by K. Rowe
Tom chuckled. “You have a big heart, Ev, and it guides you through life.”
“I wish it would guide me back to happiness.” He headed to the house.
Walking along, he took notice of the ice that formed on the blades of grass; it sparkled in the early morning sun. He remembered as a child, picking the grass and licking the ice crystals off. His life back then was far less complicated, far freer from the heavy burden of responsibility he now bore.
Stopping, Evan bent down, and plucked a long blade of dark green fescue. He studied it for a moment before touching it to his tongue, letting the ice melt. Oh, for the carefree days of old, he thought.
So much had changed in his life over the last year, most of it for the worst. The only shining star in his otherwise dark world was the metamorphosis of the rank, nasty colt from Canada who now galloped like the wind around his exercise track.
Evan knew better than to put too much faith in a horse; his livelihood and his modest winnings weren’t worth it. War Monger would have to prove himself on the track before being given a place of honor at Stoddard Stables.
12
The month of December brought more and more rainstorms. Record flooding hit the state, forcing many farm owners to seek higher ground. Stoddard Stables was fortunate. The rain made everything a muddy mess, but the floods never made it to them.
Evan walked back the quarter mile from the mailbox. A steady rain fell, and he made no move to hurry. His misery was only compounded by the miserable weather.
Suzanne pulled into the driveway. Ahead she saw Evan plodding along. It was Saturday, and she had Cindy along for her weekly visit. “Daddy?” Cindy said from the backseat.
“Yes, that’s Daddy.”
“He doesn’t look happy.”
As they passed, Suzanne glanced over to see Evan with his head down, hands in his pockets and the mail tucked under his arm. His hair was wet, face unshaven with probably several days stubble. She’d never seen him look like that. The Evan she knew and married always kept himself well groomed and appropriately clothed. This Evan looked like a bum.
Pulling up to the house, she parked and got out. Cindy hopped from the car, grabbing her backpack. “Come, dear,” Suzanne said, ushering her inside the house.
Several minutes later, Evan walked in. He tossed the mail on a table, took off his jacket and hung it up. “Hello, Suzanne,” he managed in a most civil tone.
“Evan,” she replied coldly.
“Daddy!” Cindy ran over and threw her arms around him.
Evan leaned down and gently hugged her. “Hello, sweetheart, I’ve missed you.”
“How are the horses?”
“They’re good. War Monger will be making his first start this season.”
“Oh, I wanna see him run!” She turned to Suzanne. “Mommy, can we go see him run?”
“You have school, dear.”
Evan regarded her. “It’s next Saturday at Turfway Park, post time is three o’clock.”
Cindy bounced up and down. “Can we go? Can we go? Please?!”
“I’ll think about it.”
He opened his mouth to say something, then decided against it. The last thing he wanted to do was push Suzanne further away. The divorce paperwork still had not been filed, and he hoped maybe there would be a way to reconcile.
Suzanne rattled her keys and headed for the door. “I have some shopping to do in Lexington; I’ll be back in a few hours to pick her up.”
“All right, thank you,” he said softly. Evan really wanted to find a way to sit down with her and talk. Without Suzanne, his life was empty.
He missed his wife and daughter to the point it took a toll on his mind and body. Not eating right, and doing little to take care of himself, Evan lost weight and no longer looked the picture of health.
“Daddy, can we go see the horses?”
“Sure, sure, sweetheart.” He put his jacket back on, and led her out to the stable.
“I brought War Monger his favorite treat.” She dug into her pocket and produced a packet of gummies.
“He’ll appreciate that.”
“Daddy?”
“Hmm?”
“Are you sad?”
They reached the cover of the barn. “Sad?” he said, heading to War Monger’s stall.
“Yes, sad…You don’t smile anymore.”
“I guess I am.”
“You miss Mommy and me?”
He stopped at the stall. Turning, he knelt down in front of Cindy. “I miss you so much that sometimes I wanna die.” Evan could feel the gaping hole in his heart tearing wider. He fought back the tears that wanted to pour from his eyes. All he longed for in life was to have his family back together.
