by Stacy Hoff
Ryder was on her own to go find them because the third oddity of the day was Lenny feeling ill. The older man, normally bulletproof from colds and flu, had woken up that morning with a fever. Normally that still wouldn’t have kept him away, but the constant vomiting had forced him to stay home. He had been sick enough to warrant her own mother going over there to help him get out of bed.
The only person left of her inner circle was Jake. But as Handsome Dancer’s owner, Jake had his own responsibilities to take care of. Like speaking with the Press. Schmoozing up other owners in the VIP area. And promoting not only Handsome Dancer, but all of his horse stock. The bigger the draw his stables got, the more asking money he could potentially get for them. Of course, to help boost his stock’s fame, he’d be looking to Ryder to win today’s race. Jake was very clear that Handsome Dancer’s win would be the centerpiece of his promotional campaign.
She wiped a bead of sweat off her forehead and tried to ignore the blooming headache. The heat and humidity were enough to make her temples throb even without all this added pressure.
Of all the problems, however, the worst by far was the weather. And not just because it was triggering a barometric-pressure-driven headache. A heaviness hung in the air. Oppressive calm right before the storm. The sky was cloudy but still bright enough. The sky’s appearance, however, could not be trusted.
Racing during a storm would be her worst-case scenario. A replay of the time she fell, with she and her horse floundering, injured in the mud. Lying face down in torrential rain.
After walking the stalls and their perimeter a half-dozen times, she went back to check on Handsome Dancer. A glance at his pinned-back ears made it clear she wasn’t the only one being impacted by the impending storm. His flesh twitched, as if he were electrified by the weather itself.
“Whoa there, Handsome babycakes. We’ll get through this.” Her voice was as gentle as possible to soothe him. Soft, slow nose rubs helped to calm him down, too. Still, his right hoof kept kicking backward nervously. The horse, usually silent, whinnied persistently.
“Shhhh, it’s all right, Handsome Dancer. You’ll be back in this stall wearing the blue ribbon way before the storm hits. Clem and Henrietta will be here. You can show them the big basket of victory carrots I’m gonna give you. Then we’ll celebrate, warm and dry.”
Outside, the wind picked up and the temperature dropped. “Damn. I hope we’re going to make it back from the race before the storm hits.”
Handsome Dancer peered up at her, his brown eyes soulfully round. It’s as if he can understand me. “Don’t worry, babycakes. I’ll be with you the entire way. We will win together.” Or go down together.
A glance at her watch let her know there was only two hours left before they had to go to the gate.
Handsome whinnied again. He did not sound happy. Maybe Jake can help calm him down with me. “I’ll be back, soon, Handsome,” she said before texting the only ally around to help both her and the horse. When no answer came back, she decided to find him.
Unfortunately, the access to the VIP section was extremely limited. Ryder made her way to the section closest to that area. Frustrating as it was, at least she didn’t have to worry about looking out of place among the derby hat wearers in her working-class, denim-clad clothes. There was time enough to change into her jockey silks.
The less she drew attention to herself with the owners’ crowd, the happier she was going to be. With her nerves already on-edge she didn’t need to hear any unkind comments to throw her confidence further off-kilter. Hopefully the Mets baseball hat she wore would help obscure her face from view. If I can just grab his attention, we can slip away quick.
At last she found Jake at the edge of the VIP section on the opposite side from her, near the side-rail. Seeing him was an enormous relief. She exhaled a heavy breath and almost called out to him when she suddenly froze.
The woman standing next to Jake was somehow familiar. Tall and thin with dark brown hair. Ryder squinted to get a clearer look at her. The woman was wearing a derby hat as elegant and expensive as they came. Bows and elaborately painted butterflies danced around a bright green background. The dress she wore had a matching design set against a shiny green fabric that cinched at the waist and flared to the knees.
