by Joan Wolf
“Miles is going to get caught in traffic if he doesn't watch himself,” Liam said tensely.
As if he had heard Liam's words, Miles angled forward, slid between two horses in front of him, and got himself open on the outside part of the track.
“He's free,” I cried.
Buster began to pass the horses in the third group that were in front of him.
The horses headed into the second turn and Tango With Me, who had set a blistering pace on the lead, began to tire. He dropped back, as did the horses that had been running with him, and the horses in the second tier, Honor Bright, Point Taken and Mileaminute, caught and passed them and moved into the lead.
For a fraction of a mile, the three horses raced together. Then Honor Bright pulled away to the front, running on the rail. The crowd was screaming for the favorite as he began to pull away from the field.
The original front running horses were fading fast, and Buster caught and passed them on the turn. When he came off the turn there were three horses in front of him: Honor Bright, Point Taken, and the fading Mileaminute.
“Here it is,” Liam shouted to me. “Miles has done his job. Now it's up to Buster.”
My eyes were glued to the bright chestnut colt on the outside who now was thundering down the stretch, his long stride eating up the ground. Buster caught and passed Mileaminute as if he wasn't even moving.
I was jumping up and down and screaming, “Go Buster! Go!”
“Honor Bright's still running hard,” Liam said.
“Honor Bright is toast,” I said.
As I spoke, Buster caught Point Taken and passed him.
“Come on Buster!” I shrieked.
“Go, go, go!” Liam was yelling.
Honor Bright was not giving up, but Buster was closing in on him fast. There was a very long moment when Buster caught him and for a few seconds the two horses ran head to head, eye to eye.
“Come on, fella!” Liam shouted. “Come on!”
As if he had heard his owner, Buster began to pull away. One-hundred-and-twenty-five-thousand voices screamed as, all by himself, Buster crossed the finish line, the winner of the Kentucky Derby.
Pandemonium erupted in our box. I threw my arms around Liam's waist and hugged him. “We won,” I kept saying. “We won.”
He bent his head and kissed me. His eyes looked as blue as the sky in his suntanned face. “Oh Annie,” he said. “Oh Annie.”
I grinned up at him.
“Congratulations,” John Ford said to Liam, extending his hand. Liam ignored the hand and gave John a hug.
“You did a great job, Johnnie. A great job.”
Mrs. Ford and I were hugging each other and doing a jig at the same time. My hat had fallen off.
Several security men came into the box and told John that they were there to escort him and the rest of Buster's connections to the winner's circle. Liam and I held hands as we fought our way through the crowd to the horseshoe-shaped enclosure that was used only once a year.
I tried to catch my breath and calm down before we entered the winner's circle, but it was impossible. Liam looked at me and laughed. “Your hat is crooked.”
I straightened it. “Okay now?”
“Okay.”
It was chaos in the winner's box. The television cameras and mics and reporters took up half the space. “Mr. Wellington.” It was a local news reporter. “How does it feel, having the Kentucky Derby winner?”
It was a stupid question, but I guess he had to ask it.
“It feels great,” Liam said. “I bred that horse myself, and I'm very proud of him.”
“Why isn't your father, the senator, here today?”
“He had other commitments,” Liam said evenly.
A roar went up from the crowd as the winning time was posted. It was under two minutes; Buster had just run the third fastest Derby in history.
“Wow,” I said.
“Pennyroyal's baby did us proud,” Liam said. His eyes were very bright.
A television reporter put an arm around Liam and pulled him in front of the camera. “How does it feel to win the Kentucky Derby?”
“It feels great,” Liam said.
“When did you know you had it won?”
“When he made his move and started passing horses. It was the same move he made in the Florida Derby. I thought we had it won then.”
Someone called “Sandy! We're ready to present the trophy.”
“Come on,” the TV person told us and we followed him over to the stand that had been set up. Buster was wearing the blanket of red roses that signified the winner. The governor of Kentucky was standing ready to present the trophy. We all went to take our places and the silver trophy, topped with a horse draped in a ruby-studded shawl, was placed in Liam's hands.
“This couldn't have happened without the work of John Ford,” Liam said into the microphone. “Wellington Farm bred this horse and raised him but he wouldn't be a Kentucky Derby winner if it wasn't for John.”
A cheer went up from all the Kentuckians, many of whom had bet on Buster because he was the only Kentucky-trained horse in the race.
“Will you be going to the Preakness?” the TV man asked. The Preakness was the second race in the Triple Crown.
“If he's healthy.”
My God, I thought. This craziness isn’t over. Buster is now a potential Triple Crown winner. He has to run in the Preakness in two weeks.
The television cameras were turned off, Buster was led back to his stall for a well-deserved bath and feed, and the rest of us prepared to troop off to the press conference that had been arranged for the Derby winner's connections.
“How about dinner afterward?” Liam asked John Ford.
“We'd love to,” the trainer answered.
So that was what we did. After the press conference we went back to the hotel to freshen up, and to leave my hat behind, and then we met the Fords at a restaurant John knew.
We were all high before we even had a drink. “You did a perfect job with him,” Liam said. “You did exactly right.”
