Winning Odds Trilogy

by MaryAnn Myers

  Tom looked at Dawn.

  “Randy says she has a gift,” Dawn said.

  “What kind of gift?”

  “I think you’re seeing it,” Dawn said.

  “So you know what they think?” Tom asked.

  The girl shrugged. “Sometimes.”

  “Would you know if they were going to run good? If they’re going to win?”

  Hillary shook her head in disgust. “I sense what they are feeling at the moment. Duh! Horses don’t know their future. They live in the now.”

  “Oh,” Tom said.

  The girl looked at him. “Idiot!”

  Tom laughed. “Bitch!”

  Hillary couldn’t help herself and laughed as well. Tom handed her Red’s reins. “Eighth stall, untack him and don’t baby him. We have two horses in today and he’d better be tied on.”

  Dawn looked at him as the girl led Red down the shedrow.

  “What? You gonna try and tell me how to talk to women?”

  Dawn smiled. “I wouldn’t think of it.”

  “Good. So where’s Ben?”

  “He walked over to see the old-timers. He’s really getting nervous about his surgery. He says he doesn’t like the odds.”

  Tom glanced in Red’s stall as he passed and kept right on walking. He smiled. The girl didn’t see him. Apparently her sensory perception applied only to animals. She’d taken Red’s saddle off and was removing his bridle ever so gently and Red had smitten written all over his face.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Ben checked in with Wendy on his way to see the old-timers. She was on the phone and motioned she was up to her eyeballs in work. He waved and boarded the elevator. He felt it was good for her to be busy. It would help her keep her mind off Matthew. As always, the old-timers and Vicky were happy to see him. Training hours were just about over so the track was practically empty. There were just a few horses galloping. Ben sat down between Clint and Jeannie and looked around at the motley crew. Truth be known, he thought, I’m older than several of you. I lose my eyesight, then what? Jack was practically blind and Frank had thick glasses like Coke-bottle bottoms.

  “What’s the matter with you, Ben?” Jeannie asked.

  “Oh, nothing.”

  “Good. There’s nothing the matter with me either. Not unless you have about an hour or two to listen.”

  Ben laughed.

  Mim watched the last horse gallop and yawned. “This is exhausting business.”

  Everyone laughed.

  “Well, what’s the update?” Vicky asked, joining them. It was snack time. She passed around a plate of cheese and crackers.

  “Everything’s moving along,” Ben said, helping himself to some.

  “We’re still looking at next week?”

  “Yep.”

  They all sat gazing out at the racetrack. The old-timers liked watching the water truck and tractors groom the track surface. “It’s like the Indy 500 sometimes,” Steven said, pointing to the two graders. “My money’s on the truck on the inside.”

  Everyone chuckled.

  “Pastor Mitchell says he’ll still come see us,” Jack said. “Course not every day and probably in the evening.”

  Ben nodded. The old-timers enjoyed Pastor Mitchell’s visits. It was one of the highlights of their day even when he came up during race times. Pastor Mitchell liked watching the races too. “Now you know we’re going to have the races televised for you. I know it won’t be the same, but it’ll be in real time.”

  “Real time?” Several of them asked.

  “Yes, that’s what Wendy said.” Ben smiled. “I think it means it won’t be as fast as live, but pretty darn close.”

  “Good. If a horse breaks down, then don’t play it,” Jeannie said.

  “Okay, I’ll see if we can do that.”

  The two grading tractors were bumper to bumper, nose to nose. “See, I told you the one on the inside would win,” Steven said. It rumbled under the wire a good half length in front of the other one.

  “And the crowd go crazy!” Miguel said, waving his hands.

  They all laughed and then fell quiet. “No doubt about it, we’re going to miss this every day, Ben,” Frank said. “But we’re going to like being out at your farm too.”

  “Thank you,” Ben said. “It’s going to be good having you there.”

  ~ * ~

  Wendy hung up one line and switched to another. “Nottingham Downs, Assistant Manager Wendy Girard speaking.”

  “Ms. Girard, this is Dan Gotbert from Social and Family Services.”

