Love Lonely

by William C. Cole

  Shortly after lunch Sandy arrived. She first came across Renée.

  “Hi Renée. Have you seen David?”

  “Oh, hi Sandy. I’m not sure where he is at the moment. He said something about having to make some calls. He mentioned you want to run a training session.”

  “Well between you and me it was his idea. We’re really working on spending more time together and he thought it would be nice if I put in more time here. To tell you the truth I love getting on one of these guys. It’s special. That is if you don’t mind, after all this is your domain.”

  “I don’t mind at all Sandy. I know you have the utmost respect for these animals.”

  “Renée, you’re not a good liar. Girl to girl I can read you like a book. I know you would prefer if I was gallivanting around somewhere over in Europe but I’m not, I’m here. I’m really going to make an effort to reclaim my life with David.”

  “Really, Sandy I’m glad to see you. I don’t mind at all. You are an excellent rider.”

  “Good. I suspect you’ve been doing your share of riding lately. How does it make you feel?”

  “I’m not sure what you mean.”

  Renée didn’t like the direction of the conversation. She was well aware what Sandy was referring to and feeling more uncomfortable by the second. Just as Sandy was about to stick the knife in a bit further, Renée was spared by David’s arrival.

  “Look at this my two favorite girls.”

  He regretted saying it before it even got out of his mouth but it was too late. If he made an attempt at a recovery he would just be opening the door for a comeback by his wife. Changing the subject was best.

  “So what are you two chatting about,” he asked.

  His wife was quick to answer back, “We were just talking about how satisfied we happen to feel after a good mounting. A little thing we have in common.”

  “Renée who are we working out today,” he asked not catching what his wife was alluding to.

  “I have Ninety-Nine on the track now.” A horse David named after the jersey number of hockey’s Great One Wayne Gretzky.

  “Royal Mist is scheduled for a few laps. I will have Mason saddle him for you Sandy.”

  The sooner she gets on the track the better. Renée preferred to end the one on one chat. She would follow David’s instructions but put the assistant trainers in charge of preparation.

  “Didn’t you say Charlotte’s Choice might get a lap or two in if the track conditions warranted.”

  “Yes David, but I was going to run him myself. I’d prefer not to alter his regimen.”

  Charlotte’s Choice was considered the world’s fastest horse in the present day. The only two people who have had the privilege of riding him were Mario Rossi his jockey and Renée. Being uncertain of how the horse would react to someone else at the reins was a gamble she did not want to take.

  “I think Sandy can handle him. Go through your routine and I’m sure she will follow the instructions. Right,” he prompted an agreement from his wife.

  “That’s okay David, Renée makes a good point. After all she is the head trainer and knows what’s best.”

  “No, I insist,” he wanted this to happen. “After all you do own the horse. Renée, explain to Sandy how you want the session to go. I have to make a few calls. Let me know when you’re on the track.”

  David disappeared. Renée instructed Mason who was uncharacteristically hanging around as if he was listening in on the conversation. He wasn’t one of the stables most motivated employees, but he was smart and efficient when asked to handle a task. Renée suspected his days were limited.

  She then went on to explain exactly how every second of the session was to be handled. Her only priority was the animal’s welfare. Who owned it was not her concern. The well-being of this thoroughbred was her sole responsibility. She would watch the complete workout from the rails. If Sandy altered the routine in the slightest way it would be brought to an abrupt end.

  There would be five laps of the track. All four gaits would be utilized. The first half lap was to be walked. The second would be a progression from walk to a trot then a canter. The third and most important of the five was to trot Charlotte’s Choice the front half of the track then in between the back turns Sandy was to run him in a gallop at three quarters speed. The forth was to be a repeat of the third. The fifth and final lap the horse would gradually be eased to a walk allowing the horse’s estimated eighteen pound heart rate to return to its resting beat. At no time was he to exceed thirty miles an hour. Full out he ran over forty.

  They were in agreement. The session was reviewed twice. Both were very intelligent women and respected the animal’s safety. Sandy planned on following Renée’s program to a tee.

  Charlotte’s Choice was now out of his stable, saddled and ready to run. Mason had to hold the reins tight as the animal sensed it was his time for him to shine. The three of them walked the country’s number one thoroughbred to the track gate at which point Sandy would mount him.

  Anytime Charlotte came on the track a crowd of horsemen would gather along the rails. It was special to watch the best of the best run if only at half speed. Today the head count increased as word spread the guest jockey at the helm happened to be the owner. There were a couple of other horses being put through their paces and would remain on the track as practice sessions were to be shared. However, they would make way allowing Sandy to work undisturbed.

  The run began with the first lap ridden exactly as instructed. As the pace picked up in the second Renée watched with eagle eyes. She concentrated on the horse’s temperament which seemed to be in check. On the third pass just before the increase to a gallop Renée took notice that Sandy backed her foot out of the irons leaning on them with her toes. Some expert jockeys rode like this for balance. Others say they felt the ride became lighter. Although most say the use of the toe on irons method was to avoid getting their leg stuck during a fall. Seeing the adjustment into the position added some relief as it was a sign of Sandy’s exceptional skills.

