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“Winnings, stud fees, ultimate sale just before he’s spent? If you’re right.”
The video shifted to the end of the race, and all the horses milled around as one got a ridiculous horseshoe of flowers over its neck. Goldie bet he loved that.
What was she looking for? How did this even work?
Look for the pattern.Kathleen’s words came back to her. Genes were some of the most predictable patterns in the world.
Something caught her eye. She pointed. “That one.”
Paul whistled. “That’s gonna set us back.”
“Not the one with the flowers. The other one behind him.”
“Black or brown?” Paul asked, suddenly focused.
“The brown one. The young one.”
Paul licked his lips. “He ain’t anything.”
“Yet,” Goldie said. She didn’t know how she knew or how she could see into his genes and his legs. “I mean, he’s not gonna be amazing. He’s going to win one or two just like the mare. But he’s what she needs. He’s got everything she doesn’t, and vice versa. But you really shouldn’t listen to me.”
Paul flashed a grin. “I bet you a damn good bottle of wine that you win us the triple crown.”
Goldie laughed. “I wouldn’t know good wine if you poured it into me, but my cousins brew up a mean moonshine. They call it Magic.”
“Moonshine, wine, and millions. Sounds perfect.”
Goldie shook her head. “I won’t be here to collect it.”
“Won’t you?” Paul stood up, and Goldie stepped back a few feet.
“Um, no? I need to go home? We’re mortal enemies? Ring any bells?” She was protesting way too hard.
Paul headed down the aisle. “I once had a racer that was the slowest damn horse out of the block in the world. We didn’t even let her race. She was that hopeless.”
“Oh good, a horse fairy tale.”
“One day we needed to boost the confidence of another horse. You know, get him primed, so we put him next to her and let ‘em run. She smoked that dude and everyone else. Every time. She was one of our best racers. How you start ain’t got nothing to do with how you end.”
The huge double doors at the end of the aisle slid open, and Kathleen stood there in front of a white horse trailer. “Good, you’re here.”
Goldie jogged toward her.
“Paul,” Kathleen said. “I need a horse that won’t spook around assholes who think they know what they’re doing.”
“What are you two planning?” he asked, looking genuinely perturbed.
“Do you want milk or not?” Goldie asked him.
“No, I’ll never drink it again,” Paul said.
“Milk? I won’t ask. There’s no time.” Kathleen opened the horse trailer with a twist of magic Goldie could feel and stood with her hands on her hips. “Just go get Jupiter or Green Grass or one of ‘em headed for sale. No harm will come to anybody today.”
Goldie cleared her throat.
“A small amount of non-physical harm will come to one guy today who really deserves it,” Kathleen corrected.
Goldie nodded.