Cindy put her arms around him, giving him a hug. “I don’t want you to die, Daddy, I love you.”
“I know you do. And I want so much for us to be a family again.”
“Why can’t we? I don’t like living with Grandma.”
“Your mommy thinks I did some bad things.”
“Did you?”
He shook his head. “I would never do anything to hurt you or Mommy.”
“But why does she think that?”
Evan was at a loss about how to explain Suzanne’s jealousy. He didn’t want to turn Cindy against her mother, that wasn’t the object of the whole discussion; he simply needed her to understand. “Uh, I don’t exactly know how to put this, but Mommy doesn’t like some of my friends.”
“What friends?”
“Well, even though Ginger works for me, I do consider her a friend.”
“But all Ginger does is ride horses. Why would Mommy not like her?”
“Because Mommy thinks Ginger is prettier than her, and she doesn’t like it.”
“No, Mommy’s prettier.”
Evan chuckled at her statement. “I think Mommy’s prettier too, but she still thinks I like Ginger.”
“Why?”
He took in a deep breath and tried to steady his nerves. The last thing he wanted to do was try and explain why they weren’t living in the same house anymore. “It was…an accident…When we were at the races in Charles Town, and Ginger got in trouble, I tried to make her feel better by giving her a kiss.”
“On the lips?!” Cindy was surprised.
“No, no.” He reached down, took her hands in his. “All I did was kiss her hands like this.” Evan brought her hands up and kissed them. “But I think Mommy didn’t see that I only kissed her hands, and not her lips…I’d never kiss anyone but Mommy on the lips.”
“Well, that’s not so bad.”
“I told her the truth, but she didn’t believe me.”
“How come?”
“Because, for some reason, Mommy thinks I’ve kissed Ginger on the lips and other stuff.”
“Other stuff?”
Evan realized he might have said more than he should. “Err, uh, stuff that only mommies and daddies do together.”
“Oh, but you wouldn’t do that.”
“No, I wouldn’t, but she doesn’t understand, as much as I want her to…She doesn’t trust me.”
Cindy went forward and put her hand on his face; his rough stubble tickled her fingers. “I believe you, Daddy.”
He smiled. “Thank you, sweetheart.” Looking back, he saw War Monger straining his head over the door, wanting treats. “How about you give the big boy here some goodies?”
“Ev? Ev?” Tom said as he gave Evan a little nudge. He’d found his boss asleep on the sofa, not even bothering to go up to the bedroom. It was early in the morning and he needed his opinion on running a horse in the weekend races.
“Mmm?” He opened his eyes.
“Did you sleep here all night?”
“Yeah, so?”
“No wonder you look like shit.”
He sat up, rubbing his eyes. “So?”
“Have you even had a good meal lately?”
“Uh, I had a peanut butter sandwich last night.”
“T
hat’s not what I mean…Look at yourself, you’ve lost weight, you don’t shave half the time, and you just don’t seem to care.”
“I care…But the one thing I care about doesn’t care for me.”
Tom sat down next to him. “Have the divorce papers gone through?”
“No.”
“Maybe she’s still in love with you and wants to see how things go.”
“I dunno…I can’t live like this, it’s tearing me up inside.” Evan stood and walked around.
“Hey, I know you hurt, but don’t take it out on yourself, it wasn’t your fault. Suzanne is a terribly jealous woman; how she let you out of her sight amazes me.”
“You weren’t there all the times I came home from a meet…How she’d grill me about who I was with or where I went.”
Tom shook his head. “How could you let her do that?”
“You do stupid things when you love someone…In the beginning I thought it was just newlywed jealousy…But after a year or so, I realized she was that way. There was no changing her.”
“Look, why don’t you come over to the house for breakfast? We got plenty, and you need to get some good meals down your gullet… Besides, I wanna talk to you about running Clean Slate in a sprint.”
