Rick looked at Eve. “Is it always like this?”
She nodded, understanding his question. “It’s full of highs and lows, but totally absorbing. I can’t imagine working anywhere else.”
She pointed at the horses nearing the starting gate. “Julie’s feet are in the irons. Tizzy knows it’s time now,” she added, “so you can stop worrying.”
Rick followed her gaze. When Tizzy had paraded past the grandstand, the jockey’s legs had been hanging by his sides. Now she’d placed her toes in the irons. And the change in Tizzy was remarkable. His body was coiled, his head arched over the bit, his ears pricked toward the gate. He rushed forward, so impatient to enter he almost clipped the assistant starter.
“He’s a horse who wants to please,” Eve added. “And he knows it’s not time to race until the rider’s feet are in the stirrups. That night in the dark, when I took my legs out of the stirrup, he quit prancing. That small thing can save a lot of energy.”
“Did you tell the jockey that?”
Eve nodded. “Julie is great because she listens. To the horse and the trainer.” She glanced at the tote board. “I’m not sure if the bettors were impressed with his quiet behavior though. His odds are the highest they’ve ever been.”
Rick gave a wry nod. He’d also written off Tizzy based on his cowhorse appearance. Yet this was a long race, and it could be won by a whisker. Unlike Tizzy’s competitors, their horse had conserved every drop of energy.
Their horse. He stared over the infield, sharing Eve’s pride, watching as the rest of the runners loaded. The gray horse balked, refusing to move his feet. But Tizzy waited in the gate, poised and alert, his new bridle flashing whitely in the sun. He looked like a knight’s charger, ready for battle.
“Guess there’s not many horses like Tizzy,” Rick said.
“No,” Eve said, “there aren’t. He’s a pleasure to be around. But he still has to outrun nine other horses. Hopefully hanging out with Miguel will give him back his confidence, his desire to win. Everyone needs to feel special.”
Amen, Rick thought. He ached to wrap her slim body in his arms but resisted the compulsion. This was a special moment—watching the first horse she’d every trained, and she vibrated with excitement. When those gates burst open, she’d need to be free, to bounce and cheer and urge Tizzy on.
He didn’t know if Tizzy was good enough to win, but there was no doubt Eve made him feel special. Alive. Trusted. And no longer alone.
He lifted his face in gratitude, feeling like he’d escaped from society’s seedy underbelly and somehow stepped into the sun. And it was a place he intended to stay. If only he could.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
“They’re off!” the announcer called. The horses burst from the gate in a line of flashing colors.
Eve jumped with the crack of the gate, praying for a good break. Tizzy shot from the six hole, running straight and even, his white bridle flashing. She exhaled, relieved all ten were safely out with no mishap. A fair start for all. Now he just had to run his race.
The horses thundered past, galloping by the grandstand for the first time. The speed horse on the outside had taken control, his gray tail streaming as he happily led the runners toward the first turn. Tizzy was racing midpack, fifth, outside a blinkered bay.
She rocked forward, imagining she was on his back. But instead of the reins, she could only squeeze the rail. “Watch the turn,” she said. “Don’t let him push you out.”
She pressed her mouth shut, realizing she was calling instructions to Julie West, one of the top jockeys in the country.
“Don’t go too wide,” Ashley screeched, jumping almost a foot off the ground. “Grab that hole!”
Clearly jockeys were the worst critics, Eve decided, but then she stopped worrying. Didn’t care that she was jumping and hollering and elbowing Ashley as Julie coolly brought Tizzy up on the outside, staying at the gray’s hip as they raced down the backstretch. Eve knew she couldn’t have positioned him any better.
Tizzy was galloping smoothly. He had a clear view of the track and there was no kickback, no dirt stinging his face. He and his rider looked relaxed and in control. There was only one horse in front of him when they entered the final turn, and the gray was tiring. It was obvious from his straining head, his shortened stride…and the way Tizzy galloped past him.
“Oh, my God.” Ashley’s voice rose with glee. “He’s going to win.”
