Golden Filly Collection One

by Lauraine Snelling

  “Knock it off, you dummy,” Trish hissed at the horse when John Anderson flinched. Gatesby acted as though the bruise on Anderson’s shoulder had nothing to do with him. So what if he was in the winner’s circle. A shoulder right next to his nose was too good a target to pass up.

  Anderson rubbed the bruise as David led Gatesby away to the testing barn. “He never gives up, does he?” John turned to Hal. “Thought you could break him of that.”

  Hal and Trish looked at each other and shook their heads. “We tried. At least he doesn’t bite hard anymore. Just nips.” Trish stepped off the scale. “He thinks he’s being funny.”

  “Some joker. Thanks, Trish. You did a good job.”

  As Anderson disappeared into the crowd, Trish joined her mom and dad at the rail. Hal sank back into his wheelchair. “That’s enough for one day.” He looked up at his wife. “Ready to go home?”

  “Sure was good to have you here.” Trish walked beside him. “Even if Spitfire doesn’t like that kissing stuff.”

  Hal chuckled. “He’s your horse all right. See you at home.”

  Trish felt a letdown after the next race. She brought Bob Diego’s horse in second. While the owner was pleased, Trish missed the winner’s circle. But she knew she’d ridden a good race. The horse had done his best too. The winner had just been better.

  “Hey, two out of three’s not bad.” Brad joined her in the lawn chairs in the tack room. He handed her a can of soda. “Drink this and let’s get out of here.”

  It was hard to hit the books after such an exciting day. But when Trish thought of her bed, she remembered the discussion from the night before. Her grades had to stay at a B or better. The cards on the wall caught her eye. “Give thanks.” “He cares for you.” She picked up her pencil. Chlorine, Cl; Chromium, Cr….

  The next morning in church Trish chose to pay attention. The praise hymns suited her mood. Praising God wasn’t so hard when her father was next to her in the pew. During the offering they all sang a new song, “He will raise you up on eagle’s wings, bear you on the breath of God.” She listened hard for the words. The tune seemed planted forever in her mind. She decided to look up the verse later.

  Firefly won that afternoon. Maybe this is God’s way of helping us out right now. Giving us the money we need. Her thoughts leapfrogged ahead of her feet as she walked back to the dressing room to change for the next race. Just now we need horses that are able to win, and we have them. And I can ride, so we don’t need to pay jockey fees. She shook her head. Amazing.

  “If you can get her in the money at all, I’ll be pleased,” Jason Rodgers said as he boosted Trish into the saddle for the seventh race. “There’s a tough field out there.”

  “Well, old girl,” Trish said as she stroked her mount’s neck on the way back to the scale. “I know you did your best, so it’s a good thing your boss will be happy with a show. Third place isn’t my favorite, but…guess it’s better than no money at all.”

  “Good job.” Rodgers shook Trish’s hand. “I have two on Wednesday’s program. Both late in the day. Can you ride them?”

  “I think so, but I’ll let you know later this evening.”

  “That’s fine. Sure was good to see Hal here yesterday. Tell him hello for me. He got away before I could get to him.”

  Trish felt that familiar pride straighten her tired shoulders. She had to remember to tell her dad what Genie had said. It was a shame he couldn’t have been there to see Firefly win, but yesterday had worn him out.

  Marge had dinner ready to put on the table when Trish and David walked in the door. Trish couldn’t believe her eyes when she sat down. Roast beef, mashed potatoes, gravy—her mother must have spent all afternoon cooking.

  “Smells wonderful!” Hal laid his napkin in his lap. After grace he raised his head and looked at Trish. “Now, tell me how the day went.”

  Trish talked between bites. “Mom, this is so-o-o good.” She and David related all the happenings of the afternoon, and Trish finished with Genie’s comments. “She said you’ve helped lots of people when they needed it.”

  “I just do what I can.” Hal leaned back in his chair. “You know we’ve always shared what we have. And God’s been good to us.”

