Page 98 of Dragon Her Heels

While the catalog listed the horse’s lineage, I hadn’t seen anything all that impressive in it.

His sire had winnings less than what he’d purchased the colt for, and none of the other horses in the line had any starts.

How strange.

Movement out of the corner of my eye caught my attention, and to my surprise, Alex Dryden sat beside me. As I had at least seven horses before my next rescue came up, I said, “Fancy meeting you here, Alex. How are you?”

“I’m good. An owner I race for is here, so I’m available for consulting, but he told me he isn’t going to need me until later. Why did you buy that colt?”

“Slaughter prospect,” I replied, flipping through my clean copy of the catalog and pointing at the animal’s lack of pedigree. “He’s going to be a pasture prince, and unless he moves for me after I treat that lameness, I’ll geld him and give my Clydesdale a friend. But mostly, I saw him limping and favoring his hind leg and decided I’d end a problem before it began. I was coerced into coming by my friends. Tricked, even.”

Alex laughed. “You’re really one of those, aren’t you?”

“One of what?”

“You’re in it for the love of the horses.”

I nodded. “When I brought Alligator Bait home, she kept trying to get on the track. So, I got her a proper saddle, and I breezed her on the track a few times a week so she could at least pretend she was going back to the races. After a few weeks of that, I entered into a low stakes race near home. She thrived. She loved everything about race day. She wasn’t just bred to race, she lives for it with every fiber of her being. Don’t get me wrong, she’s tough on the days I don’t breeze her and she doesn’t believe she’s getting breezed soon. If she had her way, she’d be breezing every day for the rest of her life.”

Several horses went by, and the next slaughter prospect came out, and while technically healthy, I narrowed my eyes at the evidence of being underweight. Unlike the colt, the gray filly seemed sound enough but lacked any spirit whatsoever. Otherwise, her lineage was about as weak as it got with no famous horses and minimal winnings earned by her dam and her great dam.

The instant the bid dropped to five hundred, I raised my hand.

Once again, I won without a peep of competition.

“Well, I’m going to give you credit; you know when the horses aren’t prospects—or we’re blind to what we’re missing.”

I observed the filly as the handler led her off. “Do you know the farm that raised her?”

“I do.”

“Reputation?”

“It’s not great.”

I made a thoughtful sound. “Do me a favor, would you?”

“What do you want?”

“If that owner shows up at races, do your best to absolutely crush them on the track.”

The jockey gave a low chuckle. “I do that for every owner I’m not riding for, but I’ll do it with a little extra pleasure this time. Are you just bidding on the poor prospects today?”

“There’s one filly I want, and I’m confident the price tag is going to leave me sobbing in a corner when the bidding is over.”

“I don’t suppose you’ll help a fellow jockey out and spill which one you’re after?”

Beside me, Yuless sighed.

I bumped his shin before flipping through the clean catalog, finding the buckskin mare, and pointing to her. “She’s the prettiest horse I’ve ever seen, Alex. And I have that gorgeous little colt.”

“What’s the pedigree on the colt?”

“Registered?” I laughed. “I got him because his dam died and he wasn’t going to make it otherwise. I acquired a nurse mare for him. Go ahead and make me the laughingstock of the jockey world. I don’t mind. I’m here shopping for poor prospects to decorate my pastures and one I’m buying strictly on color despite her exceptional pedigree. Now, don’t get me wrong. If that beauty wants to fly, we’re going to fly. But she’ll decide that. But that’s the nice thing about this auction, isn’t it? Those poor prospects might fly if I give them the care, the training, and the opportunity. But they might just mow down my grass and spend their days in horse paradise. It could go either way. Just drop the owner you’re working with a tip that on that beauty: I’m not leaving until I’ve won.”

“In good news for you, the owner I’m working with is the seller and consigned her. But I will pass on the tip. I think he’s going to be quite pleased if you walk out of this place with her. If she doesn’t race, she’ll be treated well, and he’s a lot like you in that regard. He wants what is best for his horses.”

If I judged from the man’s reputation, the owner didn’t care what happened to the horses of others.