Thirty“That’s one thing I haven’t done.” Seb stopped buttering his toast.
“What’s that?” John leaned over the morning paper spread out in front of him, coffee cup in one hand, toast in the other, at ease in a paisley banyan, the informal house robe men wore for relaxation over loose shirt and breeches, looking for all the world like the King of his Castle. Seb supposed he was.
“Talked to the manager at the Louisiana Race Course. Where Isabella had her fall.”
The thudding of horse hooves down the grassway to the nearby stables caught their attention. “That’s what made me think of it,” said Seb as they watched Isabella smoothly bring the mare to a halt and hand the reins to Nelson. She spun around and headed straight across the meadow towards them.
“I called back a couple of times to tal
