Winning Odds Trilogy

by MaryAnn Myers

  “How’d you get the hiccups?” he asked, leaning over her and kissing her long and hard.

  “I don’t know, but I’ve had them all morning. I’ve tried everything.” Hiccup.

  Randy nodded. “Well, so much for my cure,” he said, referring to the passionate kiss. “Maybe we ought to find an empty stall.”

  “Oh, I’m sure that would do it,” Dawn said, and laughed. “Why didn’t I think of that?”

  “Because that’s my department.”

  Tom returned then with pizza in hand and an ice-cold six-pack of Coke. It came as no surprise when Barn Kitty showed up a few minutes later.

  “Hey there, little puss puss.” Tom fed him a pepperoni and smiled when he stood on his hind legs to take it out of his hand.

  Randy shook his head. “You shouldn’t be feeding her like that. I can only imagine where all she’s been.”

  “Hey, probably some of the same places I’d go,” Tom said, chuckling. “Besides, she happens to be a he and us guys have to stick together. It’s a cruel world out there.”

  Randy smiled. “I guarantee you, she’s a female.”

  Tom stared. Not this renegade cat. He leaned, tried to see for himself. “You can tell that from sitting way over there. Goddamn, Doc! You’re good!”

  “Not hardly.” Randy laughed, then wolfed down the rest of his pizza, and glanced at his watch. “She’s a calico. All calicos are females.”

  Tom shook his head. “I’ll be damned.” He fed the cat another piece of pepperoni. “How’s come she never has kittens?”

  Randy shrugged. “She’s probably spayed.”

  “By who? She’s a stray. Who would spay her?”

  “I don’t know. Why are you asking me?”

  Tom shrugged. “Well, you know everything else.”

  Randy and Dawn laughed.

  Barn Kitty worked her way over to Dawn, got two pieces of pepperoni there, and set her sights on Randy.

  “Forget it,” Randy said.

  The cat meowed.

  “I said forget it.”

  “Randy...” Dawn admonished.

  Barn Kitty begged with her paws, and when that didn’t work, rolled onto her back and begged some more.

  “Look at this act,” Randy said.

  Tom and Dawn shook their heads.

  Randy stared stubbornly, a contest of sorts to see how long this cat would continue, and found himself taking a good look at her eyes. “Hmph.” He said, and picked her up.

  “What?” Tom said. “What’s wrong with her?”

  Randy turned her face from side to side. “She’s blind in her right eye. Watch this.” He eased his other hand around the back of her neck and waved it up and down. Nothing. The cat never even blinked. The eye wasn’t cloudy, no evidence of infection or injury. It was just blind. “I’ll be damned.” He fed her a piece of sausage, purposely offering it to her from her blind side, and watched as the scent brought her around to where she looked at it first with her good eye, then took it gently from his hand. He noticed something else. The whiskers on her blind side were longer than the ones on her left. It amazed him. Mother Nature at work.

  The ten-minute call for the first race sounded then, and he put the cat down, gulped the rest of his Coke, and kissed Dawn good-bye.

  “Wait a minute!” Tom called after him when he started to leave. “Is she all right?” he asked, looking worriedly at Barn Kitty.

  “Yeah, fine.” Randy said. “What do you want, a bill?”

  Tom laughed. “Fuck you! Come here, little puss-puss.”

  Ben had debated and debated over whether or not to school the filly in the paddock the past couple of weeks. It was allowed with permission from the paddock judge, a dry-run so to speak. But he’d decided against it. He told Tom they’d just take their chances. The truth of the matter was, he wasn’t up to it, and was simply hoping for the best when the time came.

  Consequently, with both he and Tom knowing anything could happen, even with a young horse that had been schooled, the plan was for Dawn to stay with Red out on the racetrack, and for Tom to handle the filly in the paddock.

  It was a good thing. She reared, she kicked, she bucked, cow-kicked, and tried to go through the wall, and ultimately had to be tacked while walking. It was the only way to get along with her, keep her moving. She danced and pranced and tossed her head, dazzling the crowd that hung over the railing three deep just to get a glimpse of her, and she put on a show.

  To make matters worse, when they finally got the saddle on and went to put on the overgirth, it proved too small.

