"I'll take care of it, Boggs." Gabe stepped outside, intercepting them before they entered. "You tell me what you want him to have, and we'll arrange it."

Boggs nodded. It was only right. "He thought high of you, Mr. Slater."

"I thought high of him. Come and see me as soon as you're able. We'll set everything up."

"He'da appreciated it." Head bowed, Boggs walked inside.

"The lieutenant says you're free to go." Gabe took Kelsey's arm and steered her away. "I'll take you home."

"I should wait for Boggs. He shouldn't be alone now."

"Moses will see to him. I want you out of here, Kelsey. Away from it."

"I can't be. I'm as close to it as you are."

"You're wrong." He half dragged her across the muddy shedrow. "The box is mine. The colt is mine.

And, dammit, Mick was mine."

"Slow down!" She dug in her heels and managed to grab him by the jacket. He might have shown little more than a flare or two of emotion inside the barn, but he was on slow burn now and ready for flash point. No cool gambler's eyes now, she thought. They were hot and lethal.

"You're getting out of here now. And you're staying out of it."

She could have argued. She certainly could have struggled against the grip he had on her arm. But she waited until they'd reached his car.

Then she simply turned and wrapped her arms around him. "Don't do this to yourself," she murmured.

He held himself rigid, prepared to jerk away and shove her into the car. "Do what?"

"Don't blame yourself, Gabe."

"Who else?" But his body relaxed, and curled itself to hers. He pressed his face into the cool, damp comfort of her hair. "Jesus, Kelsey, who else am I going to blame? He was trying to protect my horse."

"You can't know that."

"I feel it." He drew her away. His eyes were calmer now, but whatever was going on just behind that deep, cool blue had Kelsey trembling. "And I'm going to find whoever did this to him. Whatever it takes."

"The police-"

"Work their way. I work mine."

CHAPTER TEN

DEATH COULDN'T INTERFERE WITH THE ROUTINE OF A THOROUGHBRED farm. Not the death of a horse, or a man. Dawn still signaled workouts. There were races to be run, legs to be wrapped, coats to be quartered and strapped. Talk around the paddocks or shedrow at sunrise might have been of murder and Old Mick, but the pace didn't flag. It couldn't.

There was a foal with a case of eczema, a yearling filly who still refused a rider, and a colt competing in a maiden race. Grieving and gossip had to be accomplished while filling feed tubs and walking hots.

"Maybe you want to see to strapping Pride now that he's been cooled, Miss Kelsey." Though his eyes were shadowed, his face drawn, Boggs was up and about his duties. He offered Kelsey the reins. "He always seems happier when you do it."

"All right, Boggs." Her hand covered his gnarled one. "Is there anything I can do for you?"

His eyes drifted past her as they focused on something private. "Ain't nothing to do, Miss Kelsey. Just don't seem right, that's all. Don't seem right."

She simply couldn't turn away. "Would you mind coming with me? I'm still a little nervous about grooming the next Derby winner."

They both knew it was an excuse, but Boggs nodded and trudged along beside her. It was raining again, the same slow, incessant drizzle that had marred the previous afternoon. Though it was closing in on ten A.M., the mist hung stubbornly. Inside the barn, stableboys were busy mucking out, so the air was perfumed with the smells of manure, hay, and mud.

At Queenie's box, Kelsey paused and handed the colt's reins back to Boggs. "This'll only take a minute."

She took a carrot out of her back pocket, offering it to the mare while she nuzzled the soft ears. "There you go, old lady. You didn't think I'd forget, did you?" The mare nibbled the carrot, then Kelsey's shoulder, curving her neck in response to the caress. Though she was aware of Boggs's interest, Kelsey completed what had become a daily routine with a kiss on Queenie's cheek.

"I know, I've already taken plenty of ribbing about female equiphilia." After a last pat, Kelsey turned back to Boggs and the colt. "And maybe I'm hooked, but I've caught more than one male groom cozying up to a horse."