  “Yes?” The man’s name didn’t sound familiar.

  “We have received a complaint from the family of a Mim Freemont alleging that she is living in a non-residential zoned facility, more precisely, your racetrack.”

  Wendy hesitated. “Excuse me.”

  “I believe you heard me and I see by my notes that there have been other complaints.”

  “Could you hold on just a second, please? I have another phone call I have to take or perhaps you would like me to call you back.”

  “No, that’s okay. I’ll hold. I see here according to the file no one returns phone calls from Nottingham Downs.”

  Wendy put the man on hold and phoned Dawn. “They’re back; Social and Family Services. Apparently Mim’s daughter is complaining. Can you get ahold of your Uncle Matt and see if he can buy us some more time?”

  “I’ll give him a call and let you know.”

  Wendy got back on the line with the man. “I’m sorry, Mr. Goth…?”

  “Gotbert.”

  “Yes, Mr. Gotbert, I’m sorry. Now where were we?”

  “We were at the point where I was about to inform you that I will be coming to Nottingham Downs tomorrow to investigate this allegation.”

  “Tomorrow? During racing? That would be rather difficult.”

  “Difficult how?”

  “Well, we prefer to address non-horseracing business on our dark days, which are Mondays and Tuesdays. Let me look at my appointment schedule.”

  “An appointment won’t be necessary. My plan is to just stop by.” Click

  When Tom met up with Ben in the hall and the two entered the office together, Wendy gave them the news.

  “Did you call Dawn?” Tom asked.

  “Yes. Any word about Matthew? I miss his not having a cellphone.”

  “I don’t,” Tom said, referring to the reason for Matthew’s car accident. “No, I haven’t heard anything.”

  Ben sat down at his desk. “You know, I’m amazed how much Social Services cares now, and yet they were ready to put these people out on the street.”

  “It’s the family members. They’re so afraid someone is out to take their money?”

  Tom’s phone rang. It was from Ben’s home phone. He showed it to Wendy and answered. “Hello.”

  “Hey, Tom, it’s Matthew.”

  “How are you doing? How did it go today?”

  Wendy and Ben looked on.

  “Okay. Do you want the good news or the bad news?”

  “Both.”

  Wendy held out her hands. “How is he?”

  Tom covered the receiver. “He sounds fine, just a minute.”

  “Dr. Hanover says I can stay at the farm, but it might be for a while. My sight may or may not clear up.”

  “He said that?”

  “Yes. Senior was there too. He asked all kinds of questions.”

  “So what are you supposed to be doing?”

  “Nothing. Nothing that requires any amount of eye-hand coordination that is. He said it might initiate an anxiety effect.”

  “What’s that mean?”

  “I don’t know. Ask Senior.”

  “All right. Go get some rest or something.”

  “I’m going to take a nap.”

  “Okay. I’ll tell your mom.” Tom hung up and gave Wendy a slightly more upbeat version of the news. “The doctor says he can stay at the farm to recuperate and to not overdo till his eyes clear u
p.”

  “That’s it?”

  “Well, he says to talk to Senior, that he asked lots of questions.”

  Ben nodded. “I think resting on the farm for a while will be good for the boy.” He couldn’t help but think about his own eyesight. He glanced around at the items on his desk. They were all slightly blurry even with his glasses on.

  Wendy’s cellphone rang. “It’s Dawn,” she said. “Hello.”

  “Okay, Uncle Matt’s going to see what he can do, but he says they’re already on to him, so he might only be able to buy us another day or so. He says he can only step on so many toes when it comes to things like this.”

  Wendy looked at Ben. “Can they work around the clock on T-Bone’s Place?”

  “Amish? I don’t think so. They won’t be there at all tomorrow.”

  Wendy sighed. “Thanks, Dawn. Keep me posted.” She relayed the message. “Uncle Matt might only be able to buy us a day or two.”

  “I can’t believe the Family Services guy would come out here on a Sunday,” Tom said.

  “Me neither. I think he’s gunning for us. He sounded like he’s taking this personally. Keep in mind, Uncle Matt has stalled this three times already. The guy’s suspicious.”

