The horse backed himself right into a wall.
Graptor crept up and put a halter and shank on the horse. Ben got Beau off the machine. The loose horse’s groom arrived, grateful and red-faced, to take the horse away. It would appear neither horse had landed a blow. So all was well. No harm done.
Except for Red, who instead of staying in his stall, took advantage of all the excitement and found his way to the feed room. He ended up slightly colicked later, laying flat out on his side and moaning, but managed to be up by dinner time.
The following morning, every horse in the barn walked, so chores were finished well ahead of schedule. Ben left to go home, and Tom was going to McDonald’s to pick up lunch for Dawn and him. Typically, he teased her about how much she wanted to eat.
“Two cheeseburgers, large fry, hash browns if it’s not too late, a chocolate milkshake, and a large Coke. What? No apple pie?”
“Well, now that you mention it, yes. Only make sure it’s done this time. The last one was frozen in the middle.”
Tom bowed at the waist, then saluted. “Yes ma’am! Will there be anything else?”
“No, that’ll be all.” She dismissed him with a trivial wave and laughed. “Now run along.” When he’d gone, she stretched her legs out and looked in at Beau, who was up to his chest in an ice tub. It was all right to joke about giving orders, especially since she’d made the last two or three lunch runs herself. But in reality, it always made her uncomfortable.
She was no hypocrite. Hardly. She was who she was, and there was no denying that. Still... As her mind wandered, she thought about her mother and father. Beau sloshed in his ice tub then, and quickly brought her back to the matter at hand. It was routine to ice Beau the day before a race, and although ice boots would be much easier, the ice tub was Ben’s way.
“It’s uniform,” he’d said. “With boots, where the ice starts to melt, there’s gaps.”
So here she was, sitting on a water bucket padded with quilted leg wraps, keeping vigil over him. Oh, Mother, if you could only see me now. She smiled to herself, imagining the conversation they might have.
“Dawn, what are you doing?”
“I’m watching this horse, Mom.”
She could see her mother’s face. Her puzzled expression. “What for?”
Dawn chuckled, while in her mind, she explained. “He’s in a race tomorrow and icing his legs is good for him.”
She pictured her mother looking in at Beau, from a distance of course, and frowning. His front legs were completely immersed in icy water. “How on earth did you get him in there?”
“Not all that easily, Mom. The horse has to be coaxed up close, then one leg lifted and bent. Then you coax them a little more so they lean forward, and in goes that leg. The quicker the better, because it’s pretty much instinct for them to lift the other one then. Tom always bends the top of the tub back at that point. See, here look, it’s somewhat flexible. Then you bend the other leg, get it in, and get them to stand squarely. And here I sit. They have to be in ice for at least an hour and a half. Anything after that, Ben says, is a waste of time. And you take them out just about the same way, first one leg and then the other.”
“Really?”
Dawn sighed. It was a nice fantasy, talking to her mother. But even stretching her imagination, if her mother were alive, she couldn’t picture her anywhere near this racetrack, let alone the backside. Not that her mother looked down on places or things. It was just that her posture was so...that, well, she only saw things straight ahead or up.
Beau sloshed some more, lifting one leg and leaning back on his haunches a little, and Dawn talked to him. “Come on, it won’t be long now.” She clicked softly and he pricked his ears. “Come on now.” When she tugged lightly on the shank, he put his leg back down, looked at her for a moment, then pulled a mouthful of hay out of the hay-net hung just outside his door.
It had been months since Dawn had allowed herself to think about her parents, really think about them. And even though she refused to let it consume her anymore, as she thought about them now, it was the same old anguish. She damned her father’s private plane. His pilot’s license. The accident. And as always...her part in what happened that day.
Tom started down the shedrow singing, with Barn Kitty tagging along behind and meowing enthusiastically. They’d often marveled about this particular cat’s uncanny ability to smell food from five barns away. Tom had a song about him, something obscene about the “sniffing little puss puss.” He sang an encore for Dawn, improvising here and there. And at the sound of his voice, she looked up at him and smiled. She’d been miles away and hadn’t heard a word he’d said.