  “Shit!” the valet said.

  When he returned with another, she started her act all over again. Ben was exhausted by the time Fernando Martinez emerged from the jocks’ room. “The filly is headstrong,” he told him, his chest heaving hard with each breath as the two of them stood watching Tom lead her around the paddock. “And likes to go to the front.”

  “She work good, huh?” Fernando said, more a statement than a question.

  Ben nodded. “Calm her down, don’t fight her, and let her go.”

  Fernando smiled. “Jesus, is she a big mother.”

  Ben nodded again, breathlessly.

  “Don’t worry, Meester Miller. I get her there.”

  “Riders up!”

  Dawn’s hiccups vanished as mysteriously as they began, about two minutes to post time. She climbed up on the fence and looked to see if Randy’s truck was parked by the kitchen. It was. She squinted. He was sitting behind the wheel, with his head down. Probably writing something on his clipboard, she thought, and smiled.

  Ben walked down to join her. The two of them exchanged anxious glances, and looked at the tote board. The filly was three to five. Ben shook his head. He’d seen horses, a lot of them in fact, that would work well in the morning and not amount to a hill of beans in the afternoon when it counted.

  He wiped his brow. They had a lot of money in this filly. And a lot of hopes and dreams.

  Johnny appeared from seemingly nowhere, nodded at Ben, and jumped up onto the fence support the other side of Dawn. “I was going to watch this from the room, but I couldn’t stand it.”

  Ben smiled, but his eyes were on the gate. The horses were being loaded.

  Dawn glanced at Randy’s truck. He’d gotten out and was sitting on the hood.

  “And they’re off!” the announcer said, and immediately following, “Moving up to take the early lead is All Together!”

  Dawn reached down and gripped Ben’s shoulder; in her mind, flashed the memory of the day they’d bought her. The morning, the afternoon, the evening. A blur amidst the distant thunder of pounding hooves.

  “Final Bend is running second, and back two lengths is...”

  Dawn gripped Ben’s shoulder even tighter.

  “Coming into the far turn and lengthening her lead, is All Together.”

  “Come on, filly,” Johnny said. “Come on, bring it home.”

  Dawn laughed, giddy as she watched. She gasped then. Through the turn and four lengths in front, All Together went wide, almost to the middle of the track.

  “And as they turn for home, Final Bend has taken over the lead.”

  “What?” Ben said, unable to see. “What’d she do?”

  “She went wide,” Johnny said. “Wait! Wait! She’s coming back on.” He strained to see. “Yeah! She’s back in front.”

  “Come on, Momma,” Ben said, seeing her now, about a half length in front. “Come on.”

  “Come on.”

  “Come on.”

  “As they cross the finish line, it is Alllll Togetherrr!”

  “Yes!” Johnny shouted. “Yes!”

  When he and Dawn jumped down and hugged each other, even Ben couldn’t contain himself. “She run big!” he said, his eyes wide. “Damn, she run big!”

  The three of them headed for the winner’s circle.

  Tom had a grin from ear to ear as he and Red led All Together and Martinez on their way back to the g
randstand. “Did you see her?” he yelled to Randy. “Did you see her?”

  Randy nodded, laughing.

  Martinez saluted the stewards with his whip as Tom slid off Red and walked the filly into the winner’s circle. “Do this quick,” he told the photographer, the filly at this point pushing hard up against him. “Stand back, stand back!” he warned, as she kicked out and just missed one of the valets walking by. “Watch it!”

  The photographer snapped the picture, Martinez dismounted, and everyone backed clear out of the way as Tom turned the filly around. “Is she pumped or what?” he said as All Together tossed her head, danced, and gnawed at the bit. “Jesus Christ!” He motioned for Dawn to get Red, and yelled that he’d meet her at the spit barn.

  Dawn nodded gratefully, picked up Red’s reins where he’d been ground-tied, and followed at a safe distance behind. Ben waited for Martinez to weigh in and walked with him to the jocks’ room. This would be the only time he’d have to talk to him. Johnny tagged along.

  “She a nice filly,” Martinez said, shaking his head. “I mean nice filly. She strong.”

  Ben nodded. “What happened up in the turn?”