The local favorite, a white-faced chestnut with a big closing kick, was making his move. However, Tizzy spurted loose on the turn, eating up the ground with his powerful stride. And when they straightened down the homestretch, he was five lengths in front, extending his lead without any visible encouragement from his jockey.
“She’s not even moving,” Eve said.
Indeed, Julie was sitting chilly, just letting Tizzy enjoy his run. And the horse was opening up, galloping away from the other horses, his ears pricked.
He crossed the wire eight lengths in front of the second-place chestnut.
“Tiz A Keeper wins it easy,” the announcer said.
Eve leaped in the air. And then Ashley was hugging her, and they were dancing a circle by the rail, and Ashley was talking about the exacta they’d hit. And it was wonderful, and every bit as exciting as her first jockey win.
She grabbed Miguel’s arm. His eyes were moist and she’d never seen his face all scrunched up like that but she totally understood, because she felt the same way. And then Rick gave her a big squeeze and whispered something about a wonderful training job, and her face felt like it was glowing.
She took a steadying breath because she’d watched other trainers, and it wasn’t cool to celebrate too raucously. But this was her first win and they all loved Tizzy, and she permitted herself another joyous skip. Then she composed herself and hurried behind Miguel, who was already headed out to catch the horse.
Tizzy and Julie trotted up the middle of the track. The horse’s chest was caked with dirt but he puffed with pride, enjoying the cheers of the crowd. Julie’s teeth flashed in a big smile.
“He’s a pro,” she said, leaning over the saddle and pumping Eve’s hand. “You had him prepared well. Thanks for the ride.”
And Eve couldn’t stop grinning because Julie West had her pick of quality horses. And trainers. A compliment from her needed to be savored.
Miguel stopped patting Tizzy’s neck and tried to pass Eve the lead shank. But she shook her head. “You lead him in. We’ll gather around.”
Miguel blinked, then led Tizzy into the winner’s circle. And even though Miguel moved awkwardly, his limp wasn’t obvious because Tizzy immediately quit prancing, shortening his stride to match his beloved groom’s.
A woman in a blue suit shook Eve’s hand and presented her with a monogrammed cooler. They squeezed around Tizzy and a camera clicked. Everyone was smiling, and Rick chuckled with Julie’s husband.
“We’re going to Louisville next month,” Julie said, pulling her saddle off Tizzy. “But I’d love to ride him again, if we ever cross tracks.”
Eve nodded, feeling like she was dancing on air. If a jock like Julie West re-offered her services, it said a lot about Tizzy. She wished Dex and Dani were here. They’d been worrying about their horse, wondering if he should be shipped back to the ranch. No doubt, they’d watched the race online. Still, it wasn’t the same.
She pulled out her phone, snapped a picture of Tizzy in the winner’s circle, then pressed ‘send.’
Dani texted back almost immediately. Yay. He’s back. Thank you! Let us know your plans for next race.
Of course, the next race would be up to Jackson, but at least Tizzy wouldn’t be retired. Eve sent another picture to her boss then slid the phone back in her pocket. She’d have to call Jackson today, but not yet. This moment was too much fun to risk dampening with any barbed comments.
An hour later, Eve and Miguel led a weary Tizzy back from the test barn. She’d wanted to save Miguel some walking, but
he insisted on staying with the horse. He’d crooned and whistled and walked, helping the pee catcher gather a sample. And both Tizzy and Eve appreciated him.
“Thank you, Miguel,” she said as they approached the barn. “I’m going to suggest to Jackson that you be the sole handler of Tizzy when we return to Santa Anita.”
Miguel’s face creased in a smile. “I was afraid for my job before,” he admitted. “But this big horse, my friend—” He gave Tizzy a look full of gratitude. “He saved me.”
“He saved us all,” Eve said.
She scanned the barn, rather disappointed not to see Rick and Ashley in the doorway. Horses needed to be fed and legs checked. Once Tizzy was settled, they’d have to discuss how best to celebrate. Maybe go out to eat? They were all hungry, but tired too. And she still needed to call her boss.
