North Oak 4- To Bottle Lightning

by Ann Hunter

  “That’s the difference between you and I. I see the big picture, while you just see the problem.” North pulled out his phone. “Hello, Seth. I’m calling in a favor.”

  Joe rubbed his head and put his cap back on. There was no getting through to that man.

  “Hey, Pop,” Brooke called.

  He scanned the area for her and smiled when he found her. At least he thought he smiled. Maybe his face didn’t work that way anymore.

  “Did ya bring the things I asked you to?” he asked.

  “Sure did. Already unloaded them into our tack boxes too.”

  Joe leaned around as a girl with black hair walked up behind Brooke. He squinted at Alex. “What’s she doing here?”

  Brooke planted her hand in Alex’s face again. “She’s not really here. You’re imagining things.”

  “Hi,” Alex said, muffled.

  “Auditory hallucination,” Brooke added.

  “She said you needed help,” Alex mumbled.

  Joe let out a long, low breath, rubbing his face. This day kept getting better and better. Hillary would have their heads for this.

  “Don’t worry, Pop. I already told Al it’s all on her.”

  “It better be,” he growled.

  “Don’t look so happy to see me, Old Man.”

  Joe jabbed a finger at Brooke. “She’s sleeping with you tonight,” he said, like Alex was some sort of mangy mutt, before shuffling off to tend to his work.

  ***

  Alex was up before Brooke the next morning. She sat in one of the hotel room chairs, huddled up, staring at Brooke while she snored. Alex chewed the nubs of her nails.

  “They’re coming tonight,” Brooke said groggily. “You’re gonna get it.”

  “I don’t care if they ground me,” Alex replied. “It’ll be better than spending another night with you. You kick like a frickin’ horse.”

  Brooke laughed softly in the darkness. “Sorry.”

  “Liar. You’re probably super pleased with yourself.”

  “Maybe a little.”

  “Feel better about letting me come?”

  Brooke sat up slowly, rubbing her eyes, and turning on the light over the nightstand. “I will once I put you to work.”

  Alex rose, already dressed. “Well, let’s go, slow poke.”

  “Yeah, yeah. Hold your horses.”

  She waited while Brooke got ready, pretty sure that she took forever. Alex wanted to get down to the track already. “Can you take any longer?” she groaned.

  Brooke started moving in slow mo on purpose.

  Alex thumped her head against the wall. “Me and my mouth.”

  Finally Brooke was done and headed out the door. “Let’s go.”

  They arrived in time to get Promenade ready for his workout. Alex didn’t recognize the rider that showed up for him. “What happened to Enrique?” Alex asked after Brooke gave the rider a leg up.

  They walked behind him a short ways. “I think he’s the rider Pop said took a fall.”

  “So what’s this yahoo doing?”

  “We need to find a jockey for the race. This is the one they’re trying out.”

  They leaned against the rail as Promenade set off down the track. He wrestled against the reins, trying to yank them through the rider’s hands, tossing his head, throwing bucks when he could. Alex squinted, watching the rider’s face grow more and more frustrated. Not only that, but angry.

  When Promenade returned to the gap, he was drenched.

  The rider flung his helmet and whip at Alex, stringing a list of swears together in Spanish— which Alex secretly knew after being disappointed that sacapunta only meant pencil sharpener, despite sounding way dirtier.

  She grunted from the impact of the equipment, passing them back to the rider after he’d dismounted while rubbing her chest. She took Promenade who dropped his normally proud head wearily against her collar bone like he was some kind of old plow horse. He breathed like a steam engine with foamy saliva dripping from his bit.

  She’d never seen him like this before. Like something had broken inside. She tugged his ear, letting him know she understood how he felt, then led him back to the barn. He coughed along the way, groaning every several hundred yards.

  If they couldn’t find a jockey in time, Promenade would miss the Breeders Cup Juvenile. And after a morning workout like that, who would have the guts to get on him?

  Dejado was back at the shedrow mucking stalls when they returned. “How did it go?”

  Alex gestured to Promenade, still wrung out from fighting the trial candidate.

  “That good, huh?” Dejado leaned against the rake.

