She’d drawn the tote board with the Forget Me Nots dotted underneath it. Behind the tote board on one side, was a foal standing next to its mother in a pasture, on the other side, was a horse and rider going over a jump, three other horses stood grazing in green pastures, a cowboy on a trail. In the middle of the page, was a horse race, the whole field of horses and not just the winners. Underneath the horse race, was a drawing of the grandstand and backside barns.
“It’s busy, I know. It’s just a rough idea, and I have to work on the slogan a little more. But….”
“Well, it certainly says a lot more than the old one,” Dusty said. “Well, not says, but….”
“Is it too busy?”
They all shook their heads.
“What’s usually on the back?” Dawn asked. “I can’t remember.”
“Precious advertising,” Wendy said.
They all nodded. Enough said.
“I like it,” Ben said.
“Me too,” Tom said. “That cowboy on the trail horse, is that me?”
Wendy chuckled. “No, not really, well… maybe.”
He smiled.
She looked at all of them. “I basically just wanted to get some idea of what you thought about changing the program.”
Dawn nodded. “I like it. I’m not so sure about the cowboy,” she said, teasing.
They all laughed.
“I think it’s great,” Dusty said.
“Okay,” Wendy said, “If we’re all in agreement that it’s a good idea to change the program, what do we think about the slogan.”
“Well, it goes along with what we were just saying,” Dusty said. “When a racehorse leaves here, their lives are not over. At least they shouldn’t be. They’re just moving on.”
“Did you just make that up?” Tom asked.
Dusty stared and shrugged. “I guess so.”
“Write that down,” Tom said to Wendy. “That’s really good.”
Dawn’s cell phone rang. She excused herself, stood outside the tack room door to take it, and lowered her eyes. “Are they sure? It hasn’t even been three hours yet.”
“They’re sure,” her mother-in-law said. “It’s what he’s been saying all along. He’s fine.”
“Is Randy there?”
“Yes.”
“Did he ask them questions?”
“A million.”
Dawn heaved a sigh of relief, covered the phone long enough to say, “Randy’s dad is fine, no surgery needed,” and got back on the line. “Do we want to go out to dinner and celebrate?”
“No, he says he just wants to stay at the farm and visit now that this load is off everyone’s mind.”
Dawn smiled. She could almost hear him saying that. “Okay, well, figure out what you guys want to eat, and we’ll go from there.” She hung up, knowing he’d say pizza. The nearest pizza place was even further from their farm back home than the Chinese restaurant.
“How cold’s it supposed to get tonight?” she asked.
“It’s going to be warm,” Tom said. “Why?”
“They’re going to go home in the morning, so I’m thinking we’ll eat out on the deck if it’s going to be warm.”
Tom glanced at Wendy. Their date plans, a real date.
“What?” Dawn said, picking up on something between the two.
“Nothing,” Wendy said. “That’s sound great. What can I bring?”
“Now wait a minute. Come on, what’s going on?”
Tom shrugged. “We were gonna go dancing.”
“Oh,” Dawn said, as she thought, you Tom? Dancing? “Okay, stop by, say hi and good-bye, and if you feel like eating, fine, and if not, go. They’re leaving for home early in the morning, so….”
Wendy smiled. “That sounds good. Can I bring anything?”
“No.”
Tom walked with Wendy down the shedrow and around the corner. “Are you sure about this? Listen, you come first, okay?”
“Okay, but no. Besides, it’s not like we’ve had this planned for a long, long time. We’ll do it tomorrow. I like being part of a big family gathering. I miss that.”
“All right.” Tom gave her a kiss. “I’m going to pick you up though. Text me your address and directions.”
“What time?”
“Seven or so. I’m going to try and take a nap first.”
“Oh, that’s right. I forgot. You were up all night.”
Tom kissed her again, and then again.