  Trish looked at her father. His plaid shirt hung loosely on his oncebroad shoulders. The circles under his eyes had deepened to dark hollows. Even his thin hair seemed to have grayed, matching the lines in his face. And purple and black bruises covered the back of one hand from the IVs. After all he’d been through the last couple of months, her dad could say, “God’s been good to us.” Maybe he means for the past—not for now.

  “I mean it, Tee.” He seemed to read her mind. “God is good to us right now—today and every day. I’m here, aren’t I?”

  Trish nodded. Saying thanks for winning was easy. But her father said thanks no matter what.

  “Now. How many mounts have you been offered this week?”

  Trish told him about the offers. “But I said I’d let them know tonight.” She looked at her mother. “And while I have more studying, my chemistry is caught up. I’m okay for this week.”

  “So far.” Marge sipped her coffee. “See if you can get to bed early tonight.”

  “What about the rumors you mentioned, David?” Hal pushed his chair back. “Let’s go in the other room where the chairs are more comfortable.”

  “Diego wondered if you were considering Spitfire for the first Saturday in May. He said to call him if there was any way he could help.”

  Trish snuggled against the pillow she’d stuffed between her back and the stones of the hearth. “Genie asked the same thing. We’ve said this is our year.”

  “I know.” Hal sighed. “I just…well, we have to take one step at a time. The Futurity is the next milestone. That’s a mile and an eighth, close to the Derby. Spitfire needs plenty of conditioning to run that far.”

  Trish sizzled with excitement. “You mean we’re gonna try for it?”

  “God only knows, Tee. God only knows.”

  Chapter

  10

  So. What all happened?” Rhonda blocked her way in the school hall.

  “Well, I won.”

  “All right!”

  “Three times.”

  “Three times? On who?”

  “Spitfire, Gatesby, and Firefly. Got a second and a third on the other two.” Trish twirled the dial on her locker. “And I have two rides for Wednesday.”

  “Did you tell your dad…about the…”

  “Extra racing? Yes.”

  “And you’re still alive—and still riding? Trish, for crying out loud, quit stalling and start talking.”

  “And start walking.” Brad wrapped an arm about each of them and herded them toward the lunchroom. “I’m starved.”

  It took the entire lunch period to fill her friends in on all the details. Brad added a few of his own. “And so,” Trish finished, “we start seriously training Spitfire for the Futurity and then we’ll see about…”

  “The first Saturday in May?” Rhonda couldn’t stand still and remain cool. Brad finally put both hands on her shoulders to calm her down.

  The bell rang. Rhonda hugged Trish and dashed off.

  Trish had to order her mind to quit dreaming of the Derby. Her classes came first. She needed every bit of concentration she could scare up.

  When she got home, Trish found her father in the recliner reading his Bible. He put it down when she entered the living room. “Come sit here a minute.” He patted the hearth in front of the snapping fire.

  “Wait a sec.” Trish raised her book bag. In the bedroom she dropped her load beside the cluttered desk. Her room seemed to grow piles of clothes when she wasn’t looking. She shut her eyes on the mess and went back to her dad by way of the kitchen for milk and an apple.

  “How was your day, Trish?”

  “Good.” She offered him a bite of her apple. “Finals are this week, so the teachers kind of let up today.”

 
“I’ve been thinking about the logistics around here. You need to get your driver’s license so people don’t have to keep hauling you around.”

  “All right!” Trish’s grin nearly cracked her jaw.

  “Do you have time to take the test soon?”

  “Well, my chemistry final on Thursday is my last hard one. I only have history on Friday, so Thursday afternoon would work. We have Anderson’s horse running on Friday and I have one other mount.”

  “Fine. Your mother will pick you up at school on Thursday afternoon, then.” Hal returned her grin. “Just make sure you pass the first time.”

  “Da-a-d.” She drained her glass of milk. “Gotta go work those beasts. You been down to see Miss Tee yet? She’s really growing.”

  Hal shook his head. “I’ll be down to watch tomorrow afternoon.”

