“All right. Just don’t go too fast.”
The horse in the ReHab barn was a big-eared nondescript leggy bay gelding. What he lacked in looks he made up for in personality. He was one of those “Happy to be alive horses,” as Randy liked to say. Even though he was obviously hurting, he nickered when Dusty, Randy, and Cindy approached his stall, stood kindly as could be as they fussed over him, and cooperated in every way possible as they examined his injury.
Back at the Miller barn, Junior had their pony Gizmo tacked with a few minutes to spare before getting the first horse out and took the opportunity to talk to Ben and Tom about the race he picked to enter Max. He placed his condition book on the desk in front of Ben and then felt a little silly. Ben had his own condition book. “I’m thinking of running Max Sunday. Here. Going a flat mile.”
Ben looked at the young man’s condition book and glanced up at him. “It would help if I had the horse’s past performances.”
From his wallet, Junior produced that too, a well-worn folded printout from the last time the horse ran. “Here’s how he finished.”
Tom looked over Ben’s shoulder and shrugged.
“What’s that mean?” Junior asked, mimicking the shrug. “Yes? No?”
“I don’t know. What do you think, Ben?”
“Well....”
Junior had hoped for a resounding yes from both of them.
“Why are you thinking about running him a route?”
Junior hesitated, but only for a second. “I think he’ll run all day. He’s got that kind of stride and he finished strong his last couple of races. He doesn’t have a lot of early speed.”
“Well…” Ben repeated. “He could be all right at a mile then.”
Tom studied the horse’s past performances again, even though both he and Ben had looked at them several times already on their own. “That might be a good spot to find out.”
“What do you mean, might? What the fuck? That’s not what I’m asking. You and Ben talk all the time about where you’re gonna run a horse. You both have opinions and you share them. Why not share them with me the same way?”
Ben looked at him. Tom looked at him. They just looked at him.
“Oh, I get it,” Junior took back his condition book. “This is a test, right?”
“No. No test,” Ben said. “This is about you thinking long and hard and making the decisions.”
“Okay. Then I guess I’ll make the decision. I’ll run him there. What do you both think?”
”I think it’s a good idea,” Ben said. “I probably would’ve picked the same race.”
Tom nodded in agreement. “Yep. Me too.”
Junior heaved a sigh of relief and folded Max’s past performance sheet.
“Just let me know who you’re riding before I go over to enter,” Ben said.
Junior hesitated. He hadn’t thought that far ahead. He was too busy worrying about why the horse hadn’t wanted to eat when he first got him and then how Lucy planned to kill him when she found out about the tuition money, and…. “Probably Johnny I guess.”
“Did you ask him?”
“No.”
“You’d better get around to it.”
“All right. I suppose I should have him breeze him tomorrow then. Damn, I wanted to breeze him. I wanted to see what he’s got.”
“How far do you plan to go?” Ben asked.
“Um,” Junior stared at the training chart. Ben only breezed a fit horse if it hadn’t raced in over ten days. Max would be thirteen days between races. Assuming the horse was fit was just that; an assumption. After all, he’d only galloped Max a couple of times. “Three eighths maybe.”
“For a mile?”
“Jesus! How is it I do this for a living and never gave any thought to all of this before?”
“Because you just listen to what the trainer’s say. This is a whole new ballgame now.” Tom said. “Another furlong could make a difference in the horse being too fresh.”
“You’d work him a half?”
“I don’t know. We’re asking you.”
“All right. Okay. We’ll work him three-eighths and gallop out a half.”
“Good,” Ben said. “Let’s get going.” They had two horses in today. As usual, they’d get those horses out first. Ben liked them handwalked and back in their stalls before training started. “Time’s a wasting.”
~ * ~
Pastor Mitchell caught up with Dusty midmorning and was beside himself. “I never thought telling the two of them that I didn’t think they should be together would cause them to split up.”
