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  Right, with Travis as the loser. Not. He couldn’t tell his father that. Not yet.

  “I feel better knowing that the funds went to charity. I can see you and Pen contributing a great deal to charity, once you move to Lexington.”

  Lexington. The entire idea of marriage, Lexington, and thoroughbred racing was turning his stomach into knots. He had to make decisions soon, decisions he had kept delaying, and delaying. Things were not going to get easier or go away. He was scheduled to marry Penelope in August, and begin a new life, and a new career. Penelope was fluttering about planning a Hollywood-style wedding, while working with a top New York interior designer on the Lexington mansion. He would have to hand in his resignation to Culver soon, so that a search could be held for a new Director. New Director? Hell, he wanted to remain the Director until retirement. He loved his job, the staff, the horses, the students, and the Academy. He detested thoroughbred racing.

  He had to make up his mind. Did he love Penelope enough to forego the life he had created, his dream job, his pride and integrity? Did he love Pen enough to give it all up? To sell out? The question kept gnawing at him. His life, his future was at stake.

  10

  Shelby contemplated how to approach Travis about his generous donation. On one hand, she was grateful for his saving her property. Yet, on the other, she didn’t like being beholden to someone. She liked to earn her own way. Living off the generosity of others made her uncomfortable. If Travis really wanted to help her, he could have given her a loan with a repayment plan. Granted, it would take a month of Sundays to pay it off. With his money, he surely wouldn’t be desperate for a return.

  She went online and found his telephone number at Culver, but couldn’t place the call. Though she had his e-mail address, she couldn’t compose a post. After all, Travis had insisted on being anonymous.

  She did contact the law firm listed on the documents, and was assured by attorney Paul Kelly that they were valid, and presented in good faith. The property, foundation, and endowment were hers free and clear. Hers. No strings attached.

  The idea of it being a gift still caused discomfort. She discussed the idea of turning the gift into a loan with a repayment schedule. Paul Kelly had laughed, wondering why she couldn’t just accept the generosity, and be done with it. He didn’t understand her sense of pride and self-sufficiency.

  * * *

  As winter progressed into spring, she hadn’t heard from Travis. There weren’t any surprise visits or correspondence. It was as if he were some angel sent her way to save her from doom and gloom. She and her animals were safe, and she had a secure job and future. Yet, she had to repay him. It wasn’t right.

  There were planned improvements and expansion plans to be implemented for her property. She now had the funds to create her dream of a rescue operation and riding program. There was so much to do, so many decisions to make to keep her busy for months.

  She decided on a name for her center, Horsepower. The facilities would be built of river stone and sturdy oak logs. She envisioned a rustic cabin design, with a broad stone hearth in the main building’s gathering space. There would be beams on the peaked ceilings with hand-forged iron wagon wheel chandeliers. Sofas and chairs would be burgundy and forest green pleather. The thought of it made her giddy. Porches would wrap around the outside, and all entrances would be handicapped accessible. The architect she had hired was working with her on the plans.

  The attached barn would be equally as aesthetically pleasing. A tack room, offices, classrooms, and a gathering area for clients would be included. Her horses would have spacious stalls, with comfort mats, and iron gates. There would be space for twenty-five horses, including an area for miniature horses. Thinking of all the animals she could now adopt and train brought a smile to her face. Lives would be changed: the animals, clients, and her own.

  An indoor riding arena would be connected to the barn for convenience, with doors leading to an outdoor paddock, for when the weather was pleasant, to allow the horses yard time for grazing and exercise. The area had already been staked out for construction. Having the resources was turning her vision into reality. Only in her dreams did she think that this would be possible.

  As the season changed from winter to spring, she wanted to discuss the property, construction progress, programs, and endowment with Travis. She wanted to thank him in person, and ask him why he was so generous. She also wanted to insist on a repayment plan. More than anything, though, she longed for him to hear her ideas for the property, and her programs, and offer his advice. He had a vested interest in all of it. There would be joy in sharing. Somehow, she would see him. Perhaps, a visit to Culver was in order.