"Your granddaddy loved that mare." Boggs led Pride to his box where Kelsey had already cleaned out the soiled night bedding and replaced it with clean wheat straw for day. "He'd sneak her sugar cubes every afternoon. We all pretended not to notice."

"What was he like, Boggs?"

"He was a good man, fair. He had a quick temper in him and could crack like lightning." As he spoke, his eyes scanned the box, noting that Kelsey had seen to the colt's fresh water and hay net. His job usually, but he was sharing it with her, as he shared the colt. "Wouldn't tolerate laziness, no sir, but if you did your work you got paid well and on time. Known him to sit up all night with a sick horse and to fire a man on the spot for a shoddy grooming."

Kelsey crouched down, running her hands down Pride's legs to check for swellings or injuries. Boggs had already washed the leg wraps and hung them with the clothespins he kept clipped to his pant leg.

"Sounds as though he was a hard man to work for." Satisfied, she rubbed the light dampness of rain from the colt with straw.

"Not if you did what you was hired to do." He watched as she took the dandy brush from Pride's grooming kit. "You've got the touch, Miss Kelsey," he said after a moment.

"I feel as though I've been doing this all my life." She soothed the colt with murmurs and strokes as he shifted and shied. His temperament, like most aristocrats, was high-strung. "He's a little restless this morning."

"Sharp's what he is. His mind's already at the starting gate."

Kelsey continued to remove mud from the colt's saddle area, belly, and fetlocks. "I'm told he ran well yesterday." She set the dandy brush aside and took up a hoof pick. "I guess it seems cold, thinking about races and times after yesterday."

"Can't be no other way."

"You were friends with him a long time."

"About forty years." Boggs took out a tin of tobacco and helped himself to a pinch. "He was already an old hand when I come along."

"I've never lost anyone close to me." Kelsey thought of Naomi, but it was impossible to remember whatever grief she'd felt at three. "I don't want to say I can imagine what you must be feeling, but I know if you want some time off, Naomi would give it to you."

"No place else I'd rather be than here. That policeman, he had a look about him. He'll find who done that to Mick."

Kelsey dampened a sponge and wiped the colt's eyes, outward from the corners. She enjoyed the way he looked at her while she tended to him, the recognition and the trust they'd begun to build between them. "Lieutenant Rossi. I didn't like him. I don't know why."

"Well, there's cold blood in there. But cold blood means he'll think, and keep thinking step by step till it's done."

Kelsey set the sponge aside and picked up the body brush and currycomb. She remembered the light in Gabe's eyes. There had been a need for revenge there, she decided. And she understood the sentiment too well. "Will that be enough for you, Boggs?"

"It'll have to be."

"There you are." Channing leaned against the box door. He watched her a moment, the steady hands, the new muscles working in her shoulders. "You look just like you know what you're doing."

"I do know what I'm doing." And the fact never failed to delight her. "Missed you at breakfast."

"Overslept." His grin was more charming than sheepish. "My body clock's not used to eating at five A.M. Listen, Matt dropped by. I'm going to go hang out with him on a couple of house calls. Barn calls.

Whatever."

"Have fun."

He hesitated. "You're okay, right?"

"Sure, I'm okay."

"I'll be back in a couple of hours. Oh, and Moses said if I found you, he wants you back on the longe line."

"Slave driver," she muttered. "As soon as I'm finished here."

She had no time to brood. A thorough strapping of a horse took an experienced groom an hour, and Kelsey about a quarter hour longer. Then it was time for the midday feeding, oats, bran, and nuts that needed to be mixed, measured, weighed. She added a tablespoon of salt, Pride's vitamin supplement, and electrolytes. Because he tended to be a finicky eater, she treated him to a helping of molasses to sweeten the feed.

Later, she would bring him an apple. Not just to spoil him, she thought. Moses had explained that horses required succulents added to their feed. Pride preferred apples to carrots. He had a taste for the tart Granny Smith variety.

