Winning Odds Trilogy

by MaryAnn Myers

  “Fifty-two.”

  She nodded. “Mind if I take your blood pressure one more time?”

  “No.” Joe was feeling rather calm.

  This time it was 138 over 79. “I think you’re good to go.”

  Tom looked at her. “He’s fine?

  Vicky nodded.

  “I told you,” Joe said.

  “As a professional, I must caution you to follow the advice of your doctor and seek medical attention if you find yourself not feeling well.”

  Joe and Tom and Mim looked at her.

  “Sorry, I’m required to say that, and I have thus said it. Now go on, get out of here. I have work to do.”

  On the way down in the elevator, Joe fidgeted. “I can’t lose my job, Tom. My wife would kick me out on the street.”

  “Nobody’s after your job. That’s what I keep trying to tell you.”

  “Then what is Linda doing here?”

  “Helping out. For all practical purposes, Erie closed. You’re not the only one with problems, Joe.”

  “I’m sorry,” Joe said. “Truly.” He looked at Tom. “I am.”

  As Tom walked back to the barn, his cellphone rang. It was Wendy. “I just had the scare of my life,” she said, out of breath.

  “What happened?”

  “I just got to the hospital and Matthew wasn’t in his room. Apparently he took it upon himself to get out of bed and go take a shower.”

  “What about all those electrodes?”

  “As soon as they removed them he left the room. He took the IV with him and off he went. I can’t believe he did that. The nurses were frantic.”

  Tom couldn’t help but smile. “Didn’t they look for him in the bathroom?”

  “No. At first they just assumed someone had come to take him for a test. But then when I arrived and….”

  “Is he okay?”

  “He’s fine. He’s back in bed. All squeaky clean he says.” Wendy chuckled. “I don’t know what I’m going to do with him.”

  Dusty was paged over the backside loudspeaker to barn seventeen. Tom gave thought to heading in that direction, but had too many things of his own to attend to. “What time are you planning on coming in?” he asked Wendy.

  “Just as soon as I talk to Dr. Hanover. They say he makes his rounds around 9:00.”

  “Okay, I’ll see you then.” Tom waved to Pastor Mitchell. “Morning!”

  Pastor Mitchell waved back. “It’s a glorious day, Tom!”

  “I couldn’t agree with you more.”

  Ben glanced up from his desk in the tack room when he saw Tom walking down the shedrow. “Everything okay?”

  “Yep, fine.”

  “Good. I think I just saw Winnie the Pooh.”

  Tom laughed. “Seriously?”

  “From a distance and blind as a bat, yes. After all these years with D.R. and Maeve, I’d know him anywhere.”

  “Wonder what the hell that’s all about?” Tom reached past Ben for his chaps. “By the way, I just talked to Wendy. It seems Matthew took it upon himself to go take a shower without letting the nurses know.”

  Ben smiled. “If they don’t watch him, he’ll probably up and check himself out. Frankly, I don’t blame him. I don’t like hospitals.” He glanced at the calendar. His cataract surgery was scheduled for the following Monday. His pre-op appointment was this Friday at 1:00. They had horses in today, Saturday, and Sunday.

  Dawn came around the corner leading “Born All Together” nicknamed Batgirl, a five-year old allowance mare sired by Beau Born out of All Together. Dawn had her tacked and ready for Johnny who was due any minute.

  “Did you line up company for her, old man?” Tom asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Who?”

  “She’s going to work with Shaolin, Marvin Talbot’s big mare.”

  “All right. That should be fun. She run big last time out.” Tom put on his chaps, grabbed his helmet, and went out and mounted Red, standing obediently next to the barn. “Here he comes,” he yelled to Dawn. “Bring her out.”

  Batgirl was a kind and sensible mare. Very little rattled her, but she had a tendency to want to run off. Just having Tom and Red at her side apparently meant a world of difference, as Tom rarely had to muscle her to keep her in line.

  Marvin Talbot’s mare Shaolin jogged onto the racetrack, also with a pony, and bucked and squealed. Both mares hadn’t run in over two weeks, hence the work “in company” scheduled this morning going three-eighths of a mile. It was still relatively early, but there was a lot of activity on the track. The two mares were ponied toward the grandstand and when there was a clearing in the training activity, they were turned and allowed to canter.

