Backstretch Baby

by Bev Pettersen

  “That’s how I know Scott and Megan,” she went on. “Joey’s father was Megan’s brother. We all met at jockey school. I assumed you knew. That it was in my file.”

  “Nope,” he said, still staring blankly at the shingles.

  “That’s nice Scott took out my personal info,” she said happily. “At first I was resentful he sent you. Afraid they wanted to apply for joint custody. Especially since I’ve been struggling lately. That’s the real reason I didn’t want you around.”

  She went on to talk about heroin and bad cops and how Joey was named after his dad and that it wasn’t surprising he’d wanted a pony since both she and his father loved horses. But the pain in his forehead drowned out her voice, and his jaw clamped so tightly his teeth hurt. And the middle of his chest felt gutted, as if someone had carved a hole then yanked out his beating heart with both hands.

  Because this was worse than a boyfriend. This was…impossible.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  “Joey’s fine,” Eve’s mother said. “I don’t think you should talk to him though because he’ll just start missing you again. But he’s excited about spending the weekend with Megan and Scott.”

  “Great.” Eve gripped her phone a little tighter and edged away from the picnic table. “How’s everything else? How’s your knee?”

  Her mother complained for another ten minutes about her aching leg, the doctor’s outrageous prices, and how the tenants in the adjacent apartment made too much noise. By the time Eve cut the connection, her stomach was churning. Her mother did her best. But Joey needed a younger, more positive caregiver.

  If only she had some of Tizzy’s purse money right now. Lately though, Tizzy had been unreliable. And everyone knew banking on winning only brought bad luck. It wasn’t fair to raise doubts with her staff but she needed to talk to someone. Needed to reassure herself that Tizzy really would run better with all the changes she’d made.

  Jackson was the head trainer. He’d understand her nerves, the constant second guessing. She checked the time then pressed his number. Victoria answered his phone in the morning but hopefully Eve could reach Jackson when he was doing night rounds. It’d been three days since she had talked to him, and either Victoria didn’t pass on her messages or else he’d chosen not to respond.

  Jackson answered on the fourth ring. “Yup,” he said.

  Eve sighed with relief. “I’m so glad to have reached you.”

  “Yeah, well, hurry and talk. Got a vet waiting.”

  “Sure,” she said quickly. “Just want to let you know Tizzy’s entered in the seventh on Saturday, an allowance race. Julie West is riding.”

  “Sounds good,” he said grudgingly. “Surprised she agreed to ride him. His record this year sucks.”

  “She worked him from the gate today and loved him. He likes her too. I really think he goes better for a female rider. Dex and Dani think that’s possible too.”

  “Don’t talk to the owners,” Jackson said. “That’s Victoria’s job now.”

  “But they’re my friends. And Tizzy’s their only racehorse. They want to stay involved, have fun—”

  “Don’t talk to the owners,” he snapped. “Can’t you follow orders?”

  “Of course I can.” She swallowed back her hurt. This conversation wasn’t going the way she hoped. Jackson was the experienced horseman and she had so many questions. Should she wrap Tizzy’s hind legs? Run him in blinkers? Switch his shoes to ones with a rounder toe? Mainly she wanted reassurance, to talk to someone who understood a trainer’s constant angst.

  “I won’t call them,” she said, clearing her throat. “But they’ll want to watch Tizzy’s race. Are you sure Victoria will let them know he’s entered?”

  “Of course she will. And not making owner calls will save you time. You’re struggling enough.” His voice turned accusatory. “Just get those horses running. Don’t worry so much about little cuts and bruises. They’re not pets.”

  “I just want to make sure they’re healthy. We had a few problems but everything’s good now. Ashley and Miguel are working hard.” She hesitated. “Victoria picked a race for Stinger. I don’t agree with the distance though. It’s over a mile and he’s never run that far. I’ve been trying to get more air into him but…”

  “Good.” Jackson grunted. “Run him long. Just get him in a race on Sunday. Make me some money.” His voice lowered. “It’s getting tight here. I had a couple owners move—”

  A woman’s authoritative voice sounded in the background, and he muttered an unintelligible oath. Seconds later, his words turned crisp, and it was clear Victoria was within earshot.

