by Stacy Gregg
“I can’t believe that’s Marco!” Emily breathed. “He looks amazing.”
“He’s not Marco,” Alice held up the race card to show the others. “He’s running under his proper racing name – Saratoga Firefly!”
“Well I’m not yelling that out,” Daisy said. “I’m just going to call out Marco.”
“The horses are lining up behind the barrier,” the commentator’s voice was tense. “Number thirteen is refusing to go into the gates…”
“That’s Marco!” Emily said.
“Typical,” Daisy groaned. “He always has to be the one to cause trouble!”
“No!” Alice said, “Look, he’s gone in. It’s OK.”
The horses were all in the gates and a silence fell over the track. The silence settled into a tense hush and then the air cracked as the metal gates flew open and the horses surged forward. All except for Marco. Instead of breaking at the gates, the chestnut gelding went straight up in a panic-stricken rear. As the other horses leapt forward Riley was struggling with a horse up on his hind legs. The race was on and they had been left behind.
Chapter Fifteen
Come on, Riley, Georgie’s hands were shaking as she trained her binoculars on the barrier. Get him down!
The roar of the crowd around her was deafening, but all Georgie could hear was the pounding of the blood in her ears as she kept her eyes on the chestnut horse still stuck inside the gates. Out on the track the rest of the pack were already five lengths ahead.
Riley had convinced Marco to put all four hooves back down on the ground, but they were still inside the gates.
“C’mon!” Georgie whispered. It was as if Marco heard her because at that moment he shot from the barrier! They were off!
Riley pressed the Thoroughbred on, instantly picking up the stride, standing in his stirrups in a crouch above Marco’s withers, his eyes trained on the backsides of the galloping horses ahead.
Marco’s moment of terror in the barriers was now behind him. He hated to be at the back of the pack and all he wanted was to catch up to the others. He threw himself forward into the gallop, his strides eating up the ground. By the first furlong marker the horses were eight lengths ahead of him, but by the second furlong there were just a couple of lengths between him and the stragglers at the rear of the pack.
Riley was doing all he could to urge Marco on, fighting for each stride as he moved the chestnut gelding closer, edging up on the field.
They began to pick off the stragglers one horse at a time, ducking and weaving their way through the ranks, passing the jockeys and their mounts who fell back as they failed to match the ferocious speed of the pack.
Georgie kept her binoculars trained directly on the little chestnut gelding as he fought his way past one horse after another, his strides relentless as he accelerated to reach the middle of the field.
By the time the horses powered into the final turn and began to head down to the home straight Riley and Marco had made an incredible comeback. They were right up there near the front with just seven horses ahead of them.
“Marco must be exhausted,” Emily said, biting her lip, her knuckles white as she gripped her ticket in her fist. “He’s run too hard to make it this far. He won’t be able to keep up with the pace in the final stretch.”
“Don’t give up on him yet,” Georgie said softly. “That horse is far too stubborn to know when he’s beaten.”
Riley was bent down low over Marco’s neck and the little chestnut began to really flatten out, his strides coming even faster as he charged his way straight through the field ahead of him.
“Here he comes!” John Conway shouted out. “He’s doing it!”
They were in the home stretch now and the little chestnut was right up beside the leaders. In a single stride he overtook the Ace of Diamonds and was gaining on The Rainmaker.
“Go, Marco! Go!” John Conway shouted. But just as quickly as the gelding began his run, he seemed to slow down again. He was alongside The Rainmaker, but it looked like he wasn’t able to get past him to get his nose out in front.
“He’s stalled,” Daisy was aghast. “He’s too tired, he can’t make the run, they’re going to overtake him!”
“No!” Georgie shook her head. “He’s not tired. He’s playing with him!”
Riley was riding it just the way they’d planned! He was holding Marco back and letting him get a good look at his opponent.
