Page 56 of Trickster King

“Do be careful. If you’re going to try Grand Prix height jumps, make sure you have Randy or Geoff with you in addition to your trainer.”

“I can do that,” I promised.

“Love you.”

She hung up before I had a chance to reply, and I smiled. When she did that, she itched to go do something, and I wondered which of the tasks she’d taken upon herself had lit a fire. I’d find out when I got home, which would add to the sweetness of my victory.

Then, aware I stirred trouble for the fun of it, I turned to Randy. “We’re on. She’s convinced there’s no realistic way I can even try for the Grand Prix, so she told me to go console myself through buying a cross country horse and a steeplechaser. That way, I can help promote the various equine sports near home. I’m going to need a masquerade mask, Dynamite is going to need something showy to wear, and I’m going to need the Grand Prix circuit schedule, the qualifying competitions, and everything I need to do to get into the next feasible championship.”

Randy sighed, Geoff grinned, and Jerrod raised a brow.

The Grand Prix trainer considered me, his eyes narrowing. “If you’re riding in disguise, you can use a false name. It’s a good gimmick. You’re not known for your jumping skills outside of broncos, so nobody would be familiar with your riding style. I can contact the circuit organizers and see about having more than one masquerade rider. It’s a good gimmick for the circuit, and I think it could work. I can get everything you need. I know a few talented riders with good horses who could join in the masquerade as championship hopefuls—and I know a few who would love to participate just because it’s new and different. What will be your colors?”

I couldn’t do pink; Deidre would lock onto it and figure me out in a heartbeat, especially as I wore the pink monstrosity she’d foisted on me from time to time. However, I might be able to get away with a pastel purple, which was close enough to pink yet different enough to trick my little princess. “Let’s go for some pastel shade, maybe in purple. Let’s stay away from any of the royal colors, and let’s avoid pink. If some pink rider shows up at the Grand Prix, my daughter is going to become suspicious.”

“Except her mother will be telling her you can’t ride in the Grand Prix, Pat,” Randy reminded me. “Pink and purple might be your best bet. It’s notorious among those who know you how much you hate wearing pink. And your little princess forces you into it because she loves pink and knows you can’t stand it and will only do it because she’s asking it of you.”

Damn. Randy made a good point.

Did I want to fly enough to deal with wearing pink and purple? To my dismay, I realized I would. Without hesitation. “Pink and purple it is. I draw a line at heavy rhinestones on the tack. Some for the pageantry is fine, but Dynamite will be carrying enough weight as it is. Jerrod, do you have a horse that looks similar to Dynamite?”

“I don’t, but her breeder has more horses like her. The mare is not a good jumper or competition horse, though.”

“She doesn’t have to be. She just has to look like Dynamite. I’ll swap horses when I take Dynamite out, and I’ll make sure the wife doesn’t get too close of a look at them before we leave on whatever trips we have to go on. I can talk the stables into calling the second horse Dynamite when she’s at the royal stables. Sneaking Dynamite out for her sister might be a bit tricky, but if I do it as part of my visits to the ranch, it’s doable.”

Geoff snickered. “However much it pains me, that might work. The queen is notorious for just checking to make sure a horse is in the stall. She wouldn’t be tricked with Baby or What’s the Story, Morning Glory, but with Dynamite? I think it could work, especially if we put her stall away from the queen’s horses.”

“See if you can get me an offer, Jerrod. Also, can you point me into the direction of the closest meat market? My wife says I can rescue five plus pick up two competition horses.”

With a smile, the Grand Prix trainer shook his head. “I can do you one better, Your Majesty. I’ll take you to the market myself, and I’ll ask Dynamite’s breeder to meet us there with two of her sisters that look a lot like her. They are just eating his grain, and he’s ready to give up on the attempt. He’s got a lot of these horses mowing down his pasture, and Dynamite was the only one who panned out as a jumper. I can call the auctioneer and tell him you’re on the way to take seven horses. He’ll open his doors after hours for you.”

I bet he would as I had a reputation for getting mean when it came to the rescues. “I even promise I won’t get snarly, but if he has any horses on death’s door, well, we won’t tell my wife if I go over five.”

“One of these days, she’s going to take a crop to you over these stunts,” Randy predicted.

Geoff snorted. “If he didn’t like when she took the crop to his ass, that might work, but let’s face it. He delights in everything she does, even when it involves him getting a shock for pushing her every button.”

I truly did. “I’ll try to avoid being cropped. And anyway, if she sees us unloading a skeletal horse from the trailer, I’ve won the fight before it began. We do have vets on staff, and we are paying them whether they’re working or not. Why not give a horse a chance?”

Jerrod shot me a salute. “I’ll make the arrangements while you strip Dynamite of her tack, groom her, and settle her in for the night.”

As I’d won the battle and the war, I did as told.

THIRTEEN

“I can’t count, babe.”

Every rare now and then, a rescue with good intentions tried to save horses, became overwhelmed, and created a huge mess. The rescue in question had gotten abused horses from an illegal rodeo circuit without any ability to treat them. Randy’s warning the situation was bad put me on edge.

When the auctioneer, who’d dealt with years of abused animals being sent to the meat market, raged on the phone while talking to Jerrod, I worried.

Geoff, in his infinite wisdom, had volunteered to stay at the center with Eddie.

Some things a boy didn’t need to witness, and what we would behold at the auction barn counted.

Once at the auction site, a huge complex meant for large scale cattle and horse sales, the uneasy feeling I’d gotten upon learning about the animals grew to an inferno deep within my bones.

The rage would char me to nothing more than greasy ash if I let it, and I focused on breathing to calm myself.

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