  * * *

  Shelby had never visited a college preparatory boarding school before, and hadn’t expected the campus to rival or outdo a college. The sprawling campus of Culver Academies, with its stately stone and red brick buildings, lush green grass with interwoven concrete walks, towering trees, and statuary was overwhelming. Her high school was comprised on one building, not a separate building for each curriculum, such as the Crisp Visual Arts Center, Roberts Hall of Science, Dicke Hall of Mathematics, Huffington Library, Legion Memorial Hall, Siegfried Fitness Center, Steinbrenner Recreation Center, and more stately edifices. Signs of benefactors were everywhere. There were also dormitories and barracks. She thought that barracks were for the armed forces but, then again, the boy’s section was Culver Military Academy, whereas young women were in the Girls Academy.

  She observed the students in their crisp uniforms. The male cadets were in gray drab military uniforms, with light blue shirts, while the young women were attired in plaid skirts, white blouses, and blue or maroon sweaters. The students walked with purpose, with perfect posture, and of clean-cut appearance, and impeccable grooming. It was so unlike her local high school where “anything goes,” and purple hair, piercings and tattoos were normal. When she stopped to ask for directions, the cadets/students were polite and respectful. For a moment she wondered if she were somehow transported back through time.

  She glanced at her map and saw that Vaughn Equestrian Center was beyond the Memorial Chapel, whose bell tower she could see and hear, and next to the Health Center. As she strolled over the soft grass, she was not expecting to see such a grandiose building.

  The Vaughn Equestrian Center stood like a fortress, the lawn of the Henderson Parade Field separating it from Lake Maxinkuckee. Its massive towers, parapets, arched doorways, buttresses and pediments resembled a Medieval castle, though constructed of red brick and stone. Green bleachers were set in front of it and she knew that this was no ordinary complex.

  She stood for a moment, inhaling the fragrant scent of freshly mowed grass, and observed the blooming bulbs. Her gaze scanned the sloping lawn dotted with trees leading to the azure lake. The setting was pretty and tranquil. Nature softened the fort-like building.

  She entered through the side of the Equestrian Center, as signage directed, and walked into a lobby. She was greeted by the familiar and comforting scent of hay, leather, and horses. Though she didn’t see any horses, other than a couple of life-sized plastic models on display, she knew that they were near. Walls featured historical photographs, and down a hall were offices.

  “May I help you?” a woman around her age asked, startling her.

  “Yes, I’m looking for Jonathan Travis Harrington.”

  “I’m the office manager, follow me.”

  The woman led her to one of the offices and, after knocking on the doorjamb said, “Someone is here to see you.”

  Travis swiveled his chair around from the computer toward the doorway. His eyes lit up upon seeing her, and Shelby tingled all over. He stood, and came around the desk.

  “Shelby, what a surprise.” He reached out and hugged her. Having his arms wrapped around her was as snug as a warm blanket, and he had the comforting, and familiar scent of leather and horses.

  She smiled as he released her.

  “So
, what brings you here?” he asked. “Do you know someone attending the reunion?”

  “No, I don’t. I finally found some free time, and the courage to come and see you,” she admitted.

  “Why would you need courage to see me?”

  “We need to chat.”

  “It’s more comfortable in the lounge.”

  He directed her to the Black Horse Lounge, so named, he explained after Culver’s famous horse troop. She joined him on the leather sofa, surrounded by oil paintings, and a wall of gleaming trophies.

  Drawing a deep breath to calm her nerves, she knew that she had mustered all of her courage to drive here, only to turn into a jittery schoolgirl once she saw him. He looked at home and in his element, the preppy at the prep school.

  The grand surroundings, and privilege of his profession only made her more insecure, and she fidgeted. This was not your average stable, and his was not your average riding instructor’s job.

