Winning Odds Trilogy

by MaryAnn Myers

  Gloria sighed. “Well, I guess I’ll see him later. But do tell me, how’s my little Cajun going to run today?”

  Tom stretched his legs out and popped a toothpick in his mouth. “He’ll win.”

  “Honest?” Gloria clasped her hands together. “He will?”

  Tom nodded with an air of authority. “It’ll be like a walk in the park. Picture and all.”

  “Oh dear!” Gloria said. “My hair. How does it look? I had it done in a different style. What do you think?”

  Dawn smiled as she glanced from one to the other. Tom appeared to be assessing Gloria’s new hairdo, probably couldn’t see any difference, and didn’t have a clue as to what to say. She helped him out. “It looks lovely, Gloria. Very becoming.”

  Tom nodded. “Yes. Very becoming.”

  “Thank you,” she said, fluffing it. “It’s less bouffant. It’s supposed to make me look younger. Do you think Ben will like it?”

  Dawn made sure to answer before Tom again. “I’m sure he will.”

  “Wonderful. I had it done just for him. But don’t tell him, I want it to be a surprise. I have another surprise for him too. You can tell him that. And tell him I’ll see him in the clubhouse.”

  Tom and Dawn looked at one another as Gloria floated down the shedrow, stopping long enough to plant a kiss on Cajun’s nose and fuss over him a little, before going on.

  Cajun loved attention, even when it came to having a sweat applied. Obviously it didn’t matter to him that it was therapeutic, that the heat and the mix of ingredients worked to loosen up his muscles and that the plastic sheet and shoulder blanket put on him after it was rubbed in, made it work even better. He nuzzled Tom affectionately for his kindness, sniffed his leg, his arm, his hair, then Dawn’s hair. Applying a sweat was something Dawn left to Tom. She’d tried it once and found the solution too hard on her hands.

  “It’s a man’s job,” Tom teased.

  “What about gloves? Can I wear rubber gloves?”

  “No, it’ll eat ‘em up.” Tom adjusted the shoulder blanket over the plastic sheet.

  “Why doesn’t it eat up the sheet?” she’d asked.

  “Because you’re not rubbing it in with it. No friction. Not only that, within minutes there’s a layer of sweat to serve as a kind of buffer.”

  Cajun also needed rundown patches and a patch on the inside of his left hock. The patches first had to be cut to size, then tiny notches made around the edges, so they could conform to the area they were protecting. Dawn made an art form out of it. And even though they came with a peel-off sticky side, in the Miller barn, they were always sprayed with additional adhesive before applying them.

  “Better safe than sorry,” was Ben’s rule, and Tom echoed those sentiments, even when it took ether sometimes to remove them after a race and the smell would get to him.

  “An ounce of prevention is better than a whole shitload of pain-in-the-ass cure.”

  Run-down patches and bandages were always put on at the ten-minute call. If a horse was in ice, this was when he came out. Dawn tacked Cajun and, using a long, thin strip of cloth, tied his tongue.

  “Grab the tongue like this,” Tom had shown her, pulling the horse’s tongue out to the side of its mouth. “Wrap the tie around twice, let him pull his tongue back in place, and tie the string under his jaw.”

  “Do I make a knot?”

  “No.” Tom smiled. “A bow.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “World serious,” he said. “That’s right. Now make sure it’s tight.”

  Not every horse had its tongue tied, only the ones who gave you reason to think they might need it. A horse playing with the bit too much or playing with his tongue all the time, could have trouble when running.

  “Poor thing,” Dawn had said, looking at that first horse whose tongue she’d tied.

  “Poor thing...?” Tom said. “You ain’t never seen a horse try and swallow its tongue. This is nothing.”

  “What happens when they do?”

  Tom looked at her. “Well, for one, it affects their breathing. Not only that, it panics the shit out of them. You know what that’s like? I do. I was with this woman one time, a real go-getter if you know what I mean, and...”

  Dawn rolled her eyes and laughed.