  “This should be fun,” Jim, the other veteran pony boy said.

  Tom laughed. The plan was to breeze the horses 3/8ths of a mile from the ¼ pole to the 7/8th pole past the wire. They’d be good and warmed up before the start and they were in Ben’s words, “Not to set the world on fire.” The two mares picked up their pace down the backstretch, both jockeys doing their part to keep them under wraps. As they approached the clubhouse turn, Tom and Jim started edging the mares down closer to the rail. One more horse galloping down on the rail to go and they’d have clear sailing.

  “You got her?” Tom asked.

  “You got her?” Jim asked.

  Both jocks nodded, both grinning. Next to an actual horse race, this was about as good as it gets for everyone involved. Tom and Jim turned the mares loose. They both dropped down onto the rail and took off. Tom and Jim cantered to the outside rail out of the way of other horses training and turned around and started jogging back to where they would help pull the mares up. Tom stretched as tall as he could to see over the tote board. The mares were head to head, both on the same lead, matching stride for stride.

  “Katy bar the door,” Tom said. “I’m glad they’re not running against each other Sunday.”

  “What are you guessing?” Jim asked, when the mares passed the 7/8ths pole and the jocks stood up on them.

  “Thirty five and change,” Tom said.

  Ben watched the mares gallop out in front of him and heard the “clocker’s” phone ringing. He picked it up. “That wasn’t a work. That was just a breeze,” Ben said.

  “Right,” the clocker replied. “Thirty five and three.”

  “Thank you.” He relayed the information to Marvin and patted the man on the back. “You’ve got a nice mare there. Don’t forget Beau Born when it comes time for breeding her.”

  “I won’t.” Marvin smiled. “Thanks, Ben”

  Ben looked at him.

  “For everything,” Marvin said. “For what you’re doing for the track, the soft whips, the ReHoming project, all of it. I just want to thank you.”

  Ben nodded. “You’re welcome.”

  The next horse to track for the Miller barn was B-Bo. Native Born Beau. “Two miles,” Ben told Junior. Dawn gave the boy a leg-up. “Don’t let him get lazy.”

  B-Bo cared more about eating than anything else. A five-year old also this year, he’d developed a habit of daydreaming and shuffling along. As was the routine, Dawn preferred to stay back at the barn and would do stalls, bath the horses, hang them on the walking machine, and get the next one ready. She liked the routine and didn’t like any disruption. She gave Batgirl a drink of water and a bath.

  When Randy stopped by to check in with her, she handed him Batgirl’s lead shank, wiped the mare down and put a cooler on her. “Did you ever have a feeling that someone was watching you?” she asked.

  “Yes, all the time,” Randy said, “And I tell them I’m married.”

  Dawn laughed. “I’m serious.” She took the lead shank, gave the mare another drink and led her to the walking machine. Whinny was due to come off. She hung one horse on, took the other one off, and led Whinny down the shedrow and into her stall. Randy stopped to look in at Bo-T.

  Randy wasn’t one to pick a favorite horse, but if pushed, it would have to be Bo-T. �
��How’s the man?” he asked, patting the big colt on the neck. “How’s the man?”

  Bo-T nickered. Dawn brought Randy up to date on Matthew. Randy left, Dawn did B-Bo’s stall, and had just finished dumping the last muck basket load when she thought she saw someone duck around the other side. “Hello!” She walked around to get a better look, but no one was there. Then here came B-Bo back. She walked down to the end of the barn to take him from Tom.

  “How’d he go?”

  “Good. He went good. I’ll be right back. I’ll meet you at the wash rack.” B-Bo could practically be ground-tied. That’s how quiet he was. He stood for his bath like a perfect gentleman. He would even lower his head to get his face rinsed.

  “You’re such a sweetie,” Dawn said. Then out of the corner of her eye, she thought she saw someone peeking at her from around the edge of the barn. “Hey!” she said, and backed up. But once again, whoever it was, had vanished. “I think I’m losing my marbles, B-Bo! Yes, there they go.”

