“We’ll shake for him,” Ben said, nudging her to put her hand down and turn around. “Watch the race. They’re at the gate.”
Gloria sighed. It was a six-furlong race. The gate was clear across the racetrack, and she couldn’t see a thing. She hummed anxiously. Ben glanced at her. She’d closed her eyes. Was she praying, he wondered? Must be. He shook his head.
Too Cajun broke slowly, trailed the field for most of the trip, then closed some ground down the stretch, to finish third. He’d been beaten by at least ten lengths, but it didn’t seem to bother Ben or Tom. They were both thinking the same thing; he’d just flattened out. Surprisingly, Gloria’s opinion echoed theirs, though expressed differently. And tenderly. “Oh, he just got tired, that’s all. He had to run too hard to catch up.”
Too Cajun wasn’t the only horse singled out by the paddock judge when they got back to the grandstand. A gray horse was tagged as well, one that bobbled with each step as he was led past them to the indoor paddock.
Dawn and Gloria stood with their backs against the wall opposite the paddock, looking somewhat discreet, though at this stage it hardly mattered. Ben and Tom were in the claim booth; the room where decisions were made.
Gloria was hypnotized, her eyes glued to the black horse she hoped was hers. Dawn watched the gray. Its groom was patting and rubbing its shoulder, refusing to look at him. Dawn knew what the young man was feeling, having lost their share the same way. You’re not supposed to get attached to them. But you do. And right about now, it hurt to even look at them. This was good-bye.
A few minutes later Tom and Ben emerged. Tom motioned for Dawn to bring over the halter and shank. “Well, we got him,” he said.
Gloria squealed with delight. “I knew my horoscope was right! I just knew it!”
Dawn stood back while Tom talked to the groom, pumping him for information about the new horse, like only he could. Amidst his bragging about his latest conquests, full of obscenities and hand gestures, he was carefully making note of the dropped noseband, snaffle bit, tongue tie, and all the groom had to offer.
“Was there more’n one claim in for him?” the young man asked, as they started to walk away.
“No, they’re all in shaking for the gray.” Tom turned and watched as the gray horse took a step and almost went down on its knees. “They’ll be lucky if they fucking get him back to the barn.”
The next morning, Doc Jake examined Too Cajun, as was routine for any new horse in the barn. Tom and Dawn had been sitting on the tack room stoop for some time, laughing and amusing themselves as he went back and forth to his van for vial after vial of various medications. The horse had thrush in all fours, “hoof rot” as Tom called it, ringworm and girth gall, which he dubbed “fungus amungus.” And its mane and forelock were ridden with lice. Tom didn’t have a nickname for this, it was just plain lice.
“Lice...? I’m not going near him,” Dawn sputtered.
“Me neither! I got more hair than you. I got it everywhere!”
Ben leaned out the stall. “That’s enough! All right?”
Tom and Dawn nodded, staring ever so obediently, and even managed to stay quiet for a moment or two before starting up again. “Let’s flip for him. Heads, he’s yours. Tails, mine.”
“Yeah, right,” Dawn said, knowing there was no way she’d win. “I’m not flipping anything with you. You cheat!”
Ben ignored them as Doc Jake drew blood for an analysis. “We might as well worm him. I’m sure he’s full of them.” He kicked a fresh pile of manure with his boot. “Look at this shit. Hard as a rock. It’s a goddamned wonder he’s not impacted.”
Ben nodded. His sentiments exactly.
“Who’d you get him from? No, never mind, don’t tell me. I don’t even want to know.”
When the two men were done worming the horse, they started down the shedrow toward Tom and Dawn, who were pushing at each other, still joking and laughing.
“Hey, Doc,” Tom said, pointing while trying to compose himself. “How’s come that horse jerks his head like that?”
Doc Jake turned and looked back at Too Cajun. “Like what?” he asked. And just then he did it again; a little jerk down and up, more like a twitch actually. Only this time, he fluttered his ears as well.
“Shit!” Doc Jake walked back, got out his pen light, and took a look. “He’s got ear mites too.”