  “Remember not to let Ashley in the paddock,” Jackson went on. “It doesn’t look good to have a pregnant groom handling a horse.”

  “But you said Miguel’s too old to be around the public.”

  “Then maybe it’s time they both look for another job. We’re not running a charity.”

  He cut the connection without asking anything more about Tizzy or Stinger or even about Banjo’s sore back.

  She shoved the phone back in her pocket, stiff with despair. First Rick was acting weird. Then she wasn’t allowed to talk to her son. And now Jackson was sounding more and more like Victoria.

  She pasted on a smile, determined to hide her misery, and walked back to the picnic table. Miguel and Ashley were happily munching pizza, unaware of Victoria’s toxic influence. There was no need to wreck their night.

  “This is delicious,” Ashley said. She picked up another piece of pizza, stretching a line of cheese from the box to her hand. “Nice of Rick to pay. And it will give plenty of energy for Tizzy’s massage, don’t you think, Miguel?”

  Miguel nodded and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, saved from answering by the food in his mouth.

  Eve picked up a slice. But it tasted like cardboard, and she had to force it down with sips of water.

  “Look at all these toppings.” Ashley waved her pizza in the air. “That’s why Liam and the guards always order from Gus’s. It gets here quick too because they know the driver and don’t hassle him at the gate.”

  Eve nodded, pretending to care about the guards’ preference in takeout and how the cheese was extra generous. Her gaze drifted back to the barn. Rick had paid for the pizza, then offered to feed the horses, delighting both Ashley and Miguel with his offer.

  But now he’d holed up in the barn. Clearly he’d lost his appetite too.

  “Rick better eat something,” Ashley said, following Eve’s gaze. “It’s important to have food so it soaks up the beer. They have him and Woody at five to one.”

  “People are betting on this?” Eve asked, yanking her gaze away from the barn door.

  Ashley gave a happy nod. “Last year, Woody and Camila’s boyfriend were bet down to even money. Rick is the dark horse. But even though he’s new, people are backing him because he looks like such a badass.”

  Eve nibbled at a piece of pepperoni. Rick did look tough, but his appearance was usually softened by his affable smile. That smile had disappeared though, ever since they’d returned from checking the hill. Or maybe it was before that.

  She picked up her pizza with both hands and gamely tried another bite, determined not to let Rick spoil her supper. She had to tiptoe around Jackson. But he was her boss. Rick wasn’t. And she didn’t have the time or inclination to deal with moody people. Temperamental horses were tolerable. Moody men, not so much.

  So it really didn’t matter what had wiped the smile off Rick’s face. Or when. She wasn’t going to let it bother her.

  But the pizza stuck in the back of her throat and no amount of swallowing could force it down. Drinking water didn’t help either. Because no matter how many times she replayed the afternoon, there was no denying that his silence had started when she spoke about Joey.

  “Juanita and the gang are coming over to do our hair,” Ashley announced, grabbing a paper napkin and swiping at her chin. “They need customer quotes for thei
r posters, along with a volunteer for a buzz cut. How about you, Miguel?”

  Miguel’s eyes flashed with alarm, and Eve smiled despite her despondency.

  “He doesn’t have time for a haircut,” she said, earning a grateful look from Miguel. “He’s massaging Tizzy tonight. Why don’t you get one of your guard friends to volunteer? They already like their hair short.”

  “I asked Liam,” Ashley said. “He planned to volunteer but when I told him Camila needed the practice, he changed his mind. Which is crazy because these women have always cut hair. They just never charged money before.”

  “But most of their experience is with horses,” Eve said wryly.

  She fingered a strand of hair. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had it cut. It would be convenient to have a trim without leaving the track. She didn’t want a buzz cut, but she didn’t mind the ladies practicing. It was good they were pursuing the business with such enthusiasm, and it was important to help as much as possible. Even Ashley had stopped complaining about her pregnancy and was thinking more of others.

