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  “I’d best be getting on my way,” he said, setting the helmet on his head and adjusting the chinstrap. He straddled the bike and kicked up the kickstand.

  “It was a pleasure meeting you, Travis. Have a safe trip home.”

  “Thanks, Shelby.” He revved up the bike to an ear-pounding roar.

  With a final wave, he turned out on her gravel drive, wheels crunching, and out toward the open road.

  “I’ll be back,” Travis told himself. “I will be back.”

  4

  Shelby watched his Harley spook up gravel, and roar out of her driveway, and out of her life. She was certain that it would be the last that she ever saw of him. What would a man with his looks, brains, breeding and position want with a “country bumpkin” like her? She was out of his circle.

  When he was no longer in sight, she turned toward her house. There were chores to do and appointments to keep. She had two training sessions scheduled with nervous dog owners. The dogs were never the problem. The owners were. Focusing on dogs, instead of horses for a few hours would keep her thoughts off of Travis. She hoped.

  Travis rolled through the main entrance of The Culver Academies. The black iron gates and brick walls jolted him back to reality. Vacation was over, back to school. That is, if you could call Culver Academies a school.

  He always thought that the sprawling 1,700-acre campus, beside a scenic lake was larger and more ostentatious than most college campuses. The buildings were more commanding, the landscaping pristine, and there was a sense of order to the surroundings, and discipline to the people who inhabited them. Travis loved the school, and its mission to develop, mind, body and spirit. He relished its history, because he was a part of it, having been a cadet. It was like coming home.

  Behind the red brick walls and iron gates was a self-contained community. The college preparatory boarding school was the dream of Henry Harrison Culver, owner of a famous cast iron stove company that bore his name. Culver Academies consisted of two schools: Culver Military Academy and Culver Girls Academy. The Military Academy was founded in 1895, and the Girls Academy established in 1971 for grades 9-12. The boys resided in barracks by battalion: infantry, artillery or squadron (horse troop). Girls lived in dormitories. Most classes and activities were co-educational. Students came from around the world and from all walks of life. The commonality was intelligence, character, discipline, honor and leadership. Travis embraced the ideals and the place.

  * * *

  Entering the Vaughn Equestrian Center was like returning home. The commanding brick fortress-like complex of offices, library, stables, and riding hall was his sanctuary, for he never felt more comfortable than when in this space. He inhaled the familiar scents of leather, hay, and horseflesh. The horses were a responsibility he took seriously and personally. He treated each animal as if it were his own. Faculty friends found it remarkable how he knew each horse’s name, its personality traits, temperament, likes, and dislikes. This skill served him well when matching mount to rider. He credited it to his success as a riding instructor. A child was never assigned to a horse that he or she couldn’t handle.

  Before heading to his office, he entered the barn area.

  Walking from box stall to box stall, he greeted each horse by name, stroking its neck, inspecting its body and environment for any signs of neglect or stress. He devoted more time to the older charges with chronic health issues. Satisfied that they were well cared for in his absence, he sauntered into his office.

  His staff of four were out, reminding him to schedule a staff meeting soon. Returning after days away, he was impressed that there weren’t any major issues to address, or staff to reprimand. Through his window, a view of the vast parade field overlooking Lake Maxinkuckee made him realize that the weekly parade was tomorrow, a Sunday tradition. Of course, his Lancers and Black Horse Troop would lead the cavalry. The students were a dedicated and well-rehearsed group, so he didn’t worry about formations, and pass and review. One thing he liked about instructing at a military academy was the discipline. Discipline was a double-edged sword, balancing that fine line between being too soft and too strict. It did, however, instill a sense of personal responsibility and leadership to both the staff and the students, making his job easier.

  Sitting at his desk, he clicked on his computer to check e-mails. He had purposely avoided doing so while away, wanting to distance himself from work. He knew that there would be a price to pay. Scrolling through them, most were inane questions warranting a short response. There were the regular faculty notes and reminders. Of course, there were posts from Penelope with her usual demands, high-maintenance woman that she was. Though he had told her numerous times not to post to his work account, she did so anyway. He drew a deep breath.

  A rap on the doorjamb stirred him from his thoughts. As if on cue, Penelope stood in the doorway in her Lily Pulitzer ensemble and Kelly bag. Her glossy dark brown hair was fashioned in a severe bun atop her head. Her almond eyes were alert with a fire he knew was personal ambition. Her creamy complexion was spattered with a blush of discomfort and her coral lips trembled. He met her fiery gaze but did not rise. So much for a peaceful start to his first day back.

  “You didn’t tell me that you were back. I just took a chance in coming. You didn’t answer my calls, texts, or e-mails. What else was I to do?”

  The harsh tone in her voice was of reprimand that always left him nonplussed. “I thought that I’d call after I was settled and caught up.”

  “How noble of you, putting yourself first. You ignored me for a whole week, and this is how you greet me?” She placed her hands on her narrow hips, her stance as straight and tall as her petite frame could allow.

  “Pen, I was out of cell range.”

  “That’s a lie, and you know it. We have important things to discuss and you go AWOL.”

