Leaping Hearts(76)

13


LATER THAT afternoon, A.J. went up to Devlin’s study. Smiling at his organized but daunting stacks of paper, she took a seat in his creaky old wooden chair and settled in for some sleuthing by unfolding Sabbath’s bill of sale and pedigree. The prior owner’s name was one she recognized and she recalled him owning a stable located in Lexington, Kentucky. After some footwork with a phone operator, A.J. got the number and dialed. The gruff voice that answered didn’t inspire confidence.

“Yeah?”

“Mr. Tarlow?” she asked. In the background, she could hear stable sounds like hooves clapping on concrete and whinnies echoing through a barn.

“Hold on.” The phone was dropped, landing hard on something metal. The racket was still ringing in her ear when someone else got on the line.

“Albert Tarlow here.”

“This is A. J. Sutherland. I bought a Thoroughbred, Sabbath—”

“The sale is final!”

“I know, I know. I just wanted to ask you a couple of questions about him.”

“What kind of questions?” He sounded suspicious, like a man being offered a package that was ticking.

“About his background.”

“I don’t know how much I can help you. I didn’t own him for all that long, although I must say he made a vivid impression.”

“He tends to,” A.J. said wryly. “Were you aware of any problems he had with water?”

“What didn’t he have problems with? He kicked up a fuss about the stall he was in, the riders, the trainers, his hooves—do you know he hates blacksmiths?”

“Yes, but it was the water I wanted to—”

“That horse went through three blacksmiths. He thought they were punching bags, I’m quite sure. Never seen anything like it and I’ve seen a lot of things.”

“About the water—”

The man interrupted her again, his voice wistful. “But that animal had so much potential. When he decided to jump, which wasn’t often, he was incredible. Are you having much luck with him?”

“Some.”

“You must have the patience of Job.”

It was more Noah’s territory she was interested in, A.J. thought.

“Mr. Tarlow, I specifically want to know if you tried to take him over any water jumps.”

“Only once.” The man laughed grimly. “Planted one of my riders in the dirt so hard I thought we were going to have to dig the poor guy out. After that, I decided to sell the horse. Even if we could get him over the uprights and the oxers, which was a big if in my mind, I knew no one had a chance on his back over water. That horse put up such a stink over a six-inch-deep puddle, you’d swear it was out to get him.”

“Did he have any trouble with hoses or wet ground?”

“I do recall a groom turning the hose on him after a workout to help cool him down. That horse went crazy, and I mean really crazy. Trampled two of my men, tore out a pair of crossties like they were dental floss and ran around, dragging chains behind him, until he wore himself out. Nobody could catch him.”

“How long did you own him?”

“Only six months or so. It seemed like years.”

“Who did you buy him from?”

“My cousin picked him up for his own use and dumped him here when it became obvious the stallion was a handful. Always told Billy, you get what you pay for. He figured he’d gotten a deal but really he’d done the previous owner a favor by taking that animal off the man’s hands.”

Just like you did for me, his tone said.

“Any idea where your cousin got him?”

“Don’t know that, although I think he’d been passed around a lot before Billy got him.”

“Thanks so much,” A.J. said.

“Good luck,” the man replied, hanging up.

Looking over Sabbath’s pedigree, she found the name of his broodmare and her stable and was able to track the place down. Unfortunately, the manager couldn’t recall anything in particular about the stallion’s time as a colt. He’d been sold as a yearling to another stable, the name of which escaped the woman.

Frustrated, A.J. leaned back in the chair, tapping a pen on the edge of the desk and trying to decide what she should do next. Offhandedly, she noticed a stack of bills in front of her and glanced at the top one. It was for the vet who’d come to check Sabbath’s leg after her fall. She picked it up and looked at the next one, which was from the feed store, and the next, which was from one of the blacksmiths they’d used. Then there was another from an insurance company, one from a tack shop and then a hardware store’s statement.

She frowned as she added up the amounts. The total was staggering. Devlin had incurred thousands of dollars of debt in her behalf. Why hadn’t he told her?

Then it dawned on her. She’d never paid him a cent. They’d agreed from day one she’d pay him a reasonable trainer and board fee but it had been well over a month and she hadn’t given him a thing. She resolved to write him a check.

A.J. froze.

And cover it with what? she wondered. All two hundred dollars in her bank account? Groaning, she thought about how poor she was.

Buying Sabbath with her own money was the first independent thing she’d done in her life. She wouldn’t go back on the decision but it occurred to her that being headstrong wasn’t the same thing as being self-sufficient. Cutting that $30,000 check and walking away from Sutherland’s, letting go of her safety net and taking a long-overdue step toward adulthood, it had all been necessary. She just hadn’t thought out the financial particulars and now she was paying for it.