  “Before and after pictures might work better,” Eve said thoughtfully. “Then they wouldn’t have to rely on customer quotes.”

  Ashley’s head bobbed. “You’re right. Pictures would be best. Then they can advertise to all languages on the same poster.” She pushed away the pizza box, her voice lifting with excitement. “We can wear makeup for our after photos and really look hot. Maybe they could even do makeup as a sideline. And some men might pay for a shave.”

  Miguel touched his chin and eased from the table, obviously keen to escape before the hair brigade arrived. And that was convenient as they tried not to talk much about events with liquor while in his presence. However, the local women were excited about the caps tournament, constantly chatting about their favorite team and the generosity of the beer sponsors. Eve didn’t want Miguel tempted. It was a good thing he shunned most social occasions.

  “I want to check the horses,” she said to Ashley. “Call me when the women arrive.”

  She rose and caught up to Miguel as he limped into the barn.

  “The owners will be grateful,” she said, “when they learn you stayed late to give Tizzy a massage.” She was sure they’d tip him, but she didn’t know their plans and now Jackson had forbidden her to call. Which was crazy since Dani had been her friend long before they sent their horse for training. But she wanted to remind Miguel he was appreciated, even if Jackson seemed to have already cut the loyal groom loose.

  “They value your touch,” she went on, “and I know Tizzy will run better. Even though it’s a mystery.”

  “Si. The horse is healthy. But,” Miguel tapped his head, “he needs to be happy here too.”

  She gave a dubious nod. Vets couldn’t explain it, but whatever the reason, there was no doubt Tizzy galloped better after Miguel’s magical hands. Tomorrow would be the horse’s first massage in a while, and she hoped it would bring results. Tizzy’s ability wasn’t in doubt, but lately his race efforts had lacked much enthusiasm.

  “I’ll be back tonight about ten,” she said. “Can you stay at the barn until then? Maybe have your nap until seven, then do the massage?”

  “Si.” Miguel’s head pumped, clearly relieved he now had another reason to avoid a buzz cut. “Will you bet two dollars for me?” he added, almost shyly. “At the tournament?”

  “Sure,” she said, glad he could stay involved even if it was from a distance. “Which team do you like?”

  “The big man’s.” Miguel gestured at Rick who was at the far end of the aisle, tossing hay bales into an empty stall.

  Probably a good choice, she thought, watching as bales flew through the air like toothpicks. But it was strange he was restacking hay. She and Miguel had piled it near the end, and they were only staying at Riverview for three more weeks. The stay would be much shorter if Tizzy and Stinger didn’t run well. Jackson had made that clear.

  She turned her concentration to the horses, determined not to fuel any negative thoughts. The horses were going to give a good effort and they’d be able to stay, and everyone would keep their jobs.

  She visited each horse, checking leg wraps and feed bins, making sure every one was healthy and content. Banjo’s back was healing well and Stinger needed a farrier, but everything was in order and eventually it was impossible to avoid Rick any longer.

  She walked down the spotless aisle, impressed at the amount of work he’d completed. Every bucket had been scrubbed, there wasn’t a cobweb in sight and he’d double bedded each stall. The hay was the focus of his attention now.

  She paused at the front of the stall. He didn’t stop working. His muscles rippled as he tossed a bale to the top of the pile, then angled it with an engineer’s precision. He was completely engrossed in his work. In fact, he didn’t look up.

  She swallowed back her hurt. “Why are you moving the hay?”

  “Better ventilation,” he said.

  She eyed the window. It was the exact same size as every other stall window.

  “I see,” she said, her voice dubious. “Thanks for ordering the pizza. Don’t you want any?”

  “Nope.” He stepped down and adjusted his work gloves. “No time to eat. Woody wants to review game strategy. I didn’t realize caps was such a thinking game.” His smile didn’t reach his eyes. In fact, he looked at her with something akin to resentment.

  Her hurt and confusion bubbled together, and she couldn’t hide her feelings any longer.

