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Their lives had been simple. Simple but happy. Steady placers, even in the the crown. Never a first in any of the crown jewels and it had been years since any horse had won the triple crown. They had come close a few times but it was never quite enough. Then some malaise fell on the farm, Gran said it was a curse. A curse for letting the city filth in. For letting them do business with the farm. What only Papa had known was that the filth Gran spoke of had been part of the farm since before Gran was even born. Miles out of town it was the perfect place to pass money through to the branches in other cities. No one knew but the men of the family. Yet Papa had inherited the farm, married the love of his life and together they had only two children. The life on the farm was simple, sheltered. They lived well if not lavishly. Ma stayed home, cooked and cleaned while Papa worked the horses. Eventually Sam, the eldest, was able to help out in the stables. First just mucking stalls, feeding, and turning out horses. As he grew he tried to learn the finer points of training but it was never his forte. Not like his younger sister.
Maeve had the affinity for training. It started, oddly, with the family cat. The cat that was allowed to live inside the house. At a young age she had taught the cat tricks one might teach a dog. After the cat dogs came easy. Eventually came the horses. As he brother hauled hay and plied numbers she was the one in the fields, gaining trust and teaching the saddle to their charges. Trust could only go so far of course when it came to speed and stamina. The losses hurt at first, then became devastating. A darkness had settled on the family farm. Horses were sold off at auction for less than a quarter what they once were worth. Their stock dwindled until they couldn't even get a horse in the races anymore. Bills were coming due. Worse than power or gas were the bills to the shadow that had ever been present at their farm.
She heard them one night. A man in a sharp suit speaking in hushed but heated whispers with Papa. They thought they were alone but Maeve had been staying with their last mare. The foal was due any day and Maeve insisted on being there, especially since she had since graduated highschool five years since. Maeve hunkered down in the stall as her Papa argue with the man, pleaded with the man. Where would they all go? What would they do? Racing was all their family knew. The man was ice made human. It wasn't his problem, he was just the messenger. Her father begged. They needed time. This last foal, he had to be the one. Three years was a long time to wait for the foal to be ready to start racing.
Not a week late the mare went into labor. A long, difficult chore for the mare and just as long for Maeve, Same, and Papa. A healthy colt was born. No one said it but they were certain he might be the last born on the farm. He was quick to stand and quick to find his mother's teat. Papa was only partially convinced, Sam was already seeking other employment. Maeve was sure the colt was the answer to their prayers.
A couple months passed and the colt grew. Quick, strong, smart and a stubborn bundle of energy. But the farm was running out of time. Maeve had seen more and more men in suits around. Papa was looking thin, Ma look strained. Sam was barely around anymore. Where he went during the day no one seemed to know. Maeve had always possessed a suspicion of who the men were that she saw around the farm. No one said it out loud, even since Gran had passed. Mafia.
Maeve was cleaning in the small study when she found her father's ledger. Payments of all sorts. Names and locations. Her suspicions all but confirmed when she turned to the most recent entry. The farm would be sold off soon. Barely even sold it seemed, given away. Nothing written about what might become of their family. The date and location to bring the dee were written. They had only two months. The colt wouldn't be ready to race in two months. Hell, it would be nearly a year before he could even be placed in training and another year before he could race. Maeve tore the page out, her mind made up before she had time to think. The colt was the answer. All they needed was time.
With a little money, a small bag of clothes, a ripped out piece of Papa's ledger and more courage than brains she set out. The walk to town was long in the darkness of the countryside. She made it close to dawn. Yawning widely she headed in to the bus station. A small station where she would have to transfer twice to make it to the bigger town where she could take a larger, grander bus into the bustle of the big city. She had been to the city once when she was very young. All she remembered was the color and foul odors of the city. A filthy place, close and confined. Give her open fields and fresh air any day. But this was her family, her history. She could brave the city for a couple of days.
Exhausted and hungry the bus gave a mighty squeal as it came to a halt. The other folk on the buss bustled about to get off. Maeve waited politely until it was her turn. She stood and moved to the aisle but a hand found her shoulder and pushed her back. Dusty jeans hit the weathered seat as she flopped back down. Her arm struck the plastic back of the seat in front of her, slashing the sleeve of her white sweater at the elbow. A small trickle of blood stained the old sweater. "Watch it, bitch," someone snarled. A sallow young man snorted as he headed down the aisle. Maeve waited until everyone was off the bus.
Scuffed old boots hit the pavement and Maeve craned her head back. Concrete and glass as far as the eye could see. Barely any sky was visible. Her elbow throbbed some as she began walking. The location wasn't entirely obvious to her. She tried to ask no less than twenty people how to find the building. Most ignored her, others raised their eyebrows. Two looked terrified.
For a time she wandered, nearly aimless. Tired and starving. Finally she decided on a break and sat on the stoop of an old, rundown building. Maeve stared at the piece of paper she had stolen. There was no real address. Papa must have been there before. This errand was foolish. Maeve toyed with the end of her red braid, playing with the fluffy ends. She never wore it down, never really styled it. Left along it reach her bottoms in waves lengths of fiery red. Her skin was pale but gently kissed by the sun where a T-shirt and jeans didn't cover. She was short, certainly compared to her brother and father. Shapely though, if hidden behind the shapeless clothes she chose to wear.
A shadow fell across her paper. Maeve tilted her head back, green eyes falling on a sharp dressed man. "Well...the McCoughle girl," the man said with a smirk. "Y'all know me?" She asked in her soft drawl. "Yeah, you could say that," he replied. Maeve rose to her feet and held out the paper. "Y'all know this fella? Been searchin' for him." He didn't even need to look. "Yeah I know him. Come on girly. Sure he'd be happy to see you." Maeve followed closely behind the man as he led her to a nondescript building. Heavy glass, single metal door. He buzzed and a plate slid open, slamming just as quickly before the door swung wide. A gorilla of a man stood there. Intimidating as a bull in a living room. The smaller man ushered her inside. "Wait here," he said as he left her in a finely decorated if dimly lit sort of lobby. Maeve nodded and stayed firmly in place. What her plan was she hadn't a clue. Beg. Plead. Bargain. Anything to get them the time they needed.