This was enough to start Tom and Dawn up again, until Ben glared at them. They both stood then, saluted, and scattered in search of something to do.
Ben sighed, already thinking of the inevitable conversation he’d soon be having with Gloria. Doc Jake put salve in Cajun’s ears and stood back. “Well, all things considered, he’s about as sound as they come. A bit neglected, but...”
Ben smiled, of the same opinion. The horse was small, but put together nicely. He’d run down a little, but aside from that, his legs were in good shape. “They’d better get around to doing some serious maintenance on this track or there won’t be anything left to run on it.”
If a horse had “run down,” peeling layers of hide and tissue off the backs of their fetlocks, it was usually because they couldn’t get hold of the racetrack; spinning their wheels so to speak, and having to dig in deeper. Too much sand in the track made the problem worse.
“Maintenance? Sheeeettt!” Doc Jake said. “They’d build a new clubhouse first.”
Ben chuckled. “Nah, I hear tell they’re thinking of a new executive lounge up by the offices.” They both laughed, shaking their heads, then fell quiet. They were old friends and had been through a lot together. They’d seen it all.
Doc Jake stared off. “I went to the cemetery yesterday. It would’ve been me and Audrey’s forty-fifth wedding anniversary.”
Ben nodded. He knew. Not the exact date, Meg was the one who remembered the days. But he knew it was around this time of year.
“How is it she’s been gone three years now, and I still wake up in the morning expecting her to be in bed next to me?”
Ben put his hand on Jake’s shoulder.
“I’ll tell you, Ben. I dream about her all the time lately. She’s sitting up on this hill.” He paused, remembering every detail. “Her hair’s in curls, just like when I met her. And she’s holding her hands out to me.” He showed Ben the exact way. “It’s the damnedest thing. What’s even crazier, I’m making my way up that hill, and I can’t be more’n twenty years old.”
Ben listened, nodding.
“I always wake up though before I get to the top.”
Ben could feel Jake’s pain...his own pain. My God, Jake, he thought, studying his friend’s eyes, you look old. You are old. We’re old. You look so tired. And I know I’m tired. What’s going to come of us? We weren’t supposed to outlive our wives. Women are supposed to live longer.
Jake shook his head and repeated himself, sadly. “I always wake up before I get to the top.”
They walked over to Jake’s van and he put his equipment away, closed the back doors, and got in behind the wheel. “Put that salve in his ears twice a day. I’ll have Randy drop off some more of it.”
Ben nodded and stepped back.
Jake hesitated. “Did you see that new truck of his? Jesus, it’s got more compartments in it than Carter has pills. Three even refrigerated. Shit, he could make lunch.”
Ben laughed. Jake waved and pulled out, and at the sound of a voice behind him, Ben cringed.
“Yoo hoo...”
The scent confirmed it. He turned reluctantly.
“How did we do? What’s he like? He looked so pretty in the paddock.”
Ben started down the shedrow with her, thinking of how best to break the news. “Well, aside from a few minor kinks, he seems just fine.”
“Oh goody!” Gloria said, clapping her hands in delight, and promptly sending three horses flying to the backs of their stalls. “Oops.”
Ben rolled his eyes and stepped back to look in at one of the horses, before walking on.
“
So when will he run again? I can hardly wait.”
Ben drew a deep breath, stalling. She wasn’t going to like this. “I figure about a month. Three weeks at the earliest.”
“What?! Why?! What’s wrong with him?! Is he sick?”
“Sick...?” Ben said, scratching nervously at his ear. “No, not exactly. He has a parasite problem, among other things, though it’s not serious.”
“Thank heavens. You scared me. What do you mean parasites? Like worms?”
“Uh...yes. Worms. He has worms,” Ben said, as if that were all of it. “Worms.”
“So get rid of them.”
“I will. I mean, I did,” Ben stammered, realizing how foolish he sounded and wondering why he just didn’t tell her the truth, all of it. Having reached Cajun’s stall though, he just gazed in at him and nodded somberly.