Dusty sighed. Obviously he was referring to Dave and Connie. “When did this happen?”
“Last night. Connie called me in the middle of the night, crying. She said Dave told her he was going to move in with some woman named Janet.”
Dusty shook his head. “You can’t blame yourself for that. This Janet person could be one of the reasons they argue so much.”
“I don’t know. I have been praying ever since I talked to her.” Pastor Mitchell looked in at the bay horse. “Poor thing. What happened to him?”
“Suspensory.”
“Oh. Is this the horse someone left in the night?”
Dusty chuckled. The racetrack rumor mill. “It wasn’t exactly in the night. Apparently it was in the late evening. He’d run two,” he said, of the trainer. “This one pulled up bad and was put on the vet’s list and denied exit.”
“I wish every track had that policy.”
“They will. It’s just a matter of time.”
“The sooner, the better.” Pastor Mitchell sat down on the bench next to him and sighed. “What have I done?”
Dusty couldn’t help but laugh. “If it’s meant to be, it’s meant to be. There’s nothing you can do about it. You just brought it to light.”
The barn area loudspeaker crackled. “Pastor Mitchell to the chapel. Pastor Mitchell to the chapel.”
“Oh dear God,” Pastor Mitchell said. “Maybe I’ll just stay here and help you do stalls.”
“No, that’s all right. Franklin’ll be down shortly.”
“Franklin?”
“Yeah, he’s helping out.”
Pastor Mitchell recalled times when Franklin used to come to talk to him if ‘things were bad’ which was how the young man had put it. The boy had a big heart, but a horrible temper.
“He’s a good kid.”
Pastor Mitchell had suggested Franklin envision himself rising above anger, flying, soaring….
“But it keeps reaching up and grabbing me, Pastor.”
“Fly higher.”
“He’s a big help to me,” Dusty said. “And the horses really like him.”
Pastor Mitchell nodded. Franklin told him he never lost his temper with horses, just people, situations, circumstances. Then together they would pray and pray. And then pray and pray some more.
“How are you, Franklin?” Pastor Mitchell asked in passing still to this day.
“Flying high, Pastor Mitchell,” the young man would always say, “Flying high.”
Dusty looked at him. “You okay?”
Pastor Mitchell nodded. “If Daniel can go into the lion’s den, then surely so can I. Wish me luck.”
Dusty chuckled. “Good luck,” he said, adding as Pastor Mitchell walked away. “Don’t call me. I’ll call you.”
“Gee, thanks.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Missimee Me was in the first race, Morning Dew in the fourth. Both races were six furlongs. Ben waited as long as he could to walk over to the Secretary’s office to enter Overdue Max for Junior. Still no word back whether Johnny could ride him in the race. Ben hated entering the horse without naming the jockey. Within seconds of the overnight sheet coming out, he’d be bombarded with jockey agents vying for the mount.
Junior came jogging up behind him, out of breath. “Johnny can’t ride him. He has another horse in the race.”
“All right. Just calm down. We’l
l see who’s available. Come on.” There were most always agents milling around the Secretary’s office during entries for this very reason.
Junior caught his breath as he walked along. “I don’t want Dingman.”
“Oh?”
“From a couple of years ago. I’m sure he’d like nothing better than to stiff my horse to get back at me.”
Ben shook his head. After years and years of Tom and some of his shenanigans in the past and then Junior…. “What about Annie?”
“Uh….”
Ben held up his hand. “What about Juan?”
“Do you think he’d ride him?” Juan was the leading jockey at the moment.
“It doesn’t hurt to ask.”
“Yes, it will. I don’t take rejection well.”
Ben laughed. “Then let me do the talking.”
“Seriously?”
“No.”
Junior followed Ben inside and stopped dead. “Oh shit.”
Ben glanced ahead. Junior’s father-in-law was at the counter, obviously entering a horse.
“He’d like nothing more than to outrun me,” Junior said.
“What makes you think he’s entering in the same race?”
