“I’m going to walk over and watch the race,” Randy said.
“What?”
Randy chuckled. “I’m going to walk over with you and watch the race.”
“Seriously?”
“Come on, you act like I’d never done this before,” he said, walking along with her behind the horses.
Tom turned in the saddle. “What’s going on? What’s the matter?”
“Nothing,” Randy said. “I’m going to come watch the race.”
“What?”
Randy laughed.
“It’s been years, Randy,” Dawn said.
Tom pointed at him. “You better not jinx us.”
“No, no jinx,” Randy said. “I was there the day he was born. Remember?”
Dawn looked at him and smiled, slipped her hand in his.
“I think I need to do more of this,” Randy said. “I think I’m forgetting what I’m here for.”
Bo-T was the Beau Born - All Together offspring that looked the most like Beau Born. Big, broad, bright shiny new-copper-penny red, he was sensible except when he was sniffing the air for mares; hence the Vicks up his nose. Tom kept him checked up tight when they stepped onto the racetrack behind and in front of two other horses. Tom looked. It was a mare up front. He kept talking to Bo-T, patting him on the forehead, the neck.
Randy got a couple of strange looks from some of the trainers walking back to the barn behind their horses in the previous race. “Who let you out of the cage?” Davidson asked.
Randy laughed.
When they arrived at the paddock, Dawn took Bo-T from Tom but only for a split second, as Tom dismounted quickly - practically in one fell swoop, ground-tied Red, and took Bo-T’s reins back. In that split second, Bo-T got a whiff of something in the air and Randy was tempted to step in to offer Dawn a hand, but refrained. Bo-T pranced into the paddock, snorting.
Ben shook his head. This was the oldest he’d ever raced a colt before. He thought about that as he watched Bo-T showing off and pushing up against Tom.
Dawn took her place next to Ben. “He’s wound up, that’s for sure,” she said.
Ben nodded, a lifetime of racing flashing before his eyes, a lifetime of the ups and downs and the highs and the lows. A thought crossed his mind that this might be Bo-T’s last race. Or, the last race he would see. He sighed. Oh, Meg, he thought, can you hear me?
Tom led Bo-T into the stall past them, turned him around to be saddled and jiggled the bit in Bo-T’s mouth to try to keep him preoccupied. The colt kicked the back wall, and then kicked it again. Saddle in place, girth tightened, the valet put the overgirth over the saddle and Bo-T lunged forward.
“Hey! Hey!” Tom said. “Hey!” He turned Bo-T around, led him back in, the overgirth was cinched, and Tom picked a gap in the parade of horses to walk him around the paddock. Johnny came out of the jockey’s room and watched as Bo-T danced past him, nostrils flared and wide-eyed, looking all around.
“Hey, Big Man,” Johnny said.
Bo-T pricked his ears. Johnny was the only jockey Bo-T knew. He recognized his voice, recognized him.
“Be good now, be good now,” Tom kept saying. They were about to pass the mare being saddled. “Be good!” He turned Bo-T’s head to the inside. “Be good.”
Ben talked strategy with Johnny. “The track’s slow. I don’t want you fighting him, but if he goes to the front you might end up with no horse under you at the end.”
Johnny nodded.
“Riders up.”
Tom kept the colt moving. Dawn gave Johnny a leg-up and took the reins from Tom so he could go out and mount Red. The colt bucked a little and kicked. “Save it for the race, Big Man,” Johnny said. The bugle sounded.
Dawn let out a sigh of relief once she handed the horse over to Tom and walked up the ramp to find Randy. He was at the outside hotdog stand. “Damn, these are good,” he said. “You want one?”
“No.” She shook her head. Her stomach was doing flip-flops. “I’ll be back in a minute. I’m going to the ladies room.” She checked in with Linda on the way back.
“Everything okay?”
“Yep. I’ll see you at the farm.”
Randy was standing alongside Ben when Dawn returned. Dusty got there just before the horses were being loaded in the starting gate. He looked worried.
“What’s the matter?” Dawn asked.
He shook his head. “I’ll tell you later.”
