Kentucky Rich (16 page)

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Authors: Fern Michaels

BOOK: Kentucky Rich
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Stardancer ran full out, his long legs eating up the ground. Nealy had never felt such exhilaration. Her heart banged against her chest at the thrill of it all.
“Way to go, Nealy,” Hunt shouted, as she walked Stardancer to the track's exit. “I take back everything I said. I was wrong. You can be a jockey. You
will
be a jockey.”
Nealy beamed at him. “Thanks, Hunt. It means a lot to me for you to say that.”
On her way back to the barn, Nealy remembered tomorrow was her birthday. She'd always treated it as just another day, but this time she felt like celebrating. What would happen if she took the day off?
Could
she take the day off? Maybe she could take the night off instead and go into town to a movie. A grown-up night out. Maybe Smitty would go with her. Or she could ask Hunt. No, he might think it was a date. Then there was the question of what to wear. She thought about the elegant, trashy dress she'd bought at Christmas but had never worn. Knowing she had no fashion sense to speak of, she knew it wasn't suitable for a movie.
It was late in the afternoon when Nealy trudged up to the house for fresh coffee. On her way back she stopped in the office to see what Smitty was up to. “I think,” she said, taking a quick sip, “that coffee runs in my veins instead of blood. Have you seen Carmela?”
“Not since breakfast. She said she was going into town to get her hair done. Is something wrong?”
“No, everything is fine. As a matter of fact, it's great, thanks to you.” Nealy sat down in the armchair in front of Smitty's desk.
“Me? I didn't have anything to do with what you did today. You did that all by yourself, girl.”
“I don't mean that. I meant great because of what you've done for Blue Diamond Farms. I'm serious, Smitty. I don't know what I would have done without you. Your Night Gallery recruits were some of the best employees I've ever seen. I was sorry they didn't want to stay on, that they preferred . . . you know . . .”
“Don't judge, Nealy. Accept. Thanks to their . . . ah . . . contacts, you now have a permanent working crew. It all worked out.”
“Yes, it all worked out.” Nealy stared into her coffee mug. “Let's just hope everything else works out.”
Smitty pushed a copy of the
Leader
across the desk and pointed to an article at the bottom of the front page. “You've become one famous lady. The newspapers love you. I'm keeping a journal on it all. Someday you might want to write your memoirs.”
“I doubt that,” Nealy said, pushing the newspaper back across the desk toward Smitty without even glancing at the article. “So how's the new office now that the wall is out?”
“Real good. At least I can move around.” To illustrate, she pushed her chair away from her desk and stretched her legs out in front of her. “See?”
“Yes, I see,” Nealy laughed. She had to admit that enlarging and remodeling the office had been a good idea. As for the old furniture, Maud's father's desk and chair, she hadn't been able to part with them, so she'd had them taken up to the attic and covered them securely with old washed-out horse blankets.
Smitty pulled herself back up to her desk and clasped her hands in front. “I know how much you hate all this publicity stuff, and I don't blame you, but I think you need to know it's probably going to get worse before it gets better. You're a hot topic, Nealy, especially now that you let it out that you intend to ride Flyby in the Kentucky Derby. That gave the press two tidbits of information, and it's only natural that they're going to want more.” She leaned forward, and whispered, “Why don't you tell me whatever it is you're hiding before I read it in the newspaper?”
Nealy took a quick breath. “Hiding? You mean my past? You mean you didn't figure it out yet. I thought nothing got past you.”
Smitty raised a perfectly arched eyebrow. “I'm a good listener, and I know how to keep my lip zipped. Sometimes it helps to talk about things. That way those things don't settle between your shoulder blades and weigh you down.”
Nealy stood up and started for the door. With her hand on the doorknob, she said, “If you have a few minutes, I'd like to show you something.”
Smitty flew out of her seat. “I have all the time in the world. I have this great boss who lets me do what I want.”
“It's raw out, put on a jacket.” Nealy shrugged out of her denim jacket and handed it to Smitty. “Here, wear mine, I'll wear Maud's,” she said, grabbing the coat off the hook.
A gust of cold wind blew the women's hair as they made their way to the vehicle barn.
