them for your breeding lines.”

“I’m mighty hurt, Randy,” I lied, and I made a show of refusing to look at him. Dynamite slobbered on my face, and I had to fend her off to keep the helmet on my head. “How do you think I should break the news to my wife?”

“Call her and tell her the truth,” Randy suggested. “That’s your best defense right now.”

Heaving a sigh, I handed over Dynamite’s reins, took the helmet off, and went to the rail where my phone, keys, and wallet waited. Snagging the phone, I dialed my wife’s cell, wondering how she’d react.

“Is something wrong?” Jessica answered.

“Once you find out what I did, something might be wrong. Quite possibly with my ass once you take a crop to it.”

“Pat, I have no problems with you buying your projects. I already talked with the accountants about the costs, what you’re going to use them for, how you’re cutting costs, and your general plans for world domination. I’m not upset with you.”

“I just broke a world record on a five hundred dollar horse.”

Silence. I checked my watch, grinning as one minute stretched into two.

“Could you repeat that, please?”

“I just broke a world record on a five hundred dollar horse.”

“Okay. If the horse cost five hundred, it was among the herd that you picked up today. I haven’t had a chance to go through the animal registries, although there weren’t many of riding age yet. I’m assuming you did this on a broke horse.”

“There is nothing broken about Dynamite.”

“Dynamite?”

“She jumps like she has sticks of dynamite inserted in her hindquarters,” I replied, grinning at the mare, who did her best to charm Randy. “Jerrod brought a qualifier over, and after testing me on some jumps, he decided to have it set up for the record. Dynamite has wings, babe. She can fly.” I breathed the word, wondering if I’d ever be able to take a horse over a jump like that again in my life.

I doubted it.

The risk of injury, of myself and my horse, came in at too high a cost to pay even for wings.

“All right. Jerrod is the primary Grand Prix trainer, so I can see how the first part of this happened. You like jumping, and you’ve done some work at Grand Prix height. Yes, I saw the setup in our arena, checked the schedule, and realized you were toying with Grand Prix jumps when I wasn’t watching. How did this evolve into trying for a world record?”

“I was trying a two and a half foot jump with her, and she gave me six feet, babe. She wanted to fly. Jerrod thought I handled six feet fine, so he had the jump set for the world record, brought in the qualifier, and recorded it. Dynamite beat it by four inches. She’s literally a five hundred dollar horse, Jessica. She’s a four-way cross, and not a single horse in her lineage has come anywhere near the Grand Prix from the sounds of it.”

“You want to qualify her and try for the championship,” my wife accused.

Damn. Busted, and I hadn’t even had a chance to try. “You know, now that you mention it, it would be nice if my wife pretended I had zero aspirations, becoming shocked, in a delighted way, should I somehow manage to accidentally find my way into some jumping circuits. I could go talk to those people you dislike when I’m not doing things a king probably shouldn’t be doing.”

My wife giggled. “Did Randy or Geoff tell you that you can’t ride in the rodeo again?”

“That may have happened.”

“I love you, Pat, but in reality, we just don’t have any time to try for the qualifiers for the Grand Prix let alone to actually make it to the circuit and the championship.” She sighed. “I wish that were not the case, but it really is, especially with the new food-thieving tyrants on the way. It’s not that I don’t want to let you go running off with your new horse, but it’s just not feasible.”

Like hell it wasn’t feasible. However, I wouldn’t tell her that. I’d trick her into believing I was resigned to the reality and wouldn’t do what she said I couldn’t. “I know. But I broke a world record on a five hundred dollar horse, babe.”

“I’m proud of you. Have them send me a copy of the video. I know you don’t usually jump that high. Did you ride it okay?”

“I don’t even think I twinged my back, and I remembered to release the rein during the recovery. She’s a great sport. Can we make space for her at the royal stable?”

“I’ll even tell the stablemasters to set up Grand Prix jumps for you from time to time so you can fly with your new mare. I think figuring out how to add one more grain guzzler to the stables around here makes up for the fact you can’t actually try for the Grand Prix.”

Phew. With Dynamite living at the palace, I’d just have to make excuses to haul her over to my new equestrian center for dedicated training. “Is it too much to ask to get a week or two now and then to work at the equestrian center? We can set it up as a royal center, so we can do work here and train with the RPS while on horseback.”

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