“No, but Ben’s in the tack room.”
Randy had an assistant working with him now, a young woman who anticipated his needs and saved him a lot of steps walking back and forth to his truck for different items.
With Beau hung on the walker to dry and with Tom having caught his stall, Dawn poured herself a cup of coffee and sat down on the stoop to take a break. The young woman smiled at her in passing during one of her trips to the truck.
“I don’t know what I would do without her,” she heard Randy telling Ben. “Especially on farm calls.”
Dawn sipped her coffee, watching Beau.
“It helps even more her living with me,” Randy added.
Dawn frowned, glancing at the truck to where the woman stood searching for something in one of the compartments. She was very pretty.
“She’s my kid sister.”
Dawn looked at Beau and smiled. How nice.
One more trip back and forth, and Randy’s sister and he were walking down the shedrow to leave. “Let’s go get something to eat,” he said, draping his arm around her shoulder.
Dawn sipped her coffee and looked up then when he stopped in front of her and his sister walked on.
“Do you want to go get some lunch?”
Dawn shook her head. “No, thanks, but...” She glanced down at her clothes, still wet from Beau’s bath, particularly the bottoms of her jeans.
Randy smiled. “You look fine. Besides, we’re just going to Wendy’s.
“Go ahead and go,” Ben said. “I’ll put Beau away and lock up.”
Dawn’s reluctance was obvious. But Ben had gotten such a big kick out of putting her on the spot, he was actually smiling for a change, so she agreed. “You’ll have to give me a few minutes to wash up.”
“No problem,” Randy said. “I’ve got to check with my service anyway. I’ll meet you back here.”
When Dawn came out of the ladies room, she was surprised to find the truck parked right in front. Randy got out and motioned for her to come around and get in on his side. As he slid in behind the wheel, he introduced her to his sister Cindy.
They both smiled and said hi.
Cindy was friendly and easy to talk to, for which Dawn was grateful. She felt odd sitting so close to Randy, a man she hardly knew. They talked about the weather first and then about the term paper Cindy was working on.
“Human sexuality...of all things.” Cindy chuckled. “Try putting that into words.”
“No thanks,” Dawn said, thinking if she did, it wouldn’t make any sense and nobody would buy it. “I’ll pass.”
At Wendy’s, seated, eating, and having been unable to get a word in edgewise, Randy tried striking up a conversation with Dawn himself. “Are you in school also?”
“No,” she said, “I’m out.” She’d hardly been ignoring him though, and seriously doubted if any woman could.
Randy glanced at her tray. “How can a person eat as much as you and be so thin? There’s nothing to you,” he said, saying this purposely so he could run his eyes down over her. “Where do you put it?”
Dawn just shook her head and smiled. No comment, nothing. And Randy had to think of something else to say. “How long have you been at the track?”
“This is my second year.”
“What did you do before that?” he asked, hoping to figure out her age.
“School, work...the usual.”
“How long?”
“A couple of years.”
“How old are you?”
Cindy smacked him on the arm. “Randy! Jesus! Give her a break. You sound like a game show host.”
Randy blushed, but laughed as well. “I was just curious.”
“Yeah, right!”
When Dawn and Cindy turned back to one another, excluding him again, he found himself glancing idly around the restaurant. Two teenage girls were sitting across the way staring at him. They giggled self-consciously when he looked at them. He smiled, giving them a pretty thorough once-over, until he noticed Dawn watching him out of the corner of her eye. He looked away then, feeling like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar.
He stared out the window for a moment. It was almost time to go. “You’re going to have to help me with farm calls this afternoon,” he said to Cindy.
Cindy shook her head. “Not if I’m going to get my paper done. Why don’t you see if Janet’ll help you.”
Randy frowned. “Sorry, but I can’t. She’s mad at me, so I know better than to even ask. Besides, she’s not much help. She’s dumber than a sack of rocks.” No sooner said, he wished he could take that last part back. And Dawn’s expression only accented the fact.