Maeve had the affinity for training. It started, oddly, with the family cat. The cat that was allowed to live inside the house. At a young age she had taught the cat tricks one might teach a dog. After the cat dogs came easy. Eventually came the horses. As he brother hauled hay and plied numbers she was the one in the fields, gaining trust and teaching the saddle to their charges. Trust could only go so far of course when it came to speed and stamina. The losses hurt at first, then became devastating. A darkness had settled on the family farm. Horses were sold off at auction for less than a quarter what they once were worth. Their stock dwindled until they couldn't even get a horse in the races anymore. Bills were coming due. Worse than power or gas were the bills to the shadow that had ever been present at their farm.
She heard them one night. A man in a sharp suit speaking in hushed but heated whispers with Papa. They thought they were alone but Maeve had been staying with their last mare. The foal was due any day and Maeve insisted on being there, especially since she had since graduated highschool five years since. Maeve hunkered down in the stall as her Papa argue with the man, pleaded with the man. Where would they all go? What would they do? Racing was all their family knew. The man was ice made human. It wasn't his problem, he was just the messenger. Her father begged. They needed time. This last foal, he had to be the one. Three years was a long time to wait for the foal to be ready to start racing.
Not a week late the mare went into labor. A long, difficult chore for the mare and just as long for Maeve, Same, and Papa. A healthy colt was born. No one said it but they were certain he might be the last born on the farm. He was quick to stand and quick to find his mother's teat. Papa was only partially convinced, Sam was already seeking other employment. Maeve was sure the colt was the answer to their prayers.
A couple months passed and the colt grew. Quick, strong, smart and a stubborn bundle of energy. But the farm was running out of time. Maeve had seen more and more men in suits around. Papa was looking thin, Ma look strained. Sam was barely around anymore. Where he went during the day no one seemed to know. Maeve had always possessed a suspicion of who the men were that she saw around the farm. No one said it out loud, even since Gran had passed. Mafia.
Maeve was cleaning in the small study when she found her father's ledger. Payments of all sorts. Names and locations. Her suspicions all but confirmed when she turned to the most recent entry. The farm would be sold off soon. Barely even sold it seemed, given away. Nothing written about what might become of their family. The date and location to bring the dee were written. They had only two months. The colt wouldn't be ready to race in two months. Hell, it would be nearly a year before he could even be placed in training and another year before he could race. Maeve tore the page out, her mind made up before she had time to think. The colt was the answer. All they needed was time.
With a little money, a small bag of clothes, a ripped out piece of Papa's ledger and more courage than brains she set out. The walk to town was long in the darkness of the countryside. She made it close to dawn. Yawning widely she headed in to the bus station. A small station where she would have to transfer twice to make it to the bigger town where she could take a larger, grander bus into the bustle of the big city. She had been to the city once when she was very young. All she remembered was the color and foul odors of the city. A filthy place, close and confined. Give her open fields and fresh air any day. But this was her family, her history. She could brave the city for a couple of days.
Exhausted and hungry the bus gave a mighty squeal as it came to a halt. The other folk on the buss bustled about to get off. Maeve waited politely until it was her turn. She stood and moved to the aisle but a hand found her shoulder and pushed her back. Dusty jeans hit the weathered seat as she flopped back down. Her arm struck the plastic back of the seat in front of her, slashing the sleeve of her white sweater at the elbow. A small trickle of blood stained the old sweater. "Watch it, bitch," someone snarled. A sallow young man snorted as he headed down the aisle. Maeve waited until everyone was off the bus.
Scuffed old boots hit the pavement and Maeve craned her head back. Concrete and glass as far as the eye could see. Barely any sky was visible. Her elbow throbbed some as she began walking. The location wasn't entirely obvious to her. She tried to ask no less than twenty people how to find the building. Most ignored her, others raised their eyebrows. Two looked terrified.
For a time she wandered, nearly aimless. Tired and starving. Finally she decided on a break and sat on the stoop of an old, rundown building. Maeve stared at the piece of paper she had stolen. There was no real address. Papa must have been there before. This errand was foolish. Maeve toyed with the end of her red braid, playing with the fluffy ends. She never wore it down, never really styled it. Left along it reach her bottoms in waves lengths of fiery red. Her skin was pale but gently kissed by the sun where a T-shirt and jeans didn't cover. She was short, certainly compared to her brother and father. Shapely though, if hidden behind the shapeless clothes she chose to wear.
A shadow fell across her paper. Maeve tilted her head back, green eyes falling on a sharp dressed man. "Well...the McCoughle girl," the man said with a smirk. "Y'all know me?" She asked in her soft drawl. "Yeah, you could say that," he replied. Maeve rose to her feet and held out the paper. "Y'all know this fella? Been searchin' for him." He didn't even need to look. "Yeah I know him. Come on girly. Sure he'd be happy to see you." Maeve followed closely behind the man as he led her to a nondescript building. Heavy glass, single metal door. He buzzed and a plate slid open, slamming just as quickly before the door swung wide. A gorilla of a man stood there. Intimidating as a bull in a living room. The smaller man ushered her inside. "Wait here," he said as he left her in a finely decorated if dimly lit sort of lobby. Maeve nodded and stayed firmly in place. What her plan was she hadn't a clue. Beg. Plead. Bargain. Anything to get them the time they needed.
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