He hadn’t lied when he said he was not going to subject himself to an inquiry over a teenage boy’s stupidity.
Completely unafraid, the boy lifted his hand and brought it to Fuego’s nose. The horse sniffed his hand and seemed to find him familiar. For he stilled, almost immediately. The boy grabbed the rope, close to the bridle, and then looked over at Matías, nodding his head once, in a clear bid for Matías to drop his end.
Matías complied.
The boy leaned into the horse, pressing his face against the horse’s nose, stroking him gently and speaking to him in soft tones that Matías could not readily understand.
As if by magic, the horse quieted.
Then the boy turned to look at Matías. “I didn’t lie to you. Fuego knows me. Now, he’s not going to perform perfectly right away. He didn’t always obey me. But I can ride him. I can work with him. And I can make it so that someone else can ride him, as well. Which is what you need if you want him to be able to race. As it is, his temperament is too hot. And the fact that no one can manage it makes it impossible. I can make him manageable. I will never make him well behaved, but manageable I can accomplish. And I assume your jockeys are strong enough riders to go from there.”
“This is unprecedented,” Matías said, looking over at Juan. “I do not allow children to train my animals.”
“And yet,” Juan responded, “clearly Cesar Alvarez did.”
Matías looked back over at the boy, who was regarding him with rather hopeful eyes. “Fine. Whatever your duties are, you’re relieved of them. Fuego is now your responsibility. Fernando Cortez is going to be the jockey that we use for him, so eventually you’re going to be working with Fernando. But you may start by yourself.”
“Good,” the boy said, tilting his face upward.
He suddenly looked a bit older than Matías had thought originally. But perhaps that was the bravado again.
“Then it is good,” he responded.
He moved over to the edge of the fence. Matías nodded once, signaling the boy to proceed.
The boy paused, then stared at him. “Don’t you want to know my name?”
“If I know your name will you become a better horse trainer?” Matías asked.
“No,” the boy said, blinking. “I don’t suppose.”
“Then I do not care to know your name.”
The boy said nothing but set about silently moving Fuego through his paces. The horse was jumpy, skittish, but not completely immovable as he had been when Matías had attempted the same.
There was no denying that the boy had a way with the horse. And if Matías wanted him trained in time, he was going to have to allow the boy to step in. The last thing he wanted to do was mishandle such a magnificent creature.
Acquiring Cesar Alvarez’s stock had been a boon for him, and he was not about to waste it.
“What about the other horses from the Alvarez rancho?” Matías called. “You are familiar with them, as well?”
“All of them,” the boy said, not looking over at Matías. “I have worked with all of them.”
“You will work with all of them here,” he said, decisive now. “My trainers keep logs. Juan will show you the proper way to do this. That way I can read about your progress without having to speak to you. As I prefer it.”
“Of course, señor,” the boy said.
“It is because I’m a businessman, and not simply a horseman,” Matías said.
He could have sworn he saw a smile curve the boy’s lips. “Of course, señor.”
Matías turned away, smiling. It was possible that now he had the break he needed to make this animal profitable for him. It seemed as though everything was finally going his way. His engagement to Liliana was cemented. Though she was staying in her own quarters, rather than coming into his.
She had found the transition in their relationship to be a fast one. From a business associate of her father’s to his fiancée. And it was clear she required a bit of time to adjust.
He didn’t mind. He was a patient man, in all things.
He began to walk back toward the ranch house.
He would fulfill his grandfather’s requirements, and the control of the vast family estate would be his at last. A wife. A champion racehorse.
The old man should have known better than to challenge Matías Navarro. Because with him, challenges never went unanswered.
Matías would win this battle with the old man. He knew no other way.
CAMILLA COULDN’T REMEMBER the last time she’d had a chance to shower. It was an awful thing, but there was no shower in her personal quarters. She had to make do with the shared one in the stables, and it always felt a bigger risk than was strictly necessary.
Still, she was dying for one, especially after spending all day working in the intense heat. She had worked with Fuego until they were both nearly exhausted. But it was the happiest she had been since her father died. Being on the back of that horse again. Riding through the olive groves on the property, the hot, dry wind burning its way across her cheeks.
If her mother could see her now, she would truly despair of her. Reddish face, chapped lips, her hair cut close to her skull and just long enough now to stick up at strange angles when she ran her hands through it in frustration, from when the horses failed to do what she asked of them.
She did indeed look like a boy, and it was easy to feel fully immersed in the role. Until she needed something like a shower, in which case she became terribly aware of her body.
The other time she became terribly aware of her body was when Matías would stride across the grounds, wearing those problematic breeches. It made her feel hot, and it made her feel strange. And so much of the feeling centered on the parts of her body she tried to disguise, that it was impossible for her not to hyper-focus on them.
It was late, the sun having gone down a good half our earlier, a chill starting to wrap itself around her body. Hot days like that always left her skin feeling tight, as though there were an invisible layer of dust over every last inch of her.
Most of the staff had gone home, very few of them living in residence as she did, and the others either had private bathroom facilities or would be showering in the morning. At least that was what she was going to go ahead and bank on tonight.
She scampered into the stable, moving through to the tack room, and heading into the shower. She locked the door behind her and stripped her clothes off quickly, unwinding the precautionary medical wrap that she had around her chest.
It was such a slight chest, she probably didn’t have to bind herself, not really. But it was a
