Backstretch Baby (27 page)

Rick shook his head. “I’ve never seen anything like that.”

“It’s the way they trained Tizzy back at the ranch,” Ashley said. “And Miguel’s doing his best. He’s just not used to all the walking. Jackson and Victoria never let him in the paddock. They insist their staff look professional. I don’t know how we’re going to manage tomorrow with Stinger. I’m pregnant so Eve doesn’t have anyone else.”

Her eyes narrowed appraisingly on Rick. “And you can’t do it. I mean that look totally works for you. But you’d scare the women and children. Victoria would hate that.”

He scowled. He didn’t scare all women, certainly not Eve. And he was wearing jeans and a T-shirt, simple groom clothes, no motorcycle in sight. Admittedly, there was a big gap between him and the rest of the spectators, as if nobody wanted to risk coming too close.

A little girl with pigtails stood twenty feet away, a hotdog gripped in her hands. Rick gave her an experimental smile. She immediately twisted, hiding behind her father’s legs and smearing his knees with ketchup.

Rick ignored Ashley’s snicker and looked back at Tizzy. Okay, maybe he was a little intimidating. And usually that was a relief. A tough appearance helped with his job. But he didn’t feel relieved. He certainly didn’t want to scare Joey. It would be hard enough being around the boy. If they were both frightened, it would be a disaster.

In the saddling enclosure, Eve was giving final instructions to Tizzy’s rider. The jockey nodded and flicked her stick against her black boot. He wished he could hear what Eve was saying, instead of being stuck on the outside with the other spectators. Hopefully, she was making suggestions about how to wake up the horse.

Then Miguel and Tizzy shuffled up, and Eve boosted the jockey into the saddle. The line of mounted horses turned from the saddling enclosure and headed through the tunnel to the track. Nine of the runners looked like quality racehorses. But Tizzy just ambled beside Miguel, even with a jockey on his back.

Only fifteen minutes to post. Not much time to remind Tizzy he was headed for a race. Rick rubbed his sweaty palms against his jeans. He’d been less nervous in gunfights.

“Let’s join Eve and Miguel,” Ashley said, turning away from the rail. “They always watch by the finish line.”

Rick wheeled. He didn’t want to watch Tizzy—he preferred backing winners—but Eve was certainly going to need his support.

They wove through the surging crowd, past the beer stands and betting windows and found Eve standing by the rail.

Tizzy had joined the post parade and was now being escorted by a pretty rider on a stocky bay horse. The rider looked vaguely familiar, and when she nodded at him, Rick realized it was Dana, the woman with the nice breasts from the caps tournament.

Eve turned toward him. “So, what do you think?” she asked.

He froze, wondering if it were some kind of trick question. But then he absorbed the proud tilt of her shoulders, her confident smile, and his heart swelled. She was smart and brave and didn’t give a rat’s ass about trivial flirtations, reserving her energy for the horses and people she cared about. No wonder they’d nicknamed her Princess.

“I think,” he said, “that you’re unique.” He could see she wanted to talk about Tizzy so he added, “And that our horse is smart about conserving energy.”

She nodded happily. “His last three races he was sweating and agitated. Having Miguel in the paddock and Julie as his jockey is new. And he’s not wearing blinkers. Hopefully those changes will help him regain his form. At least I hope they will.” Her voice trailed off, and it was obvious she wasn’t quite as confident as she appeared.

He nodded, frustrated that she was in such a tough position and there was nothing he could do to help. She was experimenting with a lot of different angles. But it was hard to fine-tune an athlete who couldn’t talk. Race results were open to public scrutiny and considerable second guessing. Worst of all, she reported to a head trainer with a very hostile wife.

“Watching is probably harder than riding,” he said, noting her clenched fingers.

She pressed a hand over her chest. “My heart’s pounding. This is my first race as an assistant trainer. He looks good though, doesn’t he?”

Rick glanced back at the parading horses, wishing he could agree. But at this point, it was too late for anything but reassurance. For a moment, he even wished he were a horse. So he could race instead and give Eve a shot at her first win, instead of relying on Tizzy, a too-kind gelding who could be ridden alone in the dark with just a halter and piece of rope.

“No matter how he does,” Rick said, “you still have Stinger’s race tomorrow.”

