The Horsewoman(81)

Gorton looked across the room now and toasted a tall redhead he’d been eyeballing since he got here, wondering how she’d like to see the inside of a Gulfstream IV. Hell, if they left right now, they could be at Honor Bar by ten o’clock. He’d finally managed to get rid of Blaine.

“You mentioned something about maybe getting a ride back to Palm Beach with you,” Cullen said.

“Full up,” Gorton said. “Sorry.”

“You filled up a plane as big as yours?” Cullen said.

“I’m just a boy who can’t say no,” Gorton said.

Gorton held Cullen’s look now, smiling at him, keeping his eyes on him, long enough to make him thoroughly uncomfortable.

Finally, Gorton said, “Congratulations on finishing second, by the way. Puts you one behind the kid and two behind the mother if I’m not mistaken.”

“I’ve got time,” he said. “You don’t have to worry about me.”

“But see, that’s the thing, I do worry,” Gorton said. “Mostly because you’ve turned out to be completely full of shit about them every step of the way.”

“Wait a second,” Cullen said.

“No, you wait a second,” Gorton said. “You know what kind of people last with me, Tyler? People who give me good information.”

He pointed at his glass for a refill. Not Cullen’s.

“First you told me the kid couldn’t ride,” he said. “Then you told me the mother had no shot, and that you were going to get the trainer deported, all that before you told me the sainted Maggie couldn’t do anything without the trainer. Finally, you told me Maggie had lost it.” Then he paused and said, “You ever get tired of being right all the time, Tyler?”

“I’m telling you,” Cullen said, “I’m still your best shot at gold.”

Gorton smiled again.

“I don’t think so,” he said.

He looked across the room. The redhead was gone. The bartender was coming over with his drink, but Gorton waved him off, before throwing a hundred-dollar bill on the table.

“Know what I’ve decided to do?” Gorton said to him. “Quit listening to you—quit you—while I’m ahead.”

“You’re shitting me.”

“I don’t think so.”

“I’m telling you, I’m still a better rider than either one of them,” Cullen said, starting to sound desperate now.

And starting to bore Gorton, even more than usual. Gorton was already second-guessing himself for standing next to him at the bar. He should have moved on the redhead before, given Cullen the bad news another time.

“Not feeling you on that one,” Gorton said.

“I thought we had a deal!” Cullen said.

His voice had gone up at least an octave, maybe more, by Gorton’s measure.

“You probably thought the deal was set, too,” Gorton said. “Maybe you never heard the old Hollywood line.” Patting Cullen dismissively on the head. “Turned out it wasn’t set-set.”

Gorton pulled his phone out of his pocket, called his pilot and told him he was on his way.

“Hey,” he said to Cullen. “Safe flight.”





ONE HUNDRED TWO

Gus



BECKY WAS IN THE RING, Atwood Farm, late morning, finally having turned the page after Kentucky. Gus watched her ride Sky the way she was supposed to, glad they’d had a fair amount of time before the five-star Mercedes Grand Prix coming up at WEF. She needed to be at her very best now, the stakes were too high not to be, because of where the event fell in an Olympic year.

This morning Gus had even gotten her to make a couple of jumps with her hands off the reins, his way of reminding her that sometimes the best thing to do, especially when you had a horse with this much talent and this much heart, was to get the hell out of her way and just let her run, and jump, the way she was born to do both.

Now Becky did it again, letting go after the first jump of a combination, just two quick strides between the fences, hardly any room at all, taking the jump clean, whooping when Sky landed.

Caroline Atwood had arrived at the ring by then.

“Hands-free riding?” she said. “I don’t believe I’ve ever seen that one before.”

“It’s an exercise an old trainer taught me,” he said. “Worked for me, works for her.”

“Would you have her drive a car that way?”

“Horses are way smarter than cars,” he said. “And most people I know, as a matter of fact.”

Gus turned away from her and yelled at Becky, “Again.”

They both watched Becky do it again, as if she’d been doing it her whole life. Gus videoed it this time. Watched the replay as soon as she and Sky were over the second jump. Felt himself smiling. A beautiful thing, he told himself. All part of her getting her confidence all the way back after that refusal in Kentucky.

When Becky came over, he handed her the phone. She watched the round and smiled.

“Niiiice,” she said, dragging the word out as far as it would go. “Go cool down your horse,” he said. “And give her an extra carrot, on me.”

Becky hopped off before Emilio could get to her and walked Sky toward the barn.