$40,500. Trace must know as well as she did the value of the filly. She could hedge a little, maybe pay another thousand or so more, but beyond that, they wouldn’t make the profit they’d need to justify feeding and training the animal for a year.
“Forty-five,” Trace said.
Callie hissed in a breath. Well. Now she knew. It wasn’t over between them, even if she wanted it to be. He wanted to hurt her every bit as much as she had wanted to hurt him. Unfortunately, she wasn’t the only one who would suffer from Trace’s vengeance. If she wasn’t careful, her family could lose Three Oaks.
“Why are you punishing me like this?” she whispered.
“This isn’t personal, Callie. It’s business.”
“Well, folks. I have forty-five thousand. Do I have another bid?”
Callie felt a shiver of fear crawl up her spine. Should she test his resolve? Should she bid more, to see if he would go higher? Callie sighed inwardly. She couldn’t take the risk that Trace would allow her to win the bid at a price that would cost her family money.
It was crystal clear now, if it hadn’t been before, that what had once been a deep and abiding love between them had become something else entirely, something dangerous.
“Now forty-five-forty-five-forty-five. Do I have another bid? Forty-five once. Forty-five twice. Sold to the gentleman in the black hat for forty-five thousand.”
“Hey, Trace,” Dusty said, tipping his Stetson. “That filly will be a great addition to your stable.”
“Price went a little high,” Trace said, eyeing Callie.
Dusty winked at Callie. “You’re welcome to drive up the prices all you want. See you later, Trace. Don’t forget. Number twenty-three.”
Callie paged through the auction materials. “Number twenty-three is Smart Little Doc,” she said. “Isn’t he the stud Dusty was training when he had his accident?”
“He’s got him signed up for the Futurity,” Trace confirmed.
“Good bloodlines,” Callie observed.
Trace stared over her shoulder and read the statistics on Smart Little Doc. Championship cutters on both sides. Millions in competition earnings.
Callie looked up at him and said, “Who are you going to get to train and ride him at this late date?”
“I haven’t thought too much about it.”
Trace knew as well as she did that competitive cutting was the one sport where the animal was the real athlete. The rider had to loosen the reins once the cow was cut from the herd. It was then up to the horse to use its “cow sense” to stay one step ahead of the cow. Winning horses often crouched down like a cat and stayed nose to nose with a steer to keep it cut from the herd.
But Trace would have no hope of winning the Futurity without a top-notch rider. The rider had to be good enough to stay in the saddle through some awesomely abrupt turns and smart enough to let the horse do its job.
“How about you?” Trace said. “You’ve trained and ridden winners—both at the Stakes and the Derby. Want the job?”
“No.”
“Just no? No explanation why not?”
“I don’t have to give you a reason.”
“I mean to win the Futurity, Callie.”
“You and a thousand other cutters who’ve signed up to compete,” she said. “Including me.”
“You’ve got a horse entered in the Futurity?”
Callie’s chin came up in response to the frown on Trace’s face. “I’ve got a mare that’s been performing well, Sugar Pep. I think she can win the Open.”
“I guess that puts us in competition.”
“If you can find a rider,” Callie said.
“Oh, I’ll find a rider,” Trace replied. “Even if I have to compete against you myself.”
Callie rose abruptly.
Trace caught her wrist. “Where are you going?”
“I’m leaving.”
“Without buying the stock you need to replace what was lost?”
She felt the eyes of their neighbors focused on them, but stubbornly remained standing. “I can’t afford to outbid you, Trace.”
She noticed he didn’t contradict
“Forty-five,” Trace said.
Callie hissed in a breath. Well. Now she knew. It wasn’t over between them, even if she wanted it to be. He wanted to hurt her every bit as much as she had wanted to hurt him. Unfortunately, she wasn’t the only one who would suffer from Trace’s vengeance. If she wasn’t careful, her family could lose Three Oaks.
“Why are you punishing me like this?” she whispered.
“This isn’t personal, Callie. It’s business.”
“Well, folks. I have forty-five thousand. Do I have another bid?”
Callie felt a shiver of fear crawl up her spine. Should she test his resolve? Should she bid more, to see if he would go higher? Callie sighed inwardly. She couldn’t take the risk that Trace would allow her to win the bid at a price that would cost her family money.
It was crystal clear now, if it hadn’t been before, that what had once been a deep and abiding love between them had become something else entirely, something dangerous.
“Now forty-five-forty-five-forty-five. Do I have another bid? Forty-five once. Forty-five twice. Sold to the gentleman in the black hat for forty-five thousand.”
“Hey, Trace,” Dusty said, tipping his Stetson. “That filly will be a great addition to your stable.”
“Price went a little high,” Trace said, eyeing Callie.
Dusty winked at Callie. “You’re welcome to drive up the prices all you want. See you later, Trace. Don’t forget. Number twenty-three.”
Callie paged through the auction materials. “Number twenty-three is Smart Little Doc,” she said. “Isn’t he the stud Dusty was training when he had his accident?”
“He’s got him signed up for the Futurity,” Trace confirmed.
“Good bloodlines,” Callie observed.
Trace stared over her shoulder and read the statistics on Smart Little Doc. Championship cutters on both sides. Millions in competition earnings.
Callie looked up at him and said, “Who are you going to get to train and ride him at this late date?”
“I haven’t thought too much about it.”
Trace knew as well as she did that competitive cutting was the one sport where the animal was the real athlete. The rider had to loosen the reins once the cow was cut from the herd. It was then up to the horse to use its “cow sense” to stay one step ahead of the cow. Winning horses often crouched down like a cat and stayed nose to nose with a steer to keep it cut from the herd.
But Trace would have no hope of winning the Futurity without a top-notch rider. The rider had to be good enough to stay in the saddle through some awesomely abrupt turns and smart enough to let the horse do its job.
“How about you?” Trace said. “You’ve trained and ridden winners—both at the Stakes and the Derby. Want the job?”
“No.”
“Just no? No explanation why not?”
“I don’t have to give you a reason.”
“I mean to win the Futurity, Callie.”
“You and a thousand other cutters who’ve signed up to compete,” she said. “Including me.”
“You’ve got a horse entered in the Futurity?”
Callie’s chin came up in response to the frown on Trace’s face. “I’ve got a mare that’s been performing well, Sugar Pep. I think she can win the Open.”
“I guess that puts us in competition.”
“If you can find a rider,” Callie said.
“Oh, I’ll find a rider,” Trace replied. “Even if I have to compete against you myself.”
Callie rose abruptly.
Trace caught her wrist. “Where are you going?”
“I’m leaving.”
“Without buying the stock you need to replace what was lost?”
She felt the eyes of their neighbors focused on them, but stubbornly remained standing. “I can’t afford to outbid you, Trace.”
She noticed he didn’t contradict
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