Georgie watched through the binoculars as the chestnut gelding held stride, running neck-and-neck with The Rainmaker. She saw Marco look the big black horse right in the eye. And then, once Riley was certain that Marco had got a good, hard look at his rival, Riley let him go.
This time Marco didn’t hesitate. He put on a burst of speed, faster than anything Georgie had ever seen him produce before, and suddenly his strides seemed to quicken to double-time. As he drove forward The Rainmaker was left in his wake. For a half-a-furlong the valiant Ace of Diamonds tried to keep up and match his pace, but then he too fell away, and as they came down to the winning post it was Marco all the way. No one could even touch him as Riley and the little chestnut gelding that no one had ever wanted, the horse that Georgie had bought for a hundred and fifty bucks, crossed the finish line at the famous Churchill Downs to win the Firecracker Handicap by five lengths!
Georgie’s throat was choked with emotion and her heart was pounding as she ran down the entrance to the winner’s circle.
Standing in the centre lawn, with the camera flashes popping around them, were Marco and Riley. The jockey gave her a wave and Georgie forgot all about the crowds and the TV cameras as she ran to meet them.
“You did it!” She had tears in her eyes as she looked up at him. “You rode it perfectly!”
Riley grinned down at her. “It was just like you said, Georgie! I pulled up alongside The Rainmaker and I let Marco really eyeball him. I could just feel him boiling with fury underneath me. He couldn’t stand the thought that this jumped-up giant horse was gonna beat him. After that, all I needed to do was let him go!”
As if to confirm this, Marco gave a snort and stomped a hoof emphatically against the turf beneath him.
Later, Riley would say that Marco took the win in his stride. It was as if the little chestnut always knew he was destined for greatness.
“It just took everyone else a while to realise how special he was,” Riley told Georgie.
Georgie shook her head. “Not you,” she said. “You saw it in him straight away. You believed in him when no one else did.”
Winning the Firecracker didn’t change Marco. He was as difficult as he’d ever been. When a reporter and photographer from the Lexington Herald came down to the stables to take a picture after his great victory Marco tried to bite the photographer’s lens and then turned his rump to the door and refused to turn back round again.
“He’s having trouble coming to terms with stardom,” Riley told the reporter. “Give him a while to get used to it.”
Throughout the celebrations that had followed the race, Georgie put her own troubles aside, but that evening, as Riley gave the girls a lift back to the Academy, she finally confessed what she had done.
“Dominic was being a total jerk,” Georgie said. “He wouldn’t let me leave. I had no choice but to quit.”
Riley was shocked. “You never told me you had work today. Why didn’t you say something?”
Georgie shook her head. “I couldn’t tell you. I felt so bad about letting you down all the time lately and I really, really wanted to see you ride.”
“So you got yourself fired?”
“It was worth it,” Georgie was adamant. “Watching you win the race on Marco meant far more than some dumb apprenticeship.”
Riley shook his head. “But when Blackwell gives you a fail mark and you get kicked out of the cross-country class again, then what?”
Georgie had been trying not to think about this. She’d been trying to convince herself that it didn’t matter that sh
e would once again be turfed out of Tara Kelly’s class.
“Maybe you could go and apologise to him?” Alice offered. “There’s always a chance he’d take you back. He still has the big competition tomorrow and right now he’s stuck with Kennedy as his groom. That’s gotta suck.”
“I thought you said he was riding today?” Riley asked.
“It’s a two-day event,” Georgie clarified. “Today was the mid-grade. Tomorrow it’s the Grand Prix and the Mirror Jumping.”
“So he’s saving his best horses for tomorrow?” Daisy asked.
“Alice is right,” Emily said. “You should go and beg for your old job back.”
Georgie shook her head. “Blackwell’s way too arrogant for that.”
“So you’re just going to give up??” Riley said. “You’re going to let Blackwell win? I don’t know how that guy can bear to look in the mirror the way he treats his grooms…”
“Ohmygod!” Georgie’s eyes widened. “Riley! You’re right!”
“I am?” Riley frowned. “About what exactly?”