They all watched as Bo-T was loaded into the gate. The race being a flat mile the starting gate was right at the wire in front of them. A mare was loaded next to Bo-T. He looked at her, eyes searching. Johnny tapped his neck with the soft whip. “Eh, eh, eh…” he could be heard saying. “Eh, eh, eh.”
The last horse was loaded, the latch sprung, the bell rang. “And they’re off! …. Taking the early lead is Missy Banks. Second is Go For The Money. Third is Beau Together. Fourth is Rapid Randy and a length back is….”
The horses pounding the racetrack sounded like thunder.
“The quarter in 23 and 1/5th,” Dawn said, for Ben’s benefit.
“Where is he now?”
“Still laying fourth,” Randy said. “He’s tucked in behind Missy Banks.”
“Oh dear,” Ben said.
“Starting down the backstretch,” Bud Gipson announced, “it is Go For the Money and Missy Banks. A length back it’s Beau Together and coming up on the outside, Gypsy Voodoo.”
“Half in 47,” Dawn said.
Ben shook his head. “Too fast for him. He’s too close to the pace. What’s he doing now?”
“Trying to run up that mare’s butt,” Randy said, shaking his head.
“Into the clubhouse turn it’s Missy Banks and Go For The Money. Beau Together is trying to make a move on the inside. He’s got room but not advancing!”
“Three quarters in 13 and 3/5ths,” Dawn said.
Ben sighed.
“And now swinging wide, it’s Beau Together! Beau Together taking over the lead, Beau Together out by one. Beau Together out in the middle of the racetrack. It’s Beau Together.”
The crowd started yelling the trademark chants. “Go Bo-T! Come on, Bo-T! Come on, Bo-T.”
“Can you see him, Ben?” Dawn said. “Can you see him?”
He nodded. “I see him! I see him! Come on, Bo-T! Come on!”
“It’s Beau Together by two lengths, three. It’s Bo-T, Bo-T, Bo-T in complete commandddd!!!” Bo-T crossed the wire three and a half lengths in front of Missy Banks.
“Ladies and gentlemen, hold onto your tickets until the race is official.”
“Is he pulling up okay?” Ben asked.
“Yes,” Randy said. “Tom’s got him. Good thing. That’s mare’s right next to him.” He sighed. “I think we’re going to have to address this, Ben.”
“I know.”
Dawn gave Randy a hug and walked down the ramp to the track. Ben and Dusty headed for the winner’s circle. Tom dismounted Red and turned the big colt around twice before leading him into the winner’s circle. Johnny saluted the Stewards with the traditional wave of the whip.
The photographer snapped the photo and Johnny popped out of his stirrups and landed on his feet and removed his saddle. Ben and Dusty waited until he weighed in and walked with him to the jocks’ room. “He’s never done that before,” Johnny said. “He would have been perfectly happy to stay behind that mare the whole trip. It’s like he didn’t want to hurt her feelings or something. I’ll be good, I’ll be good.”
The three of them laughed.
“I almost couldn’t get him off the rail. Once I got him away, he took to running.”
Ben patted Johnny on the back. “Thank you. That was one hell of a ride, Son.”
“Thank you!” Johnny tipped his whip and jogged into the jocks’ room. He had a mount in the tenth.
Ben glanced at Dusty as they walked down through the parking lot the back way to the barn. “So what’s going on?”
Dusty shrugged. “Junior
’s old man pulled a gun on him.”
“Is he all right?”
“Yeah, it wasn’t loaded, but still….”
“Here at the track?”
Dusty nodded. “There has to be consequences. We can’t let this go unanswered.”
“Where’s the gun now?”
“I have it.”
“Good,” Ben said. “Give it to me.”
Chapter Seventeen
By the time Dawn brought a very tired Bo-T back from the spit barn, Tom had his stall done, the rest of the horses fed, and was raking the limestone underneath the walking machine. He glanced at her. “Ben and Dusty went back over to the grandstand. Randy went on a farm call.”
Dawn wished Dusty hadn’t told Tom about Rupert pulling a gun on Junior. Tom didn’t much like Junior, but disliked his father even more. The two had almost come to blows several times over the years. Plus, it wasn’t sitting well with Tom that Ben had told him to “stay out of this.” And that he meant it.