The overcast sky thankfully prevented the woman from also wearing sunglasses, which would have blocked out her face. But still it was hard for Ryder to tell why she was familiar. Deciding the woman must simply be another owner who hung around the track, Ryder lifted an arm to gesture Jake to come over.
Ryder’s arm, however, only got halfway in the air because she saw the brunette smile broadly at a man who also seemed familiar. In fact, the man appeared to be an older version of Jake. Shorter, with thinning hair. Oh, no, that must be his father. I’d better back away before he sees me. But Jake’s older doppelganger was obviously too engaged with the brunette to notice Ryder.
Ryder turned to leave but stopped when she heard the man loudly say a memorable name. Betsy. Of course! The woman in the engagement photo.
Then Jake leaned toward the woman, angled his face under the broad brimmed butterfly hat, and kissed her.
Ryder felt her blood turn to ice. Her heart lurch. A sensation of nausea rise up from her belly until it threatened to spill forth from her already gagging throat.
Jake is a liar.
If there was nothing going on between the two of them, why wouldn’t Jake have mentioned he’d be sitting with her in the VIP section? What was he trying to hide? That he had rekindled their relationship? Or that he’d been with her the entire time Ryder and Jake had been together?
Ryder stood there, desperate to hide but with legs firmly bolted to the ground. Her ribcage felt tight, as if it was going to crack. Her breath, and time itself, suspended. After Jake’s father put an arm around Betsy, bile reached as far as her teeth. Then the three of them sat down together.
Refusing to run, Ryder crossed her arms over her chest and stared them down. Not that they noticed. I might as well be invisible. Her eyes stung. It was a matter of time before her face became as wet as the darkening sky.
Then a thought even more painful hit her. The letter. Jake Carter doesn’t date trash. Did Jake write it? Did the woman? Did Jake’s father?
Ryder felt her head spin. Despair swirled and fluttered around her. Maybe Jake didn’t care about her after all. Acting out this charade to manipulate her into racing his horse. It’s not like anyone else could ride Handsome Dancer. Not with Handsome’s temperament and such a short time to get him used to somebody new. Even a more experienced jockey would have a helluva time racing without Handsome’s acceptance. Jake even admitted this. Was this why he told her he was no longer involved with Betsy?
The sense someone was staring at her made her look away from Jake and lift her eyes higher in the VIP stands. A man located a few rows up but closer to her side of the stadium gave her a malevolent stare. Barney Smythe.
The man shot her a nasty grin. Figures he’s so hostile. His horse is also racing today. She closed her eyes to remember his horse’s name. Knows No something or other. Despite the man’s obvious ill-wishes she was about to mouth the words “good luck” to him when she noticed something peculiar on his dark blue blazer. A white and brown feather hanging off the jacket’s cuff. Ryder’s mouth dropped open, the bile once again threatening to bubble out. Bastard took Handsome Dancer’s pet chicken! He probably has Clem the goat, too. This man will stop at nothing to win.
Scared for Handsome Dancer’s safety, she flew back to the stables as fast as she could go. And then she kept running—far away from both Jake Carter and her ambition to ever jockey again.
Jake sat in the viewing stands with every nerve in his body on edge. I should be back in the stables seeing if Ry needs a hand.
He had wanted to make peace with his fa
ther, at least as much as possible. Fighting his family was daunting on multiple levels. But more than worrying about being boxed out of business deals, he was worried about being emotionally boxed out.
His father would hopefully come to accept both of them. As long as he and Ryder were together, his father needed to accept them as a couple. His father also needed to understand he was not allowed to quarterback but would be welcomed as a spectator of their winning team.
Jake pulled out his smart phone to send Ryder a text but realized his battery had died. He rolled his eyes in disgust. Of all days.
Looking up, he realized his day was going to get worse. Betsy was waltzing her way up and down the VIP viewing stands, her internal GPS obviously on him. She blew him a kiss in what he guessed was her attempt to be sexy. The effort was wasted. Jake felt his expression fall, his happiness break off, hurtling all the way down.
