Chapter 1

Tanya and Tasha Corcoran eased out of their bed. Although each had a suite of her own, they spent almost all of their time in Tanya's. (It was a few steps closer to the stairway.) And even though their new home was spacious to say the very least, they still slept each night cuddled up with one another. Although it was only six-thirty and there had been no alarm, the two pairs of eyes opened together.

Damn! Tanya thought. Although we're not related — I don't think — Tasha and I might as well be identical twins.

And she was right. Although they had been in the States for only a few months, they were the same height, same weight, with the same hair and eyes. But beyond that, they thought alike and often one would start a sentence and the other would finish it.

Without exchanging a word, the two girls got out of bed, went to the bathroom, relieved themselves, brushed their teeth and stumbled down the backstairs to the workout room. There they began their regular workouts and then went through the sliding doors and dove into the 50-meter pool to do their laps.

This is better than a shower, Tasha thought. This water is cleaner than any shower. And, thank God, there's no chlorine!

Although it never occurred to either girl, their times were routinely close to records. Finishing their laps — they did ten, or 1,000 meters — they dried off casually and went up the backstairs to the kitchen. Although it wasn't yet eight o'clock, the mid-August day was already hot and promising to become much hotter.

"Good morning, Mrs. Johnson!" Tanya chirped in her most cheerful voice.

The mocha-colored woman just glared at her with a raised eyebrow. Like the girls, she was five feet nine, weighed 125 pounds, and was a beauty. And, like the girls, she was naked except for an apron that didn't reach to her bare pudenda.

"Oh, dear! I forgot again!" said Tanya, pretending to be contrite. Then with a big grin she said, "Good morning, Jessie!"

"And good morning to you, too, squirt!" Jessie Johnson said, pretending to be irritated.

This was a game the two had been playing for weeks. The two girls were no sooner seated than Jessie put their big breakfasts in front of them. The kitchen was on the home's first floor and offered a view of the swimming pool. It had taken little time for Jessie to be able to predict to the minute when the girls would appear just from timing their laps.

"And what are you going to do today?" she asked.

What she really meant — and the way the girls heard the question — was what were they going to do after working with their horses.

It had started after Tatiana and Natasha had been at the Farm for only a couple of days. They had been out walking around Bluegrass Farm and had learned it was enormous: 10,000 acres or nearly 16 square miles. The fact was that the farm was actually a town in itself and bordered Lafayette County. Because it was a town, arrangements had been made with the city of Lexington to educate any children living on the farm on a tuition basis. And there were more than a few children to be educated. However, the way it worked was there was actually a private school on the farm that ran through the eighth grade. Students only went to the Lexington schools for high school, and the school was Memorial High School, the closest to the farm. [Author's note: Don't look for Memorial High School in Lexington, Kentucky; it doesn't exist.]

The two girls had gone only a short distance from the house in a direction parallel to the training track and the horse barns. They both stopped short when they topped a rise and found themselves looking down into a pasture surrounded by tall white board fences that were almost a hallmark of the Kentucky horse country.

The pasture was several acres in area and it appeared to be heaven on earth for horses. It was covered with lush green Kentucky bluegrass. There were a number of very large shade trees on the south side to provide cooling shade in the heat of the summer along with a spring that rose in wood-lined barrel-like pool. The overflow became a tiny creek that flowed away from a corner of the pasture.

As large as the pasture was, it was home to only two horses. But they were the most beautiful pair the girls had ever seen. Both were coal black, so black their coats almost appeared to be blue-tinted. Seeing them, the girls immediately knew that these were King and Blackie. Technically, they were King of Bluegrass Farm and Black Silk. Both were two years old but had not been trained, and only Blackie had ever even been ridden. They learned that, like his sire, Satan, King would allow no one on his back.

But as they drew closer to the fence, something strange happened. The two horses trotted over to the fence, seeming to welcome the girls. When Tanya came close, King stretched his long neck out and nuzzled her. At the same time, Blackie shyly went to Tasha and did the same to her.

"He likes me!" Tanya exclaimed.

"And she likes me," Tasha replied.

"Let's go find some stable hands!" Tanya suggested. "Maybe they could let them out of the pasture for us."

As they turned to head to the stables, the two horses moved back a few feet from the fence and then King effortlessly jumped it and trotted after the girls. Blackie was only a few feet behind.

"I guess we don't need any help to free them from the pasture," Tanya giggled. Then she pretended to glare at King and demanded, "Aren't you a thoroughbred? Thoroughbreds aren't supposed to be able to jump."

Along with everything else, King proved to be a ham. He pretended to hang his head in shame while quietly pawing the ground with one of his fore hooves. The girls howled with laughter.

As they headed toward the stables, they were joined by Andy and Rachel, or more properly, Andrew and Rachel Jackson, a pair of Bengal tigers. The tigers greeted the girls and then licked the necks of the two horses. Obviously, the four animals were the best of friends.

Reaching the stables, it took only a few minutes to have hackamores put on the two horses — the girls decided there would be no bits for them — followed by saddles. Although neither girl had ever ridden a horse, they had seen enough in films to figure out how to get on their backs. The two horses stood motionless as the girls mounted.

With King leading the way, they went to an exercise ring and began just walking around to accustom the girls to riding. As the girls quickly became comfortable, the two horses just added more and more moves to their repertoire. When King felt Tanya was comfortable, he cantered off to the mile-long practice track with the two tigers trailing behind.

