Page 82 of Awaiting the Storm
The stranger stands next, extending a hand. “Stanhope Marshall,” he says in a clipped New York accent. “Pleasure.”
“Caison Galloway,” I reply, shaking his hand.
His grip is firm, his smile polite and genuine.
Holland gestures for me to sit. Then he calls for the server. After a quick perusal of the menu, we place our orders, and Holland asks for their best bottle of Blanton’s Bourbon.
“Stanhope’s in from the East Coast,” Holland explains as the server sets a glass in front of me. “He and I finalized a purchase this week. A two-year-old thoroughbred named Pharaoh’s Secret. Out of Secretariat’s bloodline.”
I blink. “No kidding?”
“No kidding,” Stanhope says proudly. “Twenty-two million. Worth every damn penny. The colt’s already proving himself on the track, and his breeding potential is off the charts. Holland’s made a smart investment.”
I glance at Holland, who gives a modest shrug that fools no one. “We’re building the future,” he says. “And that future includes a state-of-the-art training facility. Arenas. Broodmare barns. Breeding sheds. A full-scale operation.”
I nod slowly, letting the pieces fall into place. We’re going bigger. Which means we need to add to the team.
“So, our expansion just expanded,” I surmise.
“Exactly.” Holland tips his glass toward Giles. “And I’m pleased to say that after a lot of discussion and some hard-core negotiation, Giles here has agreed to come on board at Ironhorse. Full-time. Starting in two weeks. Which is when Pharaoh’s Secret will be arriving.”
The smile on Giles’s face is the biggest I’ve seen from him. He looks ten years younger all of a sudden. “It’s an incredible opportunity,” he says. “State-of-the-art facilities, world-class horses, and frankly, the salary Holland offered made it an easy decision.”
“Deserved,” Stanhope adds. “I’ve worked with Giles on three separate projects now, and there’s no one better. He’s the man for the job if we want a chance at the Kentucky Derby next year.”
“I appreciate that,” Giles says with a short laugh, then looks at me. “This all came together fast, but I’m excited. I know you’ve got big plans at Ironhorse, and I’m damn proud to be part of it.”
I force a smile and lift my glass. “Well then, here’s to the future.”
Everyone clinks glasses. The mood is celebratory. Steaks and lobster with caviar-topped potatoes are served, and Stanhope dives into a story about Saratoga and some hedge fund magnate’s prized stallion throwing a shoe mid-race. They all laugh. And I nod and grin at the right places.
But inside, my gut’s twisting.
Because while I’m thrilled for Holland and I know that Giles is going to be a great addition to the Ironhorse team—he’s a hell of a trainer—my mind’s already a few miles down the road at Wildhaven Storm.
Matty’s not gonna like this.
She doesn’t know she’s about to lose her head trainer. The one steady hand she’s had through all the chaos of the last year. The one employee she fought tooth and nail to keep on staff when she had to let everyone else go. And if I know her at all, she’s going to take it personally. She’ll see it as another betrayal. Another nail in the coffin of a legacy she’s trying like hell to hold together.
I stare at the amber liquid in my glass and try to calculate just how bad the fallout is going to be.
Giles leans over slightly. “I hate leaving Matty in the lurch. I do. ButI told her from the beginning that this gig wasn’t forever. I’m going to make some calls and see what names I can rustle up. Make sure she finds a competent replacement.”
“So, she has no idea?”
He shakes his head. “I’ll talk to her tomorrow.”
“Let me talk to her first. I want to be the one to tell her.”
“Okay then,” he says, then clasps my shoulder. “Don’t worry. Matty’s reasonable, and she’s stronger than she looks.”
“She is,” I say, and it’s not just a platitude. “Still … timing could be better.”
Giles nods. “It always could be.”
Holland picks up his fork and starts on his steak. “I understand your concern, Caison. But you and I both know Wildhaven Storm is not the place for a horseman like Giles. What we’re building here is something world-class. Profitable. And we’re not poaching. We’re hiring the best. People change, quit jobs, and move on all the time. It’s just a part of doing business. Nothing personal.”
No one says it, but the implication hangs heavy over the table. Matty’s loss is Ironhorse’s gain.