“Great, Dad,” Jake whispered to his father, out of Betsy’s earshot. “Invite Betsy after I told you I don’t want to see her anymore. And more importantly, I told you I’m involved with somebody else.”
“Betsy’s my guest so be polite.”
“I’ll be polite to make you happy. I also don’t want to cause a scene. But if you don’t stop setting me up we’re headed for a big fight. I don’t want that. I hope you don’t either. You don’t get to decide how I run my life.” There was no choice but to stop talking since Betsy was once more upon them.
“Hi, Jakey.” She beamed at him with bright eyes and tilted her head to the side so she could get a kiss.
Biting back his anger at being manipulated, he leaned forward and made a “mwah” sound in the air.
“Let’s sit down, shall we?” she said sweetly.
Not to cause a public scene, he did. When she draped a hand casually on his thigh he narrowed his eyes, picked up her hand, and dropped it back on her lap. “Betsy,” he said in a low voice with a distinct warning tone. “You need to cut that out. We’re not engaged anymore.”
She gave him a pout. “I know you’re going to change your mind about me. Your father and I have been talking. He knows I want us to get engaged again. I’ve been trying to talk to you for weeks now.” She fluttered long, pretty lashes at him. “I’ve been jockeying for you, Jakey.”
“No, Betsy, you’ve been jockeying for the best deal around. So long as you think I’m it, that person will be me.”
Her mouth dropped open. Her ashen look was almost comical.
“Count me out of your wedding plans, Betsy. This horse has bolted.” With that, he stood up. “See you around.”
He barely had time to see her face contort in rage as she got up. She ran down the VIP section’s central staircase and, in an instant, was gone.
“Son, sit back down. We need to talk,” his father said, his words as heavy as lead.
“No, Dad, I’m done with talking. You need to listen.”
His father’s jaw magically turned into stone. An unmovable statue. “Now see here, I’m tired—”
“I’m tired too, Dad. Tired of you always riding me. You are not my trainer, leading me around until I do your bidding. Nor are you my jockey who can whip me to move faster. I need you to accept me and respect me. And my decisions. Including those about women. I get to decide who I want to be with, not you.” Jake paused and cleared his throat. “I know you’re only doing what you think is best for me. But it’s going to destroy our relationship if you don’t back off. I’m a grown man. I need to live my own life.”
His father’s jaw bounced up and down wordlessly for a few moments. “Everybody values my advice. Everybody but you. You don’t show me any respect.”
“Respect doesn’t mean total submission, Dad. Respecting you doesn’t mean I have to dump my girlfriend because you want me too.”
“There is a better woman out there. You made her walk away.”
“No. Betsy’s not a better woman. You simply think she’s better bred. People aren’t horses, Dad. And as people, we need to be in control of our own lives. I love you, but you have to let your control issues go.”
Jake extended his hand out to his dad, wondering whether he would shake it. “I do love you, Dad. I hope you love me, too. Do you?”
The color drained from his father’s face. “Of course I do,” he sputtered. “I can’t believe you doubt me.”
Jake arched an eyebrow. “Good to know. But I’m standing here with my hand in the air, Dad, looking stupid. Are we going to shake or not?”
His father’s eyes grew round and his voice quieted. “Before we shake son, I think there’s something you need to know.”
Jake put his hand down and let out an exasperated sigh. “What?”
“I might have left Ryder Hannon a message.” His father tugged at his shirt collar uncomfortably.
“You what?”
“Okay, I admit it. I left her a note.”
“First you call her up and now you’re leaving her notes? I can’t believe it. Are you going to tell me what your note might have said?”
“It’s best I go handle the matter myself. Truce?” His father extended his arm for a handshake.
“After you rectify the situation,” Jake said flatly, his hands by his sides.
Chapter 17
Ryder sat down on the floor outside Handsome Dancer’s stall, tears streaming down her face, not caring about the dirt. The horse was obviously all right. She had done her best with red, swollen, teary eyes to check him out thoroughly. Handsome’s mood, on the other hand, was horribly injured. So is mine.