  “It was less than a week.”

  “A lot can happen in that time.”

  Penelope had a way of being melodramatic when she didn’t get her way. This was one of those times. To keep the peace, he did as she expected by rising from his chair, approaching her, and placing his arms around her in a chaste hug. She was frightfully thin. Too much dieting, and too many hours spent in the gym. In her circles one could never be too rich or too thin.

  “Now, that’s better,” she said, her voice lower and calmer.

  He sighed, releasing her. “Now, what’s so important?” She had to have something pressing on her mind for her to drive from Chicago to Culver to discuss it.

  “Actually. I have some amazing news.” Her tone perked up into a giddy excitement seldom witnessed.

  He pointed to a leather armchair, and she sat. He pulled up another chair and sat next to her.

  “Let’s hear it.” He was curious. It was unusual for her to be so animated. He met her now sparkling gaze with a sense of foreboding. Her excitement was way out of character.

  “Daddy’s decided to get into thoroughbred racing.”

  This wasn’t sounding good. Her family was as far removed from horses and horse culture as Mars was from Pluto.

  “Imagine us standing in the winner’s circle at Churchill Downs holding the silver Derby trophy.” She leaned into him.

  “Us?” He moved back.

  She squinted. “Of course. After all, with you managing daddy’s stable and racing program, we will be guaranteed a win, maybe even the Triple Crown.”

  “Me?”

  She squeezed his arm. “This is great news. Daddy put in a bid on a prime slice of horse property in Lexington, and he has his eye on a foal with linage to both Derby and Triple Crown winners.”

  “And when did ‘Daddy’ decide this?”

  “His financial advisor suggested it. Daddy also thought that the Lexington stables would be our wedding present. You should see the house, a real southern plantation.”

  Her excitement was not contagious. He sat still, frozen at plans that were her father’s, and not his.

  “Come on, Tr
avis, this is the opportunity of a lifetime. Imagine, managing your own stable and a top-notch racing program?”

  “I can’t imagine. Your father’s mind is made up, isn’t it?”

  “Of course.”

  “What about you?”

  “Me? Daddy’s looking out for my best interests … our best interests.”

  “What about me and my work here at Culver?”

  She shook her head. “No more. You’ll be playing in the big league.”

  “I am in the big league, and I’m proud of the work I perform here. The equestrian program and instructing are what I enjoy. I love taking a teenager who has never interacted with, or ridden, a horse and training him or her to ride. The students grow with confidence, increased self-esteem, and leadership. I love to see him lead the cavalry charge and her jump the hurdles. It’s my heart … my soul. I couldn’t leave. You should know that by now.”

  She had a glazed and confused look. Of course, she didn’t get it. She never took the time to listen as he spoke about the students and the horses that he nurtured and trained. He couldn’t think of one time when she visited the stables, attended a parade or an equestrian event he produced. She lived in her world, while he lived in his, and “never the twain shall meet.” Never was it more evident than at this moment.

  She stood and smoothed her dress. “Come on, it’s time to move on, and move up.”

  “I’m content where I am.”

  “I’m not. I’m not going to live in some two-bit town as the wife of a riding instructor to a bunch of spoiled brats.”

  She was pouting like a spoiled brat.

  “You accepted my proposal and my ring.” He stood to face her.

  “From you, Travis, not the job.”

  “I am my job. Culver and I are one and the same.”

  “You … you think it over. Daddy is offering you a major opportunity. I won’t listen to any more of your nonsense.” She turned to leave. “Think long and hard about this.”

  She left as quickly as she had entered. He stared at the open door. The scene replayed in his mind like a bad film. What the hell?

  Who was he set to marry? Penelope, or her father? Dumb question, he surmised, since they were one and the same. How fitting that her father would want to invest in thoroughbreds as a tax write-off, and as a way to control him. He knew that Travis hated thoroughbred racing. The horses always seemed to be the losers, even in the winner’s circle. Horse racing was about control and money. It was based on the sweat-equity of others, from the horses to the jockeys, trainers, and stable hands. Rather fitting for her father, and the way he ran his enterprises and his life. It wasn’t the way he lived or planned to live.

  Welcome to reality. Life was simpler in Shelby Shane’s world.

  5

  The letter that arrived in the mail was both unexpected and unwelcome. Shelby eyed the return address with the gut-twisting fear that occurs whenever the I.R.S is involved. She couldn’t think of any reason for concern since she hadn’t broken any laws, and had filed her taxes properly, and on time. Yet, something didn’t feel right and she had always operated on instinct.

  Her fingers trembled as she slit open the envelope with a knife. Unfolding the letter, she began to read and gasped. This wasn’t possible. How could Abram have done this to her? He had done many awful things, but this had to be the lowest and the worst. Where could she come up with $20,000 for back taxes plus five-year’s worth of interest?