  “Is something wrong,” he asked. “You look nervous.”

  “I … I’m a bit overwhelmed.”

  “This place can make people feel that way. When I show you the stable and the horses, you’ll be more in your element.”

  “What do you do here, exactly?”

  “I’m just the Director of Horsemanship Instruction. I teach, dealing with the students, horses, and staff. I coach the Black Horse Troop and Lancer Platoon, assist with the jump team, coach polo, work on curriculum, and work new horses into the program. Like all staff, I do some volunteering and chaperoning.”

  “You must earn a great deal of money?”

  He laughed. “It’s okay. Why?”

  “Because you had enough to save my farm, and set up a non-profit in my name.”

  His grin faded into a serious straight line.

  “I know that it was you. No one else was told of my dreams and plans.” There, she said it.

  He cleared his throat. “It is what you wanted, isn’t it?”

  “Yes. I just wasn’t expecting a mysterious benefactor to appear. I certainly didn’t think it would be you.”

  “Why not me?”

  “Because you really don’t know me.”

  “Oh, I thought you were going to say that I’m too young.” He cracked a smile.

  “Why would you do so much for me?”

  “Because you’re deserving. I couldn’t think of a better cause in which to invest part of my inheritance.”

  So, that’s where the money came from? She swallowed hard. He had taken from his future, to invest in her present. Fighting back tears, she drew a deep breath.

  He took her hand in a gentle and caring caress. “You’re worth it. You’re doing good in this scary world, by helping animals and children. God knows, the world could use more loving people like you.”

  She met his intense gaze and its sincere warmth. She had to admit that he was one of the good guys. But, darn it all. She withdrew her hand from his.

  Drawing a deep breath for courage, and to get oxygen to her fuzzy brain, she cut to the chase, “Travis, I appreciate your generosity. However, I really think the terms should be rewritten. I would prefer that your donation really be set up as a loan, with a repayment plan with interest. It’s only fair.”

  He chuckled, “What? I don’t want your money. It’s not necessary.”

  “Maybe not to you, but it would be more fair for me. I believe in paying my own way.”

  “If I didn’t think you capable and hard-working, I wouldn’t have made the donation. It’s a charitable donation. Just accept it as such.”

  “What did your fiancé think?” she asked.

  “She doesn’t know. It’s from my personal funds. She has more than enough money of her own to be concerned with.”

  “The wedding’s coming up soon?”

  “Not until August.” It was May.

  “I see.” She tried not to sound disappointed. He was marrying someone he couldn’t even share his philanthropy with, and that was sad.

  “Come along. Let me show you around.” He helped her up from her chair, and took her hand as they strolled through the lobby, and through the doors leading to the stable.

  The word “stable” was an understatement for such a palatial facility. The ceiling was high, with drop-can lights and overhead fans distributed the air. A mezzanine encircled the area, where observers could watch over horses that were housed in roomy cinder block box stalls painted in the school colors of maroon and white. Arched iron gates allowed access. She stopped in front of a stall to admire a muscular Friesian.

  “We currently have 94 horses: Friesians, Percherons, Thoroughbreds, Quarter Horses, Warm Bloods, and some interesting mixes. Most are donated,” he explained.

  “That’s a lot of horses. I swear these animals live better than some people.” She perused the spacious aisles of roomy box stalls. Everything was so neat and pristine.

  He chuckled. “Possibly, they even have memory foam pads, covered in a dusting of sawdust lining their stables to lay on. Comfortable, and actually easy to maintain, since they are sealed in non-slip rubber.”

  “What are they fed, caviar?”

  “Grain, and hay two times a day. We grow our own hay to feed them.”

  She continued walking. Her horses would have loved to live in such luxury. Thanks to him, they would in the near future. Even in the horse world, where you lived dictated the quality of your lifestyle. Looking at Travis, he fit the lifestyle. He was as lithe, regal, and handsome as the horses he trained. A thoroughbred.

