Page 38 of The Past

“Clock starts, clock stops,” I mused, still watching the track.“I would think that’s the number that matters.But you seem to care more about the way they move than just how fast they are.”

Rory grinned, his green eyes glinting with amusement.“Because that’s what makes a real runner.Fast is good, but if a horse doesn’t have the mind for it—if he’s just chasin’ the wind instead of workin’ with it—he’ll never win where it counts.”

A stable groom approached, leading a young chestnut filly aptly named Star for the same shape marking on her forehead.She shifted her weight nervously, ears flicking back and forth.The boy murmured to her, adjusting the reins to hold on to her head as she tried to shake it.

“She’s got energy to burn,” Rory muttered.“Tommy, walk her to the starting post, let her settle before they take her off.”

I moved forward, running a soothing hand down the filly’s neck as I took her reins from the groom.“Easy, girl,” I murmured, leading her onto the track.She tossed her head, testing me, but I kept my grip steady, my other hand firm on her shoulder.

You couldn’t manhandle horses this size, but you also couldn’t baby them.They needed a handler they could trust, someone steady, someone who wouldn’t react to their nervousness by getting tense themselves.

Rory watched me as I led her, a considering look on his face.“Ye’ve got good hands, lad.”

I grinned, patting the filly’s shoulder as she finally exhaled, her body loosening.“That’s ’cause I was raised right.”

Rory chuckled and turned back to the riders, calling out the next lineup.

I glanced across the track, spotting Fiona’s dad in conversation with another trainer near the fence.I’d never seen him down here at the training center and I wondered why he was making an appearance.From what I understood, the brothers kept the two distinct parts of the farm—breeding and training—separated from each other.I hadn’t quite figured out all the family dynamics, but it didn’t seem to me that Seamus and Rory liked each other very much.But for all the things I didn’t like about Seamus Conlan, I had to admit—he produced some of the finest young racehorses I’d ever seen.

Of course, I’d also argue it was Rory’s training that really made them so great.He was a good man and an even finer handler of horses.I suspect my dad knew exactly what he was doing by sending me here to work for Rory this summer.

It was why I was out here at sunrise, hands caked with dirt, instead of nursing a couple extra hours of sleep.There was something about this place—about Rory Conlan—that made me want to prove myself.

♦

After a verylong day, I found Rory in the main barn, standing at a stall with his arms braced over the top rail, quietly observing one of the horses inside.It was early evening, the sky just starting to shift to deeper shades of blue.I had debated all day about making this call, but the longer I waited, the more I needed to hear my father’s voice.

“Hey, Rory,” I said as I stepped up beside him.“Any chance I could use your phone to call my dad?”

He turned his head, raising a brow.“Of course, lad.No need to ask.”

“I was going to place it collect,” I added, rubbing the back of my neck.“But if that doesn’t work, I can settle up with you later.”

Rory waved a dismissive hand.“Don’t worry about it.Go on and use the cottage line.Should be quieter there and the door’s unlocked.”

I thanked him and walked the short distance to Rory and Kathleen’s cottage.Inside, the house was warm, the scent of whatever Kathleen had cooked earlier lingering in the air.I checked the time—early afternoon back home in Kentucky.I should be able to reach my father, who would most likely be in his office up at the main house.

Rory’s phone was mounted on the kitchen wall and I picked up the receiver, pressing it to my ear before dialing the operator.

“I’d like to place a collect call to the United States,” I told her, then rattled off my father’s number.

“Please hold while I connect ye.”

As I waited, I pulled out a chair to sit, leaning back and tapping my fingers against the table.My mind wandered to last night, to Fiona leading me up that hill, the way she had looked under the moonlight, her red hair catching in the breeze.The way she had leaned into me as we sat under the hawthorns, watching the lights of Clonmel flicker in the distance.

And the way I felt when she told me about her father ordering her to invite Brian to the festival.The anger that had surged in me was brutally hot.I’d never been one to insert myself into other people’s business, but this?

This was different.

Fiona was my business.

“Hello?”My father’s deep voice pulled me back.

“Hey, Dad,” I said, clearing my throat and sitting up straight in my chair.

“Well, there’s my boy,” he said, his voice warm with affection.“I was hoping you’d call soon.You settling in all right over there?”

I grinned.“Yeah, I am.It’s amazing here.The land’s beautiful.The people are good.And Rory’s got me working hard.”

---