Page 6 of Dangerous Stakes

The gelding nudged her pocket. Susan laughed and got another dried apple slice out for him. She clucked to him and stepped into the trailer. He only hesitated a moment before following her in. She hooked the quick release trailer tie to his halter and made sure he wasn’t going to panic when he realized he was tied in. He tried to turn and follow Susan, but when he hit the end of the tie, turned back and stood. Susan patted his rump. “Good boy. Let’s go home.”

* * *

Both partnerships proved to be even better than anticipated. Mounted on a horse that was talented and kind, Patricia’s riding and competition scores improved by leaps and bounds. Susan took almost as much pleasure from watching her friend doing well as she did in her own accomplishments.

Susan named the big gelding Tank. It seemed most appropriate, and he answered to it easily. Most show horses had a show name and a barn name. The show name was usually something exotic or grand. Susan had decided her big bay roan was just Tank.

He proved to have a comical side to his personality. No one who ever left a hose with running water around him, failed to get wet. And it was obvious he did it on purpose. He quickly trained the barn help that he expected to be paid for any and all cooperation. His price? Dried apple chips supplied by Susan. He also had a knack for getting out of his stall. He never got into real trouble. Normally he’d either take himself out to his favorite pasture or go over to the stack of alfalfa bales and help himself to a snack. No one could stay angry with him for long.

Tank was an excellent student. He grasped and retained new training concepts and maneuvers quickly. The big bay roan gelding had proved to be unflappable and at some point, someone had put some time into his training. More than that, he seemed to enjoy learning new things. What would have taken most horses a year or more to learn and perfect, Tank had down in three months or less.

He never challenged Susan and seemed only to want to please her. Gina, on the other hand, felt successful if she got a couple of good maneuvers out of him. Susan told her repeatedly that it was because Gina didn’t ask Tank … she told him. And Tank, much like his owner, didn’t like being told to do anything.

He had Grand Prix level gaits. When he trotted, he brought his knees and hocks up with a crisp staccato action that floated them around the ring. When he cantered, the gait had a strong cadence and rhythm. But when he galloped, people watching had to remind themselves to breathe. It was an enormous, powerful gait. It was easy to imagine a knight of old galloping across open ground to do battle with an equally well-mounted opponent.

Within short order, Susan and Tank began moving up the ranks in the dressage world. He easily moved through the lower levels and didn’t seem too phased by the higher ones. Susan always knew when she entered the arena, that the judges were disinclined to like him. He didn’t look like the other great dressage horses. He didn’t react to things like the others, but it was hard to deny the sheer beauty of watching him perform. His relationship with Susan shone through. They were true partners. And the public adored them.

The rags-to-riches story of both Tank and his owner paralleled each other. His easy, amiable nature and genuine like of children endeared him to everyone. Susan usually spent several hours after competitions signing autographs and having people take pictures of her and Tank. Often, she would set small children up on his back for their parents to get a picture. Tank was truly a gentle giant, but one with enough talent that the entire dressage community had to sit up and take notice.

By the time they entered and won their second Grand Prix competition, Susan was turning down huge sums of money for him. At one point, Gina encouraged her to sell.

“Susan … they offered you $100,000. The guy had a cashier’s check with your name on it. Sell him.”

“Gina, you know I couldn’t do that. He’s my baby,” protested Susan.

“I know, but I’m telling you sell him. Thirty days from now, they’d pay you the same amount to take him back.” She had laughed as Susan turned the hose on her that she’d been using to bathe the sweat off Tank.

Even though Tank knew he was talented and could be something of a diva, Susan loved him for all that he was and knew she would never sell him.

CHAPTER 4

Present Day

Susan watched the handsome Irishman working with his elementary and middle school pupils. It was hard to watch – not that he wasn’t good with them, but their talent fell so far below his.

She thought back to the time Rory O’Neill won Olympic gold and remembered his spectacular fall from grace. The drug test on the stallion he was riding showed trace levels of steroids. Rory had claimed he knew nothing about them, but he, his team and the owners of the horse were stripped of their medal. Rory and the owners had been banned for ten years from Olympic competition.

Susan remembered watching him on camera and in interviews. She had found it hard to believe he would have broken the rules. More than that, she didn’t believe he’d pump a horse full of steroids. Watching him work with his students’ and with their horses, she decided he was the perfect coach for her and Tank.

Susan had spent every morning at this show getting up to watch Rory ride. Watching him ride was breathtaking. Even riding the training and first level horses of his students, he got more out of them than Susan thought was actually there. And his work with his students was a combination of stern dressage master and beloved older brother. Those girls adored him. Everywhere he walked on the grounds he was surrounded by his students. But the girls were well behaved and respectful of other people’s time.

Rumor had it that many of their mothers felt the same way about him. Some, ostensibly, because of the way he treated their daughters and others because he was a sexy hunk. He filled out a pair of breeches in the most masculine way … and from every angle. He had a great ass and the bulge in the front of his breeches left little to the imagination. And his accent was the piece de resistance. It was sometimes hard to focus on what he was saying because it sounded so deep and melodic.

Susan had decided to enter this competition to watch the hunky Irishman ride. She remembered watching his finale ride at the Olympics and being mesmerized. She wondered if his talent had stayed with him after his fall from grace.

She hoped it had, as she had begun to believe that riding under Rory O’Neill’s tutelage might just be the thing she needed to get her where she wanted to go. Earlier in the month she had spoken with Gina about the need for pushing her training further.

“It’s time for you to move on,” Gina had said, shaking her head with finality.

“No. We started together, and we’ll get where we’re going together.”

“Trust me. I’ll be in the stands watching when you and Tank take the Gold Medal, but both of you have surpassed my training. I want the two of you to accomplish everything you want. You both deserve it, but I don’t have what it takes to get you the rest of the way.”

Susan had to blink back the tears. In her heart she knew it was true, but her friendship and loyalty wanted to believe otherwise. “Who else is going to put up with us? Neither me nor Tank deals well with authority figures.”

Gina laughed out loud, breaking the tension hanging in the air. “Ya think? But seriously, Rory O’Neill is riding this weekend. He has more talent than anyone I know. Watching him ride is an almost erotic experience. But I’m telling you now, he won’t put up with either of your bullshit.”

Susan knew she and Tank were not ideal clients. Both had talent and ambition to spare, but they could both be difficult. They were truly gifted … and knew it—which was not usually a good combination.

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