Ben waved his fork. “I’m not exactly embracing it.”
“I’m not even talking about slots, though that will be a part of it I’m sure.”
“Didn’t they try a documentary already?” Glenda asked.
Dusty nodded. “They did one on the jockeys too.”
“So why do they want to do another one.”
‘I don’t know,” Richard said, “Maybe because those didn’t work.”
Ben looked at him. “When do they need to know?”
“Know what?” Richard asked, helping himself to more meatloaf and mashed potatoes.
Ben sat back.
Richard looked at him. “Come on, Ben. There’s no way you can say no.”
Ben shook his head. “I need to get through this weekend.”
“Understandably,” Richard said. “It’ll take them at least a week to get started on it anyway.”
Ben sighed.
Taking that as a yes, Richard finished eating and took his plate to the sink. “This was delicious! Thank you. I’ve got one more stop at the Hunt Club. I’ll see you all tomorrow.”
Maeve swirled her mashed potatoes. “We tell Biscuit we love him today.”
“You did?” Randy asked.
“Yes!” D.R. said. “Mommy took us to the fence.”
“Did Biscuit say I love you too?”
“Daddy!” Maeve said. “Horses don’t talk.”
“They go like this,” D.R. said, making a motor boat sound. “And they do this with their head.” He bobbed his head up and down.
“They do this with their foot,” Maeve said, patting the table with her hand.
Randy smiled. “Well, then I guess that’s how they talk.”
“Grandma said the horses talked to each other today. All of them,” D.R. said.
“It was amazing,” Liz said.
Ben nodded. “Beau Born called to Bo-T, Bo-T called back, and then All Together started. It was the damnedest thing.”
“Bo-T got a little worked up over it,” George said. “It’s like they really were saying something father, mother, son, to one another.”
“I think we all need to learn to talk to the horses,” Ben said.
“Linda called today,” Dawn said. “She says it’s official. She told them she wouldn’t be back next year.”
“Who’s Linda?” Susie asked.
“One of the family,” Ben said. “She’s a clocker up at Erie.”
“It’ll be good having her here,” Tom said.
“Not to mention little Maria,” Liz added.
“I love Maria,” Maeve said.
“I love her more,” D.R. insisted.
Everyone laughed at this ongoing game of theirs, who loved who the most.
Ben looked around the table. All in all this had been a good day. Now if we can just get through the weekend, he thought.
“Does Bo-T gallop tomorrow?” Matthew asked.
Ben shook his head. “No, he’ll walk.”
“I’m almost finished with his drawing.”
“You’ll have to finish it in the barn, Son. The next time he leaves that stall, it’ll be to load on the van for the Burgundy Blue.”
“Are you taking him tomorrow or Saturday?” Tom asked.
Ben hesitated. Think long, think wrong. Stay the course. Don’t change the plan now. All these thoughts ran through his mind. “Saturday,” Ben said. “Matthew needs to finish his drawing.”
Chapter Forty
The Morning Banter had nothing written about the Burgundy Blue, nothing about Crimson Count, nothing about slots, nothing about Nottingham Downs at all aside from today’s entries. It was a good start to the day. Ben was pleased. “Let’s breeze Alley first.” She was scheduled to go 3/16ths of a mile. Batgirl was in the third race. Wee Born was running in the fifth. Everyone went to work.
“Open for entries,” Joe Feigler announced a short time later over the p.a. “Come on over.”
Ben smiled, trailing along behind Alley Beau. She’d breezed good and was walking back to the barn in her typical stretched-out Cadillac limousine style. Lucy’s dad, Tony Guciano, walked toward them following one of his horses.
“Hey, Junior,” he said.
“Hey.”
“Do you have time to get on one for me?”
“What time?” Junior said.
“Around nine.”
Junior nodded.
Morning Dew was next. She galloped a mile and a half. Batgirl was handwalked. Wee Born was handwalked. Whinny was put on the walking machine. The horses were all back in their stalls by nine-thirty. Randy stopped by the barn around ten o’clock with a box of donuts and they all sat down in the tack room to take a break.