Food was important though. She’d been too nervous to eat anything before the race, and she was sure Miguel hadn’t been able to stomach anything either. But now her mouth was salivating. It took another few seconds for her brain to process the delicious smell wafting through the air. And then she spotted Ashley and Rick bending over the picnic table. Food sizzled on an enormous silver barbecue, and the table was covered with a bright cloth and plates and bowls.
Miguel’s stomach rumbled, and they both laughed.
Ashley bounced over. “Everything’s ready,” she said, taking Tizzy’s lead line. “Why don’t I turn Tizzy out in the sandpit for a roll. And you two can finally sit down.”
“But where did the grill come from?” Eve asked. “And the food?”
Ashley gestured over her shoulder. “I don’t know how Rick did it,” she said, her voice filled with glee. “But please keep that man around. There is so much food here. And even the guards don’t have their own gas barbecue.”
CHAPTER FORTY
Eve gathered the dirty dishes, piling them at the end of the picnic table. Miguel and Ashley were bathing Tizzy, so she’d offered to clean up.
Rick definitely deserved a break. He’d grilled fresh vegetables along with juicy T-bone steaks and wild salmon, although she suspected the fish had been intended for the cat. He’d thought of everything, even arranging for some sparkling apple cider so Miguel could join them in toasting Tizzy’s win.
She looked at Rick, her smile simmering with gratitude. “This was the best meal I’ve had in a long time. Where did you rent the barbecue?”
“Bought it,” he said, placing a morsel of steak in front of the cat, who clearly preferred meat to fish. “Thought it would be handy to have a grill, for when Joey’s here.”
Her hand stalled over a plate. The barbecue was more than just a grill, but a deluxe model with two side panels, a rotisserie and a warming element. Not only would it be hugely useful but it gave the play area a cozy feel, making it seem more like home.
Of course, Rick’s other additions enhanced the area too. Somehow he’d found time to gather soccer balls and a net, as well as hang a tire from the big oak tree. And some of his track friends had delivered a third picnic table.
She hadn’t asked many questions. Over supper, they’d all been ecstatic about Tizzy’s win, reliving every stride. She’d assumed the women had left the balls. Now it was evident Rick had arranged everything, no doubt because of Scott’s prodding about having toys for Joey.
She clinked the last plate on top of the stack, then balled the napkins. Rick obviously had more money than she’d imagined, oodles more, but she couldn’t let him keep buying everything. And all this would be hard to repay.
She had the horrible feeling Scott and Megan didn’t trust her to look after Joey, or even to feed him properly. And sure, maybe she skipped breakfast and ate at weird times, but she was conscious of good nutrition. Heck, she was an athlete. Now that her car was working again, she’d make sure they had plenty of groceries. They could even eat in the track kitchen if necessary. She didn’t need a stainless steel barbecue with an attached cooler and triple propane tanks.
Rick stilled her hands, stopping her from shredding the napkins. “It’s just a grill,” he said.
“And I really appreciate it,” she said, looking into his concerned eyes. “I do love the swing. And the soccer balls are great. But tell me…did Scott’s office have anything to do with this? With the barbecue?”
“Yes.” Rick pried the napkin from her fingers. “I asked for Belinda’s help. To make sure it was assembled and delivered on time. And to organize the groceries.”
“But whose idea was it?”
He averted his gaze, suddenly occupied with re-stacking the plates.
Her insides twisted. “How many times did you talk to Scott today?”
“Three, four times,” Rick muttered. “The police haven’t located Marcus yet, and Scott needs updates.”
“And that’s all you talked about? Did he say anything about Joey?”
Rick paused, clearly searching for words. “A few questions,” he said.
“Like what?”
“Like who’d be looking after Joey when you were busy with the horses. Who’d be his playmates. What kind of toys were here. Where he’d sleep. He just wanted information like that. You know, normal stuff.”