John tried not to look too pleased. “I know that everyone is in love with speed right now, but speed asked for too early in training can burn a horse out. As I've said a million times before, the Derby is an endurance race. So is the Belmont. The Preakness is another story.”
“Do you think he'll be ready for the Preakness?”
“I hope so. I'll be able to tell you more in a week.”
“Let's not worry about the future,” I said. “Let's just celebrate the present. Out of the thirty odd thousand foals registered the year Buster was born, he was the one who won the Kentucky Derby.”
“That calls for a drink of champagne,” Liam said. He had ordered a bottle for the table.
We all raised our glasses. “To Buster,” Liam said. “To Buster,” we all echoed.
We had a nice dinner; the Fords were very pleasant people and the men got drunk on several bottles of champagne.
“It's a good thing we can walk to our hotel,” I told Liam.
“What would you have done if we couldn't?” he asked.
“I would have driven.”
“My guardian angel,” he said.
“What?”
“That's what you've always been,” he said. “And my good luck charm too.”
There were many things I wanted to be to Liam, and an angel and a charm were not included in the list.
“Come on,” I said. “A walk will do us good. Help to clear our heads before we go to bed.”
“Okay.”
He was walking perfectly straight, but he had drunk three quarters of a bottle of champagne and I didn't think he was really sober.
We said goodbye to the Fords, who were driving back to their farm. I noticed it was Lorraine Ford who got behind the wheel. John had been celebrating as much as Liam.
The fresh air felt good and we walked in silence along the streets of Louisville.
The first thing we saw as
we came into our hotel room was the message light blinking on the telephone. Liam pushed the button and the first of twenty-three messages came over the wire.
We listened for a while. Then, “Good grief,” I said. “Every person you've ever met must have sent you congratulations.”
“It does seem that way.”
There was one notable absence. There was no word from Liam's father.
“He'll be furious he missed it,” Liam said. “What an opportunity to have his picture taken.”
“Why didn't he come?”
Liam shrugged. “Who knows? He probably didn't want to be associated with a loser.”
I was silent. Liam's indifference was even more damning than bitterness would have been. Liam truly didn't care what his father did. As if he was reading my mind he said, “ I miss your dad, Annie. He was more of a father to me than my own father ever was.”
I thought of the many hours Liam had spent in my house, doing his homework, watching my mom bake a cake, or playing cards with Mom, Daddy and me. His only exposure to normal family life was with my family. His own was almost classically dysfunctional.
“Too bad your mom didn't come,” he said now, as if he had been following my thinking. “She would have had a good time.”
“I think she's avoiding things that remind her too vividly of Daddy. That's why she was anxious to move. The house has too many memories.”
“You can't run away from grief, Annie. I know that for a fact.”
He was very grave.
I kicked off my high heels and wiggled my feet. “Ah. My poor feet. I haven't worn heels in years.”
“They look very nice,” he said. “You have great legs, Annie.”
His tone was fraternal. At least he noticed, I thought.
I went into the bathroom to change and came out in my pajamas. I should have worn a sexy nightgown, I thought. But then, I didn't own a sexy nightgown.
I went over to the bed and got in, plumping up my pillow so I could sit up against it. He smiled at me, his eyes as blue as sapphires.
“I'm glad you were with me, Annie. There isn't anyone I'd rather share this day with than you.”
My throat ached. I wanted him to get into bed next to me, and hold me, and make love to me. I said, “I'm not your sister, Liam. It wouldn't be incest for you to kiss me.”
The blue eyes became troubled. “I know that, but that's not how I feel. We grew up together. Your family was my family. We're not related by birth, I know, but I can't help the way I feel, Annie. It just wouldn't feel right to have anything sexual between us.”
I took a deep breath and said calmly, “I don't feel that way about you.”
“You hero-worship me. You always have. It's not a grown-up emotion, Annie. You need to open your eyes and start to notice other men.”
“I've done that. I almost married one. But there's no one like you, Liam. That just the way I feel.”
He looked even more troubled. “I'm sorry.”
“I'm sorry too. So what you're saying is, I'll have to look for another man.”
“I'm afraid so.”
I sighed. “Okay.”
I stayed awake a long time, with Liam sleeping quietly beside me.
You hero-worship me, he had said. I suppose that was true, but that was only a small part of my feelings for him. Quite simply, I loved him. I always had; I always would. And he loved me, but not in the way that I wanted.
Could I change that? I wondered. What would happen if he thought he was losing me to another man? And the perfect man was right at hand. Kevin was staying at Wellington for another week and I didn't think he'd object to a little flirtation.
I had had this idea before, but now I took it seriously. I'll start tomorrow, I thought. Should I tell Kevin what I'm trying to do?
I don't think so. He might not want to go along with it. Kevin's ego would object to being used to make Liam jealous.
I had no fears that Kevin would be hurt by my using him this way. He was a superstar; he could have any woman he wanted. I doubted very much that he wanted me. But he wouldn't be averse to a flirtation, especially if the flirtation bothered Liam.
I'll start tomorrow, I thought again as I settled myself to sleep. I glanced over to the far side of the bed and saw Liam's bare shoulder peeking from underneath the blanket he had pulled up over him.
