Forever Ventured: Forever Bluegrass #12 Read online

  Forever Ventured

  Forever Bluegrass #12

  Kathleen Brooks

  All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  * * *

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons living or dead, actual events, locale, or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  * * *

  An original work of Kathleen Brooks. Forever Ventured copyright @ 2019 by Kathleen Brooks.

  * * *

  Forever Bluegrass Series® is a registered Trademark of Laurens Publishing, LLC.

  Bluegrass Series

  Bluegrass State of Mind

  Risky Shot

  Dead Heat

  * * *

  Bluegrass Brothers

  Bluegrass Undercover

  Rising Storm

  Secret Santa: A Bluegrass Series Novella

  Acquiring Trouble

  Relentless Pursuit

  Secrets Collide

  Final Vow

  * * *

  Bluegrass Singles

  All Hung Up

  Bluegrass Dawn

  The Perfect Gift

  The Keeneston Roses

  * * *

  Forever Bluegrass Series

  Forever Entangled

  Forever Hidden

  Forever Betrayed

  Forever Driven

  Forever Secret

  Forever Surprised

  Forever Concealed

  Forever Devoted

  Forever Hunted

  Forever Guarded

  Forever Notorious

  Forever Ventured

  Forever Freed (coming early 2020)

  * * *

  Shadows Landing Series

  Saving Shadows

  Sunken Shadows

  Lasting Shadows (coming Oct 22, 2019)

  * * *

  Women of Power Series

  Chosen for Power

  Built for Power

  Fashioned for Power

  Destined for Power

  * * *

  Web of Lies Series

  Whispered Lies

  Rogue Lies

  Shattered Lies

  * * *

  Moonshine Hollow Series

  Moonshine & Murder

  Moonshine & Malice

  Moonshine & Mayhem

  Contents

  Family Trees for Keeneston

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Epilogue

  Also by Kathleen Brooks

  About the Author

  Family Trees for Keeneston

  Davies Family Tree

  * * *

  Keeneston Friends Family Trees

  * * *

  Extended Family Tree for Keeneston and Shadows Landing

  Prologue

  Keeneston, Four and a Half Years Ago . . .

  * * *

  “Wyatt, it’s your great-grandmother,” his father said over the phone. Marshall Davies’s voice was choked with emotion and that scared Wyatt Davies more than anything.

  Wyatt had blown out a breath and watched it float off in the cold air. He stood up from where he’d been examining a sick cow and turned his back to the farmer. “What is it?” He knew the answer before his father told him. His great-grandmother, Ruth Elizabeth Wyatt, was dying.

  “Get here as fast as you can. She’s asking for you. I’ve tried to call your sister but she’s not answering. I’m going to have to drive into Lexington to see if I can get her as soon as she steps off the plane.”

  Wyatt’s throat closed as he fought back the tears that were pressing against his eyes. Nana Ruth was a legend and the matriarch of their family. When Great-Grandpa Beauford passed away nine years earlier, Nana single-handedly ran the massive thoroughbred farm and managed all of her husband’s financial investments—no small undertaking.

  Wyatt turned to the farmer and dug out the antibiotics from his bag. “She has a urinary tract infection. This will help clear it up. I’m sorry. I have a family emergency so I’ll call you tomorrow to check on her. Here’re the instructions for care,” Wyatt said as if on autopilot. He was a large animal veterinarian in the small town of Keeneston where his mother, Katelyn Davies, was the small animal veterinarian.

  “I’ll be prayin’ for your granny. She’s a force to be reckoned with. If anyone can dictate how she leaves this great world, it’s her.”

  “Thank you,” Wyatt said, his voice slightly strangled as he shook the farmer’s hand and jogged through the pasture toward his pickup truck. He dialed his sister, Sydney Davies, but she didn’t answer.

  As Wyatt sped through the farm and out onto the narrow, winding country road heading to Wyatt Farm, he thought about his Nana. Ruth Woodbury had fallen in love with Beauford Wyatt while Beauford was in college in Georgia. They had enjoyed over sixty-five years of marriage and love between them. And when their daughter abandoned Wyatt’s mother, they hadn’t hesitated to raise Katelyn. They gave her the confidence and support to become a supermodel. And then together, they’d instilled the same confidence in Sydney and Wyatt.

  Memories of walking hand in hand with his Nana Ruth through the barns for her weekly kisses from her little dears came flooding back. His hand in Nana’s as she looked down at him with her big hat, flowing dress, pale-powdered face, and bright red lipstick. She’d stop in front of a stall and the racehorse would lean out to greet her. She’d lean forward and place a bright red kiss on the horse’s nose. “There’s my little dear. Train well this week.”