Once inside, Nealy led Smitty to the back. “That's my father's truck,” she said, pointing to it through a curtain of cobwebs. Nealy walked around the truck and looked into the driver's seat. Even after all these years she could remember how lost and alone she'd felt driving aimlessly through the rain to anywhere, nowhere. “My pa said I had shamed the family by getting pregnant. He'd never liked me much in the first place, but after Emmie's birth, he liked me even less. I worked hard, damn hard, to prove that I was worthy of his love, but it didn't do any good. Then I got sick, really sick, and went to bed. One of my brothers told me Pa was going to send Emmie to the orphanage the next morning. Pa hated Emmie, said she was a half-wit because she couldn't talk.” She pulled a long painful breath. “With a little help from my brother, I took that truck and lit out. I had no idea where I was going. I just drove. All I had were the clothes on my back, Emmie, and the money my brother swiped from my father's desk drawer.
“Blue Diamond Farms is where the truck broke down, and so did I. Jess found me wandering around on his driveway and brought me inside with Emmie. They told me later that I almost died.” She put her hands to her face. “I loved them, Smitty, with all my heart, and when they offered to adopt Emmie when I turned twenty-one, I said yes. They said it was all done legally but . . . Emmie . . . I don't know if her father will ever come forward or not. He threatened to blow my head off with a shotgun if I ever said he was the father. I lied to Pa and said a vagrant attacked me in the barn. Emmie's name on her birth certificate said it was . . .”
“Coleman?”
Nealy's mouth dropped open. “You know?”
“Not everything, but I was able to piece some things together, which is what worries me. If I could do it, so could someone else.”
Nealy shrugged. “As far as I'm concerned, it doesn't matter anymore, Smitty. I'm well beyond my pa's reach. Emmie is a concern, though. Then again, maybe not. Her father is a respected businessman with a family of his own. I doubt he'd want to stir things up. It would ruin his image.”
“What about
your
image?”
“My image? People already see me as someone who does things in an unorthodox way. How is getting pregnant at seventeen and running away from home any different? So they bring up my past? I can deal with it. I learned a lot from Maud and Jess. Maud said no one can hurt you unless you allow it. Well, Smitty, I damn well won't allow it.” She walked to the back of the truck and pulled out the bucket of dirt. “See this? When I was leaving SunStar that night I stopped in the pouring rain and filled it with SunStar dirt. I wanted to take something from home for Emmie. It's just dirt but . . . Emmie doesn't even know it's here. I keep asking myself why I'm keeping it, and I can't find the answer.”
“What about your brothers, Nealy?”
“Even though Pa's in his eighties, I imagine he still rules them with an iron hand. They were petrified of him, just the way I was. You know what's sad, Smitty? I can't ever remember seeing them smile. Or Pa. I know I never did. I never knew my mother. I don't know if Pyne or Rhy remember her. I'm glad she's dead because I don't think she could have stood up to my pa. He probably worked her to death the way he tried to work me. He worked me like a dog, Smitty. When I left there I was like some beaten, tired old junkyard dog. I came here into sunlight, warmth, love, and found substitute parents. Loving parents.
“I won't go to Keeneland because my pa and brothers go there. We sold them quite a few horses. My pa even came here once to pick one of them up. I think it was the third year I was here. Maud and Jess closed off this place like it was one of those hostage movies. They gave him what he wanted and hustled him out of here so fast his head must have been spinning. At the time I didn't know how Maud knew, but Jess told me later the truck's registration papers were in the glove compartment. She never let on to me she knew. Jess didn't either until Maud was dying. Sometimes I regret that we never talked about it. Smitty, I was so young, so green back then. Hell, I didn't even have a driver's license and didn't know what a social security card was. According to my brothers, what I did know was how to open my legs and shame the family. With a half-wit. That's my story.” She smiled as she put the bucket back into the truck bed. “Listen, tomorrow is my birthday. Would you like to go to a movie with me tomorrow night?”
“Ah, gee, Nealy, I have a date. But I might be able to break it.”
“No, that's okay. Maybe I'll take the kids into town for ice cream or something.”
“Why don't you ask Hunt? I think he's kind of sweet on you.”
“I can't do that,” she said, wondering what she was afraid of. “Hey, you know what? Remember that first day you came out here and applied for the job?” At Smitty's nod, she continued, “I almost didn't hire you that day. You were so . . . so . . . in command, so confident and sure of yourself. I wish I could be more like you. I can be like that with horses but not with people. How did you get that way?”
“By being stomped on once too often. So what made you hire me?”
“You said you knew Maud and Jess and spoke so highly of them. I'm sorry I didn't knock that wall out sooner.”