/ love him so much. This is a rotten plan I have, to make him jealous, but I'm desperate. If I don't do something soon, he might marry someone else.
On that frightening note, I settled myself to go to sleep.
CHAPTER 10
Liam and I went down to breakfast early because we were planning to drive back to Virginia. Unbelievably, there was a reporter in the restaurant waiting for us.
John Ford had warned us last night. “You don't just have a horse anymore, you have a Kentucky Derby winner. Life isn't going to be the same.”
“It won't bother me so much,” Liam had said. “I'm going back to my farm. You're the one who's going to be in the fishbowl.”
Now Liam answered the questions the reporter asked with great courtesy and then we went to our table and ordered breakfast.
“How long will Buster stay at Churchill Downs?” I asked.
“John said he'd keep him in Kentucky for a week and then send him to Maryland so he can have a couple of gallops over the Pimlico track.”
The waiter came with our coffee and I fell on mine. Once I had had a bracing drink, I asked, “Do you think the Preakness will be too short for him?” The Preakness was a sixteenth of a mile shorter than the Derby. If the Derby had been the length of the Preakness, Buster would not have won.
“It's John's job to make sure that it's not,” Liam replied.
“Can you imagine if Buster won the Triple Crown?”
He shivered. “Don't say it out loud, Annie. It's too scary.”
“It would be crazy.”
The waitress came with our orders. I had French toast and Liam had scrambled eggs and bacon.
Liam said, “There's a five-million-dollar bonus to a horse that wins the Triple Crown. A few million dollars would go a long way if I have to get myself another farm.”
“Another farm? Surely it won't come to that.”
“I don't know, Annie. I don't like it that auditors are looking at the farm books out of season. There's nothing wrong with the books; I don't mean that. But the farm is part of Dad's assets. If he's really in over his head, it may have to be sold.”
I poured syrup over my French toast. “I don't think your father would ever sell the farm. It's his heritage!”
“He may have to; or he may just sell off all of the horses.”
“He owns Thunderhead, doesn't he?”
He lifted a forkful of eggs. “Unfortunately, yes. Thunderhead belongs to the farm, not to me.”
“Well, at least you'd have Buster. And Pennyroyal too.”
“I also own two of the other mares, My Holiday and Crescent Moon. I bought them both last year at the Keeneland auction. I own their foals as well.”
“Buster is already worth a lot of money, Liam. You can charge a huge stud fee for a Kentucky Derby winner.”
“I know, but I keep thinking about how much I could charge if he was a Triple Crown winner.”
We both were silent for a while as we contemplated this awesome possibility.
I said, “Even if the horses aren't sold, it might not be a bad idea for you to think of going out on your own.”
“I have been thinking of it; that's why I bought Pennyroyal and bred her to Thunderhead. I just hate to think of leaving Wellington, Annie. It's my heritage as well as Dad's.”
We finished eating in silence, then Liam said, “I just want to go over to the barn to see Buster before we leave.”
“Okay.”
We drove over to Churchill Downs and found a ring of reporters hanging around Buster's stall. “Hey there, fella,” Liam said and went up to the stall door.
Buster recognized his v
oice and came to the door. Liam scratched behind his ears and Buster moved his head so Liam could get to the good spots.
The press all wanted to know about Liam's plans for the Preakness.
“We'll see how he recovers from the Derby before we decide about the Preakness,” Liam said.
“What kind of a horse is he?” one of the reporters asked. “Is he friendly?”
“He's friendly with people he knows. He actually has a very pleasant temperament. He gets it from his mother.”
We stayed answering questions for about fifteen minutes and then we departed to make the drive back to Virginia.
There was a sign posted on Washington Avenue as we drove into Midville. It read MIDVILLE, HOME OF KENTUCKY
DERBY WINNER SOMEDAY SOON.
“Isn't that nice?” I said.
“Yes. I wonder whose idea that was.”
Liam drove me to my mother's new house and, as he was getting my suitcase out of the trunk, my mother came running out.
“You won!” She gave Liam a giant hug. “You did it! The whole town is bursting at the seams with pride.”
“We noticed the sign on the way in.”
“That was the Horse Council's idea.”
My mother gave me a hug too. “Pete would have been so proud of you, Liam. I'm sorry he isn't here to see this.”
“Who says he isn't here?” Liam said. “I can certainly feel him looking over my shoulder.”
Mom stood on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek. “You're a good boy, Liam. You deserve this.”
“Thanks, Nancy,” Liam said softly.
He carried my suitcase inside for me and then he left to drive out to the farm.
“Well,” my mother said. “Tell me all about it.”
We settled down in the kitchen with a pot of tea and I filled her in on what had happened.
“I saw you on television,” Mom said. “You were wearing a hat.”
“Women wear hats to the Derby. I made Liam take me to a department store so I could get one. And it looks like I'm going to be stuck with it. Liam wants me to wear it to the Preakness. It could be a lucky charm, he says.”
My mother laughed.
“Did it look too silly?”
“Not at all. It looked charming.”
I looked at her suspiciously but her face was serious.