Dawn was looking forward to a long hot shower, a meal of sweet and sour pork, and a little quiet time to write, and hadn’t been home a minute when her cousin Linda informed her of other plans. She and Dawn had been roommates for three years now, after practically growing up together on their families’ adjoining estates. The two of them couldn’t have been closer if they were sisters.
“A couple of hours, Dawn. What’s the big deal?”
“None. I just don’t want to go.”
“Why not? Harland says he’s very nice. And it’s only for dinner. Come on, it’ll be fun.”
“No thanks. I don’t like fun.”
“Dawn...”
She’d started down the hall.
“You can’t just write about life, you know. You have to live it too.”
Dawn stopped and looked back. “Phil Donahue. Right?”
Linda laughed. “Dawn, come on. Please...for me.”
Dawn glanced down at the floor and shook her head. “I’m sorry, I just don’t want to go. I don’t want to go anywhere. I’m home, and I want to stay home.”
“Why? What for? You haven’t been out in months, ever since you dumped Dave.”
“Right. Did you hear what you just said? Ever since I dumped Dave. Which means it was my choice. I want to be alone.”
“No, you don’t,” Linda said. “You just didn’t want Dave around anymore.”
Dawn laughed.
“Please. I promise, we’ll be home by eleven.”
Dawn stared. “That’s too late. Beau’s in tomorrow, and you know how my stomach gets.”
“Fine. How’s ten?”
Dawn was as bad as Fancy Pat when it came to getting nervous about a big race. The only difference was Dawn began fretting the night before. She drew a breath and sighed heavily. “What relation is he to Harland?”
“They’re cousins. First cousins. Isn’t that great?”
Dawn rolled her eyes. “Wonderful.”
Linda meant well. She just wanted to get Dawn out of the apartment, fearing she was withdrawing again. But so much for good intentions. Dawn excused herself to go to the ladies room for the third time since arriving at the restaurant, and on the way back to the table, started thinking about how she was going to get even with Linda for this.
She could be home right now, where she wanted to be, where she’d planned to be, and should be. She’d certainly be more comfortable.
Her stomach growled as she sat back down, the kind of growl that hurts, and she gave Linda the I-want-to-go-home look. I want to go home.
Linda was glad she’d arranged for Harland and his cousin to pick them up. Dawn had been flashing her this look for some time now, and it wasn’t even eight o’clock yet. She glanced from Harland to his cousin, desperately trying to think of something interesting to say. “Dawn works at the racetrack.”
“Oh?” Harland’s cousin said.
When he turned and looked at Dawn, she just stared. In another minute or so, she was going to be once again lining the toilet seat with tissue. It’s hard to make conversation with this pending.
“Tell me about it.”
“Well...” She sighed, her stomach growling some more. “I’m a groom.”
“A what?”
“A groom. I take care of the horses.”
“Oh, what
fun! Really? Why?”
Dawn flashed another one of those looks at Linda. Now! I want to go home now. Feeling bad was bad enough, but this man was a bore. A geek. Pompous and arrogant. Dawn looked at Harland. There was a slight family resemblance.
“I don’t know. Because I enjoy it.”
“I’ll bet you do. Are you a jockey?”
Geek. Geek. Geek. “No.”
“I see.”
Dawn stared, then excused herself again. When she returned, it was obvious Linda had done some prompting to help the man along. “I hear your favorite horse is running tomorrow.”
“Yes.” Dawn forced a smile. “Eighth race.”
“Is it true they still shoot horses when they break a leg?”
He’d come up with this on his own, and needless to say, Dawn’s expression in response had Linda fidgeting uncomfortably in her chair. Dawn wasn’t going to answer him. She could tell by the way she sat back. But then suddenly Dawn smiled an odd smile. “Yes, and isn’t that sad.”
“Terribly,” Harland’s cousin said, nodding then when Dawn nodded.
“That’s why I always make a sacrifice.”
Linda’s face flushed.