  Mason remained at her side but was completely disconnected from the surroundings. She noticed he had his smart phone in hand and was what looked to be texting. For the past few months his attitude towards work was diminishing. He seemed too detached. The most important requirement Renée demanded from her employees was care. This wasn’t the time but soon she would speak to David asking permission to terminate his employment. It didn’t matter how experienced a stable hand was, unless they possessed an undeniable affection for the horses, you didn’t belong.

  David was trying to cut a call short so he could take in his wife’s riding. The conversation was important so he resigned to the fact that he would watch the session on video later in the day. All movements on the race track were recorded.

  The third trip around went off without a hitch. Renée noticed Charlotte’s Choice seems a little anxious. Sandy struggled a bit holding him back from galloping full tilt. It wasn’t anything she did. The most experienced jockey would have handled it the exact way she did. This horse wanted to win. He wanted to run as fast as he could every second he was on the track. Going into the fourth back stretch Sandy let him run to what she felt was three quarters of his capability.

  Halfway along the back stretch the unthinkable happened. The horse spooked. It lowered its neck, stopped, throwing Sandy forward. Everyone watching was stunned, frozen, witnessing Sandy propel through the air for what seemed to be forever. She hit the ground head first. Sandy took a number of tumbles until she came to rest at the center of the track, motionless. Renée flew over the fence running at an Olympian speed to get to her.

  Sandy was savoring her short ride, such power below her. There was no feeling in the world like it. She felt the session was moving along exactly as planned. Her personal distaste for Renée would not come into play here. The trainer’s requirements were at the forefront of her thinking. She didn’t see or feel the unexpected bucking. As she was being thrust over the h
orse’s head her mind clicked into frame by frame mode. Instinctively she wrapped her arms tightly around her lower chest. Her years of training took over. The goal was to relax the body and let it move freely with the momentum of the fall similar to how one might prepare for a parachute jump landing. The less resistance and less exposed limbs the less chance of fractures. She was in control of the fall until her head hit the track surface first. Then the world went black.

  Within seconds an emergency horn sounded indicating a rider or horse was down. The protocol was at the sound of the horn all horsemen were to rush to the track for assistance. It took a lot of manpower to lift a thousand pounds off a jockey and seconds could make the difference in life or death. An ambulance stationed off to the side would make its way onto the race surface as soon as all other horses were safely out of harm’s way.

  While the other horses were cleared from the track, two remained. Charlotte’s Choice was running at top speed and the only way to catch a race horse, is with a race horse. As it happened Gabriela D’Angelo was riding one of her horses and took pursuit of the unmanned runaway. Every other person within site was rushing to Sandy’s side. A human perimeter was manned around the injured jockey securing her from being run over by the animal on the loose.

  Renée and Mason were first on the scene. It wasn’t good. She had seen a rider die in a similar accident not that long ago. Sandy was unconscious. Renée wanted Mason to relay the urgency to the first responders but he was more concerned about pursuing Charlotte’s Choice. The injuries were bad. Blood was appearing from her nose and ears.

  “Mason get back here I need that ambulance now,” Renée ordered her assistant in a piercing yell.

  He stopped his chase, looked at her, took a double look at the horse then resigned to the fact that he better obey his boss.

  Gabriela drew up beside the runaway and was able to grab the reins. Bringing it to a standstill then she dismounted. She began to walk towards the gate in-between two thousand pounds of animals. A couple of the other trainers were quickly making their way to assist her. Charlotte’s Choice was not cooperating which forced her to jerk his bridle hard in an attempt to bring him under control. The feel of every piece of equipment utilized in the sport was as common to her as the back of her hand. With her fingers sandwiched between the leather bridle and the horse’s mane she touched something out of place. Instinct told her it didn’t belong, so as soon as help arrived she handed off her own horse indicating she would remain in control of the run off. Once alone she looked under the leather.

  “Son of a bitch,” she said a touch too loud which attracted attention of the two trainers walking in front of her. She waved them off as if nothing was wrong.

  By the time David arrived, the first responders had his wife securely stabilized in the back of the ambulance. She had a heartbeat but was still unconscious. Her vitals were registering poor readings. The attendants were aware this was going to be a life or death situation. There was no time to delay. No time for any sort of explanation to her husband as to how it happened. He was allowed to accompany her to the hospital but told he must not interfere. David jumped into the back holding his wife’s hand and praying.

  Renée was visibly shaken. Tears glossed over her eyes. Once the ambulance was en route her attention turned to the jockey walking her pride and joy thoroughbred down the home stretch, suddenly realizing who it was. She ran to meet them. Gabriela stopped, deciding what her friend was about to learn was best done from a distance to all others.

  “Gabriela, thank you. I’m so lucky you were out here,” referring to the jockey’s quick action which saved any injury to the horse.

  “How is Sandy?”

