Racing Savannah Read Online Free PDF Page A

appears in the barn. “Whitfield, could you excuse us please?”
    Rory nods then heads out without another word. Jack’s eyes meet mine and we stand in relative silence. Those damned squawking birds won’t shut up.
    “I want to apologize for my behavior this morning,” Jack adds. “Dad always says a gentleman doesn’t hit on his staff.”
    One point for me—I was right. His dad must control the puppet strings.
    Wait. He was hitting on me?
    My heart rockets out of control. He’s cute, but I could never trust him. I’m sure all he cares about is his fortune, just like other rich people, like awful Mr. Cates back in Charles Town.
    Jack goes on, “It won’t happen again.”
    “Good to know,” I say, copying his super professional voice.
    He looks shocked momentarily then struts over to a stall. “Can you help me get Strawberry ready to be loaded into her trailer?”
    “Of course.” I move toward the mare’s stall. “Where are you taking her?”
    Jack blushes. “I’m taking her to stud up at Lotus Farms.”
    I choke back a snort of laughter, picturing Jack having to stand there staring at his watch while two horses get it on. He grins at my reaction, but it melts away quickly. Apparently running a horse farm means you are never allowed to smile.
    A yearling pokes his head out of his stall to see what we’re up to. I open Strawberry’s tack trunk, pull out her treats, and change the subject.
    “Jack, is there anything I need to know about Star before tomorrow’s race? Like, anything I should do during our warm-ups?”
    “Star is scared of something, and none of us can figure out what it is. Not even your dad or Gael knows. And if they can’t figure it out, I guess we’ll never know,” Jack says, attaching a lead to Strawberry’s halter.
    Lots of horses are scared of silly things. I once knew a powerful stallion that was terrified of dandelions.
    “What’s Star’s record this year?” I ask. “I haven’t seen him mentioned in the Daily Racing Form .”
    Lines zip across his forehead. “He hasn’t placed or shown yet.”
    “Out of how many races?”
    “Six.”
    With Star’s breeding, he should have at least shown by now. I cringe as I feed Strawberry a treat.
    Jack nods at my reaction. “I’m trying to get some wins before the Dixiana Derby in October.”
    “What’s the purse?”
    “Tomorrow’s is $75,000. The Dixiana is guaranteed $500,000.”
    I whistle. “How much was the stud fee for Star?”
    Jack adjusts his hat, averting his eyes. “Over half a mil.”
    I whistle again but louder this time, making him laugh nervously. Paying for Star to be born was like ordering the most expensive thing on the menu. Most midrange Thoroughbred stud fees are around $250,000–300,000. I imagine that’s what the Goodwins charge when other owners want to breed their mares with Cedar Hill stallions.
    “It’s one of Dad’s tests. He gave me a budget and wants to see what I’ll do with it.” Jack shakes his head. “I hope Star can at least place tomorrow. Otherwise I’ve wasted a shitload of my dad’s money…and I’ll have failed his test.”
    “And then you won’t get a sticker, huh?” I joke. Must be nice to have money to play with.
    “I want my father to know I can handle running the farm. I don’t want to let him down.” He gives me a sad smile, sounding sincere about wanting to work hard, and I feel a hard pang in my chest for him.
    A successful horse turns a profit. And Star hasn’t even made back the money the Goodwins spend on his grain and horseshoes.
    “I’m sure you made the right call on the stud fee. Breeding usually works out. Star ran so fast this morning, he probably would’ve made it to Cincinnati before tomorrow if he’d just kept on going.”
    Jack laughs quietly, and before I know what I’m doing, I reach out and touch his wrist, to show I support him. He coughs. Then I jerk my hand away. Shit.
    I nervously lick my lips, hoping my being forward doesn’t