Dunnigan, a trainer in the barn across from theirs, cat whistled at them. Tom flipped him off, they both laughed, and Wendy departed. “I’ll see you later.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
Dusty walked back down to Rickety’s barn, half-hoping the man wouldn’t be there, but he was. Not only that, he seemed to be waiting for Dusty’s return, gunning for him. “I can’t have you and Ben telling me what to do with my business. A man has a right to make a living.”
Dusty looked at him. “Well, that’s just the point. You aren’t making any money with that horse. He’s done. You need to do right by him.”
“If he hits the board even fourth, I’ll get at least $750.”
“Yeah, and he can also break down and you get nothing. Come on, Rickety, this is me you’re talking to. You think I was just born yesterday. He’s not going to hit the board unless the rest of the pack falls down in front of him. Come on.”
Rickety shook his head.
“Is $750 all you want?”
“Well, that’s just this week. I can run him back next week too.”
Dusty stared at the man. Was he senile? “Give me the horse now. I’ll take him right now. $1200.”
Rickety appeared to be giving the offer thought, but then shook his head again.
“And…” Dusty said. “You’ll be the first trainer to enter a horse into our “Forget Me Not Remember the Horse Program.” Think about how that’ll make you feel.”
“The what?”
“The Remember the Horse Program. You’ve heard about it before, right. I think I recall you saying you thought it was a good idea.”
Rickety stood looking at him, as if trying to register all this.
“I’ll come get him in the morning. All right? This is him right here, right?” The horse was a large chestnut with four white socks. “You want the money in cash?”
Rickety nodded in a half-hearted way.
Dusty sighed. He needed to seal the deal. “Uh, the newspaper will probably want to interview you too. And we’ll do a video and play it all day in the grandstand. This is a good thing you’re doing, Rickety. I’m glad you agreed,” he said, talking fast. He shook Rickety’s hand. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
Ben smiled when Dusty told the story. “What did you call it?”
“Well, I can’t remember the exact term. I suppose we’re going to have to come up with one if we’re going to do this.”
Tom agreed, half asleep and stretched out on the cot in the tack room. He covered his face with his cowboy hat.
“Did you see all the scratches up at Aqueduct?” Dusty asked.
Ben nodded. “The racetrack business is at a crossroads.”
“It’s about greed, old man,” Tom mumbled. “And not just horseracing. All sports.”
“Yes, but we’re dealing with living creatures.”
“I hear ya.”
“What?”
“I said I hear ya.”
Dusty poured himself a cup of coffee and sat down. “With purses that high, people make careless decisions, or should I say callous decisions.”
Ben looked at him. “I’d be interested to know how long the horses that broke down were in training.”
“And the condition of the track; it’ll be interesting to see the findings of the investigation.”
“Aqueduct yet, and the caliber of horses they get up there.” Ben shook his head.
Dawn had left to spend time with her in-laws back at her home. The blacksmith was due any minute, Randy was due any
minute. It was going to be a busy afternoon in the Miller barn.
“I’m going to head over and see Wendy,” Dusty said.
Tom raised his head. “What for?”
Dusty laughed. “Business.”
“Oh. Okay,” Tom said, getting comfortable again.
Ben called after him. “Let Joe know we’re taking over Brubaker’s old stalls.”
“I will.”
Tom got all of a fifteen-minute nap and woke up cranky. Randy wasn’t in the best of moods either, even with the good news about his father. He was just plain too tired. When he left the racetrack he decided to go by the Club for a quick swim, hoping to revive himself before going home, and ran into Spears there.
The man was sitting poolside, sipping a rum and coke, and reading. Randy dove into the water, surfaced half a lap later and lay on his back, staring up at the ceiling while he floated.
“What are you drinking?” Spears asked.
“Beer sounds good,” Randy replied.
Spears motioned to the bartender, and then Randy. The bartender nodded. Randy got out of the pool, grabbed a towel and sat down at Spears’ table. He glanced at Spears reading material - charts, not a novel.
“What can I say? I’m a workaholic.”
“What are you trying to figure out?” Randy asked. “Thank you,” he said, to the bartender and downed a big swallow of ice-cold Bud. “Ah, that hit the spot.”