  Trish spent the week studying. Every spare minute she reviewed Spanish vocabulary, chemistry symbols, and Shakespeare for English. Her two mounts on Wednesday finished in the money but not the winner’s circle. While she was disappointed, Bob Diego congratulated her for good rides. He offered her two more on Saturday and one on Sunday.

  “Sorry you can’t ride during the day,” he said. “I’d like you up on Friday afternoon.”

  “Me too.”

  Another trainer asked Trish to ride on Saturday.

  I’m going to have to keep a calendar, Trish thought on the way home. In fact, I need to be better organized. Somehow, I’ve got to keep my room clean. That’d make Mom happier than anything…other than quitting my racing, that is.

  Trish was up till three Thursday morning. Even though David coached her in the evening, she felt she hadn’t done enough. All the equations and symbols ran together—mixed with racing times, and how many feet one must dim the car lights for an oncoming vehicle.

  Trish slept right through her alarm. When she finally heard the insistent buzzer, the clock read 7:10.

  “Trish, you’re going to be late.”

  “I’m up.”

  “That’s what you said fifteen minutes ago.” Marge wiped her hands on a dish towel as she leaned against the door frame.

  “I did?” Trish shook her head and tried to blink her eyes open. “I don’t remember.”

  “How can you stand…” Marge cut off her words, but Trish knew what she wanted to say. One glance at her mother’s face after seeing her totalled room said it all.

  Not today. Not this week. Trish stumbled down the hall to the shower. Maybe I’ll have time to clean it up Saturday.

  The hot shower helped wake her up, but her eyes still felt gritty, as if she had to force her eyelids to stay open.

  “Control to Trish, come in, Trish,” David teased her in the car.

  “Umm-mmm,” Trish yawned for the umpteenth time. “I should go out and run the track.” She picked up her book bag. “I just can’t wake up.”

  “I noticed.”

  She felt good about her Spanish test. The essay went well too. But she felt totally defeated by the chemistry test. Why can’t I get this stuff? Tears of frustration pricked the backs of her eyelids. I’ve never studied so hard for anything in my life. She slumped into her seat in history class. The hour was slated for review, with the teacher answering questions and approving topics for term papers next quarter. Trish opened her book. Panic swept over her. She hadn’t even thought of a topic yet.

  Half an hour later the teacher shook her awake.

  “I’ll have to call your parents right after school,” she warned. “You’re just too tired, Trish. Something has to give.”

  Trish just shook her head and muttered as she left the room. She felt like slamming her fist into her locker door when it wouldn’t open. A perfect end to a perfect day? Right!

  Trish waved at Rhonda and Brad, then tossed her book bag in the back seat of the family car.

  “Feel like driving?” Marge opened the door and stepped out.

  “I guess so.”

  “Pretty bad day, huh?”

  Trish just nodded as she slid into the driver’s seat. The nagger added to her weariness. You better tell her. You know you promised. Trish felt like twisting his scrawny neck, if he had such a thing. I planned on it, she answered. Give me a break, will ya? She bit her lip. That wasn’t quite true. She had thought about postponing telling her mother.

  As they turned onto 79th Street, heading west to Hazel Dell, Trish glanced over at her mother. Marge sat half-turned in the seat, studying her daughter.

  “I did fine in Spanish and English, maybe flunked chemistry, and fell asleep in history.” Trish got it all out in a rush. “Mrs. Smith will call you to set up a conference. She’s probably trying to get you now.”

  “Oh, Trish.” Marge patted her daughter’s arm. “I’m sorry.”

  Yeah, I’ll bet. The words popped into Trish’s mind. Then she scolded herself. It wasn’t as if her mother didn’t care.

  “I tried so hard.” She ground her teeth together. “And it didn’t do any good.”

  “When will you know your grades?”

  “Tomorrow.”

  Marge nodded. “Are you sure you feel up to your driving test today?”

  “Yeah.” Trish took a deep breath. “Mom, I have to ride tomorrow. I gave my word.”