Someone shuffled up and he glanced around. Miguel stood behind them. His face was impassive but his index finger tapped excitedly at the metal snap of the lead line.

“You did a great job in the paddock,” Eve said, instantly squeezing sideways and making a place for the groom between her and Ashley. “Thank you.”

Miguel looked down, then back at the horses. A flush climbed his face. Clearly he respected Eve and was delighted with her praise.

“You sure did,” Ashley said. “And we have time to get another bet down and make more money for Camila. Do you still like his chances, Miguel?”

Miguel’s rheumy eyes gleamed. “He will win today,” he said.

Ashley grinned at Eve, then stuck her hand in her pocket and hurried back toward the betting windows.

Rick wrapped his hands around the rail, resolved to keep his mouth shut. It was doubtful Camila’s fund would make any money today. But he was enjoying the camaraderie, the teamwork, the sense of accomplishment.

He’d helped get Tizzy to the starting gate. He’d cleaned the horse’s stall, filled his hay net, and funded his race bridle. And in the process, he’d developed an attachment to the animals, the people, to the entire community. There was certainly little time to stress about anything except the horses. In fact, he barely flinched when a young boy ran up to the rail, hopping on one foot and gawking at the horses.

Rick looked at Eve. “Is it always like this?”

She nodded, understanding his question. “It’s full of highs and lows, but totally absorbing. I can’t imagine working anywhere else.”

She pointed at the horses nearing the starting gate. “Julie’s feet are in the irons. Tizzy knows it’s time now,” she added, “so you can stop worrying.”

Rick followed her gaze. When Tizzy had paraded past the grandstand, the jockey’s legs had been hanging by his sides. Now she’d placed her toes in the irons. And the change in Tizzy was remarkable. His body was coiled, his head arched over the bit, his ears pricked toward the gate. He rushed forward, so impatient to enter he almost clipped the assistant starter.

“He’s a horse who wants to please,” Eve added. “And he knows it’s not time to race until the rider’s feet are in the stirrups. That night in the dark, when I took my legs out of the stirrup, he quit prancing. That small thing can save a lot of energy.”

“Did you tell the jockey that?”

Eve nodded. “Julie is great because she listens. To the horse and the trainer.” She glanced at the tote board. “I’m not sure if the bettors were impressed with his quiet behavior though. His odds are the highest they’ve ever been.”

Rick gave a wry nod. He’d also written off Tizzy based on his cowhorse appearance. Yet this was a long race, and it could be won by a whisker. Unlike Tizzy’s competitors, their horse had conserved every drop of energy.

Their horse.
He stared over the infield, sharing Eve’s pride, watching as the rest of the runners loaded. The gray horse balked, refusing to move his feet. But Tizzy waited in the gate, poised and alert, his new bridle flashing whitely in the sun. He looked like a knight’s charger, ready for battle.

“Guess there’s not many horses like Tizzy,” Rick said.

“No,” Eve said, “there aren’t. He’s a pleasure to be around. But he still has to outrun nine other horses. Hopefully hanging out with Miguel will give him back his confidence, his desire to win. Everyone needs to feel special.”

Amen, Rick thought. He ached to wrap her slim body in his arms but resisted the compulsion. This was a special moment—watching the first horse she’d every trained, and she vibrated with excitement. When those gates burst open, she’d need to be free, to bounce and cheer and urge Tizzy on.

He didn’t know if Tizzy was good enough to win, but there was no doubt Eve made him feel special. Alive. Trusted. And no longer alone.

He lifted his face in gratitude, feeling like he’d escaped from society’s seedy underbelly and somehow stepped into the sun. And it was a place he intended to stay. If only he could.

“They’re off!” the announcer called. The horses burst from the gate in a line of flashing colors.

Eve jumped with the crack of the gate, praying for a good break. Tizzy shot from the six hole, running straight and even, his white bridle flashing. She exhaled, relieved all ten were safely out with no mishap. A fair start for all. Now he just had to run his race.

The horses thundered past, galloping by the grandstand for the first time. The speed horse on the outside had taken control, his gray tail streaming as he happily led the runners toward the first turn. Tizzy was racing midpack, fifth, outside a blinkered bay.

She rocked forward, imagining she was on his back. But instead of the reins, she could only squeeze the rail. “Watch the turn,” she said. “Don’t let him push you out.”