“Well, between you and me, until I present it to Ben, I’m thinking we should shorten the amount of racing days in next year’s meet.”
“How many?” Randy asked, taking another swig of beer.
“Well, that’s what I’m trying to figure out. A shorter meet, theoretically would mean more horses in a race, which would equal more revenue.”
Randy looked at him.
“Believe it or not,” Spears said. “Bettors are discerning. Just because a race only has five or six horses in it, doesn’t mean they’re going to wager a bet on one. Fans bet more when there are full fields.”
Randy gave that some thought. “Wait a minute. The beer must have gone to my head.”
Spears laughed. “Yes, more horses, one would think would automatically mean more wagering in a race, but if you dig deeper and study why….” He held up the charts. “It seems to all come down to choice. The fans want more choice, more to choose from. It’s about winning, but it’s also about playing the game. Do you want another?” Spears motioned to Randy’s empty beer bottle.
“No, thanks,” Randy said. “I’m done. I’ll see you later. Thanks again.” As he was leaving, he ran into Harland, Dawn’s cousin Linda’s husband. “I’ll guess we’ll be getting together for dinner in a few days.”
“Yes, Aunt Maeve’s coming to town.”
“Who’s having it? Us? You?”
Harland laughed. “I don’t know.”
“We’re so informed,” Randy said, chuckling. “Well, wherever it is, I’ll see you.” Uncle Matt was playing cards in the Captain’s room. Randy walked in and shook his hand. He liked Uncle Matt, and Uncle Matt liked him; always referred to him as, “One hell of a man.”
“Oh, look, you have three aces,” Randy said, teasing. “Is that a good thing?”
The men at the table laughed, Uncle Matt included.
Randy checked on the horse at Shifting Gears on his way home. The horse didn’t look great, but at least he was standing and responsive. Karen and Veronica were their usual, optimistic and worrier selves. This was a big horse. It was going to take a lot to get him back in good flesh. But he was in good hands. Both women were experienced at taking their time trying to rehabilitate a horse in this condition.
Randy drove on home and smiled at the scene laid out before him as he started up the driveway. His dad was pulling D.R. and Maeve round and round in circles in their wagon in stops and starts and the two children were teetering back and forth, laughing and giggling.
Dawn and his mother were sitting on the porch, drinking lemonade. Admittedly, several years back, when Dawn suggested they build a house on Ben’s farm, he’d had mixed feelings. He’d always hoped to go into business with his sister; a veterinarian also. He could run the large animal practice. His sister specialized in small and exotic animals. It would make a nice mix. He’d soon realized though there was no way Dawn would ever leave Ben. He was like a father to her.
He thought about what Spears said about shortening the meet and how it would affect him directly. Less racing days would mean less Thoroughbred racehorse business, not that he couldn’t use a lighter work load for that time difference each year. Beau’s breeding schedule kept them all busy from January until March. Not racing until April might work out great.
“Why so serious?” Dawn asked, when he got out of the truck.
He smiled. “I was planning our future.”
His dad waved at the children. “Your future is right here.”
“Is Cindy happy?”
His mother looked at him. “Yes. Why?”
“Just wondering.”
They all turned when Ben’s truck pulled in off the road. He drove slow. He always drove slow. There were the children and the dogs to watch out for. Plus he liked looking at the horses in the pasture. The ponies were grazing. He smiled. Dawn was getting such pleasure out of those two ponies. He parked by his house and walked up to Dawn and Randy’s. It was a beautiful day.
“Would you like some lemonade?” Liz asked.
“Don’t mind if I do,” Ben said, sitting down on the top step.
She poured a glass and handed it to him. “Thank you. I heard the good news,” he said.
“I’m never going to doubt him again,” Liz said.
