man pulled something from his pocket and fed it to the animal before getting an affectionate nudge in the chest in return.
The trainer was on the smaller side, though not as short as most jockeys. He was wiry. Thin. He wouldn’t slow a racehorse down overmuch.
“You, boy!” The show’s narrator, wearing a tailored coat and an attitude of superiority, stalked across the lot to the horseman. Most likely he was the circus owner. Aaron couldn’t hear the conversation, but from the sharp arm gestures and the angry expression, it was easy to see he wasn’t happy.
Through it all the red-haired man calmly stroked the neck of the white horse. The angry man stomped away, mustache trembling with displeasure. “And be quick about it, or I’ll dock your pay.”
The horseman didn’t react, which meant he’d probably heard that threat before. Even if the man didn’t make a good long-term jockey, there was always room in Aaron’s stable for one who didn’t allow his circumstances to affect his care of the horses. He hadn’t been in either show, so it wasn’t a love of performing keeping him here. Aaron could offer him a better life.
The white horse was led into a fenced area already containing two draft horses and the brown horses from the show. Despite the beratement, the trainer didn’t rush his care of the animals, keeping his movements measured and easy until he finished. Only when he’d stepped out of the enclosure did he hustle off to take care of the requested business.
Everyone in Newmarket would think Aaron’s scheme mad. Teaching a horse to perform in such a way required considerable riding ability—ability that should be transferable, at least for a challenge race.
Aaron couldn’t pursue the idea without pondering it over, at least a little. Another rash decision would only make the situation worse. If it still seemed sound after the next show, he would act upon it.
Maybe.
Instead of joining the crowd for the next show, he circled around to the boundary of the back lot to watch the preparation of the horses.
The red-haired man stood by, the faerie queen at his side, as one of the brown horses pranced through the routine riderless. Aaron smirked at this final proof that he’d been right. The nymphs could have been sandbags for all the difference it would have made. The white horse had performed far more intricate steps, so the faerie was at least a superior rider, a distinction that didn’t matter to Aaron, though standing on a running horse was a very impressive trick.
The show concluded, and once more Aaron waited for the crowds to disperse. Would the trainer have a break soon? Could he catch him away from the circus?
“He no sell,” a thickly accented voice said from his left. Aaron turned to see one of the performers from the show. This close, he could tell she was far older than she’d appeared during the play.
“I beg your pardon?” Aaron asked.
“White horse. He no sell.”
“I don’t want the horse.” It was an understandable assumption, as they likely received multiple offers a day for the mesmerizing beast.
“Why you stare, then? Scare children.”
Considering these people made a living by being stared at and he couldn’t see anyone in the enclosure who could pass for less than fifteen, Aaron discounted the woman’s claim. Even so, the moment had come to go for the whole hog or throw up the sponge.
“I wish to speak to the horse trainer.”
“No allowed out here.”
Aaron frowned. The man wasn’t allowed to leave the paddock? What sort of hold did the circus owner have on him?
“I give message but no come out.”
He was supposed to conduct business via this woman, whom he could barely understand and who didn’t speak proper English? Apparently so, unless he wanted to abandon the idea. The thought turned his stomach. “I wish to offer him a job riding my horses.” Aaron cleared his throat. “My racehorses.”
“You offer job to horse trainer?” The woman’s mouth lifted at the corners.
“Yes,” Aaron said slowly, eyes narrowing at the woman. “The one with red hair.”
The woman nodded, her small smile evident now. “Fitzroy. You offer riding job to horse trainer Fitzroy with red hair.”
Aaron rolled the name around in his mind. Fitzroy sounded a lot like You, boy. Perhaps that had been what the circus owner yelled earlier. “Yes.”
More nodding. “I go tell.” The foreign woman stepped around the wagon and out of sight before calling out. The red-haired man finished checking a horse’s hoof and then