“It’s not normal.” She shot to her feet, so quickly her knee banged the table. “I’m Joey’s mother. And I expected more of you. I trusted you—”
Her throat clogged and she backed away, not even feeling the numbness in her knee, too hurt by his lack of loyalty to want anything but escape.
She’d forgotten how fast he could move. Somehow he’d glided between her and the barn, not touching but definitely blocking her path.
“Hey,” he said, his voice somber. “Scott asked those questions. Doesn’t mean I answered them… I didn’t.”
The lump in her throat shifted. She pulled in another breath, absorbing his words. He hadn’t said anything. That was good. And it must have been hard to refuse Scott.
She stared into Rick’s shirt, so close her nose almost brushed the soft cotton. Then she leaned forward, letting her forehead rest against his chest. “Sorry,” she whispered. “I know I’m too sensitive. But Joey’s my son. Not theirs.”
His arm lifted but he didn’t speak, only clasped her shoulder with a comforting hand. Birds trilled from the trees and a squirrel scolded. He didn’t ask any questions, didn’t chide her for throwing accusations. He just stood there. And he deserved an explanation.
“Megan and I went through hell together,” she said, her voice rusty. “Her brother and I met at jockey school. Joey was my first real love. My son’s named after him.” She swallowed. “But a cartel was using school horses to move drugs and money, and he disappeared. Nobody would help. The police dismissed him as a heroin dealer who’d run off to Mexico. If not for Scott, we never would have recovered his body. Or known the truth. Joey never even met his dad.”
She cleared her throat. “Megan and Scott are family and I’m very grateful, but their interest in Joey is scary. Especially since they can’t have children of their own… And obviously they’d make better parents than me.”
The squirrel still scolded, a horse thumped the wall from the barn, and something deeper rumbled in Rick’s chest. She glanced up, alarmed. Was surprised to see him laughing.
Her eyes narrowed. “You find this funny?”
“Just the part that anyone could be a better parent than you. You’re like a lioness, loving, loyal, brave. Maybe a little prickly sometime. But that’s good in a parent. I like that. Gotta keep those kids safe.”
His grin faded and he lowered his arm. “If you can clean up here,” he said, looking over her head at the barn, “I’m going to hang some rubber in Stinger’s stall. So he won’t hurt himself when he kicks.”
It was obvious that children’s safety had hit a nerve and she wished he’d talk more, but clearly the subject was off limits. And cushioning Stinger’s walls with rubber was an excellent precaution, except that investing in a barn where they’d only be stabled a short time was ra
ther extravagant.
“That’s a good idea,” she said. “But I know Jackson won’t want to pay for the rubber.”
“No charge. Barn six had some extra sheets, and one of the grooms who worked with Marcus pushed it my way.”
She nodded, no longer surprised by Rick’s ability to make friends. He’d visited shedrows when she was galloping horses this morning, and had the rare gift of making everyone feel at ease. But the fact that he could do his investigative work, while so ably filling in as a groom and a handyman, was utterly remarkable. And rather intimidating.
He’d only laughed when she teased him about his supernatural endurance. But right now, when her back ached and she just wanted to tumble into bed—instead of hanging rubber—it was almost irritating.
She squared her shoulders, hiding her exhaustion, trying to muster some enthusiasm. “Great,” she said. “I’ll grab the drill from the tack room, and we can hang it now.”
“Think I can handle it.” He slid a gentle hand around the back of her neck. “You’ve been working with horses all day.”
So have you, she thought. But she shifted, sighing as his capable fingers kneaded the back of her neck, hitting spots she hadn’t even known were tight. She tilted her head, giving him better access.
“Maybe we can pick up the rubber tomorrow,” she said, her eyes already half closed.
“It’s already delivered. Liam arranged for a truck.”
“Are they close to catching Marcus?”
“Doesn’t seem like it. Someone must be hiding him.”
“Not even Victoria would help a murderer,” she said, her voice sleepy, lulled by the expert rhythm of his hand. “I don’t think she’s involved in this.”
“You think that?” His fingers stopped moving. “In your gut?”
Backstretch Baby Page 22