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Description
The Mana Farms story line frequently contains mature language, topics, and situations. The characters within are fictional beings with weaknesses and faults, and I cannot promise you that you will like them for what they believe, say and do.

PREVIOUSLY ON:

Ellie and Ramon glanced at one another the moment the other two disappeared. He cracked her a half smile as she hopped onto the edge of Eddie’s bed and leaned forward, ruffling Ed’s loose black hair at his temples.

“It’s gotten longer,” she commented.

Ramon nodded.

“It looks kinda good this way,” she giggled to the man sleeping wrapped tight and still in baby blue hospital standard blankets, “I like it, Eds, but this little beard you’ve got going here...” she stroked his chin, “that has to go. I can’t kiss you with a beard.”

“I’ll shave it for him before you do,” Ramon promised. He shot her a look. “Gonna go all the way, huh?”

“Nothing less,” she replied. He almost thought for a moment that she might descend back into a fit of tears as she had earlier this week, but instead she turned and shot him a brilliant smile.

They both turned when the phone rang on its stand next to the bed. “It does that a lot,” he mumbled, nodding his head in its direction. Ellie gave him a soft compassionate look and leaned over to take the phone from the table. “Yes, my lover,” she answered using Eddie’s infamous purr, twirling the cord around her fingers. “Oh!” she gasped softly and passed the phone to Ramon. He raised his eyebrows at her.

“Harada,” she breathed.

Ramon held back a fit of laughter and took the phone from her as Randy’s distinct voice struggled to process the abrupt change in guard. Yes, sir, Ramon corrected, he focused his dancing dark eyes squarely on Ellie’s bright ones, and did his best to listen to the Suit while Ellie clasped both hands over her mouth. The owner wanted to share with Eddie that the horse he had picked in early March, and that the barn had shipped to Japan, had just made child’s play of a deep field in a graded stakes race on the turf. Tell him he was right, Randy directed on the other end.

“Well, boss, Eddie’s right here and he says he doesn’t want me to tell him something he already knows. He wants to hear it from you.” Against Randy’s protests buzzing out of the bottom of the phone, Ramon announced, “I’m putting you on speakerphone, sir. Project it nice and loud...there are a lot of machines here.”

He and Ellie closed their eyes tight and suppressed giggles as one of the most powerful men in the industry sighed audibly throughout the room from the little phone held in Ramon’s hand as he held it out toward Eddie.

“Mr. Ne,” Randy began reluctantly from his office in California, “You were correct in your assessment of Sweet Talkin’s potential. He just...as a man of your limited vocabulary would say...kicked ass?”

“Duly noted, cupcake,” Ramon added.

“You are not Eddie Ne,” Randy growled at the other end.

“I’m in character, sir,” Ramon replied.

There was another long sigh. Then: “May I speak with Ramon Fernandez now?”

Ellie collapsed against Ramon’s shoulder in great shuddering fits, she looked up into his face and mouthed oh my god.

Ramon turned and regarded Ellie as he finished his conversation with the Suit. She had gotten up and was already rummaging through the mail and flowers and boxes of cookies, brushing her hands across the table, wiping greeting cards off of the top of the monopoly box. She was still smiling, humming a little classical tune to herself (Ramon recognized the melody but could not for the life of him remember the composer), setting up the game near Eddie’s feet where there was the most space on the bed. Every now and then she reached over and squeezed his toes. Ramon hung up the phone. Ellie smiled up at him as soon as the phone clicked into its seat.

“Would you like to be the bank?” She extended the tray full of colorful cash in Ramon’s direction.

Ramon pushed the faint wisps of the memory of once loving her a great deal out of his mind. He gave her a faint smile. “Not me. Usually Santa takes the money before we can even touch it. She’s the only one good with it.”

“She really is,” Ellie agreed, “It intimidates me. The woman knows no debt. I know from her that the car and house are paid off. Her ‘spree’ on books was an ‘investment’. She even told me she has an education fund...so that one day when she can’t ride she can go to school.”

“Sounds like Santa.”

“It’s a shame the United States can’t see that,” Ellie mused counting out the money and organizing it. She glanced in his direction. “Your English has gotten better in the last year. You could apply up North. Canada would probably take you two.”

