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Rod snorted his disbelief, and Tiffany had to press her hands together to keep from losing her temper. To Rod Crawford, Moon Shadow was just another story, but to Tiffany he was a proud stallion with an admirable reputation as a racehorse and a sire. She would do anything she had to—short of lying—to protect him and the reputation of the farm.
“Have you had him tested?” Rod asked.
“Moon Shadow?” When Rod nodded, Tiffany replied, “Of course. He’s been given a complete physical, and we’ve taken samples of his semen to be analyzed.”
“And?”
“So far, nothing.”
Rod twirled his pencil nervously. “What about mares that were brought to Moon Shadow and then taken home?”
Tiffany felt a headache beginning to pound. “As far as I know, only the horses on this farm have been affected. However, it’s still early in the year and there are several mares who haven’t yet dropped their foals.”
“Have you been in contact with the owners of the mares and explained the problem to them?”
“Mr. Crawford,” Tiffany stated evenly, “I’m not certain there is a problem, or exactly the nature of it. I’m not an alarmist and I’m not about to warn other owners or scare them out of their wits. What I have done is written a letter inquiring as to the condition of the foals involved. I’ve had seven responses, and all of them indicate that they have beautiful, healthy horses. Two owners want to rebreed their mares to Moon Shadow.”
Rod frowned. “And have you?”
“Not yet.”
“Because you’re afraid?”
“Because I want to be certain of what is happening before I do anything that might cause any stress or trauma to the horses or the owners.” Tiffany looked him squarely in the eye. “This is more than a business for me. It’s a way of life, and there’s more at stake than money.” Rod’s blank stare told Tiffany that he didn’t understand anything she was saying. Perhaps no one did. Rod Crawford, or anyone else for that matter, couldn’t know about the agonizing years she had spent growing up in musty tack rooms and dingy stables where the smell of ammonia had been so strong it had made her retch. No one knew that the only comfort she had found as an adolescent child was in working with the Thoroughbreds her father had been hired to train.
Before her thoughts became too vivid and painful, Tiffany spread her hands expressively over the desk and forced a frail smile at the reporter. “Look, until I know for certain what exactly it is that’s happening, I’m not about to make any rash statements, and I would appreciate your cooperation—”
Rod raised a dubious blond brow. “By withholding the story?”
“By not sensationalizing the deaths andcreatinga story. I agreed to this interview because I know of theClarion’sreputation.”
“I have to report the truth.”
Tiffany smiled stiffly. “That’s all I can ask for. Now, if you have any further questions about the horses involved, you can call Vance Geddes, the veterinarian who was with the mares when they delivered the foals.”
“Fair enough,” Rod replied.
Tiffany led the reporter and his assistant through the broodmare barn and the foaling shed, before returning outside to the brisk March air. While Rod asked questions, Jeanette took some outside shots of a field where mares grazed and spindly-legged foals ran in the shafts of late-morning sunlight.
Tiffany’s face lifted with pride as she watched the dark foals run and shy behind the safety of their mothers’ flanks. The newborns always held a special place in her heart. She loved to watch them stand and nurse for the first time, or run in the fields with their downy ears pricked forward and their intelligent eyes wide to the vast new world. Maybe that was why the deaths of the foals affected her so deeply.
“I’ll send you a copy of the article,” Rod promised just before he and Jeanette left.
“Thank you.” Tiffany watched in relief as the sporty Mazda headed out the long drive. The interview hadn’t been as bad as she had expected, but nonetheless, she felt drained from the ordeal.
After changing into comfortable jeans and a sweatshirt, Tiffany returned to the den and pulled out the checkbook. But before she could concentrate on the ledgers, she let her eyes wander to the portrait of Devil’s Gambit, the horse that Zane Sheridan insisted was alive.
“It can’t be,” she murmured to herself. Devil’s Gambit had been a beautifully built colt with a short, sturdy back, and powerful hind legs that could explode into a full stride of uncanny speed and grace. Jet-black, with one distinctive white stocking, Devil’s Gambit had taken the racing world by storm, winning all of his two-year-old starts by ever-increasing margins. As a three-year-old his career had taken off with a flourish, and he had been compared to such greats as Secretariat and Seattle Slew.
Then, a month before the Kentucky Derby, it had all ended tragically. Devil’s Gambit suffered a horrible death while being transported from Florida to Kentucky.
Tiffany had learned that Ellery had been driving and had apparently fallen asleep at the wheel. Dustin, his brother, had been a passenger in the truck. Miraculously Dustin had survived with only minor injuries by being thrown out of the cab as the truck tumbled end over end, down an embankment, where it exploded into flames that charred beyond recognition the bodies of Ellery Rhodes and his fleet horse. Dustin’s injuries had included a broken leg and minor concussion, which were treated at a local hospital. He had been out of the hospital in time to stand by Tiffany’s side at Ellery’s funeral.
Tiffany swallowed against the painful memory and shook her head. It had taken her several months to come to accept the death of her husband and his brave horse. And now a total stranger, a man by the name of Zane Sheridan, was trying to make her believe that it had all been a treacherous mistake.
But he didn’t state that Ellery was alive, she reminded herself with a defeated smile, only Devil’s Gambit. And when Zane had mentioned Ellery, it had been with a look of barely veiled contempt on his rugged black-Irish features.
What can it all mean?She slanted a glance at the portrait of Devil’s Gambit and frowned. How could someone hide a horse of such renown? And who could have come up with such a scheme? And why? Certainly not for kidnapping ransom.Get hold of yourself,she cautioned, you’re letting your imagination run away with you, all because of some stranger’s outlandish remarks.