Ben smiled. Randy Senior was making slower and slower circles. He was dizzy, the children were dizzy. He laughed. Tom pulled in off the road in his truck, parked next to Ben’s, and got out and motioned he was going to go in and get some sleep. He walked into the house and straight upstairs and into his room, not noticing anything out of the ordinary. But Ben did. After he’d had his lemonade and visited for a little while, he walked home and was no sooner in the back door when his gaze fell upon the kitchen counter.
It wasn’t the note that caught his eye; it was the dishes being done and put away, the counter clear. He staggered for a moment, in a state of shock. The note was from Linda Dillon.
“Ben, I cleaned up a bit. I didn’t know how else to thank you. You have no idea what your kindness has meant to me. Linda.”
Ben glanced around. It looked like she’d even mopped the floor. He sat down at the kitchen table and took off his hat. In his mind’s eye, he could almost see Meg standing by the sink. She’d be looking out the window, looking for someone, but who…?
“Company,” she said. She always loved company. She loved this kitchen. She turned and looked at him. “I love you, Mr. Miller.”
He nodded and wiped his eyes. The last dish she made in this kitchen when she still had the strength had been lasagna, his favorite meal. A pan of it was in the freezer still, after all these years.
He laid his hat on the table. What was that she used to say when she’d get the spring cleaning bug? “Letting go of something doesn’t mean you can’t hold on to the memory.”
He walked over to the freezer, dug out that pan of lasagna and looked at I, and smiled. It was all shriveled up and didn’t even resemble anything edible, let alone lasagna. “I think I should have taken it out sooner.” He dumped it down the disposal and ran water. “I shouldn’t have waited.”
He glanced in the sink when it was all said and done and smiled. Linda had scrubbed the sink too, and even the faucet. “Come to think of it,” he said. “It needed done.” When he heard the sound of a car, he gazed out the window. It was Charlie and Gloria. Perfect timing.
He walked out to greet them, shook Charlie’s hand, and hugged Gloria. She was getting tinier and tinier.
“You look so good, Ben!” she said.
“So do you two!” Gloria smelled lik
e lilacs. She always smelled like lilacs. Ben sneezed. When he’d had the stroke years ago and Gloria literally saved his life, that’s all he remembered of that day, the smell of lilacs. “Come on inside, I’ll put on some coffee.”
“Oh, we can’t have coffee,” Gloria said, “not unless it’s decaf.”
“Then you’re in luck,” Ben said, chuckling. “That’s all I have.”
They had a lot of catching up to do. It had been months since their last visit.
“You own the racetrack?”
Ben laughed. “Yep, hard to believe, huh? Wait,” he said, and took out his cell phone. “Watch this.” He pushed a button and a second later was talking to Dawn, on speaker phone yet. “Gloria and Charlie are in town. Did you place the pizza order yet?”
“Yes, but I can add to it. What would they like?”
“The works,” Charlie said. “I’ve given up enough.”
Gloria laughed. “Works for me. I don’t eat that much anyway.”
Charlie and Ben smiled. That was one of her favorite sayings. Ben made a second pot of coffee. “What can it hurt?” he said. More catching up.
“Charlie, tell him,” Gloria said.
Charlie hesitated.
“It’s all right.” She covered his hand with hers.
“You tell him,” Charlie said.
Ben glanced from one to the other. He didn’t have to be a mind-reader to suspect bad news.
“Charlie was diagnosed with prostate cancer.”
Ben looked at him.
“No surgery, just radiation. And they’re watching his PSA’s.”
“It could come back, and it could not,” Charlie said.
“We’re thinking positive,” Gloria added. “It’s not coming back.”
Ben nodded.
“If it comes back, I’m done,” Charlie said. “The radiation near killed me, and it was hard on Gloria.”
Gloria looked at him. “I’m sorry.”
“I know. You kept it to yourself, but I could tell.”
“Being a nurse has its disadvantages,” Gloria said, squeezing his hand. “I’ve seen the worst.”
Ben looked from one to the other and couldn’t help but think of Meg. He was holding her hand that same way as she took her last breath. He shook his head. “Well, I’m all for thinking positive. Come on. Let’s us go bring your things in while we still have our senses.”
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