Cindy rolled her eyes and sighed. “Dawn, do you think you could help him? I wouldn’t ask, especially after...” She cast Randy a critical look. “It’s just that if I don’t get this done...”
“Perhaps I can do your term paper for you,” Dawn said.
Cindy laughed. “Please. Come on.”
Dawn hesitated. “I don’t know. I mean, who’s to say if I’ll be smart enough. Is there a test or something I can take first to rule myself out?”
Randy was thoroughly red in the face now, and waited for them to stop laughing to look apologetically at Dawn. “I’m sorry. I really could use some help.”
Dawn gazed back at him, wondering how often his good looks got him out of situations like this. He was hard to resist. Not to mention Cindy’s pleading, pleading, pleading eyes. “All right, I’ll help you. But it’s my turn to run stalls and feed, so...”
“What time?”
“Three, three thirty.”
Randy glanced at his watch. “Perfect. We’ll get the calls at the track and your chores out of the way first.” With that settled, they got up to leave. On the way out, Randy winked at the two teenage girls.
Fifteen minutes into the routine and Dawn had already handed him the wrong thing twice. Both times, after describing what he needed, he watched her walk to the truck, pleased with himself, and glad he’d solicited Cindy’s help in pulling this off.
Before they moved on to another barn, Dawn insisted on a crash course. “What’s this? What’s that? What do you use most?” She made mental notes as Randy pointed out the different instruments and supplies. Then they moved on.
“Whatever you do at this barn,” Randy said, as they started down another shedrow, “don’t ask any questions. And if for some reason they ask you something, don’t answer.”
Dawn looked at him. “Perhaps this is where dumber-than-a-sack-of-rocks Janet would’ve come in handy.”
Randy laughed. “God, I wish I hadn’t said that.”
Her feelings exactly. “So uh, why am I not supposed to talk here?”
“Because.” Randy lowered his voice. “Some of these old trainers are funny. Jake had been around so long, for some he was the only vet they ever had. They trusted him.”
“And they don’t trust you?”
Randy shrugged. “I don’t think they distrust me. It’s just...”
“What do they think you’re going to do? Steer them wrong?”
“No.” He smiled at her, taking in her pretty green eyes as she looked up at him. “I guess there was a vet here a couple of years back that used to tout horses for claiming to his friends. He even went so far as to have a few claimed for himself.”
“Oh wonderful,” Dawn said. “We just claimed a horse. How’s that going to look?”
Randy hesitated a second, thinking this might not be such a good idea after all, then shrugged. “I don’t think we have to worry about it with Ben. His reputation’s...” He trailed off as the trainer walked toward them. “Just don’t talk.”
Dawn didn’t say a word, not that she ever said that much anyway, and halfway through the third call, she realized she was enjoying herself. Randy was easy-going, smiled a lot, seemed well-liked by most everyone, and was fun to be with. Over the next few hours, they wormed several horses, administered vitamin, mineral, and electrolyte inject
ions, examined at least five lame horses, gave an enema to a colicky one, and even looked at a growth on a goat’s stomach.
When it was a little after three, Dawn told Randy she was going to walk down to the barn to start chores.
“No, wait,” he said. “One more call and we’ll drive down. I want to keep up my end of the bargain.”
Dawn smiled. “Are you sure you can handle it?”
“Don’t worry about me.” Randy laughed. “Just tell me the game plan.”
At the barn, they both pulled feed tubs and brought them into the feed room. Then with Randy starting at the one end and Dawn the other, they “ran the stalls,” picking out the manure and wet spots and fluffing the straw.
Dawn was mixing feed when Randy appeared in the doorway. “It doesn’t surprise me that you finished ahead of me, sticking me with that big-shit of a pony’s stall.”
Dawn chuckled. “You were the one that chose that end.” She glanced up at him. “Besides, I didn’t complain when that goat peed on my boot, did I?”