“Because that would be just my luck.”
“Hey, Tony,” Ben said.
“Morning, Ben! Morning, Junior. What are you up to?”
“Oh, I’m just over here with Ben. Kinda fun walking around and showing off with the owner of the racetrack.”
Ben shook his head and laughed. “Trust me, ain’t no notoriety there.”
Tony laughed as well, then patted Junior on the back and walked out of the office.
“What the hell was that all about?” Junior asked. Why the pat on the back?
When he and Ben approached the entry counter, Linda looked up and pretended to be startled by the appearance of the two of them together.
“Don’t give me any shit,” Junior said.
Linda laughed.
“Who did he just enter?” Junior asked. “What race?”
Linda looked at him. “Excuse me, but that’s classified information.”
“Well, then, tell Ben.”
When she crossed her arms and just looked at Junior again, Ben nodded. “See? What did I tell you?” At that almost precise moment, Leon and the film crew emerged from the Stewards’ office, cameras rolling. Leon motioned for them to zoom in. “Overdue Max in the fifth race.”
Linda punched the horse’s name in the computer. “Jockey?”
It was a rare occasion for Ben to name a jockey that wasn’t prearranged. He could name Juan to ride the horse, but if Juan already had another mount in the race it would make him look less than a little on top of his game. He glanced at Junior standing at his side and decided to take one for the kid. “Juan Garcia.”
“No can do,” Linda said.
“All right,” Ben replied. “Leave it open.”
No sooner had Linda entered that lack of information into the computer and Ben and Junior turned to leave, three agents approached them. Leon had his film crew flank the group from both sides.
“Who’s this horse, Overdue Max?”
“He belongs to Junior.”
“Me and Lucy.”
Within seconds, two of the agents had Googled the horse.
“We’ll ride him,” Jackson’s agent said.
“Wilson’ll fit him.”
“How about giving Annie the mount? She loves a closer.”
Junior stared. A closer? Did Annie’s agent see the same thing he had in the horse’s past performances? Did he too believe that the horse wanted to route? He could see Ben looking at him out of the corner of his eye. Ben had suggested Annie earlier also and now her agent and the closer comment. It seemed meant to be. “Is she open that race?”
Oh my, Ben thought.
“Yes. She is.”
Junior looked at Ben and then glanced over his shoulder. “Linda, put Annie on Overdue Max.”
“Okie dokie.”
As the agents scattered as quick as they came, Ben and Junior left the office and headed back to the barn. “Not that I have to know this,” Ben said. “But what does Lucy have against Annie?”
“Nothing. She just thinks I have a crush on her.”
Ben sighed. “Oh, that’s wonderful.”
Leon and the camera crew were right behind them, cameras on zoom and sound up. “I’m loving this,” Leon said. “Loving it! Loving it! Loving it!”
~ * ~
D.R and Maeve woke in the morning to good news and started jumping up and down. Their mommy was coming home.
“Today?” Maeve asked.
“No,” Carol told them. “Saturday.”
“What time?” D.R. asked. “When?”
“Some time in the afternoon.”
They couldn’t wait to tell Maria. “She’s coming home! She’s coming home!”
Carol suggested they make a “Welcome Home” banner so all their energy and excitement could be put to good use.
“A BIG banner,” D.R. said.
Maeve agreed. “Really big!”
“Really really big!” Maria stretched her arms out wide.
“What color?” Carol asked.
“Purple!”
“Red!”
“Green!”
Cracker Jack received good news that morning as well, from his doctor. “How do you spell remission?”
“Are you kidding me? Really?” He spelled out the word, “F A B U L O U S!”
“This report is only good for another three months.”
“No problem. I’ll take it!” Cracker Jack hung up the phone and looked around the room. Since he hadn’t told anybody about his medical condition, not even his son or his best friend Ben, he decided he might as well let it go at that. He felt like leaping in the air and kicking up his heels. Surely he had a little bunny-hop left in him. “Who wants to go to the races?”