“Yeah, me too.”
“Don't let them get me, Smitty.”
“Listen, doll, they'll have to get you over my dead body. As long as you approve of how and what I do, it will all work out. Just trust me, okay?”
“Smitty, do you think I can do it? Win the Derby, I mean?”
Smitty swung around, a fierce look on her face. “Doll, if I didn't admire your spirit and your guts, I would have been out of here a long time ago. Don't you ever second-guess yourself. If it can be done, you'll do it. You aren't upset about the movie, are you?”
“No. I'm not even sure I wanted to see a movie. It was more like I was supposed to do something on my birthday, and a movie seemed like the thing to do. Maybe I'll ask Carmela to bake me a cake so Emmie and Buddy can blow out the candles. By the way, Smitty, what's the scuttlebutt over at the Owens . . . sorry, the Goldstein farm?”
“They don't have one good trainer. Jack's been scouting. It's a tough business, as you well know. Did hear there is a little dissension over there, but what it's about I have no idea. Eventually, I'll find out. I'd like to stand here and talk, honey, but I want to clear my desk before I leave for the day. I want to do some shopping on my way home.”
“Smitty?”
“Hmm?”
“Thanks for everything.”
“Anytime. You just hang in there.”
Nealy sat for a long time at the kitchen table drinking her coffee. She bowed her head once and offered up a prayer of thanks. Whatever the future held for her, she would do her best to be worthy of it.
13
Nealy rolled over, opened one sleepy eye, and saw the glowing red numbers on the bedside clock. Today she didn't have to get up at three-thirty or even four-thirty. Today was her birthday. If she wanted to stay in bed all day, she could.
Not in this lifetime,
she thought a moment later. She'd made a promise to Maud and a commitment to herself, and she would honor them both. For the next two years, come rain, shine, snow, or sleet, she would keep Flyby and herself on a strict training schedule. As far as she was concerned, she had a lot more to learn about being a jockey than Flyby had to learn about being a champion racehorse.
At four-thirty, she came down to the kitchen and stopped just inside the door to stare in shock at the elderly housekeeper. “Carmela, why you look . . . you look wonderful. That hairstyle is very becoming. I like your dress, too. What's come over you?”
Carmela blushed like a girl. “I treated myself to what they call ‘the works' yesterday. I realized I let myself go. Sometimes it takes someone like Smitty to wake a person up. I don't think I could ever dress as . . . flamboyantly as she does, though.”
Nealy's brows knitted in confusion. “I'm getting the feeling you think you're in competition with her. But why?”
Carmela lifted her shoulders and sighed. “You might as well know. I've been seeing one of the grooms, Vince Edwards, for a couple of months now. He's a few years younger than me, in his late sixties, but he doesn't seem to think that's a problem. He's a good man, and I think I'm falling in love with him; but I don't know if he feels the same about me. All I know is that he can't take his eyes off Smitty whenever he sees her outside. It's not her fault. Smitty is what Smitty is, and there's obviously no changing it. But I wanted him to look at me like that, so I decided to fix myself up.”
Nealy couldn't have been more surprised if Carmela had told her she was going to become an exotic dancer. “Well, you certainly did. You look like a new woman, a woman about ten years younger, I might add.”
Carmela's eyes widened. “Really?”
Nealy headed for the coffeepot. “Really,” she said, anticipating her first taste of the dark, rich brew. As soon as she'd taken a few sips and felt human again, she turned and gave Carmela a hug. “I'm happy for you, Carmela. I hope it all works out. Remember, the only person you have to answer to is yourself.” Nealy sat down at the table and sipped her coffee, savoring the flavor. She drank coffee off and on all day long, but it never tasted the same as that first cup in the morning. “Listen, do you think you could find time today to make me a little birthday cake? Emmie and Buddy will expect one after dinner.” At Carmela's nod, she continued. “Just put one candle on it. No, put two, one for each of the kids to blow out.”
“What about dinner? You want anything special?”
Nealy pursed her lips, thinking. “No. I don't want anybody fussing. Just a regular dinner and then the cake.”
“Chocolate or vanilla?”
“Chocolate. Chocolate frosting, too,” she said, mentally counting the calories. Tonight she would splurge, but after that she would have to start a strict diet. This morning when she stepped on the scales she weighed 122 pounds, ten pounds over the ideal weight for a jockey. Over the weekend she would have to have a long talk with Carmela and see if they couldn't come up with a new, low-fat way of eating. Considering Carmela's new love interest, it seemed reasonable that she would also be interested in losing a few pounds. As for herself, she had two years to lose the weight, but she suspected it would be a struggle because she loved to eat.