  When it came time to leave, Dawn locked the tack room and was walking alongside Tom as he led Cajun to the paddock, when she saw Randy’s truck. “Damn.” She turned to duck between the barns and take the back way, but Tom called out, “Hey, Dawn. Look, there’s Randy.” Randy saw them, and that was that. No ducking out now. It would be too obvious. Tom would bug her about why and never let up, so she just kept walking.

  Randy couldn’t take his eyes off her and smiled as she came closer. He said, “Hi.” She said, “Hi.” And he reached for her hand then, but she pulled away.

  “I missed you,” he confessed, sounding and looking like he meant it.

  “Why is that?” Dawn walked on. “You’ve only been gone a day.”

  Randy chuckled, thinking she was kidding. “Do you want to go out for dinner after the races?”

  “Sorry,” she said, over her shoulder. “Not tonight. I wasn’t expecting you.”

  “Why?” Randy frowned. “Are you and Linda doing something?”

  Dawn glanced over her shoulder again without breaking stride. “No, I have a date.”

  What? Randy leaned back against his truck and crossed his arms. A date? He’d just driven four hundred and fifty miles, one way and then back, because he couldn’t stand being away from her, and she has a date.

  “I don’t believe this,” he said to himself, and turned, about to lose it, throwing up his hands and shaking his head, when out of the corner of his eye he saw Ginney walking toward him.

  Cajun stood perfectly still in the paddock as Tom and Dawn removed his shoulder blanket and sheet, aside from twitching, and appeared to be enjoying himself. Ben and the valet tacked him. As assistant trainer, Tom could’ve saddled him, but Ben was avoiding Gloria as long as possible. When he mumbled something under his breath about it, Tom and Dawn both laughed. You’d swear Gloria was a female vampire, Dawn thought, the way he was acting. And yet, it spite of all that, she couldn’t help thinking how much better Ben looked since Beau’s work. More relaxed. Like the weight of the world had been lifted from his shoulders.

  He even joked with Johnny, the young apprentice jockey riding Cajun. “What do you mean, ride him like last time? That race was weeks ago. How can you remember back that far?”

  Johnny blushed. “I’ve only had five mounts since. I remember.”

  Ben knew exactly how many mounts Johnny had had, having watched every one of them. He also knew he hadn’t won any. “Well, did you win on any of these five mounts?”

  “No, sir,” Johnny said.

  “You feel like winning one today?”

  Johnny nodded, ready for anything, except maybe the scene in the jocks’ room just before he came out; Mastrite and Jenkins popping whatever it is they popped every day and challenging him to join them. “They make holes for you out there,” Mastrite had said. “They make you make your own holes.” And he and Jenkins had laughed at him when he refused.

  “I’m ready,” he told Ben.

  “Good, then you sit on him like last time. Be patient. Let him tell you when he wants to run, and we’ll see you in the winner’s circle.”

  “Riders up!”

  Ben had promised Gloria he’d watch the race with her and her lady friends again in the clubhouse, actually not promised but agreed, and started the long trek down behind the ticket booths to the elevator. The last time he’d taken the stairs he’d gotten too winded, too short of breath. It was his nerves, he’d told himself, dreading those women, nothing else. Still...

  Dawn jumped up onto the fence, Tom joined her right before the race, and the latch was sprung.

  “And they’re off!”

  Cajun broke well, ran with the pack into the first turn, and laid comfo
rtably fifth or sixth down the backside. Through the far turn, he moved up to take third, and at the head of the stretch he took the lead, and won by five lengths.

  “Oh my God!” Gloria and her lady friends jumped up and down, screaming and shouting. “He won! He won!”

  “Yes, he won.” Ben hurried them to the elevator and got them to the winner’s circle and situated just in time. The photographer snapped the picture. Cajun twitched. And the photographer snapped another.

  Tom doubled back to the barn for Cajun’s halter and shank, while Dawn led Cajun to the spit barn, bouncing and pushing up against her. As she passed the place where Randy’s truck had been, she proceeded to tell Cajun what a scuzz Randy was, the biggest scuzz there ever was, and aggravated herself even more when she glanced down the road to see if she could spot him anywhere.

  Ben was getting more aggravated as well. Gloria just wouldn’t let up. “Remember how you said you loved perogies?”