When they were out on the track, the rail was lined with stable hands and the entire training staff including John Andrews, the chief trainer. They watched as the two horses took positions in the middle of the track at a starting line. The two tigers, Andy and Rachel, took positions flanking them.

Tanya and Tasha exchanged looks as they sat on their mounts, waiting. The two slowly shook their heads and shrugged. Neither knew what to do next. Then King turned his head and seemed to look back at Tanya. She figured the ball was in her court, so she shouted, "Go!"

All four animals were off with the tigers jumping out in front. The girls leaned forward over their mounts' necks, and the colt and filly both accelerated.

Andrews wore an electronic stopwatch around his neck at all times. It was almost his badge of office. When he heard Tanya shout, he instinctively pressed the Start button.

Around the track they went, with the tigers maintaining their lead. The fact is that while a racehorse can run at about 35 miles per hour for the length of a race, a tiger can maintain approximately that speed all day, and can hit 50 in spurts. In other words, there was no way the horses could catch the two tigers. While everyone was focused on King, Blackie was maintaining position beside him trailing by a head. As the horses came out of the last turn, they pounded toward the finish line.

Only then did Andrews realize that the starting position the horses had taken put the finish line at a mile and a half, coincidentally the distance of The Belmont Stakes, the last and longest of the Triple Crown races. He had positioned himself at the finish line and clicked his watch as King thundered across.

The girls had had the ride of their lives. Of course it had to have been since it was the first time either had ever been on horseback. Both girls had been stretched out over the necks of their mounts until they crossed the line. Then both sat up as the horses eased down, then turned and cantered back toward the finish. Remarkably, neither horse seemed to be at all tired.

Only then did John Andrews look at his stopwatch. When he did, his eyes bugged. Slowly shaking his head he said to himself, but loud enough to be heard by the others around him, "My God! King's time tied the record for the Belmont Stakes! I had him at 2:24!"

"But they're only two years old!" his chief assistant exclaimed.

"And — good heavens! — the weight! They must be carrying at least 10 more pounds than they would at The Belmont!" a stableman murmured.

"At least that," Andrews responded. "I don't know how much those girls weigh, but I would bet it's at least 120 pounds. Furthermore, those are training saddles not racing ones. I'm sure they're at least five pounds heavier, maybe more."

Jeff Spencer, Andrew's chief assistant, had been mentally reviewing the race. He let out a soft whistle and then asked, "Did any of you watch Black Silk?"

Andrews then did what Spencer had just done: He mentally reviewed the race. Then he, too, let out a soft whistle and said quietly, "Yeah, I did. She was matching him stride for stride the whole damned race! He won by a head, but her position relative to him didn't change by an inch over the full course!"

To the utter amazement of the bystanders, the two horses calmly leaped the railing and went to a show ring. There the two horses practiced saddle-horse gaits. But Andrews and his people paid no attention. They were still reflecting on the incredible race.

"King of Bluegrass and Black Silk are both nominated for the three Triple Crown races, aren't they?" Hearing an affirmative response from Spencer, he slowly shook his head. "Guys, I think we have some real winners here. Can you imagine? Only two years old and carrying more weight, they tie the Belmont record!"

Then his eyes flared. "Oh, shit! Who's going to ride them?"

"Remember, boss, the girls' ... great-grandmother... ? the Duchess of Northumbria, rode King's sire, Satan, to wins in both the Grand National steeplechase and The Derby." He paused to think and then added, "I've seen the films of both races a number of times, and it was like today: Satan broke out in front and just ran away from the field."

Again Spencer paused, thinking back to that day's race. "Damn! Did you notice the start? If you think about it, those horses wanted to break like quarterhorses, but were afraid to do it for fear the girls would get dumped off the hind end." Again he paused, then grinned and added, "It's not unknown in quarterhorse racing for experienced riders to be dumped off that way."

"So we train the girls in quarterhorse starts and let them run away with it..." Andrews mused. "Okay, guys, here's what we're going to do: The first start for those horses is going to be the Kentucky Derby! No prelims! Oh, boy!" he exclaimed, thinking aloud. "What a payday that is going to be! Just think ... no racing experience and carrying extra weight—"

"Is that legal?" Jeff Spencer interrupted.

"Hell, yes! The weigh-in is to ensure that no horse has a weight advantage. He can't be carrying less than the stated weight. But if an owner wants to handicap his own horse with extra weight, that's his choice. He's giving the other horses an advantage over his own and that's legal!"

Spencer was still thinking about the prospects. Then he asked, "But what about the girls riding? Is that legal?"

"Jeff, buddy, who owns those horses?"

Spencer's eyes widened. Softly he replied, "The girls do. They're joint owners of both King of Bluegrass and Black Silk. You mean... ?"

"I sure do mean!" Andrews replied with a grin. "An owner is always a qualified rider to ride her own horse. It hasn't been done in living memory to my knowledge, but it's very legal."

Spencer let out a low whistle. Then with a grin he said, "We need to find some nice bookies—"

"Both here and overseas," Andrews interjected. Then he mused, "I wonder what sort of odds we could get betting King to take the Triple Crown? A thousand-to-one, maybe?"

Visions of a humongous payday danced in the heads of the Farm's people. Without a word being said, it was instantly understood by everyone that there would be no hint of the performance of the two horses. It was silently understood that the horses would never even be mentioned when meeting socially with other horsemen.