“This has nothing to do with you,” Ben insisted. “We hired Dusty to do a job, now let’s let him do it.”
“Why? This has nothing to do with horses and liaison. This is about a poor excuse of a man who should have been kicked off this racetrack years ago.”
“Enough,” Ben said. “I know how you feel. You’ve made that clear. We have enough going on in our lives right now. This has nothing to do with you, Tom, and already you’re taking it personally.”
Dawn stood in front of Bo-T’s stall, watching as the big colt laid down and rolled in his stall. For a second, she wondered if he was planning to ever get back up. He just laid there and moaned. Tom walked up next to her. “He’s body sore. You can’t run a race the way he ran it and come back without feeling the effects.”
“He’s going to be all right though, right?” Dawn asked.
“Yeah, he’ll be fine.”
The big colt groaned again, mashing and grinding himself into the straw bedding, then stood up and shook off. “They wouldn’t think of gelding him, would they?” Dawn asked.
“No.” He shook his head. “Run for the hills, Bo-T, just in case.”
Dawn smiled. “Did you talk to Wendy? I guess they made a lot of progress on T-Bone’s Place.”
“Yeah, she called me. She wants me to pick up the sign? The guy’s going to wait for me. She had it rush-ordered special. Are you gonna be all right if I leave?”
“I’ll try hard without you.”
Tom nodded, smiling. “Good thing I taught you everything you know.”
“Yes, I just wish you’d teach me how to not worry about Ben.”
“That I can’t do,” Tom said. “I’m just as guilty.”
~ * ~
Ben was oblivious to their concerns at the moment. He had more important things on his mind and hadn’t given thought to his pending eye surgery for hours now. He and Dusty sat across the table from Mim, wanting her advice, her wisdom, her no-muss no-fuss frankness.
“I never liked that man,” she said. “The odd part is some people do. It’s like he’s Dr. Jekyll and Hyde. What’s he got against the boy? So Lucy’s pregnant, big deal. Life goes on. That is life.”
“I don’t know,” Dusty said. “I don’t understand it either.”
The old-timers had just finished dinner and most were resting. They all planned to watch the Secretariat movie tonight. “We’ve seen it a dozen times and never get tired of it,” Mim said. “Chef Diamond Lou made us hull-less popcorn drizzled with sugar-free Bavarian chocolate. I’m going to miss that guy. Lordy, Lordy.”
They laughed and then grew serious again. “So what do you think we should do?” Ben asked.
“Well, like it or not, he’s like family. Proceed accordingly. Let us not forget Billy Martin. And remember, when I die, no wearing black.”
Ben smiled. He’d already assured her of that so many times. Vicky walked with them to the elevator. “So tomorrow’s the day, huh?”
“Yep. We’re probably looking at around noon if all goes well,” Ben said.
“I meant your eye surgery.”
“Oh!” Ben laughed. “I can’t believe I forgot about that.”
Dawn was gone by the time Ben and Dusty returned to the barn. Ben looked in at all the horses: all eating hay, all looking content.
Dusty walked on. “I’ll see you at the farm.” He checked on the horses in the ReHome barn. They too were eating hay and content and he was just about to leave when Junior and Lucy pulled in off the highway. As many times as he’d seen Junior in that souped-up pickup truck of his, a rather imposing-looking vehicle sitting up high, it occurred to him that Junior suddenly looked lost.
The young man rolled down his window. “Do you have any idea where we could stay the night?”
Dusty looked at him.
“I can sleep in the truck. I’m thinking about Lucy. She’s not feeling so good.”
Dusty smiled. “You okay, Lucy?”
“Not really.” She tried to respond happily, but felt just plain awful.
“We only need it for one night. I get paid from Brickman tomorrow and we can get a room.”
“All right, follow me.” Dusty drove over to the grandstand. “Come on,” he said, steadying Lucy as they walked to the elevator. Vicky looked up when the doors opened.
“Well, what do we have here?”
“A couple needing shelter for the night. What about that couch in the hall?”
Vicky nodded.
“And maybe some ginger ale, something to eat.”
“I ate. Don’t worry about me,” Junior said.