  She was barely squeaking by as it was. Her savings account balance was $2,500, money she had scrimped and scraped together by foregoing life’s little luxuries, like new clothes, and salon visits. She had lived simply by just buying what was necessary, and nothing more. Her money was not put toward material goods, but for the upkeep of her farm and her animals. Where would she get close to $30,000? Thirty-thousand dollars? She didn’t have any family to ask for help. A home equity loan? Selling the farm, and finding homes for her menagerie? The thought of losing everything made her shiver and shake. Her breath caught, and she gasped for air. Lightheaded, she crumpled to the floor in a sobbing heap. Grasping the letter, her tears smeared the ink.

  Life was so unfair!

  As if the episode with Penelope wasn’t upsetting enough, the telephone call from her father increased the tension.

  After having had a calming ride on his favorite steed, Apollo, a spirited quarter horse mare, Travis regained his composure after Pen’s revelations. Settled into his academic work, he was re-energized. There was nothing that a good ride couldn’t cure, and prepare him for a day of catch-up. His assistant was out surveying the pasture. Answering his office telephone was a major mistake.

  “Travis, my boy,” the deep throated, gruff voice of Albert Collingsworth III said. He cringed at the way he had always addressed him as “boy.” He wasn’t his “boy.”

  “Mr. Collingsworth,” he replied, trying to be cordial, though he knew what was on his mind. Whenever things didn’t go her way, Pen ran home to her father for help. He always obliged, willing to do anything for his “little girl.”

  “I don’t like what I’m hearing.”

  Travis leaned back in his leather swivel chair, prepared for the tirade.

  “You’ve been given the biggest opportunity in your life, and you’re thinking of turning it down?”

  “As I told Pen, I’m quite content where I am. Thank you.”

  “You really dare to turn down my offer?”

  “As a matter of fact, yes.”

  “No one turns down Albert Collingsworth III. No one. Not even you.”

  “Sir?” Who did the bastard think he was, J.R. Ewing?

  “Listen here. You are going to manage my stable and my racing program. Hear me, boy?”

  “That’s for me to decide. I’m an adult, I’d like to remind you, with a free will and a profession that I love. I don’t need, nor do I want, a hand-out.”

  “Hand-out? This is the key to the damn kingdom. I want you to know that I discussed this with your daddy, and he is full agreement with me, and my plans. “

  “My father is a Culver alumnus, and is proud of the work I perform here.”

  “He also has the sense to know a golden opportunity when he hears one. He wants to see you in the winner’s circle.”

  “Bullshit!”

  “Your daddy is willing to hold back a sizable donation to the Culver Foundation if you do not resign and take my offer.”

  “He wouldn’t do such a thing.”

  “No one goes against me, because I’m right. Your own father knows I’m right. We are both looking out for your best interests, and Penelope’s.”

  “The only person you look out for is you.” With that, Travis slammed down the phone receiver. No one was going to run his life.

  * * *

  A couple of weeks later, the Culver Foundation was holding a Board meeting and Travis had been called in to attend. He became enraged when he heard the news.

  “What?”

  “We are a bit concerned. Your father is withholding his annual donation to the Culver Foundation, unless you hand in your resignation. We were not aware of your desire to leave your post.”

  “He wouldn’t dare! I don’t plan on going anywhere.”

  “Here’s his letter.” A director handed him the neatly typed letter with his father’s embossed letterhead. This was preposterous. His father never informed him.

  “The decision is up to you, Travis. We admire the work that you have done here, and would hate to lose you. If you, however, decide to pursue this new opportunity, we understand. Such opportunities come around only once in a lifetime.”

  Once in a lifetime.

  “Think about it over Christmas break and, after, let us know of your decision.”

  * * *

  Travis called his father in Connecticut. Jonathan T. Harrington, Jr. acted as if all was right with the world. In his world, it probably was. Inherited wealth, lucrative investments, and a thriving venture capital firm kept h
im comfortable and content. Travis had finally escaped his lifestyle and his control. Or so he thought. The one thing that they had agreed on was Culver. Travis reluctantly followed family tradition and attended, and graduated from the Military Academy with high honors. As commander of the Black Horse Troop, he had found his calling. With an undergraduate degree in equine studies along with an MBA, he advanced in his career, landing back at Culver. Being an integral part of the Equestrian Center was his calling and he was proud of it and the school. His father, a man who seldom gave compliments, had been proud of him, and his career choice. A sizable donation to the Culver Fund was an annual tradition. Never had Travis thought that his father would hold the Fund hostage as a way of undermining his career. He had to confront him.

  “Travis, it’s for your own good. You’re going to be a married man, with a wife and family. You need a career with more opportunities. Penelope deserves a social life, and the prestige.”

  “Penelope knew who and what I was when she accepted my ring.”

  “Women view men for their potential. You are not living up to yours.”

  “I’m happy where I am.”

  “Well and good, but the reality is that your father-in-law is offering you the opportunity of a lifetime.”

  Here it was again, the ”opportunity of a lifetime.” Was something wrong with him, because he didn’t view it as such?

  “It’s for me to decide whether it’s an opportunity or not. I don’t see why you both see it necessary to interfere in my life. I’m an adult and I can make my own decisions.”

  “I didn’t raise a stupid boy. Albert Collingsworth is setting you up for life. You would be daft to turn it down.”