his fingers. "To tell you the truth, I hadn't thought much about it until now."
He glanced around at some of the photos on the walls. "Looks to me like you know your business. I like that one there."
Honor followed the direction of his glance. "Ah, my one shot at the Southwestern look. I can see why that would appeal to you." She smiled at him. "What on earth made you decide to stop by and see me, Ethan? I would think you'd be out at Santa Anita."
"Already watched the morning workouts," he said easily. "Conn was there, too."
She nodded composedly. "Yes, he said he wanted to discuss Legacy's future with Toby Humphrey."
"Well," Ethan said as if he weren't quite certain how to continue. "He did. He also talked a bit about Legacy's past."
Honor's gaze was quizzical. "Is something wrong, Ethan?" she finally asked gently.
The older man shifted uncomfortably. "To tell you the truth, I don't rightly know. But I've been around a long time, Miss Mayfield. Maybe too long. A man can get cynical in his sunset years."
"You're hardly in your sunset years. I don't think you'll be the type to ever hit them." Honor grinned.
He returned her smile but there was a measure of seriousness in his normally cheerful eyes. "Honor, I wonder if I could speak quite frankly."
"Of course."
"What I'm going to say is probably none of my business. But I feel obliged to say it, anyway. You're such a nice young lady. And seeing you off and on with Conn at the track I've come to think of you as a friend."
A trickle of warning went down Honor's spine. "What's wrong, Ethan? Why are you here?"
He sighed, glancing up at the photo of the Southwestern-style office. "Your last name is Mayfield."
She blinked in astonishment. "Well, yes."
"Conn said this morning that your father had once owned Legacy's sire, an animal called Stylish Legacy."
"That's right."
Ethan closed his eyes briefly and when he opened them his gaze was very level. "Your father's full name would have been Nick Mayfield?"
The warning sensation was stronger now. "Did you know him, Ethan?"
The older man shook his head. "I've been in racing a long time, Honor. It's kind of a small world. When I heard your last name was Mayfield, I just brushed the whole thing off as a coincidence. After all, it's been a long time…"
"It's been fifteen years since my father died, if that's what you're trying to say."
Ethan cleared his throat. "Not exactly. That is, I remember the newspapers really played it up big."
"Yes." The residual anger of a helpless thirteen-year-old girl still simmered. "Everyone seems rather interested in ancient history these days. Did you know my father?"
"Not well. But I was certainly aware of the horse he owned. Stylish Legacy was the most promising colt on the West Coast fifteen years ago. Since he was sold to that syndicate he's lived up to that promise.
Legacy cost Conn a fair-size fortune."
"Ethan, I still don't understand what you're trying to say.
"I'm making a mess of this," he grumbled. "Honor, this is real tough on me. Lord knows I don't want to get involved in anything personal between you and Conn, but I don't want to see you hurt, either. Conn, well, he can take care of himself, but you're just a little thing and you don't know what's going on behind the scenes. I didn't know myself, or rather, I didn't want to admit I knew until this morning when Conn mentioned that your father was the Mayfield that had owned Stylish Legacy."
"Please get to the point, Ethan," Honor said tensely. "It's obvious you're trying to tell me something."
He inhaled deeply. "Honor, you probably know your dad had a partner."
"I'm aware of it.
"The man the newspapers said was with him in that nasty business in the Middle East," Ethan went on doggedly. "Do you remember that man's name?"
"Vaguely. I think it began with an S. Stone or Stanton or something. Why?" Honor realized she was tapping the tip of a pencil against her floor plans and leaving small black marks. Annoyed, she
He glanced around at some of the photos on the walls. "Looks to me like you know your business. I like that one there."
Honor followed the direction of his glance. "Ah, my one shot at the Southwestern look. I can see why that would appeal to you." She smiled at him. "What on earth made you decide to stop by and see me, Ethan? I would think you'd be out at Santa Anita."
"Already watched the morning workouts," he said easily. "Conn was there, too."
She nodded composedly. "Yes, he said he wanted to discuss Legacy's future with Toby Humphrey."
"Well," Ethan said as if he weren't quite certain how to continue. "He did. He also talked a bit about Legacy's past."
Honor's gaze was quizzical. "Is something wrong, Ethan?" she finally asked gently.
The older man shifted uncomfortably. "To tell you the truth, I don't rightly know. But I've been around a long time, Miss Mayfield. Maybe too long. A man can get cynical in his sunset years."
"You're hardly in your sunset years. I don't think you'll be the type to ever hit them." Honor grinned.
He returned her smile but there was a measure of seriousness in his normally cheerful eyes. "Honor, I wonder if I could speak quite frankly."
"Of course."
"What I'm going to say is probably none of my business. But I feel obliged to say it, anyway. You're such a nice young lady. And seeing you off and on with Conn at the track I've come to think of you as a friend."
A trickle of warning went down Honor's spine. "What's wrong, Ethan? Why are you here?"
He sighed, glancing up at the photo of the Southwestern-style office. "Your last name is Mayfield."
She blinked in astonishment. "Well, yes."
"Conn said this morning that your father had once owned Legacy's sire, an animal called Stylish Legacy."
"That's right."
Ethan closed his eyes briefly and when he opened them his gaze was very level. "Your father's full name would have been Nick Mayfield?"
The warning sensation was stronger now. "Did you know him, Ethan?"
The older man shook his head. "I've been in racing a long time, Honor. It's kind of a small world. When I heard your last name was Mayfield, I just brushed the whole thing off as a coincidence. After all, it's been a long time…"
"It's been fifteen years since my father died, if that's what you're trying to say."
Ethan cleared his throat. "Not exactly. That is, I remember the newspapers really played it up big."
"Yes." The residual anger of a helpless thirteen-year-old girl still simmered. "Everyone seems rather interested in ancient history these days. Did you know my father?"
"Not well. But I was certainly aware of the horse he owned. Stylish Legacy was the most promising colt on the West Coast fifteen years ago. Since he was sold to that syndicate he's lived up to that promise.
Legacy cost Conn a fair-size fortune."
"Ethan, I still don't understand what you're trying to say.
"I'm making a mess of this," he grumbled. "Honor, this is real tough on me. Lord knows I don't want to get involved in anything personal between you and Conn, but I don't want to see you hurt, either. Conn, well, he can take care of himself, but you're just a little thing and you don't know what's going on behind the scenes. I didn't know myself, or rather, I didn't want to admit I knew until this morning when Conn mentioned that your father was the Mayfield that had owned Stylish Legacy."
"Please get to the point, Ethan," Honor said tensely. "It's obvious you're trying to tell me something."
He inhaled deeply. "Honor, you probably know your dad had a partner."
"I'm aware of it.
"The man the newspapers said was with him in that nasty business in the Middle East," Ethan went on doggedly. "Do you remember that man's name?"
"Vaguely. I think it began with an S. Stone or Stanton or something. Why?" Honor realized she was tapping the tip of a pencil against her floor plans and leaving small black marks. Annoyed, she
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