“You think he’s ready?”
“That’s what I wanna talk to you about—over breakfast…And then I want you to come watch a couple of the horses work.”
Evan yawned and stretched. “All right, I’ll be over shortly.”
“Bring your appetite. I think Manuel and Ginger are cooking up omelets today.”
With a full belly and an extra coat, Evan stood at the rail watching the horses. With all the rain, the track was sloppy in some parts. Tom sat on Rusty, stopwatch in hand, a clipboard resting across the front of the saddle. “All right, I told Ginger to work War Monger seven furlongs. That should be a good tightener for the race this weekend.”
“Good.”
They watched as she warmed up the colt, then trotted him up to one of the sixteenth pole markers on the track. She paused for a moment, knowing Tom would be getting the watch ready.
“Hyah!” she hollered, sending the horse on. War Monger exploded in a burst of speed. The sound of hooves impacting on soft mud made splattery sounding echoes across the track.
“He doesn’t seem to have a problem running in slop,” Tom said, looking at the watch.
“Did enough of it in Canada in his paddock; he better not.”
Checking the watch, he made a quick annotation on the clipboard. Then Tom continued to watch as Ginger thundered by on the colt. “Good time, even on a bad track,” he said, glancing back and forth from the watch to the track.
As she roared past the seven-furlong pole, Ginger tried to throttle back the horse. War Monger fought her, still wanting to run. “Whoa! Slow down, you big beast!” she cried, standing in the stirrups and pulling on the reins with all her might.
It took another couple hundred yards before the colt slowed up. He still had lots of run left. “Good boy, good boy,” she said, settling back into the saddle, giving the horse a big pat on the neck.
Tom checked the stopwatch. “Holy shit.”
“What?”
“As much as I hated you for buying that horse and as much as I hated that horse, he’s just broken the record for seven furlongs.” He held the watch for Evan to see.
“Sure you got the time right?”
“Ev!”
He laughed. “See, I told you he was born to run.”
“Well, we’ll see what he does come the weekend.”
Ginger trotted over to them. “How’d he do?”
“That was the fastest time for seven furlongs ever.” Tom held up the watch.
“No way!” she teased. “And the track is horrible.”
“It appears we have a four-legged rocket ship.”
Evan dug around in his pocket and found some gummies. He offered them to the colt. “All right, big fella, I need you to do that Saturday for me, okay?”
Tom wrote down the final time. “If he does that on race day, he’ll be lengths ahead of the field…Hell, they might as well just stay in the barn!”
13
Evan walked proudly into the saddling paddock. Today, War Monger would make his first start of the new season. It was early January and they were racing at Turfway Park in Florence, Kentucky.
The horses were saddled and led around the small paddock walkway, awaiting the jockeys. The owners and trainers made their way to the grassy middle of the ring. Six horses were scheduled to race. War Monger would be starting in post position six.
“God, I wish he would settle,” Tom said as he watched the colt jig around the ring. Tito was doing his best to try and calm the horse, but the noise of the crowd and strangeness of the situation had War Monger in a sweat.
“Well, it’s his first start this year, I guess I can’t blame him,” Evan replied. “I was a mess too when my first horse went to post.”
The jockeys came onto the grass. Ginger stopped next to Tom. She’d had two rides earlier for other owners, and now she’d be piloting War Monger. “He’s not looking good,” she said.
“Not much we can do.” Tom checked his watch.
She looked up at Evan. “Any words, boss?”
He managed a nervous smile. “I guess, let him run his race. He’ll either blow the field away, or he’ll lug behind…See what you get.”
“Right, boss.” She smiled, trying to give him a little reassurance.
“Riders up!” came the call from the paddock steward.
Tom leaned over and gave Ginger a quick kiss. “Good luck, and be careful.” They walked to the edge of the grass, and when War Monger came by, Tom gave her a leg up into the saddle. She took the reins, arranging them between her fingers, the whip sat flat in her left hand; she didn’t really intend on using it. The colt would be left to run his race.