“A sacrifice...?” Harland asked. “What do you mean?”
Dawn turned innocently to Linda. “You didn’t tell them?”
Now it was Linda giving the looks. Don’t you dare. I mean it, don’t you dare.
Wrong look. “A burnt offering. Chicken bones. Calves’ blood. And chicory. Have you ever smelled chicory burning? Fresh chicory that is.” Dawn lowered her voice. “It smells like hell. Literally. It does. If you know what I mean.” She stood. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to see the chef again. He’s preparing me a very special doggy bag.”
Harland and his cousin stared up at her with mouths agape, watching her every move. And suffice to say, the evening pretty much came to end with that.
“She’s kidding. Right?”
Linda sighed. “Harland, I’m sorry. But I seem to be getting a headache. Can we go?”
At the apartment, Linda lingered in the hall saying goodnight to Harland, then turned, and closed the door. An evening’s worth of pent-up frustration simmered in her eyes. “Do you have any idea what Harland must be thinking right now? What his cousin must be thinking?”
“Who?”
“All right. So maybe I shouldn’t have told Harland you haven’t been dating. Maybe I shouldn’t have set this up. All I was trying to do was get you out so you could have a nice time. But nooooooo!!! You have to go and act like some kind of, what was that? A devil worshiper act?” Linda threw her hands up. “My God, I can’t believe you did that! Of all things! Harland’s probably thinking, no wonder you don’t go out. And me! What about me, living here with you? What do you think he’s thinking about me? I hope you’re happy! Are you happy?”
“I don’t know.” Dawn shrugged. “The evening did have its moments.”
Linda stared in disbelief, just stared, remembering, and with that, the two of them burst out laughing.
“Chicken bones?”
“And chicory. Let’s not forget the chicory.”
“I know. It smells like hell.”
Hand-walking Beau the morning of a race was next to impossible. Tom was the only one who’d even attempt it. While he struggled to keep Beau on the ground, Dawn stripped his stall of all its bedding. This was done as part of the drawing process, to make sure a horse runs on a relatively empty stomach. They were given half their usual ration of hay at feeding time the evening before, and none the next morning, just a scoop of oats. The straw was always removed as well, because most horses will eat it in the absence of their hay.
Dawn had been back and forth to the ladies room more times than she cared to count since arriving this morning. And to make matters worse, Tom always made a point of letting her know he knew where she’d been. He thought it was funny.
It made for a long morning of doing stalls, and she was finally down to her last muck-basket full. As she heaved it up over the side of the manure bin, she lost her grip. No problem if the bin were filled, but it wasn’t. Consequently, she had to climb up onto the side and lean over as far as she could to grab the handle. The basket had landed right-side up and was still full, so she had to jog it back and forth, her empty and nauseous stomach rubbing into the side of the bin the entire time. And for a moment, she felt like she was going to be sick.
“Oh Lord...”
“Dawn, you need some help?” Tom called from the shedrow.
She shook her head with determination and lifted with all the strength she had left, grabbed hold of the other handle, and with her stomach really on the verge now, tipped the muck basket and emptied it. What an accomplishment.
“Jesus, Dawn...” Tom said, walking up behind her and giving her a scrutinizing look. “You’d think you’d be fitter by now.”
Dawn rolled her eyes. Why he got such a big kick out of teasing her, was beyond reason. But then, like always, he did something so endearing, she could only smile. Using the upper part of his sleeve, he wiped the perspiration off her brow. And somewhat gently yet.
“Go take a break. To look at you, people’d think you did all the fucking stalls. Jesus Christ.”
Dawn shook her head. She’d done four that morning, Ben two, and Tom five. And on top of that, he’d ponied three horses for them, the three shipping on, in addition to two for a trainer on the backside, and had galloped a two-year-old for Graptor as a favor, when no one else on the track would get on it. He was the one that should be tired. He shifted his toothpick. “God, you’re sexy when you’re sweating.”
Dawn laughed.