  “I know. But remember the agreement, nothing below a B. You can ride tomorrow because the grades aren’t posted yet, but don’t accept anything beyond that—until you know.”

  Trish groaned.

  “And falling asleep in class…” Marge straightened in her seat, took a deep breath, and shook her head. “Your father and I will talk with Mrs. Smith.” She looked at Trish slumped behind the wheel. “How about something to eat before you go in there?”

  “Afterwards, okay? I just want to get this over with.”

  Trish didn’t need to tell her mother she’d passed the written driver’s test. Her grin said it all when she emerged from the room. “My behind-the-wheel appointment is next Tuesday.” She slid into the driver’s seat. “I can’t believe I got one so soon. They had a cancellation.” She reread her score sheet. “I missed the questions on numbers again—four of them. They all had to do with number of feet and speeds. I hate numbers.” She stuffed the sheet into her purse. “Let’s go eat.”

  “Mrs. Smith called,” Marge said when Trish came back to the house after working the horses that night. “Our conference is for Monday right after school”

  “Me too?”

  Marge nodded. “Dinner’s ready.”

  Trish started to get ready for bed early that night, resenting the hour she’d spent on history. She felt that if she didn’t do well on that final, it would be another strike against her in Mrs. Smith’s eyes. She glared at her notes.

  Reaching to turn out the light, she stared at the open book on her desk. With a groan she threw back the covers, stomped to the desk, and grabbed the book. Propping her pillow against the headboard, she began reviewing—again. She would get an A on this one.

  Or close to it. When she’d finished the test, only two true-and-false questions were in doubt, and the written part looked good. At the end of the day Trish slammed her locker, and she and Rhonda dashed to the parking lot. Even a mud bath from a sloppy track would be better than the last couple of days. But then, anything to do with horses was better than finals.

  “What’d you get in chemistry?” Rhonda leaned on the back of the front seat.

  “C minus. One point away from a D.” Trish slumped in the seat. “At least they won’t ground me today. But I’ll have to tell Diego I can’t ride Wednesday.”

  “Maybe your mom and dad will change their minds.”

  “No.” Trish shook her head. “No chance. And they’re meeting with Mrs. Smith on Monday. I’ll probably have to quit racing on weekdays all together.”

  “It’s just not fair.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  “Your dad coming to watch?” Brad asked.

  “I don’t think so. David’s already there to get Final
Command ready. My first mount is for Diego.”

  Trish rode to win the fourth race. While the pouring rain washed half the mud off her black and white silks, her grin still sparkled. Wet or dry, she loved the winner’s circle.

  Final Command fidgeted in the gate. “That’s not like you, fella,” Trish crooned as she stroked his neck. “I know you don’t like the rain, so let’s just get this over with.”

  The horse on their right refused to enter the starting stall. It took two assistants to finally get him in. Trish hunched her shoulders to keep the rain from running down her neck. She crouched forward, making herself small, hugging all her body heat close. Mentally she called the stubborn horse every name she could think of.

  “If only we were on the outside, boy.” She spoke to her mount’s twitching ears. “But we’re right in the middle.”

  And in the middle was where they were six lengths out of the gate. Right in the middle with horses slipping all around them. She felt a bump on one side and pulled back on the reins to get them out of the melee before something happened.

  At that moment, she heard the crack of a bat. Her mount leaped forward. They slammed into the horse on their left.

  Someone had struck her horse!

  Chapter

  11

  Pure strength of will kept her horse on its feet. Trish ignored the stumbling animals around them and kept her mount’s head up. He slipped in the mud but regained his footing. As the way cleared ahead of them, Trish talked him into running the race. Far ahead the two leaders rounded the turn. One other horse left the pack and ran with her.

  Trish brought the animal over to the rail, and as she encouraged him with heart, hands, and voice, they ate up the furlongs. While there was no way to catch the lead runners, she made sure that they took third place. As they raced around the track, her mind returned to the thwap of a bat on her mount’s haunches.