  “She look around. She run so easy, she look at the crowd.”

  Ben laughed as Martinez stopped to shake his hand. “Thank you, Meester Miller. She be all right,” he said, “I tell you. And when I read about her, I remember it was me who popped her cherry.”

  Ben nodded and gave Johnny a pat on the back. Johnny smiled and followed Martinez into the jocks’ room, and Ben began the endless walk to the backside, in seventh heaven.

  Randy drove down to the barn, watched from that distance as Tom and Dawn attempted to bathe All Together, who was being totally obnoxious, and felt so helpless, he decided to finish off her stall.

  “What are you doing, Doc?” Ben asked, arriving as Randy was just finishing bedding it down.

  Randy shook his head. “I don’t know,” he said, especially considering how his arm ached at the moment. Ben smiled. He didn’t know either, but was grateful. Tom returned to the barn first, and about fifteen minutes later, Dawn and All Together returned.

  The filly was as calm as could be at this point, and already a little muscle sore. “Here, bring her here,” Tom said, and motioned under the light. He and Ben and Randy looked at a cut high on the inside of her right hock, agreed it was nothing to worry about, and Dawn put her away.

  “Lord,” she said, and sat down for a rest.

  The celebration at The Rib that night was loud, boisterous, and contagious. “Did anyone get the time of the race?” Ben asked. “What did she run?”

  Dawn shrugged. She never paid attention to details like that, Ben always did. And Tom never even looked. “Hey, I had my hands full,” he reminded everyone.

  Ben nodded and laughed. He could find out in the morning paper, but in the meantime. “I can’t believe I never even looked. I don’t know how fast she ran.”

  Bob, a fellow trainer walked by the table right about then with his wife Blanche, congratulated him, said she’d run it in 1.09 and 4/5, shook Ben’s hand and walked on. And Ben just marveled. She’d broke her maiden running just four fifths of a second slower than Beau’s best start. “Jesus!”

  “She can bookit now, I’m telling you,” Tom said, and they all laughed.

  Ben grew serious then. He didn’t want to, he didn’t mean to, it just happened. Tears welled up in his eyes and he just shook his head.

  Dawn covered his hand with hers, and he looked at her and smiled through his tears. “I’m a lucky man,” he said. “A lucky man.”

  Randy put his arm around Dawn.

  Ben took out his handkerchief, wiped his eyes, and sat back. “Most trainers would give everything they had for just one good horse. I’ve been fortunate to have had two, and now three.” He hesitated, struggling to maintain composure. “Most men search all their life for the right woman, I had mine for most of my life.” He looked at Dawn. “And now I have you.” He smiled. “I thank God for the day you walked into my life.”

  Dawn bit at her trembling bottom lip, nodded, and swallowed hard.

  “And I’ve got the best friend a man could hope for,” he said, turning to Tom. “And you...” He looked at Randy. “I seem to have acquired you.”

  Randy smiled, but with a choked-up lump in his throat as well. Tom had to wipe at his eyes; he had big tears trickling down his cheeks.

  “Yes,” Ben said. “I’m a lucky man.”

  It was a moment they would remember forever.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Dawn and Randy had just gotten home and undressed when his pager went off. He phoned his answering service and was told there was an emergency at the Durans’. “Oh great,” he moaned. Not only was he beat, his arm was killing him.

  “What is it?” Dawn asked, as he hung up.

  “It’s that black colt that kicked me. Apparently he’s laid his ass open on a nail.”

  Dawn cringed. “Do you want me to come with you?”

  Randy glanced at his watch; it was nine-fifteen. “You don’t have to, I can manage.”

  “Are you sure?”

  Randy nodded. “Not unless you want to?”

  Dawn smiled. “Well, if you weren’t wounded...”

  “Is this pity?”

  Dawn laughed.

  “Never mind, I’ll take it. Come on.”

  As usual, Mrs. Duran was in hysterics by the time Randy arrived, and rushed out to the truck before he’d even turned the engine off. “Oh, Dr. Iredell, it’s such a mess. I’m sure he’s lost most of his blood.”

  Randy tried to put her mind at ease. “Well, let’s go take a look. They have quite a bit of blood, you know.”