With great effort she pulled herself up and peered into his stall. Handsome Dancer stepped forward, one twitching leg at a time. Ryder took hold of his big head and rubbed it in small circles. “It’s okay, boy. I’m sad, too. Angry. Hurt. And scared just like you. Wishing I had my friends around me right now.”
The horse whinnied softly and settled down. For a moment he closed his large brown eyes. She lifted herself until she touched her nose to his. “Love you, too, babycakes.”
When she pulled away, Handsome leaned his head forward to try to nuzzle her. She stroked the white snip on his nose with a gentle hand and blinked hard against stinging tears. Pressure was building up behind her eyes and forehead. Soon she’d have a migraine for sure.
“Because you’re one of my friends, Handsome Dancer, I’m going to tell you something. I’m not going to race you today. I’m not in a proper mindset to do it, and I would never jeopardize your safety.” She paused and croaked out her next words. “I’m not going to train you after today, either. Because my dealing with Jake Carter is not safe for me.” She swallowed hard. “Lord, I need to keep myself safe,” she whispered.
“Safe from what?” a familiar voice asked.
Ryder whirled around to see Mindy standing there. Her friend’s head was cocked to one side as if trying to evaluate. “I came by to check on the goat situation. Baby Be Mine is already with his jockey, so I figured I’d give you a hand if you needed it. Hey, are you all right?”
“No.” It was all Ryder could do not to laugh hysterically. “Not at all.”
“Well pull yourself together. This is your big day. Not just Handsome Dancer’s, but yours. The rest of the jockeys are either getting their silks on or meeting their mounts. It’s time for you to do the same.” Mindy’s face lit up. “I know you’re going to win, Ryder. I did my best for Baby Be Mine, but there’s no way you and Handsome Dancer aren’t going to take the top prize. I’ve seen you two in action. You are more than simply horse and rider. You guys are like musical harmony, separate components of one beautiful song. And when you make it to the finish line first, I’ll be the first one to sing both your praises.”
The words wrapped around Ryder’s heart, touching it deeply. “Those words mean a lot to me, Mindy. But I’m not going to ride. I was going
to, but then I saw Jake kissing a woman he was engaged to. Is engaged to, I think. And his father called me a while back telling me to back away from his son.” Her eyes narrowed. “He told me I was too low-brow to be with Jake.”
Mindy’s eyes widened. “Why that rotten little piece of sh—”
“I know,” Ryder agreed. “But he’s not the only one. Someone else left me an anonymous note saying Jake Carter does not date trash. It’s probably from Jake’s father, but who knows? And then there’s Barney Smythe. He’s the one who stole Clem the goat and the chickens, I’m sure of it.” Ryder laughed tightly. “I’ve got to hand it to him. He did his best to throw Handsome Dancer and me off our game. Worst thing is—it worked. All of it worked. I’m not riding this race. Or any race. I’m never going to be a jockey again.”
Mindy’s eyes softened but her expression stayed firm. “I understand what they’ve all done to you is terrible. Though I’m still hopeful Jake has a solid explanation. But even if he doesn’t, I don’t understand why you’re willing to let him and the rest of those idiots win.”
Ryder’s jaw dropped again. “You don’t? You’ve got to be kidding me.”
Mindy breathed in so deeply Ryder could see her chest rise up. “No, I’m not. I think you’re kidding yourself. You’re afraid, Ry. Scared to take the big chance and fail again. All of these things happening to you is bad, I get that. But they’re still excuses. You’re looking for reasons to not put yourself out there.”
“But—”
“No buts, Ry. Unless you’re referring to the butt-kicking I’m going to give you. You need a kick in the ass to get you going. No different from when you kick a horse’s hindquarters to nudge it along.”
Ryder stared at her silently and sullenly, her arms crossed tightly over her chest.