  “Well, I’m headed back over to the barn. You coming, old man?”

  “Yeah,” Ben said, rising from his chair. “I might need you to show me the way.”

  Tom laughed and looked at Wendy. “See you later.”

  ~ * ~

  Dawn walked with Hillary to the stable gate, much to the girl’s chagrin. “I’m not a child, you know.”

  “I know, but I want to talk to your mom.”

  “I wouldn’t mention my gift. It freaks her out. Ever since I told her our cat Cicely was going to die that day, she doesn’t want to hear it.”

  “All right.” Dawn smiled at Hillary’s mother sitting there waiting in her car. “By the way, why aren’t you driving yourself? I thought you had a car.”

  “I do. I’m grounded.”

  Dawn chuckled. “That’s what’s you get for being bad.”

  “Very funny.” The girl walked around her mother’s car and got in the passenger’s seat.

  “Did she give you any trouble?”

  “Actually no, she was a big help. I wanted to mention something to you though. There’s a Thoroughbred rescue place about fifteen minutes from here called Shifting Gears. They could use some free help and Hillary would not only be getting her shadow hours in, she’d be doing some community service.”

  The woman looked hesitant. “I’ll give it some thought.”

  “She could probably make her own hours. It’s a good place.”

  “I’ll think about it.”

  Dawn nodded and stepped back. When the woman turned her car around, Hillary looked at her. She just looked at her and then at the last minute, just before they pulled out onto the highway, the girl gave her a thumbs up.

  Dawn smiled and walked back to the barn. With a little luck, she’d have some time to start the newspaper article that was overdue. Ben looked up from his desk. “Have you always been that tall?”

  “Yes.” Dawn laughed. “You’re going to be fine, Ben. Stop worrying.”

  “I’m not worrying,” he said. “Not really. Well, I guess I am. I just want to make sure I remember things the way they are.”

  Dawn pretended to be shrinking.

  “Very funny.”

  Dawn put her arm around his shoulder, recalling the morning Ben had a stroke in this very tack room and how she feared he would die. “You’re going to be fine, Ben.”

  “And if I’m not, what kind of life am I going to have?”

  “A good life,” Dawn said. “Just like now.”

  He glanced up at her. “Well, I can’t deny that I’m thinking today and tomorrow might be my last days doing what I love here. I feel so sorry for those old-timers and I’m this close to being one of ‘em.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  With Batgirl in the second race today and B-Bo the seventh, Dawn had about a half an hour before she had to put the first one in the ice tub. “I’m going up to the kitchen? You want anything?” she called to Tom. “Where are you?”

  “Taking a piss,” he called back from one of the stalls. “Can’t a man have a little privacy?”

  Dawn laughed.

  “Bring me a Cheese Mac.”

  Dawn was headed for a Cheese Mac too. It was a favorite of just about everyone on the backside. Homemade macaroni and cheese, baked to perfection, topped with bacon.

  “Single or double?”

  “Double.”

  “Ginger ale?”

  “Yep.”

  Tom went for ice while she was gone and came back with two bucket loads. Originally he was supposed to pony a horse for another trainer in between their horses’ races and hadn’t planned to be at the barn when it came time to ice B-Bo. Dawn said she’d be fine by herself or she could get Junior to help her. Tom had changed his mind since, unnerved with Hillary saying Red was tired, and got another pony boy for the other trainer’s horse. When Dawn returned, the two of them put Batgirl in the ice tub and settled down in front of her stall on folding chairs to eat their lunch.

  “That’s really freaky about that girl sensing things with horses,” Tom said, with his mouth full.

  “I know. It sure explains why she’s so unhappy.”

  “So what, she’s going to volunteer out at Shifting Gears?”

  “I hope so.”

  “God forbid one of those horses die when she’s there.”

  “I know. I thought about that too.”

  “They almost lost that Foregone horse twice now.”

  Dawn nodded. “Randy said she knew it had a Foregone bloodline.”

  “Really?”

  “Apparently the horse told her somehow.”