“Poor baby,” Gloria said. “You got worms.” She looked at Ben, still standing there with an expression on his face like a mortician’s. “A month for worms? Good grief! What kind of worms does he have?”
“Oh...” Ben sighed heavily, looking even more sorrowful. “Rare ones.” A picture of Dawn and Tom laughing earlier came to mind, and for a second he almost laughed himself. He cleared his throat and furrowed his brow. “But I promise you, he’ll be just fine. He seems quite sound.”
Gloria looked as if she were going to cry, the last thing Ben expected her to do. He put his hand on her shoulder. “Come on now, he’ll be all right. Besides, we wouldn’t want to rush him, now would we?”
Gloria’s face lit up with the sound of the word “we” Ben had said purposely. “Heavens no, of course not.” She bounced back at once, thinking. “Well, I do have to pick out my colors,” she said, referring to the color and pattern of her jockey silks. “What do you think of purple? Violet actually? Should I get silk or nylon? Oh my, I hope I can get it all done in a month.” She smiled at Too Cajun, then at Ben, and turned in a swirl.
“Sorry I can’t stay and chat,” she sang over her shoulder.
“Oh, that’s okay.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Lucky me,” Ben said to himself.
Jake woke in a sweat, thinking he’d heard someone calling his name, and after lying still for a moment, realized it was a dream. That same dream where Audrey was calling him to the top of the hill. So beautiful, and so young...she made him feel young again. He closed his eyes, wanting the dream to come back, wanting her to come back. She was so close, much closer this time, and she was holding her hands out to him, smiling as she whispered his name. She whispered it again, then again, and he felt the softness of her skin, her familiar touch. The scent of her hair. And he embraced her.
When Ben pulled his truck in through the stable gate shortly after five-thirty, Charlie was watching for him as he had for years, always there to greet him with a smile. As Ben approached, he rose slowly from his chair.
“Morning, Ben.”
Ben smiled, raising his hand to touch the brim of his hat as he always did in greeting him. He stopped midway. There was something in Charlie’s eyes.
“What’s happened? What is it?”
Charlie swallowed hard. “It’s Jake, Ben. He’s dead.” Charlie’s voice cracked, he looked away, and Ben lowered his eyes to the ground.
“How?”
“His daughter found him,” Charlie said, his chin trembling noticeably. “His answering service had been trying to get him for hours and...”
Ben looked up with tears in his eyes, and for a moment the two men just stared at one another. “Where did she find him?”
“He was in bed. He died in his sleep.”
Ben nodded to himself, then nodded again and gripped Charlie’s arm. He gripped it tightly. Of the original group of friends, they were the only two left now. Just the two of them. Everyone else was gone. As Ben walked on, Charlie sat back down and stared stoically at the incoming traffic.
Chapter Six
In less than two weeks, Too Cajun was a different horse. All the bugs were gone, his girth gall was practically healed, and they’d managed to put some much-needed weight on him. Ben was training him long and slow. He’d taken well to this regimen. So all in all, except for the twitch, which was obviously here to stay, he was just about one hundred percent.
Gloria, as Ben had feared, showed up every day at the barn now, like clockwork, though at least she waited until training hours were over. He was thankful for that. Still, she asked too damned many questions. Why this and why that?
“I want to be an active owner. I want to know everything there is to know.”
How about the way to the clubhouse, Ben thought. He’d never trained for a woman before. He’d racked his brain trying to think of one. A husband and wife maybe. A father and daughter once. But never a woman herself. Never. So why start now?
He sighed.
Gloria wanted to run. “I know you said three weeks to a month, but it is my birthday. And a very special one at that. Come on, I can’t wait. It’ll be so much fun. All my lady friends’ll come. Maybe my granddaughter too. Oh, Ben, please...”
“We’ll see,” he said. “I’ll check the condition book.”
Gloria fished one out of her purse. “Here, use mine.”
Ben stared. Use mine? Oh God. An owner with a condition book.
Gloria held it out until he took it; opened and folded neatly to Friday’s date, six races circled, and reeking of lilac. “What about this one here?” she asked. It had a perfectly-drawn star next to it.