  “It was awful,” Alex said. “I’ve never seen him fight someone like that.” She couldn’t believe what she blurted next. “It should’ve been you.”

  Dejado’s eyes widened. And suddenly Alex understood. It wasn’t about Dejado being better than her. It was about giving Promenade his best chance.

  She had a feeling in her gut that if the tables were turned, he’d do it for her. Not because either of them deserved it more, but because Promenade needed it. It was the right thing to do. Would he run better for anyone else?

  She passed the reins quickly to him and ran off. “I’ll be right back.”

  Joe wasn’t hard to find if you knew where to look. Alex found him exactly where she thought he’d be. North stood by him, jabbering away on his phone. “Hillary? Hillary. Would you calm yourself for one second. Alex is here with us. No, I had nothing to do with it. Yes, I’ll tell her she’s dead. Anything else?”

  “Dejado needs to jockey Promenade in the Juvenile,” Alex said breathlessly.

  At first it was as though they hadn’t heard her at all. So she said it louder. “Put Dejado on Promenade.”

  North paused, blinked, and slowly excused himself from the call. “Excuse me?”

  Alex rolled her eyes. “Do I seriously have to repeat myself again?”

  Joe glared at her, lips pursed in thought. He rubbed his whiskers against his knuckles. “Why should I listen to you?”

  She looked between them incredulously. How could they not see what was so clear to her? “No one knows Promenade better. It has to be him. He’s his best chance.”

  North officially slid his phone into his jacket pocket, giving his full attention to Alex.

  “He’s been with Pro the whole summer, traveled with him to both races. He’s his regular rider, and he has a license,” Alex reasoned. “Put him on.”

  Joe and North glanced at once another. She hoped they realized she had a point. As much as she disliked admitting it, Promenade and Dejado clicked.

  For a second she thought she saw the same look Hillary and Cade gave eachother when she requested something unreasonable, but things had turned out worse before.

  Adults. Jeez.

  She rounded on her heel and headed back to the barn, but smiled when she heard their footsteps behind her. Time to break the news to Promenade’s new jockey.

  They followed her back to Promenade’s stall where Dejado had just finished bathing and grooming him, before leading him in for his breakfast.

  “Son, we’re in a pinch. We need you to take one for the team,” North said as though it were a patriotic duty.

  “Of course.” Dejado nodded. “Anything.”

  Joe squinted at him. “We’re putting you on Promenade in the Breeders Cup Juvenile. Start getting ready.”

  “Why me? I’ve never ridden in a grade one race.”

  At last the two older men were in agreement, leaving him only with, “You’ll do right by him.”

  Dejado looked as though he’d been delivered a death notice. The color flushed from his face, he stood gawking and a little fish-eyed. Alex wasn’t sure he was still on planet earth as he stared at Joe and North fading in the distance.

  Dejado dropped the haynet he’d been holding. “Excuse me while I vomit.”

  Without thinking, Alex grabbed his arm and gave him a pleading look.
/>   “No.” He swallowed dryly. “I have to make weight. What better way to start?”

  “Don’t tell me you’re nervous.”

  “Wouldn’t you be? This is a stepping stone to the Kentucky Derby. I’m not an idiot.”

  “The Derby is light years away in racing terms. Enrique will be better by then. This is just one race.”

  “With everything else depending on it. I’m just a bloke. Who am I to ride in a race like this?”

  “You’re Dejado Augustun. And there’s…” Alex swallowed, trying to get the words out. “There’s nobody else I trust more than you to bring him home.”

  ONCE UPON A TIME AT THE BREEDERS CUP

  “Alexandra Paige Anderson,” Hillary shouted.

  Alex instinctively cringed. The time of reckoning had come. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and turned slowly to face the music.

  Hillary was a shade of pink Alex had only seen on newborns at the hospital. There was a tiny vein between her eyebrows that seemed to get bigger the closer she marched. When she finally reached Alex, they had a stare down. Alex wished she could say something to break the tension, but any snark at this point would only make things worse.

  She wondered why Cade wasn’t here to swoop in and save his dear ol’ Sport.

