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He saw the disappointment that kept her full lips drawn into a strained line.She can’t take much more of this,he thought to himself.This might be the straw that breaks the camel’s back. Everything that was happening to her was a shame—a damned shame.
“And don’t you go blaming yourself,” he admonished as if reading her thoughts. His crowlike features pinched into a scowl before he dropped his wiry frame into one of the winged side chairs positioned near the desk. Thoughtfully he scratched the rough stubble of his beard. He’d been awake for nearly three days, same as she, and he was dog-tired. At sixty-seven it wasn’t getting any easier.
Tiffany tried to manage a smile and failed. What she felt was more than defeat. The pain of witnessing the last struggling breaths of two other foals had drained her. And now Charlatan, the strongest of the lot, was dead.
“It’s just not fair,” she whispered.
“Aye, that it’s not.”
She let out a ragged sigh and leaned back in the uncomfortable desk chair. Her back ached miserably and all thoughts of her letter to Dustin were forgotten. “That makes three,” she remarked, the skin of her flawless forehead wrinkling into an uncomfortable frown.
“And two more mares should be dropping foals within the next couple of weeks.”
Tiffany’s elegant jaw tightened. “Let’s just hope they’re healthy.”
Mac pushed his hands through his thinning red hair. His small eyes narrowed suspiciously as he looked out the window at the group of large white buildings comprising Rhodes Breeding Farm. Starkly illuminated by the bluish sheen from security lights, the buildings took on a sinister appearance in the stormy night.
“We’ve sure had a streak of bad luck, that we have.”
“It almost seems as if someone is out to get us,” Tiffany observed and Mac’s sharp gaze returned to the face of his employer.
“That it does.”
“Butwhoandwhy. . . andhow?” Nothing was making any sense. Tiffany stretched her tired arms before dropping her head forward and releasing the tight clasp holding her hair away from her face. Her long fingers massaged her scalp as she shook the soft brown tresses free of their bond and tried to release the tension in the back of her neck.
“That one I can’t answer,” Mac replied, watching as she moved her head and the honey-colored strands fell to her shoulders. Tiffany Rhodes was a beautiful woman who had faced more than her share of tragedy. Signs of stress had begun to age her fair complexion, and though Tiffany was still the most regally beautiful and proud woman he knew, Mac McDougal wondered just how much more she could take.
“That’s just the trouble—no one can explain what’s happening.”
“You haven’t got any enemies that I don’t know about?” It was more of a statement than a question.
Tiffany’s frown was pensive. A headache was beginning to nag at her. She shrugged her shoulders. “No one that would want to ruin me.”
“You’re sure?”
“Positive. Look, we can’t blame anyone for what’s happened here. Like you said, we’ve just had a string of bad luck.”
“Starting with the loss of Devil’s Gambit four years ago.”
Tiffany’s eyes clouded in pain. “At least we got the insurance money for him,” she whispered, as if it really didn’t matter. “I don’t think any of the foals will be covered, not once the insurance company gets wind of the problems we’re having.”
“The insurance money you got for Devil’s Gambit wasn’t half of what he was worth,” Mac grumbled, not for the first time. Why had Ellery Rhodes been so careless with the most valuable stallion on the farm? The entire incident had never set well with Mac. He shifted uncomfortably on the chair.
“Maybe not, but I’m afraid it’s all water under the bridge.” She pushed the letter to Dustin aside and managed a weak smile. “It really doesn’t matter anyway. We lost the horse and he’ll never be replaced.” She shuddered as she remembered the night that had taken the life of her husband and his most treasured Thoroughbred. Images of the truck and horse trailer, twisted and charred beyond recognition, filled her mind and caused her to wrap her arms protectively over her abdomen. Sometimes the nightmare never seemed to go away.
Mac saw the sadness shadow her eyes. He could have kicked himself for bringing up the past and reminding her of the god-awful accident that had left her a widow. The last thing Tiffany needed was to be constantly reminded of her troubles.And now there was the problem with the foals!
The wiry ex-jockey stood and held his hat in his hands. He’d delivered his message and somehow Tiffany had managed to take the news in stride. But then she always did. There was a stoic beauty and pride in Ellery Rhodes’s widow that Mac admired. No matter how deep the pain, Tiffany Rhodes always managed to pull herself together. There was proof enough of that in her marriage. Not many women could have stayed married to a bastard the likes of Ellery Rhodes.
Mac started for the door of the den and twisted the brim of his limp fedora in his gnarled hands. He didn’t feel comfortable in the house—at least not since Ellery Rhodes’s death—and he wanted to get back to the foaling shed. There was still unpleasant work to be done.
“I’ll come with you,” Tiffany offered, rising from the desk and pursing her lips together in determination.
“No reason—”
“I want to.”
“He’s dead, just like the others. Nothing you can do.”
