Page 75 of All We Carry Home

After she opened the door and pulled Phantom out of the trailer, calmly and without incident, she turned Patches loose, and Annie raced off again with her pack intact. Phantom went back to graze in his new, larger pasture.

I followed Eva into the barn, the shade easing the heat of the day just a tad.

Now the countdown truly began—only twenty-four hours before the show. Eva paced the office, putting a thin leather show halter in a bag along with a few papers and brushes. A blue suit jacket, pants, and a pressed blouse hung next to the door and all the framed photos of Bill and the horses he’d trained over the years.

I leaned against the desk and tried to suppress a smile at her obvious nerves.

She caught my study and shot me a glare. “Stop that. I’m trying to exude professionalism and proficiency here.”

“You don’t have anything to prove to me, Eva.”

“Maybe,” she said and grew quiet. The office seemed to fold in around us. “But I have everything to lose.”

I ached for her and the dire reality that she faced. Still, I had all the confidence that she would be able to make a name for herself and resurrect the prestige of Birkstrom Ranch. If Victor didn’t sabotage and steal it from her.

She’d fight until the very end, even if it killed her.

Nineteen

Eva

JUNE 8

We pulled into the fairgrounds just as the evening light began to fade. Annie had long since fallen asleep on Warren’s shoulder during our eight-hour drive from Baker.

Phantom hadn’t thrashed or shaken the trailer through the long winding roads of eastern and central Oregon. But it was still warm out and we were all tired from the long drive. I could only hope that he’d lean on our training from the past four weeks and remain calm in this new environment.

Dozens of people and other horses milled about the grounds, all preparing for the next day of showing. Warren and I got out of the truck’s cab while Annie woke and stretched sleepily.

In my truck, an hour or so behind us, newly arrived Ghost Rider Mason Phillips would come to stand watch at the stalls overnight. Eddie, Peter, and the rest had all stayed behind at the farm.

Warren looked around at the grounds, presumably searching for any sign of the Merricks. Keith would certainly be here, but from what Cheryl had told me, Victor hardly appeared on the circuit anymore now that Keith managed the farm.

I looked through the metal slats of the trailer, relieved to see Phantom standing, alert but not frantic, and Patches bleating softly at his feet. Annie had made me promise her a hundred times that Phantom wouldn’t squish the goat. I had been confident he wouldn’t, but the confirmation set me further at ease.

“I’ll register at the show office and see where our stall assignment is,” I said to Warren. “Will you stay with Annie and the horse?”

He hesitated as if not wanting to leave me alone.

“Don’t worry,” I said, backing away and holding his gaze. “Victor won’t try to take me out in front of a hundred other competitors.”

“You give him too much credit.” He crossed his arms, his frown deepening.

I walked across the sprawling gravel and pavement between two large arenas, to where a small office was tucked into the side of an oval dirt arena lined with raised benches for the onlookers. A bolt of excitement shot through me. Victor himself couldn’t bring my mood down. It had been so long since I’d stepped foot in the show ring. Now I was here with none other than Janów Podlaski–bred war survivor Phantom.

A line of a half dozen other trainers and riders streamed out from the square office, and I fell into place behind a few faces that were familiar. But no one seemed to recognize the Birkstrom girl after five years of war had aged her.

That was fine. I wanted to focus on my thoughts, my step-by-step plan for the next day, when Phantom would make his mark. Hopefully in the best way possible.

“It’s nice to see you smile again,” a voice said over my shoulder.

My body tensed and I turned around, thoroughly unsurprised to see Keith behind me, his blond hair brushed aside and his perfectly white teeth gleaming at me.

“Hard to find a reason to smile when your father is trying to take my land,” I said, turning back toward the office and avoiding the heat of his gaze on my neck.

“He wants to buy it.” Keith shifted behind me, lowering his voice. “It’s just business.”

“Not for me.”