Randy smiled. She’d taken her jacket off, and it was the first time he’d seen her without one. Unfortunately though, she was wearing a blouse and a heavy sweater, which still made it impossible to tell how large her breasts were; something he was dying to find out. As she started measuring various things into the feed tubs, he leaned against the doorway and studied her. He loved long hair, long and thick, and though he’d never been wild about the color red, he thought hers was just beautiful. Then the more he looked at it, he decided it really wasn’t red at all. It was auburn. And although braided was the only way he’d ever seen it, he was sure loose, it had to go all the way down to her waist.
When Dawn looked up and caught him staring at her, he tried to appear casual about it by walking over and sifting his fingers through the different feed tubs. To some she’d added flaxseed, bran and cracked corn to all. A few got barley. Sweet feed had been added to each one. And she topped that off with salt, Brewer’s yeast, and a squirt of liquid vitamins. When she started scooping oats out of a steaming barrel behind her, he commented on it.
“Not many trainers cook their oats anymore.”
“Ben believes horses in training should have a hot mash every day, not just when they run.” Routinely, he started them cooking every morning about ten. A scoop and a half of oats per horse, water added to a certain level depending on how many horses, and an electric heating coil immersed in the center. He’d cut a hole in the barrel lid, large enough for the cord, and once the lid was put on, no one had better lift it until feeding time. “It’s like cooking rice,” he’d told Dawn when he’d first showed her how. “You want the oats to absorb the water, to puff up and swell. It’s good for a horse’s digestion.”
Randy stepped back and leaned against the other side of the doorway, crossing his arms. “You think a lot of him, don’t you?”
“Who, Ben?”
Randy nodded.
“Yes.” She smiled. “He’s kind of been like a...”
“A father? Like a father to you?”
“Not quite,” Dawn said softly. “But almost.”
“Is he anything like him? Your dad I mean.”
Dawn stared a moment, thinking about her father, always tanned, meticulously groomed, hands weighted with gold. “No, he’s nothing like him.”
“What did you say?” Randy leaned so he could see her eyes. “I didn’t hear you.”
Dawn hesitated. “I said, he’s nothing like my father. My father isn’t even alive. He died in a plane crash.”
“I’m sorry. And your mother?”
Dawn dished out another scoop of oats. “She’s dead too. She was with him. They both died early last year,” she said. And to avoid any more questions, she handed him the stir-stick and pointed to the two feed tubs closest to him. “That one goes to Beau, and that one there, the horse right next to him.”
Chapter Seven
In the truck and driving down the road, Randy handed Dawn a clipboard. “Where’s the first call?”
Dawn read through several scribbled notations at the top of the page. “Well, according to this...” She turned the board sideways. “Riverwood Farm, Buckeye and uh...Kinsman, for a butt exam.” She looked at him. “A butt exam?”
Randy chuckled. “Oh yeah, now I remember. It’s a mare to be checked for breeding.”
Dawn shook her head. “Lovely terminology.”
“It’s my own method of shorthand. You should’ve seen some of my notes in school.”
Dawn laughed. She could only imagine.
They rode for some time after that, hardly talking, unless it was to comment about a certain song on the radio or the news, and the lack of conversation was driving Randy crazy. He’d never been at a loss for something to say to a woman before, and was starting to take it quite personally, until he rationalized the situation and came to the conclusion that it was all Dawn’s fault.
“Are you always this quiet?”
Yes and no. She shrugged. “I’m hungry.”
Randy glanced at her, then glanced at her again, wishing he could just look and look and look at her, studying each one of her features until he knew them by heart. “What are you hungry for?”
Dawn sighed softly, staring out the window and thinking. “I don’t know. Pizza?”
Randy smiled. “Before or after the first call?”
“I don’t care. Before...no, after.”
“Do you have a tough time making decisions?”
Dawn laughed. “No, not really. Just sometimes.”
Randy shook his head, smiling. “Well, we’re almost to Riverwood, so let’s make it after.”
Riverwood was a relatively new farm, very elaborate in its Tudor design: house, garage, and barns alike, with acres and acres of plank-fenced paddocks, and a brick-paved road to take you from one building to the next.