She would also have to start some sort of rigorous exercise program to build strength, endurance and power. A good jockey needed to be a good athlete first. Shoemaker had been called one of the greatest athletes ever to sit astride a horse. Laffit Pincay Jr. was built like a miniature Venice Beach muscleman. Nealy had done hard physical labor all her life, so she wasn't a softy, but she also wasn't nearly as fit as she needed to be. In the few times she'd raced Stardancer against the stopwatch, she'd learned that it was no easy thing to control a half-ton horse that was flying around the racetrack at forty miles an hour.
“I'm going to take this little cup of coffee with me down to the barn. After you put the kids on the bus, will you please bring me another cup? I'll be in with Flyby.” She turned in mid-stride. “Oh, and, don't wear an apron, Carmela.” She winked to make her point. Carmela laughed but nodded. “Happy birthday, Nealy.”
 
 
Tessie, still the cook at SunStar Farms, set a platter of blueberry pancakes in the middle of the table. Another platter of bacon and sausage followed, along with a bowl of melted butter and one of warm syrup.
“Today is Nealy's birthday!” she said, looking boldly down at her employer.
“Is that supposed to mean something to us?” Josh Coleman growled without looking up.
“It means it's your daughter's birthday.” When there was no response, she turned her gaze on Pyne and Rhy. “It also means it's your sister's birthday.” They, at least, had the good grace to look up. “I'd like to send her a birthday card, but I don't know where to send it,” she said in spite of the old man's scowl.
“It's a day like any other day,” Josh said with a mouth full of food. Tessie could only stare at him. Why she continued to work for the Colemans she didn't know. Yes, she did. The money. If it wasn't for the money, more than she could make anywhere else, she would have left a long time ago.
Pyne pushed his plate toward the center of the table and rested his arms on the tabletop. “How long's it been now, seven years, eight? I've lost count.” He paused for a moment, then continued in a sad voice. “All I know is that Nealy was what made this farm work. She had the touch. I know it, Rhy knows it, and you should know it, too, Pa.”
“That's enough out of you, Pyne. One more word, and you'll feel the back of my hand. Eat your breakfast and get on down to the barn.”
Pyne started to back his chair away from the table. He didn't want to be around in case his pa's temper exploded.
“Pyne's right, Pa,” Rhy said. “Windstar could have won the Derby if Nealy had worked him. There were a lot of races our horses could have won if Nealy had worked them. Ever since you drove her away, this place has been going downhill. And it isn't the horses' fault. God knows you've bought the best of the best.”
“Shut up!” the elder Coleman shouted, the veins in his neck bulging. In a fit of rage he upended the table, leftover food, melted butter, and sticky syrup scattering in all directions.
Tessie turned around to see father and sons leave the room at the same time, the elder Coleman in one direction, the two brothers in another. “That's just dandy,” she grumbled, looking at the mess she now had to clean up. “Just dandy.”
Pyne stormed to the stallion barn ahead of his brother. “I hate his fucking guts,” he shouted, his fists boxing the air. “Why in the hell do we put up with his shit?”
Rhy's face was alive with rage. “Because we want to inherit this place when he dies.”
“I wish that would be soon. If he keeps working us the way he does, we'll go before he does.” Pyne slammed his right fist into the palm of his left hand. “I remember Nealy asking me why I let him treat me the way he does, why I didn't stand up to him and show him what I was made of. I told her it was because I didn't have her grit, but that's not true. You just made me realize why . . . we're greedy bastards. We both put up with his shit because we want his money. I don't like what that makes us, Rhy. I don't like it at all.”
“Then leave,” Rhy said, sitting down on a hay bale.
Pyne sat down across from him. “Nealy was the one with the guts,” he said. He leaned forward, rested his elbows on his knees, and looked down at the ground. “I think about her all the time. I think about the way he drove her out, and I think about our part in it.” Terrible regrets assailed him. “I never told you this before, but I don't think it was a vagrant who attacked our sister. I don't think she was attacked at all. I think she was sleeping with someone we all know, like maybe Dillon Roland. He was over here a lot back then.”
“Dillon Roland?” Rhy seemed surprised.