When Ben returned from the secretary’s office, calm as can be, Dawn couldn’t help but wonder why she was the only one who reacted to Beau’s races this way. After all, there was so much at stake. Ben’s future, his retirement, Beau’s retirement. The pressure. Each race became a lifetime statistic, which would have a bearing on his standing at stud, each and every one monumentally important in terms of percentage. Not to mention how he could also get hurt.
That thought had her stomach cramping again, and off she went on yet another trip to the ladies room. As she rounded the corner she ran smack dab into Randy Iredell, who was coming from the opposite direction.
“Oh Jesus...” She hugged her sides. “What?”
“What?” The way she’d asked, annoyed him.
She drew an agonizing breath. “I’m sorry. What do you need?”
“Nothing,” he said, and paused. “You need me. Jake says you have a horse to be tranquilized for shipping.”
Dawn stepped back, motioning to Tom, who was halfway down the shedrow, and walked away. He could ask him. When she returned, she sat down on the stoop by the tack room and, with her elbows on her knees, buried her face in her hands. This was only the second time Randy Iredell had been to their barn, since Doc Jake normally handled all their calls. She could hear him and Tom talking down by Majorama’s stall. When she heard another voice, she looked up.
It was Doc Jake. He’d just handed something to Randy, and was walking toward her. “Is Ben around?”
“No, I think he’s up at the kitchen.”
Doc Jake stopped in front of her, gave her a quick once-over, and shook his head. “The big horse’s in, huh?”
Dawn nodded.
“You gonna make it?”
“I don’t think so,” she said wearily.
Doc Jake chuckled, patted her head affectionately, and walked on. Tom and Randy were still down by Majorama’s stall. She stared at them. It was obvious from their actions, and the looks they were giving her, that they were talking about her. Randy leaned in closer, listening, and then the two of them laughed.
Too miserable to play along and ask, “What’s so funny?” she buried her face in her hands again. They were walking toward her now, their hushed voices growing closer and closer. Then they stopped.
She looked up at them.
They b
oth smiled. Grinned actually.
“How are you?” Tom said.
Dawn rolled her eyes. “Fine, Tom. And how are you?” She stood up, thinking they wanted past her into the tack room. But despite her sarcastic reply and apparent disgruntlement, both of them continued to stand there and smile amiably.
Randy was taking in how tall she was, this being the first time he’d spent longer than a second or two standing next to her. She was taller than he’d realized. He liked tall women, and this one was very tall; five ten or eleven at least. And pretty, though somewhat plain. He ran his eyes down to her feet, then back up, quickly, but expertly. Tall enough to maybe stand for sex. His smile widened.
Dawn couldn’t help but notice she was being sized up, although she had no idea to what extent, and even managed to do a little sizing up herself. Once again, she was taken by how muscular the man was. Then she thought, how ridiculous, as if veterinarians didn’t need to be strong, particularly ones who practiced on large animals. He’d have to be. And those blue eyes, and that mustache.
Tom broke the momentary silence. “I was just telling Randy here about this ritual you have of drawing yourself for Beau’s races.”
Dawn stared at him in disbelief, then glared. Was there nothing sacred with him? “Tom...”
He moved out of striking distance, laughing, as Randy turned, trying not to laugh.
Dawn could’ve strangled him right then and there. Or worse. But when she opened her mouth, never at a loss for just the right thing to say having inherited her Aunt Maeve’s acid tongue, her stomach cramped again.
Tom and Randy stepped back out of her way, first one then the other. They both pointed ceremoniously to the ladies room. And shaking her head, she left them.
When she returned, she was thankful they’d gone. Tom especially. Him and his childish sense of humor. All she wanted to do was go into the tack room and lie down on the cot for a while. She startled Ben when she walked in, and he jumped, dropping a number of pills on the floor.
“I’m sorry.” She watched them spiral round and round, then bent down to pick them up. “Do you have a headache?”
Ben didn’t answer, trying hard to get down low enough to pick them up himself. Dawn examined one. They weren’t aspirin.
Winning Odds Trilogy Page 5