Georgie felt her heart racing. She still had a chance to ace her apprenticeship – and prove herself to Dominic Blackwell. But to do it, she’d have to put her all her skills on the line.
Chapter Sixteen
Dominic Blackwell wasn’t a man to admit when he was wrong. Certainly he would never have actually swallowed his pride and apologised to anyone – especially a lowly groom. All the same, he had to concede that he regretted firing Georgie Parker.
Without his head girl, his Sunday morning at the Kentucky Horse Park had been a disaster.
Kennedy Kirkwood had proved herself to be one hundred percent useless as a groom. She had failed to plait a single mane, didn’t know how to put studs in a horse shoe, couldn’t attach a martingale properly and not once but twice she tacked up entirely the wrong horse so that Dominic had been forced to withdraw from his classes.
If it weren’t for the fact that Kennedy Kirkwood’s stepmother had promised him sponsorship he would have fired her ten times by now.
Of all the useless girls he’d had through the Blackwell stables she was without a doubt the worst he’d ever endured.
Not a patch on Georgie. He thought with annoyance. Georgie had been the best groom he’d ever had – able to anticipate his every need, and a good little rider to boot. He’d trusted her to warm his horses up for him – something that he had never truly done with the others. And how did she repay him? By running off to watch her boyfriend ride a race – just when he needed her! Well, he would teach her a thing or two about loyalty. That girl would be receiving a big, fat F on her end-of-term assessment papers when he filled them in tomorrow.
The warm feeling of revenge cheered Dominic Blackwell up a little and he even managed a smile as he climbed down the stairs of the horse truck.
“How much time do we have?” he asked Kennedy.
Kennedy looked up from bandaging Cardinal’s legs. “Until what?”
Blackwell’s good humour disappeared instantly. “Until… I… am… due… in… the… ring… you… clot!” He ground the words out through gritted teeth.
“No need to get grumpy at me,” Kennedy sniffed. “You can read a programme, can’t you? Why don’t you figure out when you’re supposed to be in there?”
If looks could kill, Blackwell would have murdered Kennedy on the spot. As it was, he decided that there was no point in engaging in a battle with the girl. All he had to do was get through the final class this afternoon. He would be riding all three of his best horses – Maximillion, Cardinal and Polaris – in the Mirror Jumping. His losing streak that morning had been depressing, but that was behind him now. Even Kennedy couldn’t mess this up for him. Blackwell had done the studs, sorted the martingales himself and checked the tack. His three mounts were ready and waiting.
Dominic Blackwell intended to take out first, second and third place with the best times of the day. All he had to do was keep his mind on the task and try and survive with this twit of a groom for a few hours more.
Back in the horse truck he checked the schedule. The Mirror Jumping was about to begin in ten minutes. Blackwell had walked the course already, but since he wasn’t due to ride for another half an hour he decided to watch the first round before he mounted up and began his warm-up.
As he ran down the steps of the truck he threw a glance at Kennedy who was struggling to bandage Maximillion’s legs.
“I’ll be riding Maximillion first,” he told her. “Bring him to me in ten minutes.”
“Shall I…” Kennedy began to speak but Dominic cut her off.
“No!” he said. “Just bring me my horse, OK? That’s all I’m asking you to do – even you can’t mess that up!”
The grandstand was totally packed that afternoon as the first two horses entered the arena.
“Welcome to Mirror Jumping here at the Lexington Kentucky Horse Park!” The announcer, Jilly Jones, told the crowd. “For those of you who have never seen this event before you are in for a treat. This is an open tournament where the jumps are set at a maximum height of a metre forty. As you can see, two courses have been set up: side-by-side mirror images of each other. Each rider will go into their own matching arena to jump-off against the clock and each other. The first to make it over the line with the least rails down wins their round. So let’s welcome our first two competitors today: Penny Simpson on Rembrandt and Daniel Deans on Courtesan!”