“Yeah, old Dilly Dally himself. Don't you remember? He had himself a whole stable of good-looking girls through high school, and he was always in one kind of trouble or another. He also had a daddy who went around cleaning up after him. I'm not saying he's the one for sure, Rhy. I'm just speculating.” He got up and meandered over to the first stall. “I sure wish I knew what happened to her. It couldn't have been easy for her, toting a kid around.”
“If you knew where she was, would you go after her?”
“Yeah, I would,” Pyne said without hesitation. “We never should have let her go in the first place. We may have been just kids ourselves, but we should have stood up to Pa for her.” He leaned his head back and laughed out loud. “Pa thought she'd come crawling back, but I knew she wouldn't.” He looked out the end of the breezeway. “For months after she left, I'd see him looking down the road. Even now, after all these years, I catch him staring at the road with a funny look on his face. This morning before you came into the kitchen, I caught him looking at the calendar.” When Rhy gave him a doubting look, Pyne nodded. “Yeah, I did. The son of a bitch remembered it was her birthday. Now, I'm going to ask you the same question you asked me. Would you fetch her back if you knew where she was?”
“No. Wherever she is, it has to be better than here. God knows anything would be better than here. Maybe she'll get in touch with us someday. I'd like to see how she turned out, her and the kid.”
“Emmie,” Pyne said. “The kid's name is Emmie. And she wasn't a half-wit.”
“I know that. Look, for whatever it's worth, I'm sorry I said the things I did to her. I was just sick and tired of Pa being mad at Nealy and taking it out on me. As for . . . Emmie . . . she was actually a smart little kid, but what I could never figure out was if she could cry, why couldn't she talk? There was nothing wrong with her vocal cords.” He shrugged. “Hey, come on, we've got work to do.”
Pyne nodded and looked through the breezeway to the road. “Happy birthday, Nealy, wherever you are,” he said gruffly.
“Yeah, happy birthday, sis,” Rhy said.
 
 
Nealy made the rounds one last time before heading up to the house for dinner. She stopped at Stardancer's stall to give him loving pats to his back. “Flyby and me, we had a good day today, big guy. He's doing better than I have any right to expect. He's got heart, that son of yours.” She rubbed Stardancer's sleek neck and felt him relax. “I've been wondering,” she whispered, “how's it going to look, me being the owner, trainer, and jockey to Flyby? I know there's no rule that says I can't be all those things, but that's not going to stop people from making a fuss.” She hugged the big horse. “I've got so much to learn. So very, very much. I pray every night that I don't foul things up.” Stardancer whickered as if to tell her everything would be all right. She threw her arms around his neck and hugged him. “What would I do if I didn't have you to talk to, huh? C'mon now, show me you understand everything I just said.”
When Stardancer bobbed his head up and down, Nealy laughed. She knew the horse didn't
really
understand. He was just reacting to the tone of her voice and her own body gestures. Still, it was fun to pretend that he did. “See you in the morning, big boy. Don't you open this gate either, Stardancer. You can visit Little Lady and Flyby through your stall window.” She wagged her finger at him.
Stardancer whinnied. It sounded like laughter to Nealy's ears.
Nealy's good humor turned sour when she opened the kitchen door. There were no fragrant smells, no cake sitting on the table, no dinner cooking on the stove. And on top of that, Emmie and Buddy were nowhere in sight. She looked down at her watch. Seven o'clock. “Carmela! Emmie! Buddy!” Damn, where was everyone? She called out a second time and then a third time as she made her way to the living room at the front of the house.
“Surprise!”
Nealy grabbed the back of an armchair and blinked at the crowded room.
Emmie ran up to her.
Are you surprised, Mama?
she signed, jumping up and down.
Smitty did it all. Carmela helped, and so did me and Buddy. Are you happy for your birthday?
Nealy lowered her head and wrapped her arms around her daughter. “I'm more than happy. I'm delirious!” She looked at the crowd of people filling the living room and foyer. “Thank you, I . . . I had no idea . . .”
“That's why it's called a surprise party,” Smitty said, coming forward. She was elegant in a fire-engine red ensemble that looked like it had been melted onto her.
When Nealy turned around, she saw even more people spilling into the dining room and hallway. All her employees, and all the temporary ones who had worked for her earlier in the year smiled at her. Even the girls from the Night Gallery were present. Any one of them could have passed for a banker's secretary. She hugged them all as others shook hands, clapping one another on the back, their faces wreathed in happy smiles.

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