  The horse pushed up against her with his soaking-wet muzzle. “Thank you for caring,” Dawn said. Tom showed up to help scrape him off, wiped the horse’s face with a towel, and they all headed back to the barn. “I’m think I’m seeing things,” Dawn told him.

  “Like what?”

  “People looking at me.”

  Tom glanced at her. “I can see why. You’re quite a sight.”

  Dawn laughed.

  “Give me the horse. I don’t want to be seen with you.”

  Dawn handed him B-Bo and ducked into the ladies room. She checked her appearance in the mirror, looked perfectly normal for already having given three horses baths, and smoothed her hair back. Bright red auburn, thick and long, the way Randy liked it; she always wore it braided in the morning. She tucked some stray hairs back into the braid, dried her arms and face with a paper towel, and heard someone cough in one of the toilet stalls. A tiny restroom by any standards, as she was leaving, she noticed the woman’s shiny bright red boots under the stall door.

  She walked outside, chuckling to herself. The boots looked like something Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz would wear. Click, click. There’s no place like home. There’s no place like home.

  Tom had B-Bo on the walking machine and Batgirl back in her stall. Morning Dew was next, the three-year-old filly sired by Beau Born and a half-sister to Whinny. Junior showed up in time to help tack her. Dawn gave him a leg-up, off they went, and she cleaned her stall, filled her haynet, scrubbed her water bucket, filled it back up, and stopped the walking machine to offer B-Bo another drink. He smacked his lips in the water but was done drinking. She took his cooler off and turned the walking machine back on to let him walk a few minutes longer.

  Tom had gone to pony a horse for another trainer and returned just as Junior came back with Morning Dew. “Ben said to tell you he’s walking over to the Secretary’s office.”

  Dawn held Morning Dew while Junior untacked her. Bo-T was next. Junior went into the tack room, hung the bridle on the tack hook, reached for Bo-T’s bridle, and walked down the shedrow to the colt’s stall. “Hey, Big Man!”

  Bo-T was just about everyone’s favorite. A gorgeous, flashy chestnut just like his sire Beau Born, Bo-T broke the track record as a first-time starter two years ago, and the track record still held. He was the “Big Horse” in the barn. Dawn came back from the wash rack with Morning Dew, gave her another drink, hung her on the walking machine, put B-Bo into his stall, and came down the shedrow just in time to give Junior a leg-up and lead him and Bo-T out to Tom.

  When Morning Dew bucked and kicked on the walking machine, Bo-T ducked back to whinny at her. Junior thumped his sides and Tom pulled him forward. Junior stood in his stirrups, nodding along and singing a tune. Tom looked at him. “He’s in tomorrow, remember.”

  “I remember.”

  “Yeah? Well, just don’t forget.”

  Junior sat down in the saddle and sighed. Ben got back to the Ginny stand from the Secretary’s office just as Tom was leading Bo-T out onto the racetrack. Ben wanted the horse to just stay loose, nothing more than a light gallop. Junior touched the rim of his helmet.

  Ben smiled at him and then shook his head at Tom’s sour expression. Meanwhile, Wee Born was also scheduled to gallop. Dawn did her legs up in running bandages, brushed her off and did Bo-T’s stall, his water bucket, and hay net. She turned off the walking machine, offered Morning Dew another drink. The filly drank a little and then a little more.

  “Good girl.”

  Walking machine back on, Dawn stood watching Morning Dew for a moment, and then started rolling bandages. When she was done with each set of wraps and bandages, she placed them neatly in front of the respective stalls where the horses couldn’t reach them, and walked down to tack Wee Born. She was leading Wee Born, tacked, around the shedrow when Tom and Bo-T arrived back at the barn. Junior dismounted. Dawn gave him a leg-up on Wee Born and took Bo-T from Tom. Just like clockwork. Dawn untacked Bo-T, gave him a drink of water, and headed over to the wash rack. She glanced at her watch; nine o’clock and one to go. Alley Beau.

  Chapter Eight

  Wendy sat at Matthew’s side waiting for Dr. Hanover to arrive with an update on her son’s condition. The head nurse on the floor said that she thought the plan was to discharge him today or tomorrow. It would all depend on the results from the latest MRI taken earlier in the morning. Matthew was sitting up in bed with headphones on listening to music.