  When Ben nodded somberly, she told him her surprise. “Well, I made you some. Just for you! Potato, prune, cheese, dozens of them, for dinner tonight. Please say you’ll come.”

  Ben sighed. What did he have to say to make this woman understand? What did he have to do? “Of course I’ll come,” he said. “Meg used to make them for me and I know how much work they are.”

  Gloria beamed.

  “But since you said dozens, do you mind if I bring along a friend?”

  Gloria stared. “Why no, I guess not.”

  “Good.” It was a stroke of genius. He wondered why he hadn’t thought of this earlier? “What time?”

  “Seven?”

  “Seven’s fine,” he said, smiling. “We’ll see you then.”

  Gloria was still somewhat subdued by the time Dawn and Cajun returned to the barn, but lavished him with hugs and kisses. She and her lady friends promised him bushels of apples and carrots. They hugged and kissed him some more, before remembering they hadn’t cashed their combined ten-dollar win ticket, and back to the clubhouse they went.

  Randy drove by the barn as he was leaving the track, and saw Dawn. She was standing with her back to him, next to Tom, and it occurred to him that he’d never seen her hair loose. It was always in that long braid down her back. He wondered if it would hang loose tonight, all over her date. That thought infuriated him, and he cursed the day he’d ever laid eyes on her. He was glad he’d made a date with Ginney after Dawn had turned him down. He’d screw Ginney tonight, and then he’d feel better.

  Dawn ate another banana before doing up Cajun, and as she and Tom and Ben walked to the parking lot, had another. This, as Ben told them about having to go to Gloria’s for perogies.

  “Oh, so that was her surprise,” Dawn said.

  Ben shrugged.

  “Speaking of Gloria,” Tom said. “Did you notice how she didn’t smell like a lilac bush today?”

  Ben winked at Dawn. “That’s because I bought her a bottle of perfume for her birthday. Dawn picked it out.”

  “Goddamn, old man, you’re I’ smart. You amaze me more and more every day,” Tom said. “Who are you taking with you to dinner?”

  “Charlie.”

  “Charlie...?”

  “Charlie.”

  By morning, Dawn had eaten two more bananas, and instead of her usual muffin for breakfast, a cheese Danish. Ben was talking to Charlie at the guard shack when she arrived, and from the gist of the conversation, she surmised dinner and the evening had been a success, the perogies delicious, and Charlie smitten.

  Dawn linked her arm around Ben’s as they walked to the barn, and he told her all about it. Beau was the first to hear his voice coming around the corner of the barn. He stuck his head out and started nickering as usual. Ben glanced down the shedrow to see the rapid succession of heads appearing then, bobbing, whinnying, Cajun included, bright-eyed and twitching. Then came the pawing for breakfast.

  Since Cajun had run yesterday and Beau was in tomorrow, training was light this morning. Ben walked over to the secretary’s office with Dave a little after nine, and Tom went home. He’d had a date that kept him out all night, he said, pretending to sulk when no one wanted to hear the details. All Dawn had left to do was top off the water buckets and lock up, and she’d be leaving as well.

  Luckily she was still there when Gloria arrived with an abundance of apples and carrots. Dawn followed her down to Cajun’s stall, but for once didn’t have to remind her not to overdo it. One apple and two carrots, and she handed Dawn the rest.

  “Save these for later,” she said, and walked with Dawn to the tack room. “Sweetie, do you mind if I...?” She wanted to talk. Dawn motioned for her to have a seat and sat down on the cot across from her. “I’ve tried everything I know. So please, be honest with me.”

  Dawn smiled supportively.

  “I’ve been a widow too long, and I’m lonely. What am I doing wrong? I thought Ben and I...”

  “It’s not you, Gloria.”

  Gloria shrugged, not convinced. “I even wore that perfume he bought me. And honestly, sweetie, between you and me, it was nauseating. I don’t think he even noticed.”

  Dawn smiled, shaking her head.

  “His friend Charlie paid more attention to me. Do you know him?” Obviously she and Charlie had never met before, which wasn’t surprising considering Charlie worked the horsemen’s gate on the one side and Gloria always entered through the owner’s parking lot on the other.