“Are you going to be here for the races this afternoon?” Dawn asked.
“I’m going to try. It’s gelding day at the Russo farm.” He knew better than to say “castration” day. Dawn hated that word. “If all goes well, I should be back at least for Wee Born’s.”
“Is Mark going with you?”
“Yes. He’s going to meet me there.” He gave her a kiss, grabbed another donut, and turned to leave. He didn’t say anything. He tried not to even think of anything. Superstition ran deep in all of them.
Dawn smiled. “If we don’t see you before then, we’ll see you for dinner, wherever it might be.” A win, they’d all go to The Rib. If not, they’d all gather at the farm. That was understood.
~ * ~
Cracker Jack Henderson sat in with announcer Bud Gipson for the calling of the Daily Double. The two were old friends and always “talked it up” as Ben would say. Ben looked at the announcer’s booth and waved as he entered the paddock for the third race. Tom on Red, leading Batgirl, had just stepped onto the racetrack at the gap by the track kitchen.
Back at T-Bone’s Place, the old-timers sat glued to their television.
“She such a pretty mare,” Miguel said, when Tom dismounted Red and led Batgirl into the paddock. “She have good odds.” She was 5-2. George and Glenda arrived to watch the race with them.
“Where’s Matthew?” Vicky asked.
“Drawing. He says he’s not leaving till he’s done.”
“It’s hard watching him sometimes,” Vicky said. “Especially when he holds his head to the side tying to visualize something he can’t see facing head on.”
“How he going to go hike a trail?” Miguel asked.
“I don’t know,” Glenda said, sitting down on the floor and making sure she wasn’t in anybody’s way.
“Oh, look, there’s Cracker Jack!” Steven said.
“He come live here some day,” Miguel said. “That what he say.”
The bugle sounded and the horses were led out onto the racetrack.
“Whiskey City will be the one to beat,” Mim said.
“Traitor,” Clint said.
Mim shrugged. “I call ‘em like I see ‘em.”
“So what are you doing in town?” Bud Gipson asked Cracker Jack.
“Well, I’m here to see some old friends, watch a few races, raise a little Cain.”
Bud laughed. “Cracker Jack, as all of you may remember had the number one sports-talk show here in this city for well over thirty years. I remember you even more though for the charity marathons you used to run. What was that you used to say?”
“Winning isn’t everything. It’s how you run the race.”
“All kidding aside, ladies and gentlemen, this man was one heck of a marathon runner. He never won….”
“But I always ran my race,” Cracker Jack said.
“Look at the line at the hotdog stand,” Bud said, “Looks like they’re giving something away.”
Everyone waiting for a hotdog waved up at them.
“Think you can throw us one? No, don’t!” Bud said, he and Cracker Jack laughing.
“I could go for a hotdog,” Clint said.
“The horses are approaching the gate.”
Randy phoned Dawn. “I’m not going to make it. Four dow
n and two to go, no pun intended.”
“What about for Wee Born?”
“I don’t know. We’re trying.”
Dawn hung up and walked out to the road between barns. The starting gate bell rang. “And they’re off!”
She heard a loud truck noise behind her and turned to see a semi horse van pull up outside the receiving barn. The driver climbed down out of the cab, the engine still idling, and walked to the guard shack. He handed Jason some papers. Jason looked through them, signed one, and handed it back to the man.
With the big truck’s diesel engine idling, there was no way Dawn could even hear herself think, let alone hear the call of the race. She looked down the road to the gap. She’d have to rely on seeing the horses pull up and hope Batgirl was one of the first ones to appear.
The driver of the van climbed up a metal ladder, looked inside, and then opened the doors. He pulled out the ramp and attached the wood panels on both sides to ensure the horse would walk down the ramp and not try to jump off. The horse’s groom was inside the van with him.