  And so it went, from horse to horse, until she’d kissed them all.

  “Nana, why do you do that?” Wyatt had asked.

  “Because, my littlest dear, they must always know how much I love them.” Nana would then lean down and place a bright red kiss on his forehead. “And how much I love you.”

  Other memories and life lessons flashed through Wyatt’s mind as he made the final turn toward the farm.

  “A gentleman always assists a lady. Not because they are unable to assist themselves, but as a sign of respect,” she’d told him after he’d gotten in trouble for not helping Sydney with her chores when she was running late one day.

  “Yes, Nana,” he’d mumbled. Then Great-Grandpa strode in and declared it was time to go shooting.

  Once at the back of the farm, he’d handed Wyatt the shotgun and taught him all about being a gentleman, respecting women, and how good manners never go out of style. They were all lessons he’d heard repeatedly from his parents. Somehow it meant more when it came from his great-grandparents. They talked to him differently. They shared life lessons and events to show how those lessons worked in the real world and now he was about to lose his last link to them. Nana was more than a great-grandmother. She was his friend, his confidante, his supporter, and he loved her so very much.

  Wyatt took a deep breath and pushed the button to open the wrought iron gate. Up on the small hilltop sat the large white Federal-style house that had been home to the Wyatt family since 1785.

  Wyatt stared at the house. It had been his home away from home. It was almost magical, the time he spent there. He and his sister had spent hours upon hours running through the house, learning stories of all the artwork and their ancestors, and finding all the best hiding places. Now he was almost afraid to go inside.

  Wyatt pressed on the gas and drove to the house as he took slow, deep breaths in an effort to compose himself. The front door opened as he parked next to his dad’s sheriff cruiser. His dad was wiping his eyes and Wyatt knew this really was it. His nana was going to pass away soon.

  “Wyatt, I’m glad you’re here. I’m going to find Sydney. We don’t have much time, and I don’t want to leave your mother alone. She’s trying to hold it together but not doing well. None of us are.”

  When Wyatt’s dad looked away and swiped at his eyes again, Wyatt felt his throat close. He couldn’t swallow. He was frozen as the pain hit him. His father’s parents, Wyatt’s Grandma and Grandpa Davies, were super close to the family as well. The whole Davies family was. But this wasn’t the first time Wyatt had noticed how close his dad was to his in-laws. The Wyatts had always been open with sharing their feelings and Wyatt knew they were all loved fiercely.

  “Are you okay, Dad?” Wyatt asked finally, forcing himself to walk forward.

  “No, son, I’m not. And I don’t believe I will be for a very long time. Right now Nana Ruth wants her family. If that’s the last thing I can give her, nothing will stop me. Even if I have to divert the whole freaking plane to land at the farm.”

  Wyatt watched his dad flip on the lights atop his cruiser and speed off down the road. Wyatt took another deep breath and walked inside. The house was just the same, but everything felt different. He heard his mother softly crying in the downstairs room they’d converted for Nana, and he felt the pain as his heart broke.

  When Wyatt entered the room, the woman who had seemed larger than life now seemed so small against the mountain of pillows propping her up. One look at her and Wyatt knew. This was the end.

  “Wyatt,” Nana Ruth said softly. She tried to lift her hand and Wyatt rushed forward to take it. “I want to talk to you about the farm.”

  “Now’s not the time, Nana.” Wyatt wanted to talk about how much he loved her. How much she meant to him. How much she’d taught him.

  “If not now, then when? I suppose I could haunt the house. How very southern of me.” Nana Ruth chuckled and then was wracked with coughing. His mother began crying silently again and Wyatt felt like an ass.

  “In two years, the top United Kingdom thoroughbred, Gentleman’s Squire, is coming to Kentucky to stand at stud for one year at Mo’s farm.” Wyatt nodded his head. Mo, or Prince Mohtadi Ali Rahman as everyone outside of Keeneston called him, owned Desert Sun Farm. He had connections all over the world, so it wasn’t surprising the top stud would come for a year.

  “Okay,” Wyatt said gently as he sat down in the seat his mother had just vacated. He glanced to the side to see her slipping out of the room, her hand at her mouth.

  “I’ve had my eye on him since he was a two-year-old. He has the best lines and everything we need to improve ours. When he was just two years old, I paid a bargain-basement price for one future stud fee. I want you to breed him to Beau’s Girl. She’s our best mare and I get the vapors just thinking about what a colt or filly of those two can do. I’m talking potential Derby, Cup, and high stakes winner. That breeding is the future of this farm. Will you promise me it’ll be done?”

  “I promise, Nana.” Wyatt swore to her, to himself, and to his great-grandfather that it would be done.

