Cut Throat by Lyndon Stacey

have to try a bit harder than that, Ross. Put some heart into it!’
    He was furious.
    â€˜What’s with that guy?’ he demanded of Danielle as they passed in the collecting ring. ‘Why can’t he keep his smart-ass comments to himself?’
    â€˜Well, I suppose you can’t expect him to be your biggest fan,’ Danielle said matter-of-factly.
    Ross looked blankly at her.
    â€˜You mean, you don’t know who he is?’ she asked, swinging her horse round to come alongside.
    â€˜Should I?’
    â€˜Oh!’ the Belgian girl exclaimed, exasperated. ‘Where have you been all these years? That’s Harry Douglas. Everybody knows him! He does the commentary on TV and at all the big shows over here.’
    â€˜Okay. But why pick on . . . ? Ah.’ The light dawned. ‘Douglas, as in Stephen Douglas?’
    â€˜Exactly.’ Danielle nodded. ‘In his eyes you’re riding the horses his son should be riding. The fact that Stephen made a mess of the job is presumably beside the point to daddy’s way of thinking.’
    Her number was called and she rode away, leaving Ross to reflect that with opposition in such influential places, gaining recognition in England could prove to be just as hard as it had been in the States.
    The next morning, Ross was busy schooling Barfly in the arena when the Colonel appeared and stood watching with Bill at the gate.
    Fly was an unrewarding pupil. He had the ability, but his attitude left a lot to be desired. Ross had started early with the young horse, before the sun made any exertion uncomfortable, and when his employer appeared he was about ready to stop. He did another ten minutes or so and then rode over to the gate where the Colonel waited, alone now.
    â€˜He’s a bit of a bugger, isn’t he?’ he observed as Ross dismounted.
    â€˜You’re not kidding,’ Ross agreed. ‘It’s not that he can’t, he just doesn’t try.’
    â€˜Mmm. We could see he was being stubborn. I thought you were remarkably patient, considering.’
    â€˜Well, he’s young yet,’ Ross said, setting Barfly free to roll and wondering if there was a purpose to the Colonel’s apparently casual visit.
    â€˜You’re good with the youngsters,’ the older man went on. ‘Even Robbie Fergusson was impressed. He rang me this morning.’
    â€˜Just to tell you that?’ Ross was sceptical and wary. Something in the Colonel’s body language told him this was perhaps sugar to sweeten a bitter pill.
    â€˜Well, no, as a matter of fact,’ he admitted. ‘Ross, I’m afraid Fergusson has decided to sell King. He had a good offer yesterday and sees it as a way to cover some of his expenses. I think perhaps things are a bit tight at the moment.’
    Ross’ face hardened against the familiar disappointment.
    â€˜I see,’ he said tonelessly.
    â€˜I’m sorry.’ The Colonel sounded genuinely so. ‘The thing is, King is in good health and the form of his life but at fourteen, as you know, his value can realistically only go down. He’ll only have two or three more years at the top, however careful we are.’
    â€˜Sure, I understand,’ Ross said with resignation. ‘You know he qualified for Birmingham yesterday?’
    â€˜Yes, I know,’ the Colonel said quietly. ‘That clinched the deal.’
    â€˜Instant success. Bought, not worked for,’ Ross said wryly but without bitterness. It was a familiar scenario. ‘When will he go?’
    â€˜Probably at the end of the week. Look, I’ve got to go now. Come up to the house later, for a sherry.’
    When he had gone, Ross tacked up Ginger and, coming across Danny in the yard, invited the boy to accompany him on Simone. Danny, who had a day off school due to something called a ‘teacher training day’, was a very able rider; a talent which his father did little to