When Dawn heard a loud whinny, she turned from watching the gap and got a glimpse of Crimson Count, standing in the van’s center stall in crossties and bobbing his head. He was a gray horse. She hadn’t realized that. The groom put a lead-shank on the horse, chain over his nose, and led him down the ramp. The horse stopped at the bottom, looked around for few seconds, and then walked with the man into the receiving barn and into the stall prepared for him. From this vantage point, Dawn could see him sniff all around the stall, then lie down and roll and stand up and shake off. He came to the front of his stall, leaned into the webbing and whinnied.
Dawn smiled. He was gorgeous! By the time she turned back around, the horses from the fourth race had already pulled up and were heading back to the grandstand. She couldn’t make out Batgirl. “I must have missed her.”
She glanced in at Wee Born. The mare was standing quietly in the back of her stall. The plan, if Batgirl went to the spit barn, was for Dusty to follow her back and help Tom. Dawn would need to do Wee Born’s legs up in Vetwrap soon. If Batgirl didn’t go to the spit barn, Tom would bring her back, Dawn would bath her at the wash rack and Tom would do Wee Born’s legs. They didn’t like doing a horse up too soon before it was time to leave the barn for the race, particularly the fillies and mares. They already had an inkling they were going to race today with having no hay in front of them.
Tom came around the corner at the gap on Red, leading Batgirl. Dawn looked for Dusty, looked and looked, walked way out into the road to try and spot him, and then here he came. Tom saw her and held up two fingers. She’d run second.
Dawn waved and walked down the shedrow to wrap Wee Born’s legs. She was such a sweet mare, just stood there, looking around. Dawn told her all about Crimson Count. “Maybe you’ll get to meet him someday. Who knows.” By the time she got all four legs done and the mare’s bridle on, mouth rinsed out and her tongue tied, the fourth race was just about to run. Tom called to her from outside the barn. She led the mare down the shedrow, handed her over, and followed them as far as the spit barn.
“Bring her back safe,” she said.
Tom nodded. “That filly’s game,” Tom said, glancing over his shoulder. “She got knocked all over the place coming out of the gate, but none of the horses hit the board, so….”
“Who win it?”
“Whiskey City.”
Dawn took Dusty’s place in the spit barn. “Is she still drinking?”
“No, she’s done.” Dusty followed Tom and Wee Born to the paddock. After a few more laps around the spit barn, Dawn led Batgirl into the stall. She promptly squatted and “peed like a racehorse” as Tom would say and they walked back to their barn.
Dawn had the mare’s stall already set up and did the ceremonial lap around their shedrow. Batgirl strutted her stuff, looking so proud. Horses nickered, came out to say hello and ooh and aah and watch her walking along. As soon as Dawn put her in her stall, she rolled, and then rolled again, stood and went right for her hay; behavior a horseman wants most to see in a horse after a race.
“And they’re off!” she heard.
She walked down to the far end of the barn to try to hear better, stood up on the side of the muck bin and listened as hard as she could. “Wee Born. Wee Born.” She cupped her ears. “Wee Born! Wee Born! Wee Born!” She distinctly heard Bud Gipson say the mare’s name three times in a row. And then a final, “Weeeee Borrrrnnnn!”
“Yes! Yes! Yes!” she said. “Yes!”
The old-timers all cheered and clapped.
“Yes!”
Tom helped pull the mare up, patted her on the neck, and congratulated Johnny.
“Look, there’s Tom,” Jeannie said. “There’s Ben.”
“Hot damn!” Miguel said.
Tom dismounted Red and led the mare into the winner’s circle. Ben, Dusty, and Cracker Jack Henderson stood at his side, all smiles. The race was posted official. The photographer snapped the photo.
~ * ~
The celebration at The Rib was a loud affair. Randy and Mark arrived late. There had been some concern over one of the “geldings” today, but all was well now. The horse came around and was up and eating when they left.
“I saw the replays,” Mark said. “Both horses run big!”
Ben nodded. “That Batgirl’s a gamer. She tried her hardest.”
“Wee Born win easy,” Tom said.
“That reminds me,” Glenda said. “The old-timers would like to host dinner tomorrow night, no matter what uh…kind of weather we have.”