  Apparently Hillary was so livid, she had no words. Alex watched her inhale so sharply, her nostrils contracted. Her eyes were a little bloodshot too, like she hadn’t slept.

  Hillary raised a finger, chin quivering. Could she think straight?

  “You’re grounded til Christmas.”

  When Alex realized Hillary wasn’t going to kill her, she threw her arms around Hillary, hugging her willingly for the first time. Hillary staggered, caught off guard. What kid thanked their parent for grounding them?

  Alex felt a trembling hand come to rest on the back of her head, like the time it had when they stood before her mother’s grave together. No “I know.” Because Alex didn’t. Or “It’s okay.” Because it really wasn’t.

  Just a bittersweet moment between a mother and a daughter.

  Hillary stepped back, tears welling in her eyes. Alex couldn’t tell whether they were from anger or relief.

  “Now get in the damn car,” she told Alex hoarsely.

  Alex headed toward the parking lot, singing Kumbaya under her breath.

  ***

  A clap of thunder jolted Alex awake. Hillary and Laura barely rustled in their hotel bed, and Carol, who had come with them, didn’t stir much either.

  Alex swung her legs over the side of the bed and crept to the window, peeking out between the curtains. Lightning flashed in the distance, a heavy curtain of rain followed behind.

  When thunder struck again, she jumped a little and clenched the curtain. A gentle hand slid down to hers and hooked her pinky with another. She didn’t have to look to know it was Carol.

  The three things that topped Alex’s list of most hated things were in play; dresses, crowds, and loud, sudden noises. Today was not looking good.

  But Carol stood beside her, her mere presence reassuring everything would be okay.

  “Did I ever tell you it was thundering the night Ashley died?” Alex murmured.

  Carol slipped her arms around her, hugging her tight as thunder rumbled once more.

  “Did I ever tell you,” Carol whispered, “that thunder rolled the day my best friend’s horse ran the biggest race of his life?”

  Any nerves Alex had felt a moment ago melted away. She hugged Carol back, smiling with gratitude for the positive spin that had been put on one of her worst memories.

  Today they would make new memories. Better than she had ever had before.

  In honesty, Alex had only been to the Breeders Cup once before when Venus Galaxies won the Distaff, and Alex tried to steal her afterwards. She hadn’t been able to enjoy the atmosphere for fear of being caught while on the run for the shooting of Vanessa DeGelder, her previous caretaker. She couldn’t even call her foster mother anymore, after having Hillary as a better example.

  But now as she stuck close to North Oak’s small entourage of the Showmans, Carol, and Brooke, she had a better handle on the situation and allowed herself to relax just a little, even amongst the swarm of people. With a brief break in the rain, she picked up the smell of hot dogs, cigarettes, and the dampened clay of the track.

  Tractors passed over the course between races, trying to seal the dirt from the heavy rain. With their thin trail of diesel exhaust, mixed with petrichor, the only smell Alex really missed was Promenade.

  She could’ve spent the day in the safety of North’s private box, but her soul yearned to be down by the rail where the song of hooves pounding the earth, jockeys yelling in urgency to their mounts, and the pop of whips and jangle of tack called to her. The only time she retreated to the grandstand was when the storm swelled again, every few hours. Then she’d return to the track, sliding her hand over the cool, damp metal rail.

  When it came time for the Juvenile, Carol joined her. “I just saw Dejado and Promenade in the paddock. They look great.”

  One turn from the rail, and the swarms of people seemed to fade away from view for Alex. The sun struck Dejado and Promenade, illuminating the silver cross-sash on North Oak’s silks like a spark when they emerged onto the track.

  They somehow found her in the crowd. Dejado beamed. A burn ignited in Alex as they set their sights on her. Heat rolled into her cheeks.

  “You’re smiling,” Carol whispered.

  Alex put herself in check, nudging her away. “I’m just proud. Okay?”

  Carol laughed. “I bet you are.”

  Alex loved that they moved the gate so close to her. She could get a good look at her team. Promenade looked so utterly relaxed, he was almost asleep as the outrider led him through a warm up and around to the gate. Dejado rose in the stirrups, adjusting his stance over the colt’s withers, and guided him into the starting stall.

