As they passed Marcus again, he heard the man’s voice. “Easy, easy, easy…. Quiet now, Gabby, easy, easy.” All in a soothing, even tone. Marcus saw that his reins were just in contact with the horse, he wasn’t jerking on the bit to slow the animal down, he was using his legs and his seat to settle the horse.

Geez, he must have great thighs.

Gabriel finally settled into an easy canter. One-two-three, one-two-three, the gentle rhythm that charmed Marcus’s dreams. They floated by and the man looked as relaxed as if he were watching a Sunday game on his recliner. Another horse and rider walked by outside the ring and the rider called out, “Looking good!”

Gabriel’s rider flashed a quick smile.

They had just moved past Marcus again when Gabriel stumbled. He jerked down to one knee, kicking up sand. Marcus heard his unsettled snort as he went down. His rider stayed in the saddle, thrust forward onto his neck but still seated. He let Gabriel take two steps then sprang out of the saddle.

Marcus walked over to them, concerned.

The rider looped the reins over the horse’s head; he had to stand on tiptoe to do it. Gabriel blew out his nostrils, seeming impatient. The rider made Gabriel walk in a circle around him, watching his left front leg.

Marcus called over. “What do you think?”

“I need to check his shoes. Do you know horses?”

“Sure.” Marcus squeezed through the arena’s railing and moved over to the pair. Up close, the man was solid and imposing. Five-foot-nine, with a sturdy build. Marcus envied the rider’s body; his own long legs and top heavy build made riding hard work. A coconut-based whiff of sunscreen wafted off the other man. The rider’s blue eyes shone against his tanned skin. He had a slender nose, regal-looking, and his chin was sharp. Every plane of his face was crisp and angular.

Marcus took the stallion’s reins and held the animal steady. The other man lifted each hoof and tested the horse’s shoes.

“Well, they all seem to be tight. Maybe it was just a stumble.”

“Want me to trot him out for you?”

“That’d be great.”

Marcus moved the horse off, then turned to trot him in front of the other man. The arena’s sand was thick and unwieldy. He reversed, did the same movement back.

“I think he’s fine,” the rider called.

“The sand is pretty clunky. Need a leg up?” Marcus offered.

The other man grinned. “It’s either that or walk back to the barn to find a mounting stool. Thanks.”

Marcus handed back the reins and noticed the other man’s strangely mottled hands. Creamy white skin mixed in with normal brown, blotched like a pinto. Odd. When he saw the rider had the reins settled, he moved behind the other man, cupped the rider’s lower left calf, and the man was up and in the saddle in two seconds.

“Thanks.” They shook hands.

“Marcus Denton, Leprechaun Farms.”

“Philip Massein, errant rider, no farms.” They grinned.

“I actually came to see Gabriel. We’re looking for studs.”

“You’ll have to talk with Mrs. Reese; I’m just the hired help.” Gabriel tossed his head. “Time to get back to it.”

“Good luck with your class.”

“Thanks!” And they cantered away, kicking up dust, Gabriel tail swishing. Marcus’s throat went tight.

Available in Horse Tales from Amazon Kindle and Smashwords.

“Feathers” a long short story I wrote a few years back has recently re-released through Lethe Press and is available exclusively from the fun folks at All Romance E-books. The story combines themes near and dear to my heart: animal rescue, horses, grieving, and manlove, all wrapped up in one heartfelt and juicy package. In honor of the hawk at the story’s center, I’m donating part of my proceeds from this story to the Audubon Birds of Prey Center in Maitland, Florida.

They do rescue and rehab of raptors: hawks, owls, falcons, eagles, and other hunting species. It’s an awesome place to visit and if you can spare some money, the birds and staff will be most appreciative!

All Romance E-books is now offering the short story collection as a download.

And it already has reviews, smoochy kisses and hearts! For readers who prefer e-books, this is a nice alternative for small presses to offer their works. It’s more financially feasible for a press like Lethe to offer titles through an e-book distributor like All Romance E-books plus it saves on trees and shipping and carbon emissions and all. They’re portable and don’t take up space like hard copies do. Give one a try!

My publisher has given me the okay to sell signed/inscribed copies of Rough Cut privately, so if you’re interested, please shoot me an email: vincent@vincentdiamond.com. If you’re in the U.S., I can manage one for $22. If you’re outside the U.S., let’s talk and work out a shipping and exchange rate, okay?

“Irish Cream” appears in Horse Tales and Rough Cut: Vincent Diamond Collected.

Most mornings I’m here with Jerry Sputmeir and Steve the Sleeve. Steve did some time back in the day, and well, we just like using the names from the old days. Makes it kinda homey. None of us were made guys but we worked the game. Jerry was into the numbers up in Brooklyn, and Steve did some loan sharking in addition to his regular burglary gigs. Me? I’m not spillin’. Suffice to say that the horses and me, we go way back.

Anyway, this one morning, I’m on the rail. It’s mid-January, cold for Florida, about forty, and misty. The horses come onto the track at the west end, skittering around like hockey pucks, cantering sideways, all antsy. These days, exercise riders wear vests and helmets. Some wear gloves to grip the reins. A spooked thoroughbred can take off and hit forty miles an hour, so if one starts to run away with you, you’d better have gloves to help you haul his ass in.

Exercise riders still ride butt up though, just like the old days. Nice.

This gray jogs by, tossing his head, kicking up dirt, being feisty, ya know? And when I see the kid on him, it arrows right through me.

Liam.

The strawberry blonde of his hair. The cool green eyes. The muscular chest.

It wasn’t just that this kid looked like Liam, it was the way he sat the horse. Some exercise riders use brute strength that’s where they get those fabulous arms but some use finesse and sweet talk with their charges. That’s what this kid was doing. I saw him leaning over the gray’s withers, stroking the horse’s neck, even its chest. That took some doing with the way this horse antsed around.

What it took was great legs.

I closed my eyes and remembered Liam’s legs. Their strength tight around me, so tight I couldn’t move or breathe or think. And didn’t want to.

Liam’s legs

Back in the fifties, things was different, and not just at the track. Men wore hats and suits everyday, and the only guys wearing jeans were the boys mucking out stalls. You tipped your hat to women, you were polite, you took care of business without a lot of drama.

That also meant if you walked the other way around the track, you didn’t advertise it. Sure, there were queer guys back in the fifties; we just didn’t make a big deal about it. I never saw guys living together like they do nowadays, least not in the tri-state area. Not in my crowd. My guys learned not to make jokes about women with me, and by the time I was in my thirties and running my own crew, it wasn’t a matter of discussion. Not in my earshot.

I wasn’t even at the track when I met Liam. It was at Leprechaun Farms down to Ocala. I was visiting the trainer””on certain uh, collections business, let’s just say””and he was giving me the tour of the barns. Horses never really did much for me, beyond what they could earn for me at the betting windows, but even I knew these were special animals. They gleamed. They had the look of conditioned athletes: the bulging muscle, the thick veins just beneath their smooth pelts. Healthy as, well, horses. It was May and the barn had fans running in all four corners. It was still warm, though, and I sweated beneath my pinstriped suit. I fanned myself with my hat.

Jimmy, the trainer guy, was talking my ear off about bloodlines and race cards and numbers. After ten minutes of this, I kinda tuned him out. Some splashing and whinnying came from the north side of the barn so I edged over, just to see what I can see, ya know? And hoping to catch a breeze.

What I caught was an eyeful.

There was a stallion on the padded area with the hose set-up. Tied on both sides of his head but he tried to rear up, front legs pawing at the air. He bellowed and I’ve never heard a sound like that “deeper than a regular whinny” more of a groaning. The way people might groan in bed.