  “Is something wrong?” she asked. “Because for the last couple hours, you’ve been really quiet.”

  “Nothing to say.”

  She swallowed, but the tightness in her throat wouldn’t go away. And she hated that she was reacting like this. Hated her horrible suspicions. She blew out an achy breath. “Are you really so put out that I have a son?”

  “Of course not.” He yanked off his gloves and tossed them onto a bale of hay. “Your life beyond this track isn’t my concern.”

  Something moved, pushing the lump further down her throat until it jammed in her chest. Because only two hours ago he’d been talking about working closer to Santa Anita. He’d kissed her like he couldn’t get enough. They’d held hands and smiled and teased like teenagers. She’d thought they were in this together.

  But he worked undercover. He was trained to pretend. Besides, it was no big loss. Cops were never her favorite anyway. At least he was working hard, lightening the barn work and delighting Ashley and Miguel. There wasn’t anything he hadn’t been prepared to do.

  Even her.

  She took a stumbling step backward, relieved he’d turned to the hay and couldn’t see her reaction. Because she was blinking much too fast and dust stuck to the back of her eyes, and her entire body felt chilled.

  “Hey, are you ready?” Ashley called from the doorway. “The women are here.”

  Eve turned back to Rick. “Good luck in the tournament tonight,” she said, surprised her words sounded composed, or that they came out at all, considering how her throat felt so dry and tight and bruised.

  Then she squared her shoulders and walked away.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  “Wow, look at me. I’m gorgeous!” Ashley stared into the mirror, her darkened eyelashes fluttering. “The lipstick matches my new shirt. Did you take plenty of pictures? Both sides?”

  Juanita gave a tolerant nod, freed the mirror from Ashley’s grip and replaced it in the pink bucket.

  Eve gave Ashley a thumbs up. It was remarkable what the women had accomplished with just some water, scissors and makeup. They hadn’t been able to round up any male volunteers. But the women were content to concentrate on Eve and Ashley since they didn’t want to risk being late for the caps tournament.

  “This business is going to be a huge moneymaker,” Ashley said, her gaze swiveling to Eve. “I love what they did to you too. How they feathered your hair and showed off those gorgeous cheekbones. You look like a movie star.”


  Eve’s smile was forced. She didn’t feel like a movie star. More like someone who’d been kicked to the curb. And her love life was the least of her worries. Jackson had made it clear that if Tizzy and Stinger flopped this weekend, there’d be no second chance.

  Maybe she could return to race riding. But her fingers balled in panic, and she knew that wasn’t really an option. She was too obsessed with rider falls now, too worried about Joey and his future.

  Of course, if something happened to her, Scott and Megan would adopt him. Maybe they’d feel compelled to step in sooner. No doubt, Rick had updated them on her lack of money, her precarious employment.

  She clasped and unclasped her hands, absorbing the irony. Here, she was being thanked for making life better for the backstretch mothers. Yet she couldn’t even look after her own son. Or her staff.

  “Stop worrying about Tizzy,” Ashley said, rising from the table. “Miguel’s massage will fix him. And we should walk over to the rec room now. We don’t want to miss anything.”

  Eve gave a little nod. Tizzy would win on Saturday and keep Jackson happy. Her training career was going to work out, and she and Joey would never have to be apart again. And the ache in her chest would go away, and she wasn’t going to hurt anymore about Rick.

  “Wait,” Juanita said. “I need more pictures of Eve.” She grabbed her phone and bent down, her voice lowering. “You are beautiful but I think you are sad too. You miss your son, si?”

  Eve looked into Juanita’s compassionate eyes. Everything seemed to be crashing down, but she’d tried to hide her fears. Certainly Ashley hadn’t noticed. Juanita, however, was much more perceptive.

  “This is the longest I’ve been away from him,” Eve admitted. “It’ll be two weeks before I see him again. And my mother isn’t the most energetic babysitter. But the only one I can afford.”

  “You can’t go home and see him after the races on Sunday?” Juanita asked.