She pressed her mouth shut, realizing she was calling instructions to Julie West, one of the top jockeys in the country.

“Don’t go too wide,” Ashley screeched, jumping almost a foot off the ground. “Grab that hole!”

Clearly jockeys were the worst critics, Eve decided, but then she stopped worrying. Didn’t care that she was jumping and hollering and elbowing Ashley as Julie coolly brought Tizzy up on the outside, staying at the gray’s hip as they raced down the backstretch. Eve knew she couldn’t have positioned him any better.

Tizzy was galloping smoothly. He had a clear view of the track and there was no kickback, no dirt stinging his face. He and his rider looked relaxed and in control. There was only one horse in front of him when they entered the final turn, and the gray was tiring. It was obvious from his straining head, his shortened stride…and the way Tizzy galloped past him.

“Oh, my God.” Ashley’s voice rose with glee. “He’s going to win.”

The local favorite, a white-faced chestnut with a big closing kick, was making his move. However, Tizzy spurted loose on the turn, eating up the ground with his powerful stride. And when they straightened down the homestretch, he was five lengths in front, extending his lead without any visible encouragement from his jockey.

“She’s not even moving,” Eve said.

Indeed, Julie was sitting chilly, just letting Tizzy enjoy his run. And the horse was opening up, galloping away from the other horses, his ears pricked.

He crossed the wire eight lengths in front of the second-place chestnut.

“Tiz A Keeper wins it easy,” the announcer said.

Eve leaped in the air. And then Ashley was hugging her, and they were dancing a circle by the rail, and Ashley was talking about the exacta they’d hit. And it was wonderful, and every bit as exciting as her first jockey win.

She grabbed Miguel’s arm. His eyes were moist and she’d never seen his face all scrunched up like that but she totally understood, because she felt the same way. And then Rick gave her a big squeeze and whispered something about a wonderful training job, and her face felt like it was glowing.

She took a steadying breath because she’d watched other trainers, and it wasn’t cool to celebrate too raucously. But this was her first win and they all loved Tizzy, and she permitted herself another joyous skip. Then she composed herself and hurried behind Miguel, who was already headed out to catch the horse.

Tizzy and Julie trotted up the middle of the track. The horse’s chest was caked with dirt but he puffed with pride, enjoying the cheers of the crowd. Julie’s teeth flashed in a big smile.

“He’s a pro,” she said, leaning over the saddle and pumping Eve’s hand. “You had him prepared well. Thanks for the ride.”

And Eve couldn’t stop grinning because Julie West had her pick of quality horses. And trainers. A compliment from her needed to be savored.

Miguel stopped patting Tizzy’s neck and tried to pass Eve the lead shank. But she shook her head. “You lead him in. We’ll gather around.”

Miguel blinked, then led Tizzy into the winner’s circle. And even though Miguel moved awkwardly, his limp wasn’t obvious because Tizzy immediately quit prancing, shortening his stride to match his beloved groom’s.

A woman in a blue suit shook Eve’s hand and presented her with a monogrammed cooler. They squeezed around Tizzy and a camera clicked. Everyone was smiling, and Rick chuckled with Julie’s husband.

“We’re going to Louisville next month,” Julie said, pulling her saddle off Tizzy. “But I’d love to ride him again, if we ever cross tracks.”

Eve nodded, feeling like she was dancing on air. If a jock like Julie West re-offered her services, it said a lot about Tizzy. She wished Dex and Dani were here. They’d been worrying about their horse, wondering if he should be shipped back to the ranch. No doubt, they’d watched the race online. Still, it wasn’t the same.

She pulled out her phone, snapped a picture of Tizzy in the winner’s circle, then pressed ‘send.’

Dani texted back almost immediately.
Yay. He’s back. Thank you! Let us know your plans for next race
.

Of course, the next race would be up to Jackson, but at least Tizzy wouldn’t be retired. Eve sent another picture to her boss then slid the phone back in her pocket. She’d have to call Jackson today, but not yet. This moment was too much fun to risk dampening with any barbed comments.

An hour later, Eve and Miguel led a weary Tizzy back from the test barn. She’d wanted to save Miguel some walking, but he insisted on staying with the horse. He’d crooned and whistled and walked, helping the pee catcher gather a sample. And both Tizzy and Eve appreciated him.