  But as the other horses loaded, the sky grew ominously dark. Alex gripped the rail as the sky cracked and boomed. A few of the colts in the gate startled, banging and rattling the steel, but the assistants got them settled down.

  “Waiting on Black Scotch,” the announcer’s voice crackled over the speaker. There was a tense moment as Black Scotch balked, swung his hip around, and knocked into one of the starting assistants. They all got their arms around his back end and shoved him into the gate.

  “All in line.”

  Thunder roared again. A rain drop fell on Alex’s nose, then her forehead. Another on her arm. The bell trilled as the sky ripped open, and six Thoroughbred colts surged into a sluice.

  “They’re off in the Breeders Cup Juvenile. Thunder Rush having a bit of a stumble out the gate, bumping into The Marquis. Black Scotch and Promenade are all well and clear. Rock Star and Dimitri settle behind the leaders.”

  Alex shielded her eyes from the rain. How could the announcer see? Before the horses even hit the middle of the turn, they were all but shadows in the dark.

  Carol huddled close to her, gripping her arm. “Do you see them?”

  “No,” Alex hollered over the rain.

  Normally the thunder of hooves rumbled over the ground, but it was lost with the growling of the heavens. Water droplets bounced off the rail, splashing onto Alex’s chin as she squinted through the sheeting rain.

  “Dimitri and The Marquis pressing the pace as Black Scotch asserts the lead. Promenade dropping back to fourth with Rock Star keeping him company, and Thunder Rush struggling to keep up.”

  With the horses well and clear, the track staff hauled the starting gate away to make room for the upcoming stretch run, even though the announcer had just spun off, “The opening quarter in a sluggish twenty-eight.”

  “Pro’s not doing so well,” Carol said.

  Alex watched the wheels of the gate struggle through the mud, and cringed. “It’s like sludge out there.”

  “Thunder Rush still trailing the field, with Promenade settling f
or fifth. Rock Star keeping his distance from the inside rail, as Black Scotch continues to hold off the pacers.”

  “C’mon, Promenade!” Alex called.

  Carol echoed, “Go, Dejado!”

  Oh, yeah, that guy. Holy Crap. How had Alex forgotten about him? She bit her lip. Was he okay? A pang of guilt struck her for making him ride in this mess. Even still, she wished she were in his place, fighting through the storm. She had to trust that he was doing what was best for Promenade right now.

  “Dimitri and The Marquis battling for second place behind Black Scotch, Rock Star moving up gradually, and still no move from Breeders Futurity winner Promenade. The half over in fifty-five and change. They’re moving along the backstretch, and Black Scotch is fighting to keep that lead. His jockey, Guitterez lets him out a notch, and Black Scotch picks it up to pull ahead. The Marquis and Dimitri still neck and neck with Rock Star closing the gap between them. He’s being guided wide for a clear path. Around the turn they go, and Dmitri drifts to the outside. It’s not going to be an easy run for Rock Star, folks. The Marquis surging ahead to chase down Black Scotch.”

  Alex and Carol shivered together, drenched. The rain showed no signs of slowing, drowning out the din of the crowd as the colts made their way for the wire.

  “C’mon, c’mon,” they both uttered.

  “But here comes a challenger. An astonishing move from Augustun. Promenade down on the rail unseen!”

  Alex wasn’t sure if it was the rain landing so hard, or the pop of whips; whether it was the jockeys yelling, or horses splashing through the muck, but somewhere through it all she sensed a shift in the race. No one had been guarding the rail. It had just been too tricky to navigate, but Dejado had taken that chance anyway.

  “They’re in the final furlong and Promenade has taken the lead. He’s moving like a bullet. With only a sixteenth to go… there’s no stopping him. Promenade has won! He’s done it. The Breeders Futurity winner is now the undisputed Breeders Cup Juvenile Champion.”

  Alex and Carol jumped up and down, screaming like nutso’s as Promenade and Dejado flew past. The overhead floodlights illuminated the boys for a brief moment as Dejado rose and punched his whip in the air in triumph.