The horses were paraded onto the track. Tom and Evan hurried to the rail to watch. Both had their stomachs in a knot. “Daddy!” Cindy called, running to Evan.
“Hi!” He snatched her up, holding her high enough so she could see over the crowd. “What are you doing here?”
“I begged Mommy to bring me.”
“You did, huh?”
“I see him!”
“Good, good…Keep your fingers crossed, okay?”
“Hello, Evan,” Suzanne said. It was a far warmer tone than usual.
“Hi.” He put on his best smile. “You look lovely today.”
“Oh, uh, thank you.” She didn’t expect him to pay her a compliment.
Evan could barely keep his eyes off her. Despite the chilly air, Suzanne had on a new dress which beautifully accentuated all her womanly curves. It was topped off with a gray fur coat that Evan had bought her a few years ago.
He tried to fight the notion of taking her back to the hotel and making mad love to her. Instead, he focused on the horses which were being loaded into the gate on the far side of the track.
“Daddy, do you think War Monger will win?”
“I hope so, sweetheart, but he may not, it’s his first race this season, and I think he’s kinda scared.”
Ginger gave War Monger a nudge, trying to convince him to go into the starting gate. They’d been loading and breaking from one all winter long, and the colt was doing fine. She prayed he wouldn’t have a repeat of his maiden race last year.
“Come on, boy, it’s okay, go on, in you go.” She gave him a little tap on the behind with the whip. After a few tries, he finally went in.
“Easy, easy there, boy.” Ginger tightened her grip on the reins and took a lock of mane hair in her hand. She looked forward out the gate to the expanse of sand ahead. It was time to let him run.
The race would start on an extension chute on the backstretch, go two turns, and down the stretch to the wire. Seven furlongs wasn’t an incredibly long race, just about eight-tenths of a mile. But it would be a good test for the colt, giving him ti
me to run and get used to being on the track again.
The bell sounded, gates flew open, and five horses dashed away. War Monger stood in the gate, unmoving.
“Go! Go!” Ginger screamed. The rest of the field was nearly one hundred feet out. “War Monger!” She gave him a smack on the shoulder with the whip.
Finally the horse decided to go. He broke from the gate and nearly left his jockey behind, his hooves digging into the soft sand.
Tearing down the track, the colt ate up the ground at an alarming rate. Ginger hung on for dear life as they thundered after the field.
Evan watched the spectacle. “Oh, dear, not again,” he said, seeing the colt trailing the field by some distance. He’d decided not to get his hopes up for this race.
“He didn’t break good,” Cindy said, watching from her perch in Evan’s arms.
“No, he certainly didn’t.”
Tom shielded his eyes from the sun, squinting to see what was going on. “Uh, Ev, that beast is makin’ up ground fast.”
They watched the horses go into the first turn. War Monger gained ground with every stride. The rest of the field was bunched together in a tight pack on the rail. There would be no way to get by them, except to go wide.
Ginger realized she wasn’t in charge, War Monger seemed to be running his own race. Without guidance, he swung wide, putting on a burst of speed to pass the others.
At the top of the stretch, they raced for home. War Monger tore into the lead, his legs a blur under his body as he galloped toward the finish. Ginger flattened down, getting as close to the horse’s back as she could. Her arms pumped, giving rein with every stride.
Glancing back, she realized the nearest horse was probably ten lengths away. Ahead, the finish line, and they rushed toward it at an alarming rate.
Roaring past the wire, Ginger let War Monger run a few more strides before she tried to pull him up. Never had she ridden a horse that started so poorly and made up so much ground. He didn’t even seem tired after the whole ordeal.
Sweat poured off his body, and she could feel the moist heat of his skin against her hands, but he still wanted to go. “Hey, hey, it’s over, you can stop running now.” She stood up in the stirrups and hauled on him to stop. He bounced and jigged a couple of strides before slowing to a trot.