“Some place, huh?” Randy said.
Dawn nodded.
Randy parked by the main barn, got out, and started gathering the instruments and supplies he’d need. He handed Dawn a stainless-steel bucket, filled the bottom with cotton, squirted some iodine scrub solution on it, and placed a large speculum on top of that. The sheer size of it made Dawn cringe.
“This is a far cry from the farm I grew up on,” Randy said, as the two of them walked to the barn.
Dawn glanced up at him, smiling. “And what kind of farm was that?”
“Oh, your typical Midwestern I guess. You know, house, barns, silo, wire fence...”
“A dairy farm?”
“No, pigs.”
Dawn opened the door for him, but then he braced it with his foot and waited for her to go ahead. “Whiteshires,” he said. “My dad still raises them. Though not as many. Best damned pigs in the state too.”
Dawn smiled.
“What about you? You grow up on a farm?”
“Me...?” Dawn thought a moment and nodded. “I guess you could call it that,” she said, though she’d never heard it referred to as anything other than an estate.
Joan Richmond came around the corner to greet them. “Hi, Randy! I thought you were coming by yesterday.” She stuck out her bottom lip and batted her lashes. “I waited for you.”
Randy smiled. “Sorry, but like I told you on the phone, it was doubtful I’d make it.”
Joan wrapped her arm around Randy’s, purposely nudging Dawn as she wedged between them. “I know, but I was still hoping.”
As Dawn walked along next to them, she glanced at the woman, and when they stopped in front of one of the stalls, took an even closer look. Joan Richmond reminded her of a call-girl approaching forty and not aging all that well.
Randy freed his arm. “Dawn, this is Joan Richmond. She and her husband Glenn own Riverwood Farm. Joan, this is Dawn Fioritto.”
How formal, Dawn thought. Mother would’ve been proud. She’d been a stickler for proper etiquette, one of her bibles being the Amy Vanderbilt version. And though Dawn couldn’t care less who was presented to
who or whom, she knew it was always safe to respond with a polite hello, which she did, and which Mrs. Richmond promptly ignored, having focused all her attention on Randy. The woman was practically purring.
“I think she’s started horsin’, Randy,” she said, meaning she thought the mare was coming in heat. “I guess I should’ve told you. Is that going to be a problem?”
Randy shook his head, looking in at the mare. “It shouldn’t be, but we’ll twitch her anyway just in case. I don’t want her kicking me on my ass if I don’t measure up.”
Joan laughed, throwing her head back, and Dawn glanced away, rolling her eyes. It wasn’t that funny.
One of the stable-hands twisted the chain twitch around the mare’s nose, tightened, and clamped down on it to occupy her mind while Randy wrapped her tail. After he scrubbed her, he put on a disposable glove that went all the way up to his shoulder, lubricated it with K-Y Jelly, and eased it into the mare’s rectum to palpate her.
Dawn stared in the opposite direction, reminded of the first time she had a gynecological exam. She’d just turned sixteen, a virgin, and was scared to death. So what if Dr. Adler had delivered her and seen her naked before. That was before puberty and breasts.
“He doesn’t look at you really,” her mother tried convincing her. “In fact, he hardly looks at you at all.”
“So how’s school?” Dr. Adler asked.
School...? How’s school? I’m shaking, bare to the bone, you’re looking at everything I’ve got, front and back, I think I’m going to have diarrhea, if I do I’ll die...and you want to know, “How’s school?”
“Well?” Dr. Adler said, as he put his plastic gloves on.
“Fine,” Dawn managed, tightening her pelvic muscles as hard as she could. “Just...f-f-fine.”
“Relax, Dawn. This will all be over in a minute. Just relax.”
At the sound of a plastic glove being removed Dawn turned to see Randy soothing the mare. “There now, Momma, that wasn’t so bad, was it? Dawn, run some warm water on the speculum.”
When she returned, Randy thanked her and smiled. “You okay?”
Winning Odds Trilogy Page 8