  Gordon was texting his friends. He tapped Matthew’s arm. “Jeeter found your cellphone.”

  Matthew pulled off the headphones. “Seriously? Where?”

  Gordon texted Jeeter and got an instant message back. “On a porch near the accident. Here.” He showed Matthew a picture of it.

  Matthew tilted his head and squinted. The picture was fuzzy. “Is it toast?”

  “Oh yeah.”

  Wendy stared out the window. She hated just the mention of the accident. Such a close call, was all she could think about, and so hard to believe. She turned when Dr. Hanover entered the room. Both boys looked up. Matthew turned off the music and removed the headphones. Gordon turned his cellphone off.

  “Good morning.” The doctor glanced at Matthew’s chart. “According to this, your MRI looks pretty good.”

  “Pretty good?” Matthew said. “What’s that mean?”

  “It means there’s still a little swelling.”

  “When can I get out of here?” Matthew asked, either oblivious or ignoring the implication.

  “Well, I’d like to keep you around for at least another day or so. I think you’re on the way to recovery, but….”

  “I need to get back to school,” Matthew said. He glanced at his mother and Gordon. “I was hoping to get out of here today. I get around good. I went and showered.”

  “So I heard.”

  “Well, then what’s the problem?”

  The doctor looked at Matthew thoughtfully and sat down on the edge of the bed with a sigh. “I don’t want to alarm you, Matthew. But this injury is not going to go away overnight. Is it going to haunt you? For a little while at least, yes.”

  “What do you mean? I can walk and talk and….”

  “You’re still experiencing headaches.”

  “Not really, no. All right, yes. Maybe a little.”

  “So what do you think that means?” Dr. Hanover asked, “Aside from the fact that you’re not well yet?”

  “It means the food here is bad.” Matthew smiled, perhaps thinking he could charm his way out of the situation. “That I miss my friends. That I miss school.”

  “Have you tried doing any reading?”

  “No.” Matthew motioned he’d been watching television. “We don’t have cable at the frat house.”

  “We’re lucky we have plumbing there,” Gordon added.

  The doctor nodded and glanced around for a magazine, picked one up off the side table and handed it to Matthew. The young man looked at him and then opened it to page one and stared.
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  “That’ll go away in time,” Dr. Hanover said. “But you’re going to need some rest. Not necessarily bed rest.”

  “What?” Wendy asked, studying her son’s puzzled expression.

  “The letters jump. Some are disappearing, missing.” Matthew moved the magazine away and then closer, changed the angle of his head, closed one eye and then the other. “Doubling.”

  Wendy looked at the doctor. Gordon looked at the doctor. Matthew looked at the doctor.

  “This is what I was talking about with the ‘almost perfect’ part. I believe you are going to make an almost perfect recovery. It just might be slightly different than what you expect and it is going to take a while.”

  “How long?”

  “With rest? Maybe a couple of weeks. Maybe a couple of months.”

  “What do you mean, rest? No school?”

  Wendy’s heart ached for her son. He lived for school. He’d been talking about grad school. He loved research. Studying. She couldn’t see him just resting, not even a day, let alone weeks or months.

  “Let’s not forget,” Dr. Hanover said. “A little less than two days ago we weren’t sure you were even going to make it. The blow you suffered to your head is why you need rest. You’re going to need some controlled physical therapy too. You cannot overdo. Are you listening?”

  “Yes,” Matthew said, trying to read the magazine again.

  The doctor took it from him. “Matthew, you have your whole life ahead of you. How you proceed at this point is key. You need to heal. More importantly, you need to let your body heal itself and that’s going to take time.”

  ~ * ~

  Dawn sat in Wendy’s office and listened to the whole story. “The hardest part was when he was told he couldn’t drive. I reminded him that he probably was going to lose his license anyway, but….”

  “Well, I’m sure that didn’t cheer him up,” Dawn said, smiling supportively.

  “I thought being a mom was going to get easier when they got older. You should have seen the fit he threw when the nurse mentioned in-house rehab.”

  “Do you mean a facility where he would stay?”