  Nana reached her hand slowly up to cup his face. Wyatt bent down to make it easier for her as tears filled his eyes. “You’re a remarkable young man, Wyatt. And there’s no one I’d rather have carry on your great-grandfather’s family legacy. I’m leaving you the farm business account, the farm, and the house. I’m leaving you the Wyatt heritage because I know you’ll do us proud. Your sister already has her own future. This is yours. You’ll take Wyatt Farm to levels it’s never seen.”

  Nana dropped her hand, her eyes closed, and Wyatt swallowed back his tears. His mother came into the room with fresh flowers in a vase. They were Nana’s favorite from outside the kitchen.

  “My dearest granddaughter. Thank you.” Nana breathed in as deeply as she could before coughing again.

  Wyatt stood up and his mother sat down. He placed his hand on her shoulder and looked up when he heard the door open. His gaze connected with his father’s and his sister’s. He looked down at his great-grandmother and knew the time had come. Right then and there, he swore he’d do whatever it took to make Wyatt Farm the finest thoroughbred farm in the country.

  1

  Capitol Park Raceway in Frankfort, Kentucky, present day . . .

  * * *

  Wyatt slammed on his brakes and barely got the truck into park before leaping out. The racetrack was still bustling with the last week of the spring meet. The grandstands were full, the crowd was cheering, and the horses were racing their hearts out. But Wyatt didn’t see any of that.

  He was on the far side of the track in a large gray cinderblock building with a green metal roof and small rectangular windows that housed the track veterinarian. It was never a good thing to have a horse here. If your horse went down on the track, this is where they brought them. And that’s exactly what had happened. It might be sunny and warm outside, but the inside of that building was cold and depressing.

  “Carter,” Wyatt called out to one of his best friends from Keeneston. Carter Ashton and his wife, who happened to be Wyatt’s cousin, Reagan Davies Ashton, had taken over Ashton Farm. Wyatt had been at their farm twenty minutes before applying medicine on a skin infection when Reagan raced into the barn and told him he had to get to the track immediately. “What happened?”

  Carter shook his head. His face was set like stone, but his eyes were lined with red. “I don’t know.” He ran his hand through his brown hair in frustration and agony. “Sampson was a long shot. We had him pegged as coming in eighth or ninth out of a field of ten. He was calm when I handed him over to the jockey and left to go watch the race. But when he was loaded into the gate, he was excited. More than I’ve ever seen him. They actually had a hard time getting him into the starting gate. Then he tore out of the gate as if he were going to set a new world record. He was in the lead when he collapsed on the straightaway.”

  “Where is he?” Wyatt asked as he tightened his grip on his veterinary bag.

  “In here with Arnold.”

  Carter pushed open the metal door leading into the clinic. The sun disappeared and fluorescent lights cast a haunting brightness around. Arnold Cushions, a highly sought-after trainer, stood with his hands on his hips as the track vet examined Sampson.

  “Dr. Davies, I’m not surprised to see you, but you’re not needed. I could have saved you a trip if Mr. Ashton had waited five minutes.” Dr. Kyle Avery, the track veterinarian and Carter’s long-time rival, said as he stood up from where he was examining Sampson. “It’s a broken leg. I’m sorry, Mr. Ashton. There’s nothing we can do.”

  Wyatt saw Carter tense next to him and didn’t wait to hear what Kyle said next. Kyle had been the track vet for two years now and had been in Wyatt’s class at vet school. He’d finished at the bottom of the class while Wyatt had finished at the top. However, once Wyatt put his hands on Sampson, he knew Kyle was right. There was nothing he could do to save him.

  “I’ll put him down. I was with him when he entered the world and I’ll be the one to be with him when he leaves it,” Wyatt said, his voice gruff with emotion. He was a lar ge animal veterinarian. He’d lost patients before. It was part of the job. But that didn’t mean it didn’t affect him. “Can you make it up for me?”

  As soon as Kyle left for the pharmacy down the hall, Wyatt had his bag open.

  “What are you doing?” Arnold asked. Arnold had been around the racing circuit longer than Wyatt had. He was in his early fifties and had come off of having the best season of his career last year. This was his first year with Ashton Farms.

  “Getting blood,” Wyatt said as he quickly found the vein and began filling the three tubes he had with him. “Something isn’t right. Sampson should be screaming in pain, but he’s not. He’s even putting weight on the broken leg.”

  “Could it just be a fracture?” Carter asked hopefully.

  “No. I can see and feel the break. Any other horse would hardly be able to stand.”

  “They’ll do an autopsy, right?” Arnold stated more than asked.

  “I want my own samples.” Wyatt slipped the test tubes back into his bag and withdrew the needle. By the time Kyle was back, there was no evidence of his blood draw.