  “Yes, I know him. He’s very nice.”

  Gloria nodded, apparently agreeing. But nevertheless. “Where did I go wrong? What did I do?”

  “Nothing. Believe me, it’s not you. It’s Meg, his wife.”

  Gloria shook her head and sighed. “I’m sorry to bother you with this, I must seem so...”

  “You’re not bothering me.”

  “It’s just that.” Gloria stared off. “I have children, grandchildren, friends, dear friends. And yet...”

  “Something’s missing?”

  Gloria looked at Dawn and nodded, tears surfacing. “I’m not trying to replace my husband. I just still have a lot to give.”

  Dawn reached over and squeezed her hand reassuringly, as Gloria took out a tissue and dabbed her eyes.

  “How long has his wife been dead, sweetie?” she asked, and now it was Dawn who felt like crying. Ben was still in such pain. Like her.

  “Not long enough.”

  As soon as Ben started down the shedrow, he knew from the overwhelming scent of lilac, Gloria was there. Her presence was announced, so to speak. He walked in the tack room and sat down at his desk, more at ease around her than ever before. He even teased her about Charlie having a crush on her.

  Gloria blushed, saying how it was only her cooking. Dawn and Ben laughed. Gloria left then, and not a minute later as Dawn and Ben were talking, two men walked in and identified themselves as being from the racing commission.

  “Mr. Miller, we’re going to be inspecting your barn and tack room if you don’t mind.”

  Mind? Ben nodded, thinking what a stupid thing to ask. What would they do if I said I did mind? “No, go right ahead.”

  Ben never kept drugs at the track. The few if any that he did use, he kept on the farm, and as a result never feared a shakedown. Already this month, three trainers had been caught with prohibited substances in their possession. One was suspended, the other two heavily fined.

  Dawn went to the ladies room and was occupying one of the stalls in vain, when she heard two girls come in and go over to the sink. “I’ve never been stood up by anybody before,” the one was saying. “The bastard never even called.”

  “Maybe he had an emergency.”

  An emergency? Dawn listened.

  “Emergency my ass. He could’ve called. I jumped him this morning when he came to the barn. He said he fell asleep. Big goddamned excuse.”

  “Maybe that’s what really happened, Ginney.”

  They were running water and obviously washing up.

  “Yeah, right! T
hat’s why when I said we could just go out tonight then, he said no. No excuse, no nothing, and just fucking walked away.”

  When the door slammed behind them, Dawn decided maybe the trip to the ladies room hadn’t been a complete waste after all. And she was still thinking about the conversation as she walked back to the barn, where who else was waiting for her in the tack room, but Randy.

  She hesitated, then walked in past him. “Where’s Ben?”

  Randy shrugged, and for all practical purposes appeared to be looking through the racing form for something. “He said he’d be right back.”

  “The racing commission was here.”

  “Well, they’re gone now,” Randy said, without looking up. And after a moment, “So uh...how was your date?”

  “Fine.”

  He turned a page. “Where did you go?”

  Dawn frowned, shaking her head. “Nowhere really. Just out.”

  Randy nodded for a second, as if he were giving her answer some thought, then laid the racing form down on Ben’s desk and looked at her. “What did you do?”

  “Nothing much.”

  Randy nodded again. “So, who is he?”

  “Who?” Dawn repeated. As if it were any of his business.

  “Your stinking date...” Randy said, dragging the words out. “Who was it?”

  Dawn glanced away, anger building and with an expression much the same as his when she looked back. “What did you do?”

  “I slept,” he said, glaring, his face getting redder.

  Dawn just looked at him.

  “Well...?” He crossed his arms and sat back on the desk.

  “Well what?” Dawn said, beyond irritated now.

  “What did you do? I’m just asking.”

  “I told you,” she said. “Nothing in particular.” She started past him, but he stopped her.

  “With who?”

  “My date! That’s who!” Dawn swung around to face him. “What’s with the fifty questions? Are you going to ask me next if I slept with him?”

  Randy slammed the desk with his hand. “Yes! Because that’s exactly what I want to know!”