The condition didn’t fit. In fact, for that day, there was nothing even close. “You know, you really don’t have to bother yourself with...”
“Oh, it’s no bother,” Gloria said. “I enjoy it. You know me.”
Ben just looked at her.
“Well...?”
“Like I said, we’ll see.” There was always a possibility of having an extra race written that might fill. Ben handed back her condition book, nodded, and turned to walk away.
“But when will I know?”
“Tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow? I have to wait till then?”
Ben kept walking, feeling short of breath, and headed toward the men’s room to discourage her in the event she decided to follow him. He and Tom had talked earlier about maybe running Cajun this weekend. One day sooner wouldn’t make all that much difference. They weren’t going for a win. It would be the first time he’d ever run long in his life. He’d need at least one.
Gloria got tired of waiting for Ben to return and left, but not before confiding in Dawn that she was planning on inviting him to dinner at her house for her birthday.
Dawn tried discouraging her in a subtle way, but with no success. Gloria even had the menu planned already. When Ben finally did return, Dawn debated whether or not to tell him, to warn him, but decided not to for the moment. Ben had a way of letting you know when he wanted to talk, and now wasn’t the time. She was sure his moodiness lately had a lot to do with Jake’s death, and wished she could talk to him about that too. But Ben kept things to himself. And being much the same, Dawn never pushed.
Tuesdays at Nottingham, as well as Mondays, were dark days, no racing, and though training was usually the heaviest on these mornings, today’s was light. Beau hadn’t tracked, and normally would have been hung on the walking machine first. But he’d obviously spent the majority of the night urinating in the center of his stall so he could roll in it, and needed a bath. The weather was unseasonably cool, so he and his bath had been put off until last.
In spite of his refusing to stand still, keeping his head much too high for rinsing, and swishing Dawn in the face more than once with his wet, sudsy tail, she managed to get him done, alone; a feat that both baffled and amused Ben and Tom, who’d stopped offering to help after she kept insisting they just got in the way.
Randy Iredell stood in the shedrow across from the wash rack, watching her and smiling to himself. He’d seen Dawn several times since the season started, but al
ways at a distance or when he passed a stall where she’d be down on her knees doing a horse up. He’d say hi, she’d say hi, and that would be it. He’d just walk on then. She wasn’t easy to talk to. He’d asked around about her, but no one really knew her. Some thought she was related to Ben, others didn’t think so. No one knew for sure.
Dawn got back to the barn and reached for the sweat scraper. When it wasn’t on the hook where it was supposed to be, she called out for Tom. He’d used it last.
“Looking for this?”
Dawn turned, not recognizing the voice, and nodded then as she reached for it. “Thanks.”
Instead of handing it to her, Randy started scraping Beau off. “So how are you?”
Dawn shrugged. “Fine.”
Randy nodded as he scraped down over Beau’s shoulder. When he glanced at Dawn she pushed some wet strands of hair off her face, and for a second or two, he found himself staring at her.
Dawn could only imagine how she looked, the way she always looked after a bath with Beau. She wiped her face with the back of her sleeve.
Randy tried to think of something to say, something clever, but couldn’t. He was exhausted, his mind a blank. He concentrated on scraping off Beau instead.
Dawn watched him as he walked around to Beau’s other side. “You look tired,” she said, as if she knew how he looked when rested.
Randy smiled faintly. “I can’t seem to catch up.” He paused, staring off as he ran his hand under Beau’s belly to make sure he’d gotten most of the water. “I looked at a horse this morning...”
Dawn waited a moment before asking, “And?”
“I didn’t know what the hell was wrong with it.” He sighed and stepped back. “I miss that old man. I don’t know, I guess I thought he’d be around forever.”
Dawn gazed sympathetically at him, relating his loss to that of Ben’s. “Well, did you figure it out?”
Randy hesitated, as if he had to think about it. “Yeah, finally.”
Dawn smiled, giving the impression she knew he would all along. Randy appreciated the gesture of confidence. “My service says Ben has a horse he wants looked at. Do you know which one it is?”
Winning Odds Trilogy Page 7