Ramon laughed, ignoring the little puff of pride in his chest that she’d noticed his improved speech and literacy; since being promoted to assistant trainer he had worked so hard to sound more professional. “They would take Santa. Me? I belong with Mana. They have my papers. Without them, I’m one missing paycheck, one green truck away from heading back to a country I have no memory of.”

“What do you mean?” Ellie asked. She passed him a bundle of green, pink, blue, and yellow bills and a metal shoe. “How old were you?”

Ramon swallowed. He expected her to take one look at his pinched expression and excuse her intrusiveness, but she didn’t. This was Ellie, he reminded himself, she was worse than Martin. She sat there rooting around through the box for the metal car for Eddie and remained silent, waiting for his reply. “I was six,” he finally confessed. She found the car and placed it on the GO square, looked up into his face, raised her eyebrows as if to say “go on.”

“Eddie already knows this story.”

“I don’t.”

“My mother put myself and my two older sisters inside a freight truck bound for the border with instructions to deliver us to our cousins in San Francisco. The truck headed East instead of West,” he explained matter-of-factually.

Ellie’s eyes widened. She shook her head in confusion. Took the metal dog for herself and placed it in between his shoe and Eddie’s car.

“Florida,” Ramon mumbled to the ground, “El carro fue a la Florida.”

“You were trafficked?!” Ellie gasped.

“You act surprised, like this doesn’t happen anymore.”

“It shouldn’t.”

“Hace. I’m not the only one who made it to a track either.”

“Did Mana Farms...buy you?”

“Cornelius likes to say they ‘claimed’ me,” Ramon shrugged. “The Suit found I was good with horses. That I could pick them....like a fruit.” Ramon reached up and mimed plucking a ripe orange off of a tree. “

Ellie looked horrified, her bright eyes widened like a fire where a dry log had just been tossed. She scowled and rolled the die anyway. Eddie’s metal car zoomed five spaces out. “You should be granted amnesty. Why didn’t the Feds do as much?”

“We ran. Do you know what we grew up hearing about them? The men in the green suits will take you dirty illiterate fuck-ups away. They’ll beat you and lock you up and then stand you up in a row and then go down the ranks and kick you back over the line. I wasn’t going back to that mysterious Mexico that made even the jefes piss their pants. When the Feds showed up, we ran like hell.”

“Okay, but why aren’t you at least a permanent resident? Why are you still on a work visa? And where are your sisters?”

Ramon winced at that, “What do you think happened to two pretty little Mexican girls without their mother?”

“I’m sorry.”

Ramon shrugged like he had when Eddie heard it, when Maggie heard it. Ellie took his cue and changed the subject back to his papers. “And Mana Farms? Your permanent residency?” Ellie prompted again.

Ramon smiled grimly, and held up a pen dangling it like a carrot, swinging it back and forth in front of his own face.

“What? Why? What does Mana want in return?” Ellie sneered, “A non-compete clause?”

Ramon laughed, “Muchacha elegante. Never order the cocktail that is immigration and horseracing.”

Ellie grimaced and looked up at the clock; she realized the time and smiled to herself; a quirky little dance involuntarily bubbled up into her bouncing shoulders and down into her knees and feet. She shook her fists in a silent cheer. Ramon returned her smile, muttering under his breath, “You little matchmaker.”

The girl gave a wicked little snort. “Whatever, I’ll make Canadians of you both. Look at that!” she squealed when he landed on her property, “Pay up.”

Ramon chuckled and paid the Canadian his rent like any good citizen.

NEXT:

Shown:
Name: "Sweet Talkin"
Barn name: "Lothario"
Gender: Colt
Age: 4 yrs
Breed: Thoroughbred
Height: 16.4 hh
Color: (Blood)bay
Markings: Broad blaze, low socks on both fore, low sock left hind
Discipline: Flat Racing
Surface: Dirt
Distance: Sprint-Miler
Sire/Dam: Bernardini x Oneliner
Bloodlines: Foundation
Race Record: 16-6-0-2 (Graded: 3 Grade Ones: 0)

Description
The Mana Farms story line frequently contains mature language, topics, and situations. The characters within are fictional beings with weaknesses and faults, and I cannot promise you that you will like them for what they believe, say and do.

