fair enough.” Let him have his fantasy. It didn’t hurt anyone.
“Believe me when I tell you I just know what Mac wants, and he knows what I want from him. I’m a McKenna from a family of McKennas who have…well… certain abilities. My immediate family all have different abilities with horses and other animals.”
The way Mac was shouldering Aidan, hanging his head over the trainer’s, Cat could believe he and the colt had a link of some kind, even if there was nothing supernatural about it. “A lot of trainers claim a special connection to their horses. What makes your relationship with Mac any different?”
“I know what he’s thinking.”
Back to the psychic claim. She laughed. “Okay, I’ll go along with it.”
Aidan’s expression closed a bit. “Well, you shall just have to see for yourself, will you not? C’mon, lad, let’s get you moving for a bit. Don’t want you to cool down now that you’re ready to work.”
Cat realized she’d been dismissed because she hadn’t taken Aidan seriously. Surely he hadn’t thought she really would believe the tale.
He began circling the round pen at a walk, Mac accompanying him, sticking to his side as if he were Aidan’s companion. Like one of the dogs, she thought again, though neither Smokey nor Topaz would stay by her side for this long. Curiosity would get the better of them and they would run off to investigate any movement or smell. Watching horse and man so connected enthralled her.
Noting the saddle and accompanying tack stacked on a nearby equipment storage box, and reluctant to go back inside the barn, Cat asked, “Are you going to take Mac out on the training track?”
“Aye. It has been a few weeks since he was able to really stretch his legs.” Aidan moved to the gate. “He’s ready to race.”
As Cat saw for herself ten minutes later.
Once tacked up and on the track near the wheeled two-stall starting gate that took up a quarter of the track’s width, Mac started to dance. Aidan mounted him and walked the colt to familiarize him with the foreign surface. And undoubtedly to make certain he was properly warmed up before running, Cat thought.
“The track is five furlongs,” she told him. “Do you think he’d be all right if you took him around twice?” Ten furlongs was a mile and a quarter, the length of the Breeders’ Cup Classic.
“Aye, but I’m not going to push him just yet,” Aidan said. “I intend to breeze Mac and if he wants to go farther, then let him set his own pace. Let himself decide if he wants to go the distance.”
Appreciating Aidan’s care for the colt’s potential stress in a new environment, Cat settled down to watch as he lined Mac up alongside the starting gate with the same effortless power as before.
What would it be like to be with a man who possessed that kind of power? How would he use that power on her?
With a silent signal from Aidan, Mac broke from his position and Cat caught her breath as the colt’s musculature bunched and released. Mesmerized, she barely blinked as he rounded the track. He passed the gate once. Dirt spewed around him and he picked up speed as he rounded the track the second time. The colt’s pace was so fast she fancied he had the wind under his hooves. She swore he made the second lap seem easier than the first. He breezed by the starting gate as if ready to do another five furlongs.
Aidan let the colt slow to a trot, then turned him to come back to where Cat waited near the starting gate.
“Mac looks like a champion to me,” she said, unable to contain her excitement.
“He was simply shedding his travel stress. Just think of what he can do without a heavy bloke like me in the saddle.”
Cat didn’t know exactly what Aidan weighed, but she guessed he was about fifty or sixty pounds heavier than the average jockey. Less weight on the colt’s back would mean a big gain in speed. Assuming Mac made it to the Classic, he would carry only 126 pounds including the
“Believe me when I tell you I just know what Mac wants, and he knows what I want from him. I’m a McKenna from a family of McKennas who have…well… certain abilities. My immediate family all have different abilities with horses and other animals.”
The way Mac was shouldering Aidan, hanging his head over the trainer’s, Cat could believe he and the colt had a link of some kind, even if there was nothing supernatural about it. “A lot of trainers claim a special connection to their horses. What makes your relationship with Mac any different?”
“I know what he’s thinking.”
Back to the psychic claim. She laughed. “Okay, I’ll go along with it.”
Aidan’s expression closed a bit. “Well, you shall just have to see for yourself, will you not? C’mon, lad, let’s get you moving for a bit. Don’t want you to cool down now that you’re ready to work.”
Cat realized she’d been dismissed because she hadn’t taken Aidan seriously. Surely he hadn’t thought she really would believe the tale.
He began circling the round pen at a walk, Mac accompanying him, sticking to his side as if he were Aidan’s companion. Like one of the dogs, she thought again, though neither Smokey nor Topaz would stay by her side for this long. Curiosity would get the better of them and they would run off to investigate any movement or smell. Watching horse and man so connected enthralled her.
Noting the saddle and accompanying tack stacked on a nearby equipment storage box, and reluctant to go back inside the barn, Cat asked, “Are you going to take Mac out on the training track?”
“Aye. It has been a few weeks since he was able to really stretch his legs.” Aidan moved to the gate. “He’s ready to race.”
As Cat saw for herself ten minutes later.
Once tacked up and on the track near the wheeled two-stall starting gate that took up a quarter of the track’s width, Mac started to dance. Aidan mounted him and walked the colt to familiarize him with the foreign surface. And undoubtedly to make certain he was properly warmed up before running, Cat thought.
“The track is five furlongs,” she told him. “Do you think he’d be all right if you took him around twice?” Ten furlongs was a mile and a quarter, the length of the Breeders’ Cup Classic.
“Aye, but I’m not going to push him just yet,” Aidan said. “I intend to breeze Mac and if he wants to go farther, then let him set his own pace. Let himself decide if he wants to go the distance.”
Appreciating Aidan’s care for the colt’s potential stress in a new environment, Cat settled down to watch as he lined Mac up alongside the starting gate with the same effortless power as before.
What would it be like to be with a man who possessed that kind of power? How would he use that power on her?
With a silent signal from Aidan, Mac broke from his position and Cat caught her breath as the colt’s musculature bunched and released. Mesmerized, she barely blinked as he rounded the track. He passed the gate once. Dirt spewed around him and he picked up speed as he rounded the track the second time. The colt’s pace was so fast she fancied he had the wind under his hooves. She swore he made the second lap seem easier than the first. He breezed by the starting gate as if ready to do another five furlongs.
Aidan let the colt slow to a trot, then turned him to come back to where Cat waited near the starting gate.
“Mac looks like a champion to me,” she said, unable to contain her excitement.
“He was simply shedding his travel stress. Just think of what he can do without a heavy bloke like me in the saddle.”
Cat didn’t know exactly what Aidan weighed, but she guessed he was about fifty or sixty pounds heavier than the average jockey. Less weight on the colt’s back would mean a big gain in speed. Assuming Mac made it to the Classic, he would carry only 126 pounds including the
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