  She informed her, “Not good. She’s unconscious and bleeding badly. Gabriela I’m not sure she’s going to make it. It’s bad”

  “She’s tough Renée. She will get through this. I promise.”

  “I hope to god she does. I shouldn’t have given in. She shouldn’t have been on that horse. This whole thing is my fault.”

  From her pocket Gabriel took out the item found hidden under the reins.

  “Renée it wasn’t your fault. I found this under his bridle,” she handed it to her.

  “What the hell, son of a bitch, who in god’s name,” she suddenly realized something and stopped dead.

  Looking at her pal she asked, “Can you take care of Charlotte.”

  “Of course.”

  She scanned the area looking for Mason but most had cleared the track and returned to their stables. Again running as fast as her legs would permit, she made a beeline to the barn. Once inside she yelled at the top of her lungs.

  “Mason, Mason, where the hell are you. Mason. Who has seen Mason? Find him for me.”

  None of her staff had seen her so upset. They all just stood there.

  “Now,” she screamed.

  Going stall to stall the shouting continued until a young apprentice who was ordered to stay behind to attend to the horses during the accident came up to her.

  “Renée,” she said trying to get her bosses attention.

  “Not now. Have you seen Mason?”

  “That’s what I’m trying to tell you. He’s not here.”

  She had Renée’s attention. The kid was terrified as the lead trainer’s stare cut right through her.

  “What do you mean he’s not here?”

  “Shortly after the warning horn went off and everyone ran to the track, Mason who was already at the track came back to the stables. I thought he was heading back to the accident but he didn’t. I saw him go into your office. He had an envelope in his hand when he went in. When he came out he wasn’t carrying it. I kept an eye on him because I thought it was strange he wasn’t lending a hand at the spill.”

  “Where did he go once he left the office?”

  “He went right to the parking lot, got in his car and drove off.”

  “Is there anything else you remember?

  “No. Other than he looked sad. Like someone mourning. He was confused. He scared me Renée.”

  “Thank you Lily, you’ve been very helpful. You can get back to work. Thanks again.”

  Renée was anxious to get to the hospital but David was there and there was little she could do. She went to the office first. After grasping a clear picture of what in god’s name went on today she would join her boss. Lying on the table sat a white envelope. It was addressed to Mr. Watson. She snatched it up then tore it open.

  It read, ‘Dear Mr. Watson. Please accept this letter as my official resignation. An urgent family matter has unexpectedly surfaced that requires my immediately attention. I appreciate all you’ve done for me. In return I wish I could have been a better person. Unfortunately that was not possible. I truly pray for Sandy’s full recovery. Mason.’

  She didn’t have the answer as to why, but she was certain it was Mason who was behind this tragic accident. Renée retrieved the small piece of electronics Gabriela found. It was a shock device that worked similar to an invisible fence used to discourage a dog from leaving its yard. She despised this method of discipline. It was cruel.

  The component she was holding is activated by a hand held remote or a device such as a mobile phone. Mason shocked Charlotte’s Choice purposely. Why? Why deliberately injure or kill Sandy. What was going on here? Was he insane? She had to get to the hospital to inform David. If she ever got her hands on Mason she’d drag him at forty miles an hour around the race track until the rope he was tied to wore out. She grabbed her helmet, jumped on her motorcycle and ripped out of the parking area.

  ***

  David paced the halls of the hospital while his wife was being attended to in the operating room. There had been no update of her condition. Hell, he didn’t even know if she was alive. Everything happened so fast it wasn’t until after being at the hospital for two hours did he realize Jacob and Brooklyn needed to be contacted. There was no answer. He left messages on both their mobile phones in addition to the office. He the
n reached out to a ranch hand at the stable office and instructed him to go find his wife’s father. For now he was alone, sitting there staring at the door indicating Authorized Personnel Only. Waiting for a doctor to appear with a smile on their face telling him everything went well and his wife will be fine.

  Renée arrived and soon found her way to the proper floor.

  “David,” she called for him.

  He turned to meet her. They gave each other a consoling hug.

  “How is she David?”

  “They haven’t told me a thing. She’s still in the operating room. My god Renée, what the hell happened.”

  “Charlotte spooked, stopped on a dime throwing Sandy into the air. She’s going to make it David. She’s going be okay. I know it.”

  “You were hesitant about her riding him. If only I had listened to you. She shouldn’t have been riding him. This is entirely my fault.”

  “David,” Renée put her hand in her pocket to retrieve the shock mechanism while saying, “it wasn’t your fault. She was riding him perfectly. I couldn’t have ridden any better.”

  “Then why did he spook?”

  Just as Renée was going to explain what happened a doctor appeared.

  “Mr. Watson?”

  “Yes. How is she? Is she,” he refrained from asking.

  “She’s resting at the moment. Would you like to see her?”

  “Yes. Please.”

  “She is very heavily sedated. I need to review some results at the lab then I’ll be back and I can tell you more. For the time being you should be with her.”