In the arena, the two riders and their horses began to canter around and warm up, and then, on the judges orders, they lined up ready to begin. The bell rang and both horses sprang forward.
“Over the first fence and they are both neck-and-neck,” Jilly Jones told the crowds. “But look at Daniel Deans taking the lead! He is faster on the turn into fence number two and as they jump the third jump he’s out in front of Penny. Oh dear! She’s had a rail down at the third fence…”
On the sidelines, Dominic Blackwell watched the two riders in the ring with a technical eye. He saw every move they made – the way that Daniel Deans cut the corner at jump nine to shave another second off his time and still managed to fit in two strides in front of the jump, and the way Penny Simpson lost even more ground to him coming through the triple combination.
As he watched, Dominic Blackwell felt an unexpected pang of nerves. He had been so distracted by horse-shoe studs and martingales when he walked the course, he hadn’t really been paying attention. He was ill-prepared for this round and instead of knowing the tricks and turns that would reduce his time, he would be riding this event today by the seat of his pants.
Nevermind, he told himself, Blackwell is the master of Mirror Jumping. Watching these two fumble around the course will be ample study for me. The trick after the treble, Dominic decided, was to keep your horse reasonably straight to take the next jump, a green upright fence, and from there you needed to go around to the right of the orange jump and then you’d be lined up to take the last fence, a solid parallel, in a nice, clean three strides for a text book round.
He watched as Daniel Deans crossed the line ahead of his opponent by almost two seconds.
“Daniel’s win puts him through to the scoreboard with one minute thirty-three,” the announcer said. “It will now be a matter of wait-and-see whether his time is good enough to put him in the final placings by the end of the competition.”
Kennedy stood holding Maximillion’s reins when Dominic Blackwell returned.
“He’s ready,” she insisted.
“We’ll see about that!” Blackwell said, anxiously double-checking the tack before he mounted up and took his horse to the warm-up arena.
The Mirror Jumping was an open amateur class and Blackwell loathed having common riff-raff in the warm-up arena getting in his way. Still, he had to concede that this ‘wild-card’ factor was a real crowd pleaser. Throwing in a few rough diamonds to compete against the slick professionals amused the spectators.
By God, this is a particularly mot
ley assortment! Blackwell thought as he trotted Maxi around and then pressed the stallion into a canter to pop him over the practice jump. There was one horse that he liked the look of – a very elegant bay that he glimpsed nearby. This horse seemed a cut above the rest and Blackwell was pleased when he saw the rider take the bay through towards the main arena. This was clearly his competition: the good-looking bay against his own handsome grey Maximillion. This would be a fitting spectacle for the crowds in the stands.
As he entered the arena behind the bay he looked at the rider. She wore a black jacket and black velvet hard hat and he could see a single blonde braid poking out beneath her helmet. There was something distinctly familiar about her. If only she would turn around so he could see her face…
“Let’s give a big Kentucky Horse Park welcome to our next two competitors,” Jilly Jones’ voice came crisp and clear over the Tannoy. “We’ve got a real wild-card on our hands here. A last-minute entry and she’s got the toughest draw of the competition, facing one of the top riders in the whole country. So let’s give a big Kentucky welcome to our next two riders – Grand Prix champion Dominic Blackwell on the mighty Maximillion, and our contender, Georgie Parker on the Blainford Academy mare Belladonna!”
In the arena, Georgie heard Belladonna’s name being called over the Tannoy and felt an electric thrill run through her.
Riley and the others thought her plan was inspired, and of course they’d offered to help. They had returned to Blainford at dawn with the horse truck, and arrived at the Kentucky Horse Park early to place their last-minute entry in the Mirror Jumping.
Georgie knew the ropes from her years on the circuit with her mum. There would undoubtedly be a scratching today – there was always at least one rider who failed to turn up or had a lame horse. She’d put her name down as soon as the registration tent opened and sure enough, at midday when she went back to check, the course secretary informed her that she would be able to compete.