With a chorus of me, me, me, me, me’s in reply, he fired up the trolley. The fact that the Miller barn had two horses in today would make their inaugural voyage to Nottingham Downs as a group even better. When they were all in their seats and buckled in, Cracker Jack rang the bell. “All aboard?”
“All aboard!”
“Okay! Here we go!”
~ * ~
Fortunately Junior had plenty to keep him busy before the first race; otherwise he probably would have been camped outside the Secretary’s office trying to appear cool, calm, and casual while waiting anxiously for the overnight sheet to come out.
Pastor Mitchell had enough on his hands to keep him busy as well. Dave and Connie were at it again and right before his very eyes in the front pew of the chapel. This session had started out pretty civil, but quickly digressed into a shouting match about this infamous “Janet” person.
Finally, Dave confessed. “I haven’t actually talked to Janet in years. But the last time I saw her, she invited me to come visit her whenever. Just like old times she said.”
“So when you said that to Connie about moving in with her…?” Pastor Mitchell held up his hand. “Connie, I’m talking. Be quiet. Please.”
“Old times?” Connie insisted on saying. “You’d be useless to her now.”
“It’s the medication, and you know that,” Dave said.
Pastor Mitchell sighed. “Can I remind you two we’re in a House of the Lord?”
Connie and Dave were both silent for a moment.
“Close your eyes,” Pastor Mitchell said.
Both reluctantly closed their eyes.
“Now bow your heads. Connie, would you please bow-your-head.”
“She can’t,” Dave said, on her behalf, peeking. “She hurt her neck riding a couple years ago. That’s it.”
Connie looked at him.
“Okay. Now hold hands.”
Something about the way Dave came to her defense softened Connie, softened both of them. Seeing that, Pastor Mitchell led them in a prayer. “Heavenly Father, we ask for yo
ur guidance. We ask for your mercy. We ask for your blessing. If it be your will, let this husband and wife renew their commitment to one another. Let them be examples of the power of healing prayer. Let them remember why they chose to marry one another and stick by one another in sickness and in health, in times of trouble and times of triumph. Keep them safe, oh Lord, in Jesus’ name. Amen.”
“Amen.” Connie and Dave opened their eyes and gazed at one another.
It was then that Pastor Mitchell noticed Leon and the film crew standing quietly at the back of the chapel. His first instinct was to march back there and ask for the film to be erased. But on second thought.... “Can you supply them with a copy of this?”
Leon nodded.
Was that tears in his eyes?
Connie and Dave stood and walked to the door, hand in hand, and glanced back. “Thank you, Pastor,” they both said. “Thank you.”
Leon looked at Pastor Mitchell after they left and shook his head. “What just happened?”
“I don’t know. I’ve prayed for them and prayed for them and prayed for them. That was the first time I’ve ever prayed with them, believing.”
“Are they all right?”
Pastor Mitchell nodded. “I can only hope. But actually, I think so.”
“Good,” Leon said. “That’s a wrap.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Entries closed late. “Call Linda,” Junior told Tom.
“What’s the matter with you? You call her.”
“All right, give me the number.”
Tom punched in the number on his cellphone and handed it to him.
“Linda, it’s Junior.”
“What’s up?”
“I’m checking on Overdue Max. Did the race go?”
“Yep. Sixth race, seven horse field. You drew the three hole.”
Junior hesitated asking, “Uh, who else is in the race?”
“Come get an overnight. What the hell?”
“I can’t. We have a horse in the first. Does uh…Guciano have one in the same race?”
Linda paused. “No. Is that all you want to know?”
“Yes. Thank you. Don’t tell anyone I asked.”
“Tell who? Who the hell would care but you?”
Junior laughed. “Thanks, Linda. I appreciate it.”
Book Four of the Winning Odds Series: Soon to be a Movie Page 15