PREVIOUSLY ON:

Ellie and Ramon glanced at one another the moment the other two disappeared. He cracked her a half smile as she hopped onto the edge of Eddie’s bed and leaned forward, ruffling Ed’s loose black hair at his temples.

“It’s gotten longer,” she commented.

Ramon nodded.

“It looks kinda good this way,” she giggled to the man sleeping wrapped tight and still in baby blue hospital standard blankets, “I like it, Eds, but this little beard you’ve got going here...” she stroked his chin, “that has to go. I can’t kiss you with a beard.”

“I’ll shave it for him before you do,” Ramon promised. He shot her a look. “Gonna go all the way, huh?”

“Nothing less,” she replied. He almost thought for a moment that she might descend back into a fit of tears as she had earlier this week, but instead she turned and shot him a brilliant smile.

They both turned when the phone rang on its stand next to the bed. “It does that a lot,” he mumbled, nodding his head in its direction. Ellie gave him a soft compassionate look and leaned over to take the phone from the table. “Yes, my lover,” she answered using Eddie’s infamous purr, twirling the cord around her fingers. “Oh!” she gasped softly and passed the phone to Ramon. He raised his eyebrows at her.

“Harada,” she breathed.

Ramon held back a fit of laughter and took the phone from her as Randy’s distinct voice struggled to process the abrupt change in guard. Yes, sir, Ramon corrected, he focused his dancing dark eyes squarely on Ellie’s bright ones, and did his best to listen to the Suit while Ellie clasped both hands over her mouth. The owner wanted to share with Eddie that the horse he had picked in early March, and that the barn had shipped to Japan, had just made child’s play of a deep field in a graded stakes race on the turf. Tell him he was right, Randy directed on the other end.

“Well, boss, Eddie’s right here and he says he doesn’t want me to tell him something he already knows. He wants to hear it from you.” Against Randy’s protests buzzing out of the bottom of the phone, Ramon announced, “I’m putting you on speakerphone, sir. Project it nice and loud...there are a lot of machines here.”

He and Ellie closed their eyes tight and suppressed giggles as one of the most powerful men in the industry sighed audibly throughout the room from the little phone held in Ramon’s hand as he held it out toward Eddie.

“Mr. Ne,” Randy began reluctantly from his office in California, “You were correct in your assessment of Sweet Talkin’s potential. He just...as a man of your limited vocabulary would say...kicked ass?”

“Duly noted, cupcake,” Ramon added.

“You are not Eddie Ne,” Randy growled at the other end.

“I’m in character, sir,” Ramon replied.

There was another long sigh. Then: “May I speak with Ramon Fernandez now?”

Ellie collapsed against Ramon’s shoulder in great shuddering fits, she looked up into his face and mouthed oh my god.

Ramon turned and regarded Ellie as he finished his conversation with the Suit. She had gotten up and was already rummaging through the mail and flowers and boxes of cookies, brushing her hands across the table, wiping greeting cards off of the top of the monopoly box. She was still smiling, humming a little classical tune to herself (Ramon recognized the melody but could not for the life of him remember the composer), setting up the game near Eddie’s feet where there was the most space on the bed. Every now and then she reached over and squeezed his toes. Ramon hung up the phone. Ellie smiled up at him as soon as the phone clicked into its seat.

“Would you like to be the bank?” She extended the tray full of colorful cash in Ramon’s direction.

Ramon pushed the faint wisps of the memory of once loving her a great deal out of his mind. He gave her a faint smile. “Not me. Usually Santa takes the money before we can even touch it. She’s the only one good with it.”

“She really is,” Ellie agreed, “It intimidates me. The woman knows no debt. I know from her that the car and house are paid off. Her ‘spree’ on books was an ‘investment’. She even told me she has an education fund...so that one day when she can’t ride she can go to school.”

“Sounds like Santa.”

“It’s a shame the United States can’t see that,” Ellie mused counting out the money and organizing it. She glanced in his direction. “Your English has gotten better in the last year. You could apply up North. Canada would probably take you two.”