  Mrs. Duran smiled a hopeful, tense smile in response, took hold of Dawn’s arm, and led them into the barn. “We don’t know how it happened, but his stall is all torn up.”

  Mr. Duran motioned helplessly to a splintered pile of wood in summary of the situation. “He’s really done it this time.”

  The colt was standing in the middle of the stall, ears pinned, and swishing his tail furiously at the steady stream of blood dripping onto his hock from a large, gaping wound on his hip. He also had blood trickling from his nose and a crusted area of blood, manure, and sawdust on his shoulder. Randy stared into the colt’s eyes, his broken arm throbbing all the more at just the sight of him, and sighed. “Well, I’m sorry to say, nothing looks life-threatening.”

  Mr. Duran laughed nervously, relieved, and at the same time rather embarrassed to be such a constant bother to this nice young veterinarian. “How’s your arm, Doc?”

  “Not too bad,” Randy said, and motioned to the colt. “Let’s get a twitch on him.” Dawn followed him out to the truck to help him gather the instruments and supplies he needed. He cautioned her repeatedly about being on guard in the stall, and couldn’t seem to stress it enough. “Stay to the right of me,” he said, half-smiling but deadly serious. “I’ll shield the blow.”

  Randy and Mr. Duran twitched the colt. Then Randy administered a large dose of antibiotics first, mainly to get it out of the way, and he and Dawn went to work. “Crank it tighter,” he said, of the twitch, as he prepared to clean the wound. “Tighter.”

  “I got him,” Mr. Duran said, and Randy looked at him. They’d been here before.

  “Tighter.”

  Randy cleaned the wound; Dawn helped as much as he’d allow her. He was so concerned about her standing too close to this time-bomb of an animal, it was almost a hindrance. And finally, as sterile as he was going to get it, he blocked the surrounding area, cut some of the ragged tissue away, inserted a drain, and began suturing. He’d push the needle in and start it through the other side, and Dawn would pull it the rest of the way and pass it back. The two of them worked together to tie each knot, around and through, pull, snip, and had the routine down so pat by the time they were done, Randy had to smile. The shoulder wound was next.

  This one wasn’t so bad. It only requir
ed cleaning with a disinfectant and antibiotic topical ointment. “Hang in there,” Randy told Mr. Duran, who was still cranking on the twitch for all he was worth. Randy peered up into the colt’s distorted nostrils, saw only a small cut, motioned for Dawn to leave the stall, and had Mr. Duran slowly release the twitch. The two men backed out then, and Mr. Duran quickly pulled the door shut.

  “He’s such a mean little shit,” Mr. Duran said, heaving a huge sigh of relief at being done with him for the moment.

  The colt charged the door.

  “He’s not mean,” his wife said. “He’s just a little mischievous.”

  Mr. Duran laughed at that, as all four of them jumped with a start, when the colt kicked the wall.

  “We should cut him,” Randy said.

  “What?” Mrs. Duran gasped.

  “Geld him.” Randy gathered up his instruments, wincing each time he moved his arm the wrong way. “It might settle him down a bit. How’s he bred?”

  “Nothing out of nothing,” Mr. Duran said. “The wife here fell in love with him at the sale though and...” He glanced at her. “She said he was cute.”

  Randy laughed. “Oh, he’s cute all right.” He reminded him of a black angus bull, seeing red. “Cute as hell. I’ll stop back by tomorrow and check on him. You’re going to need a supply of antibiotics.”

  Dawn offered to drive, and Randy gratefully accepted. She felt even sorrier for him since he was literally cradling his broken arm with the other because it hurt so much. She suggested since they were much closer to his apartment, that they go there instead of back across town to her place.

  “What? No white cotton underwear?”

  Dawn laughed. “I’ll wear the red bikinis.”

  “You’re on,” Randy said.

  Morning chores were moving along right on schedule, in spite of Dawn’s tardiness. She’d allowed Randy to sleep in after he’d tossed and turned all night. One more stall and she could rake the shedrow and take a coffee break. She grabbed the muck basket and pitchfork and was in full swing when she heard Tom shout her name. Dave would be arriving with donuts any minute now and she wanted to get to them first.