“No you didn’t,” Lucy said. “You haven’t eaten since breakfast.”
Vicky ushered them in. “Go ahead, Dusty. I got this covered.”
“All right. If you need anything, call me.” Dusty watched the three of them walk away, Vicky gripping Lucy’s shoulders to guide and comfort her, and Junior trailing behind them carrying Lucy’s sweater and tiny purse.
“How far along are you?” Vicky asked.
“A little over nine weeks,” Lucy said.
“Any bleeding?”
“No, just puking.”
“Oh, that’s good. You’re gonna be fine. Come on, you’re gonna be just fine.”
~ * ~
No time for a celebration at The Rib tonight. Everyone sat down for a late pizza and salad supper at Ben’s, a packed house with practically everyone talking at once. It was a good day at the races. It was a good day of progress on T-Bone’s Place.
“The Amish should have no problem finishing up tomorrow by noon.”
“Transportation is all lined up.”
“Pass the salad.”
“The movers will be at the track around eleven to load up the beds and furniture. The old-timers will have lunch in the clubhouse. Chef Diamond Lou is going to make them their favorite meal, turkey and dressing and mashed potatoes and gravy.”
“I hope he doesn’t make them all cry. I’ve never known a man so emotional before.”
“He cries tears of happiness too.”
“Remember that day Mom hurt his feelings and he quit,” Matthew said.
“Don’t remind me,” Gordon shook his head. “God, that was embarrassing.”
“We look and there he comes, crying a river.”
“Wait a minute,” Wendy said. They were all laughing. “I didn’t mean to hurt his feelings. I was just pointing out that the salad dressing was sour.”
“And you didn’t think that would devastate him?”
“Rather that than everyone get food poisoning.”
“Is there any more pepperoni pizza?”
“Bread sticks?”
“More juice, Mommy.”
“Me too.”
Tom passed the juice down. Linda poured.
“So the plan tomorrow is?” Tom asked.
“Well,” Dawn said. “I’m going with Ben for his surgery.”
Ben sighed.
“Dusty, you’re going to help Tom, right?”<
br />
“Right.”
“We only have the one to track,” Ben said. He’d marked the horses’ training chart for the whole week, all except for Bo-T. “Uh….” He cleared his throat. “I think….”
Everyone looked at him, even D.R., Maeve, and Maria.
“I think I’ve decided to retire Bo-T.”
“Oh?” Dawn said. “We’re not…?”
“No, we’re not selling him. That’s the one thing I can thank my age for; I won’t have to make those decisions. We’re going to lease him to Breezeway Farm for stud. We keep racing him he’s going to hurt someone, not to mention himself. He’s proved he’s a great racehorse. Let’s see if he can prove he’s a great sire. He deserves the chance.”
Everyone let that news settle over them for a moment, the children all looking from one adult to the other, sensing something important happening.
“Are we all in agreement?” Ben asked. “Let’s see a show of hands.”
Everyone raised their hands, the children included. They loved this game.
“All right,” Ben said. “It’s done. He’ll stay here until breeding season. The sooner you bring him home from the track, the better,” he said to Tom.
Tom nodded. Talk then went to the situation with Junior and Lucy, and ultimately Rupert. “Do you have a plan?” Randy asked. They were all careful not to mention the word “gun” for the children’s sake.
“Yes,” Ben said. “Well, part of one. I dropped it off at Matt’s office on the way home. I want to see whose name it’s registered in. I don’t want to get the uh, authorities involved,” he said, not wanting to say police. “We’ll go from there. The fact that it wasn’t loaded….”
Dawn reached for another piece of pizza and stilled the room with her next comment. “Maybe you should just let Uncle Matt take care of this.”
Ben looked at her, Dusty looked at her, Wendy looked at her, Tom looked at her, Glenda looked at her, George looked at her, Randy looked at her, Liz looked at her, Randy Sr. looked at her, Linda looked at her, Carol looked at her, Gordon and Matthew looked at her, Maria, Maeve and D.R.
“What?” she said, glancing at all of them.
“You’re not suggesting…?” Tom said.
“I’m not suggesting anything. Just let Uncle Matt take care of it.”
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