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“Farm in Wheeler, Texas,” he replied proudly.
“How much did you give for her?”
“What’s it matter?”
She shrugged, appreciating the old games they still knew how to play. She’d missed bantering back and forth with Frank. “I don’t guess it does.”
“No, it doesn’t,” Frank said, handing her the horse’s registration papers. “She’s out of a world champion. Last owners, for whatever reason, just didn’t want to run her. They kept her off the track. If I’d had her…”
“She would’ve been a champion,” Julie finished for him. “You’ve never settled for anything less.”
He wiped his brow and slowly nodded, studying her with intense eyes. “That’s a fact, Julie. Anyone can look at you and know I produce winners.”
She sighed then, thinking of how proud she’d once made Frank. He used to tell everyone how “little girl” made good on her country upbringing, most of which she always credited to Frank anyway.
The old man practically raised her after her father was killed in a racing accident, and her mother killed herself as soon as she heard the news. Her no-good aunt couldn’t manage a child when her only concern was an empty bottle of booze.
Frank grabbed a nearby can of cola and took a swig before crushing the empty container under his boot. Picking up the can he’d demolished, he tossed it in a nearby trash bin and strolled toward the barn. “I want you to see something.”
Julie followed him toward the main facility. When they walked inside, she relinquished the horse’s papers.
He waved her hand away. “Oh I won’t need those. You put them up and save them. That mare is yours, little girl.”
“Frank, you can’t give me a horse for no reason.”
“There’s a big difference between can’t and can, little girl. Can’t would mean I couldn’t afford the dang gal—which I can—and that’s why you have her now. I think she’ll do you some good.”
“I’ve never owned a Thoroughbred.”
“Which is why I decided to buy her in the first place,” he explained. “I was studying on that a little while before we picked you up in Pennsylvania. Seems to me you and I have purchased a bunch of different breeds, but we never had us a Thoroughbred. I thought it might be right nice to have one. You know, see how we fare with this breed in the end.”
“Frank—”
He put his hand up in the air. “Not a word of this. I wanted to do it. I was able to, and I’m glad you like her.”
“Thank you, Frank.”
“Welcome,” he said, walking ahead of her again. “Now hurry up, little girl. I got something I wanna show you.”
They rushed through the elaborate stables like they needed to reach somewhere before closing time. At the back of the building, Frank slid a large metal door away from the wall and revealed quite possibly the best-looking stock car Julie had ever seen.
The black paint appeared to have a glittery tint in the color, sparkling like coal straight from the mine. The red letters were bold and fancy, the color leaping off the doors which would undoubtedly catch a spectator’s eye.
“Wow,” she said, barely realizing she’d spoken at all.
“It reminds me of someone I once knew in racin’. When I saw that car, I said to myself that’s an intimidating vehicle, the kind of machine my Julie needs to see.”
Julie was immediately touched. Frank rarely called her by her given name. There was something extremely heartfelt in the way he spoke then, and her eyes watered. “Now, don’t go makin’ somethin’ outta nothin’, ya hear?”
“I hear ya, Frank,” she returned, smiling. “So tell me about this car.”
“Well, there’s a lot to tell,” he said, taking a seat on a nearby crate. “Hank and Duke heard about a racing team that was having some financial trouble, and they picked up a few of these cars. Talk about owning a dutz. This car’s owner had a few of ’em. My guess is, he didn’t have a mechanic worth payin’. Sam McMann, the fellow you met there at the hospital, was the exception. He worked for this particular team. Really hadn’t been there long, maybe a few months but not more than a year.
“Anyhow, when Hank and Duke met him, he told them about some ideas he had, talked some hype about buildin’ the perfect engine and wanted to show them a design for a sleek car—and she is a beauty, don’t ’cha think—and told them his dream was to put a sexy woman behind the wheel of one mean, lean, powerful machine.
“Well, that kind of did it for Hank and Duke. From the moment they heard about this car, they pictured you drivin’ her. Maybe now you see why. She sure is a beauty, just like my little girl.”
Julie grinned. “Hank and Duke may need to recruit another driver now, Frank.”