Everyone laughed. Superstitions. She was referring to Bo-T and Alley Beau racing tomorrow. “They said they have enough chairs for an army. Miguel’s going to make his famous chili and promised we’d all be able to eat it without the need of a fire extinguisher.”
“Jeanne’s going to make Johnnycake bread to go with it,” Junior said.
“Mim’s going to bake pies,” Lucy said.
“They’re all excited,” Glenda added.
Ben smiled and raised his glass. “Then T-Bone’s Place it is. Here’s to tomorrow, to friends and family, to horses. Salud!”
“Salud!”
Chapter Forty-One
The Burgundy Blue
Jason handed Dawn a copy of the Morning Banter and ducked back inside the guard shack out of the rain. Judging from his expression, she wasn’t so sure she wanted to read it. “Match Race for Fame and Future. Stallion Careers on the Line.” She tucked the paper inside her rain slicker and walked to the barn.
“This is bullshit!” Tom said.
“It’s just all publicity,” Dusty said.
“None of this would even be happening if it weren’t for….”
Richard walked into the tack room.
“Oh, Jesus,” Ben said. The last time this man showed up at the barn this early in the morning, his job was on the line. “What are you doing here?”
“Uh….” Richard paused, started for the coffee, and Ben stopped him.
“What?”
Richard cleared his throat. “How do you feel about Bo-T going to the receiving barn?”
“He has a stall here. This is his barn,” Ben said. “Why would I take him there?”
“For publicity.”
Ben turned. “I hate that word! Don’t anyone ever say it again! Not in my presence! None of you!”
Richard hesitated. “It would be on the noon news. It might draw an even bigger crowd. The rivalry. The suspense. The anticipation.”
“You know, Richard,” Ben said. “Sometimes I don’t even like you.”
“I know.” Richard said. “But that’s okay. It’s the times that you do that keep me going. You’ve entrusted me with a job to do, Ben, and that’s what I’m doing. I’m doing my job.”
Ben looked at him and glanced around the room at Tom, Dusty, Junior, and Dawn. This was his decision. “I don’t have a crystal ball, Richard. And this being the first I’ve heard of this…. It�
�s not about publicity for me. It’s about what’s right for the horse. I’ve half a mind to just scratch.”
“Well, that’s another thing,” Richard said. “Two horses have already scratched this morning. Whether it’s because of the rain or the match race, I don’t know, but we’re down to a seven-horse field.”
Ben sighed. Bo-T liked the mud. According to Crimson Count’s form, so did he. “You know, being the owner of a racetrack and having to make these kinds of decisions, when for me, it’s still all about the horse….”
“But that’s just it, Ben. If you weren’t the owner, you’d have no choice. I wouldn’t be here right now. You’d go where we tell you.”
Ben looked at him and shook his head. “Let’s just get one thing straight. Had I known I was shipping him into the receiving barn, I’d have brought him back yesterday. He’d have had the night to settle in. We’re shipping him into a barn he’s never seen, with horses on both sides he’s never seen.”
“We could put him by himself,” Richard suggested.
“Which is worse, Richard. Come on!” Ben said. “Damn it!”
“Ben….” Dawn said. She hated seeing him upset. She worried, she feared. In the blink of an eye, she could see him slumped over his desk, another stroke.
“Dawn, don’t,” Ben said. “Don’t say anything. Please. You don’t think I know what you’re thinking. I’m fine. I’m a horse trainer, and I’m thinking about my horse! He belongs here in this barn,” he said emphatically. “You want to throw the race? You want to ruin his stud career?” He shook his head and looked around at each and every one of them. “You’re not thinking about the horse.”
“Por favor, Meester Dusty,” they all heard a small voice say. A man stood in the doorway, a stranger. “They say you here. My horse do no good. Barn empty. I ask mission so move.”
Dusty spoke to him in Spanish and sat back. “Oh, Lord.”
“What?” Tom asked.
“This is Crimson Count’s groom. He says the horse is starting to worry.”
Ben looked at Richard. “How’s this for publicity?” He motioned at Dusty. “Tell him to bring him here. He can put him in B-Bo’s stall. Junior, go help him.”
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