"Now you're set," she murmured when he settled into his midday meal. "And you eat it all, hear?"

He munched, eyeing her.

"We've got a lot riding on you, sweetheart. And I think you'd like standing in the winner's circle with a blanket of red roses."

He snorted, what Kelsey took as the equine equivalent of a shrug. She chuckled, giving him one last caress. "You can't fool me, boy. You want it as much as we do."

Rolling her shoulders, she left the barn to face the rest of the day's work.

She doubted that Moses had anything sadistic in mind when he whipped her through the morning, but the result was the same. By three, her still developing muscles were sore, she was covered with mud, and her system was sending out urgent signals for fuel.

After thoroughly scraping her boots, she went into the house through the kitchen and headed straight for the refrigerator. With a little cry of pleasure, she pounced on a platter of fried chicken.

She had her mouth full of drumstick when Gertie came in. "Miss Kelsey!" Outraged by the sight of her little girl leaning against the counter in filthy jeans, Gertie bustled to a cupboard for a plate. "That's no way to eat."

"It's working for me," Kelsey said with her mouth full. "This is great, the best chicken I've had in my entire life." She swallowed. "This is my second piece."

"Sit down at the table. I'll fix you a proper lunch."

"No, really." Sometimes manners simply didn't apply. Kelsey bit in again. "I'm too dirty to sit anywhere, and too hungry to clean up first. Gertie, I've taken three cooking courses, one of them at the Cordon Bleu, and I could never make chicken like this."

Flushing delightedly, Gertie waved a hand. "Sure you could. It was my mama's recipe. I'll walk you through it sometime."

"Well, you outdo the Colonel all to hell." At Gertie's blank look, Kelsey laughed. "Kentucky Fried.

Gertie, I could compose a sonnet to this drumstick."

"Go on. You're teasing me." Red as a beet now, Gertie poured Kelsey a glass of milk. "Just like that brother of yours. Why, you'd think the boy hadn't eaten a home-cooked meal in his life."

"He's been in here charming you out of house and home, hasn't he?"

"I like to see a boy with a healthy appetite."

"He's got that." And so, Kelsey thought, did she, as she debated whether or not to eat one more piece.

"Is Naomi around?"

"Had to go out."

"Mmm." So, Kelsey thought, it was just the two of them. Perhaps it was time she took advantage of the opportunity and asked Gertie some questions. "I've wondered, Gertie, about that night. Alec Bradley."

Gertie's face sobered. "That's done and gone."

"You weren't home," Kelsey prodded gently.

"No." Gertie picked up a dishcloth and began polishing the already spotless range. "And I've cursed myself every day for it. There we were, my mama and me, at the movies and eating pizza pie while Miss Naomi was all alone with that man."

"You didn't like him."

"Hmmph." She sniffed and slapped her rag on the stove. "Slick he was. Slick like you'd slide right off if you was to put a hand on him. Miss Naomi had no business with the likes of him."

"Why do you suppose she ... went around with him?"

"Had her reasons, I suppose. She's got a stubborn streak does Miss Naomi. And I expect she was feeling stubborn about your daddy. Then she was feeling low about losing a horse at the track. He went down and they had to shoot him. She took that hard. That'd be about the time she was seeing that man."

Gertie's derision was plain. She refused, had always refused, to call Alec Bradley by name.

"He was handsome. But handsome is as handsome does, I say. I tell you what the crime was, Miss Kelsey. The crime was putting that sweet girl in jail for doing what she had to do."

"She was protecting herself."

"She said she was, so she was," Gertie said flatly. "Miss Naomi wouldn't lie. If I'd been home that night, or her daddy, it wouldn't have happened. That man would never have laid a hand on her. And she wouldn't have needed the gun."

Gertie sighed, took the rag to the sink and rinsed it out thoroughly. "Used to make me nervous, knowing she had that gun in her drawer. But I'm glad she had it that night. A man's got no right to force a woman.

No right."