The Family Diamond. Moyra Tarling
But she was encouraged by the fact that Indigo had been winning races even after wasting effort and energy refusing to go into the starting gate. He was obviously a gifted racer and it would be a sad day for both horse and owner if he were permanently banned from the sport.
“We don’t have much time,” Maura said. “When can I see him?” she asked, wanting not only to prove herself but also to ease the anxiety she could see on Spencer’s rugged features. “I need to get to know him and gain his trust,” she went on. “Once that’s accomplished, I should be able to figure out what’s causing him to fight the gate each time. Understanding the root of the problem often leads to a solution.”
“I sincerely hope so,” Spencer commented on a sigh. “Why don’t we head down to the stables right now?”
“I’m ready.” Maura set her near-empty mug on the counter. “I assume you have a daily schedule for all your horses. Does Indigo ride out with the rest of your string?” she asked.
“Yes,” Spencer replied. “I thought it best not to deviate from his normal training schedule.”
“Good.” Maura retrieved her boots. “What exactly have you tried so far?” She sat down and pulled them on.
“Everything from putting a blindfold on him to bribing him with food. If anything, he’s getting worse,” Spencer added in a discouraging tone.
Maura stood up. “Let’s check him out.”
Indigo was truly a magnificent animal. There was no other way to describe the chestnut Thoroughbred with the distinguishing white blaze on his nose, standing quietly in his stall.
Spencer introduced Maura to the stable hand assigned to take care of the prize-winning racehorse. Joe was preparing to give Indigo his morning rub down.
“Did Phil say anything about his ride this morning?” Spencer asked.
“Just that Indy was raring to go, as always,” Joe responded. “He sure loves to race. Phil says he has a hard time keeping Indy from going flat-out in the practice runs. He’s pretty sure Indy will win the Jane Vanderhoof Cup for four-year-olds, no problem at all.”
“Indigo will only win if we can get him to walk into that starting gate without breaking stride,” Spencer commented. “When will you be finished here, Joe?”
“Give me half an hour,” Joe replied as he prepared to enter Indigo’s stall. Inside Indigo snorted softly in greeting.
Spencer turned to Maura. “Why don’t I take you on a tour of the place? We’ll come back when he’s finished.”
Maura had seen her share of racing stables, but never one quite so well run as the Blue Diamond Ranch. Spencer ran a tight ship and, judging by the nods and greetings he gave and received from the stable hands and riders they encountered, he was also well respected by the men who worked for him.
She met Hank Wilson, the stable manager, and toured the open-air and immaculately kept stables that housed a total of twenty racehorses. Of those, Spencer and his father owned part interest in two and full interest in one, Indigo.
Spencer also showed her the stable where the family’s horses were kept, horses that were ridden mostly for pleasure, inviting her to take one out whenever she wanted, with the exception of his own mount, Lucifer.
As they made their way back to Indigo’s stall, Maura asked, “Would you be offended if I asked you not to stay? I’d prefer to get to know him in my own way and in my own time.”
In actual fact she didn’t relish the thought of having Spencer standing nearby watching her every move. She found his presence and proximity more than a little unnerving, and knew Indigo would readily pick up on her reaction.
She caught the look of indecision that flitted across his tanned face.
“Yes, I’d be offended,” Spencer began. “But I—”
“It’s just that I know you don’t wholeheartedly believe I’ll be able to do anything,” she cut in. “That translates to negative energy, and it’s been my experience that horses of Indigo’s caliber are usually highly sensitive creatures. He’s bound to pick up on that negativity.”
Spencer’s mouth curved into a smile. “You didn’t let me finish. You’re right I’m skeptical, but that’s because the stories I’ve heard about you make you out to be some kind of magician, a horse whisperer if you will.”
Maura opened her mouth to protest, but he raised a hand to stop her.
“The truth is, my back is against the wall. I’m running out of time and options, and I have nothing to lose and everything to gain by giving you a free hand. I’ll leave you to weave your…magic,” he said. “No offense intended,” he added with a grin.
A tingle of awareness shimmied through her, and Maura wondered if Spencer knew how potent was his smile.
“Thank you. I appreciate your honesty,” she said. “I’m sure any story you heard has been embellished in the telling. But I’ll be honest, too. While my methods might work with some horses, I’ve had my share of failures.
“Every situation has its challenges, every animal is unique,” Maura went on. “I can’t guarantee I’ll be able to find that…ah…magical solution for Indigo, but the sooner I get started the better.”
“Fine. I’ll leave you to it.” With a nod he turned and strode away.
Maura drew a steadying breath and turned her attention to Indigo. She opened the door of his stall and stood studying his large frame, noting with admiration his clean lines and classic bone structure.
Aware of her presence, Indigo turned his head to stare at her. One look into his eyes confirmed he was a highly intelligent animal. His natural curiosity brought him over to where she stood, and when she extended her hand, palm up, he blew on it before turning to munch on the hay in the feed basket hanging nearby.
“You are a handsome fellow and no mistake,” Maura told him, keeping her voice low. She moved inside the stall and was pleased when Indigo’s only reaction was to throw her a cursory glance and continue eating.
Maura approached him and stroked his neck, allowing him to get accustomed to her presence. After a few minutes she placed both hands on his muscled shoulder and slowly began to move down his body toward his rear, noting as she did that he pressed against her hands and away from the wall of the stall.
Maintaining the pressure, she pushed against him and felt his muscles ripple seconds before his left hind foot kicked out. Maura immediately removed her hands and stepped back. Talking softly to him, she began stroking his neck once more.
She was encouraged by the fact that neither her presence nor her actions had caused him great concern. She proceeded to conduct a few more small tests, wanting to eliminate the possibility that he was being or had been abused.
His reactions to several threatening movements gave no such indication, but when she tried a second time to push him against the wall of his stall, he became restless and agitated, a sign she immediately connected with mild claustrophobia.
She stayed for another half hour settling him down and getting him accustomed to her voice, her touch and her scent. Exiting the stall, she wandered around on her own.
At the far end of the row of horse stalls she caught sight of Spencer talking to one of the men. Not wanting to intrude, she retraced her steps and made her way through the security gates and on up the path leading to the house.
The sun had begun its steady climb into a blue sky, and the temperature was already in the sixties. On reentering the kitchen, Maura was instantly assailed with the tantalizing smell of freshly baked muffins.
“Good morning!” The greeting came from Elliot Diamond, who stood at the sink. “Help yourself to coffee,” he offered. “And there are bran muffins on the table. Did Spencer give you the grand tour?”
“Yes,