Ramon laughed, ignoring the little puff of pride in his chest that she’d noticed his improved speech and literacy; since being promoted to assistant trainer he had worked so hard to sound more professional. “They would take Santa. Me? I belong with Mana. They have my papers. Without them, I’m one missing paycheck, one green truck away from heading back to a country I have no memory of.”

“What do you mean?” Ellie asked. She passed him a bundle of green, pink, blue, and yellow bills and a metal shoe. “How old were you?”

Ramon swallowed. He expected her to take one look at his pinched expression and excuse her intrusiveness, but she didn’t. This was Ellie, he reminded himself, she was worse than Martin. She sat there rooting around through the box for the metal car for Eddie and remained silent, waiting for his reply. “I was six,” he finally confessed. She found the car and placed it on the GO square, looked up into his face, raised her eyebrows as if to say “go on.”

“Eddie already knows this story.”

“I don’t.”

“My mother put myself and my two older sisters inside a freight truck bound for the border with instructions to deliver us to our cousins in San Francisco. The truck headed East instead of West,” he explained matter-of-factually.

Ellie’s eyes widened. She shook her head in confusion. Took the metal dog for herself and placed it in between his shoe and Eddie’s car.

“Florida,” Ramon mumbled to the ground, “El carro fue a la Florida.”

“You were trafficked?!” Ellie gasped.

“You act surprised, like this doesn’t happen anymore.”

“It shouldn’t.”

“Hace. I’m not the only one who made it to a track either.”

“Did Mana Farms...buy you?”

“Cornelius likes to say they ‘claimed’ me,” Ramon shrugged. “The Suit found I was good with horses. That I could pick them....like a fruit.” Ramon reached up and mimed plucking a ripe orange off of a tree. “

Ellie looked horrified, her bright eyes widened like a fire where a dry log had just been tossed. She scowled and rolled the die anyway. Eddie’s metal car zoomed five spaces out. “You should be granted amnesty. Why didn’t the Feds do as much?”

“We ran. Do you know what we grew up hearing about them? The men in the green suits will take you dirty illiterate fuck-ups away. They’ll beat you and lock you up and then stand you up in a row and then go down the ranks and kick you back over the line. I wasn’t going back to that mysterious Mexico that made even the jefes piss their pants. When the Feds showed up, we ran like hell.”

“Okay, but why aren’t you at least a permanent resident? Why are you still on a work visa? And where are your sisters?”

Ramon winced at that, “What do you think happened to two pretty little Mexican girls without their mother?”

“I’m sorry.”

Ramon shrugged like he had when Eddie heard it, when Maggie heard it. Ellie took his cue and changed the subject back to his papers. “And Mana Farms? Your permanent residency?” Ellie prompted again.

Ramon smiled grimly, and held up a pen dangling it like a carrot, swinging it back and forth in front of his own face.

“What? Why? What does Mana want in return?” Ellie sneered, “A non-compete clause?”

Ramon laughed, “Muchacha elegante. Never order the cocktail that is immigration and horseracing.”

Ellie grimaced and looked up at the clock; she realized the time and smiled to herself; a quirky little dance involuntarily bubbled up into her bouncing shoulders and down into her knees and feet. She shook her fists in a silent cheer. Ramon returned her smile, muttering under his breath, “You little matchmaker.”

The girl gave a wicked little snort. “Whatever, I’ll make Canadians of you both. Look at that!” she squealed when he landed on her property, “Pay up.”

Ramon chuckled and paid the Canadian his rent like any good citizen.

NEXT:

Shown:
Name: "Sweet Talkin"
Barn name: "Lothario"
Gender: Colt
Age: 4 yrs
Breed: Thoroughbred
Height: 16.4 hh
Color: (Blood)bay
Markings: Broad blaze, low socks on both fore, low sock left hind
Discipline: Flat Racing
Surface: Dirt
Distance: Sprint-Miler
Sire/Dam: Bernardini x Oneliner
Bloodlines: Foundation
Race Record: 16-6-0-2 (Graded: 3 Grade Ones: 0)