  Tom stared. “Well, I’d be pretty proud of that too if I was him, but that’s some scary shit, her being able to do that.”

  Dawn agreed.

  “So what’s Linda going to do about Erie? Did she say?”

  “No. I wish she’d stay here, but she does like it up there and if they’re going to open again….”

  “She’s really good at the Secretary’s office.”

  “That’s what Ben said. Wendy too.”

  Tom sighed. Wendy…. “There’s a possibility Matthew’s sight might not return totally.”

  “Oh no, you’re kidding,” Dawn said, sadly. “Are you sure?”

  Tom nodded, gathered up their containers and tossed them into the trash. “Senior said the doctor gave it to Matthew straight.”

  “Did his leaving rehab last night make it worse?”

  “No, apparently not. The doctor didn’t even examine him today. The damage stems from the accident. How he heals will be how he heals I guess.”

  ~ * ~

  Dusty had a mid-day routine where he would walk up and down every shedrow without exception. Sometimes he would change his course; sometimes he would even go back through a few barns. He didn’t want anyone expecting him at a certain time and would always stop and talk to trainers and grooms along the way. Often he’d run into Pastor Mitchell, the man making his rounds, and the two would stop and chat for a while. Dusty had been at Nottingham Downs for over forty years. He’d seen it all. He’d done it all. Pastor Mitchell too.

  “Did you hear about Lucy Guciano?”

  Pastor Mitchell nodded. “I just sat both of them down and talked to them this morning. It seems neither of them told their parents and both sides heard through other sources.”

  “I’ll bet that went over well.”

  “No,” Pastor Mitchell said. “It didn’t.”

  Dusty patted the man on the back and walked on. He’d made it a point to check on Jackson’s horse ever since it was claimed. Hannity was a little annoyed each time Dusty stopped, but he’d been civil, until today.

  “I don’t think you have a right to come messin’ in my business every day,” he told Dusty
. “What do you want from me anyway?”

  “I don’t want anything. I’m just checking to make sure everything’s okay. It’s my job.”

  “Yeah well, your job isn’t to come nosin’ in my barn. I’m a private contractor. Just like a landlord, you don’t come into my house.”

  Dusty smiled. “You don’t pay any rent, Hannity. You don’t own this barn. You don’t own these stalls.”

  “You’re all a bunch of socialists.”

  Dusty had heard that before. “Because we take from the rich and give to the poor?”

  “No, that’s not what I mean and you know it!”

  “I’m just here to find out how the horse is doing. That’s all.” Dusty walked on down the shedrow and stopped in front of the stall of the horse in question. It was done up all fours and had both its knees wrapped in spider bandages. Dusty took out a notepad and made a notation.

  “What are doing? What’d you write down?”

  Dusty just looked at him.

  “I don’t want you in my barn anymore!” Hannity said.

  “Really? That’s a shame. I’ll see you tomorrow,” Dusty replied.

  Next stop was Rupert’s Tack Shop. Rupert looked up from the counter. “Hey, Dusty.”

  “How’s things going?”

  “All right I guess. How about you?”

  “Everything’s okay. I’m just making my rounds.”

  “Well, if you run into that no-good son of mine, tell him I don’t want anything to do with him anymore. Tell him to come get his stuff out of the house.”

  “I think I’ll leave that up to you,” Dusty said. “Did you get any more of those molasses treats in?”

  “Some came in today. How many you want?”

  “Two bags,” Dusty said, and paid the man.

  The first race was just about to go off. He walked up to the Ginny stand; a bag of treats tucked into both shirt pockets and watched the horses load. The race was six furlongs, coming out the chute.

  “And they’re off!” He could hear Bud Gipson calling the race from both the grandstand and from the speaker in the Ginny stand. Stereo. Most horsemen when they quit training missed it. Not Dusty. He liked the fact that he was still at the racetrack every day and at the farm every night, but didn’t miss the business of dealing with the horse owners. He thought of the little filly at home, Bonnie Bee. He had no idea what he was going to do with her. But in the meantime, he was going to enjoy just having her around.