  “They are turned out in the paddocks every day.”

  “You teach students to ride these magnificent creatures?”

  “I do. Actually, I’ve ridden and accessed all of them for temperament, because the safety of students is paramount. Do you know that 95% of the boys who enter the riding program have never ridden before? Girls generally come with experience.”

  As they came to end of the aisle, he pointed to what looked like a hobby horse.

  “May I introduce you to el oso negro, ‘black bear,’ actually an Equisizer. I start here with children who are extremely fearful of riding. It helps them build confidence before getting a live mount.”

  She was familiar with the non-motorized mechanical horse for instructing new riders, and its use as an exercise machine for equestrians, to keep them in shape when not riding, and to improve skills.

  “You know, now that I think of it, you need one for your therapeutic riding center.”

  “It’s a luxury.”

  “I’ll make sure you get one, now that you know who your benefactor is.” He winked.

  “I really don’t like being beholden to someone. I really prefer to do things myself, without outside help or resources. I’m a rather self-sufficient person.”

  “Everyone needs help once in awhile. You’d rather have given up your home, and your animals because of the I.R.S.?”

  “It would have made me work harder to get it all back.”

  He scoffed. “That would have taken a month of Sundays.”

  “By not doing it myself, I’m now obligated to you. It’s not comfortable, and not right.”

  He placed his hand on her shoulder. “You are not obligated to me, or anyone. The farm and everything are yours, free and clear.”

  Nothing in life was ever free, at least in her life.

  “I would prefer to work out a repayment plan. It may take awhile, but I do want to pay you back, with interest.”

  “It was a gift … A donation. I won’t take your money. End of discussion. Let’s continue our tour.”

  She followed him, thinking about the sizable amount of money. Should she just swallow her pride, accept it and keep quiet? Apparently, he wasn’t in need of the funds, and probably received a large charitable deduction on his taxes. Isn’t that the real reason why well-off people donate to charity?

  They passed tack rooms, and a classroom. The private veterinary clinic and box stall were impressive. Three local vets were on call, and
a vet tech on staff. They also had access to an equine dentist, chiropractor, and acupuncturist. A local farrier also visited regularly.

  “After polo matches, this is the place to cool them down,” he said, pointing out the horse showers.

  “Do you play polo?”

  “Actually, yes. Since this is reunion weekend, there’s an alumni polo match, and I intend to participate. It’s tomorrow afternoon after the Garrison Parade. It would be great if you could attend both.”

  “I suppose I could. I reserved a room in Plymouth, since it seemed a bit late to be heading back. A neighbor’s minding the farm while I’m gone, so I can’t stay away for long.”

  “You really should see the Parade. The Black Horse Troop, my pride and joy, participate.” He was beaming.

  Every equestrian knew of Culver’s Black Horse Troop. The storied Troop gained notoriety from its many appearances at presidential Inauguration parades. She couldn’t believe that he directed the famous group of riders. Their precision riding skills were renowned.

  “The troop is impressive. Is it still the largest mounted cavalry in the country?” Shelby asked.

  “Yes. The troop still follows the old cavalry methods, like branding each horse on their hoof to match their tack, halter, saddle, and even stall number.”

  “You do have everything covered.”

  They walked upstairs to the mezzanine level, and entered Judd Little Riding Hall.

  “Is it named after the same Judd Little who owns the famous ranch in Oklahoma? He breeds some of the best horses for competitive barrel racing and roping. I rode some of his horses while on the circuit,” Shelby said.

  “Yep, ‘The Bar Nuthin.’ He’s a Class of 1965 Culver graduate, and was a member of the Lancer Platoon and Black Horse Troop. Even played polo. A really great guy, too. He is a greater philanthropist than I’ll ever be.”

  “Your name isn’t on a building here, yet.”

  “Yet.” He chuckled. “Not in my plans.”

  The arena was as impressive as the stables, with its step-down bleachers, bandbox, arched wood doors, and windows.