Racing Savannah

Racing Savannah - Section 3

At the Races

Today I find out if I got the exercise boy job.

But first I have to ride a horse that doesn’t like being ridden. A horse that bucks all his riders. Sure, I had luck with him when he escaped yesterday, but can I strike the jackpot twice?

We’re at the barns at River Downs in Cincinnati, and the races start in a couple hours. Dad is standing off to the side, looking worried. I ignore him and concentrate on steady- ing my heartbeat. I tighten my gloves and pull a deep breath as Rory leads Star toward me. All I have to do is take Star through two warm-up laps and one at a full breeze. I can do this.

I suck in long breaths, working to rid my body of tension. If Star thinks I’m nervous, he’s gonna be scared, and I’ve gotta show him that I’m in charge.

Rory stops about ten feet from me and attempts to hold Star still, but he’s prancing and acting skittish. I charge toward Star with confidence and purpose. I rub his face and he whinnies for a sec, and then he sighs and lips my hair. I straighten his front leg so he will be easier to mount.

“You got this?” Rory asks, mimicking my dad’s expression.

“I got this,” I say, moving to the near side to mount. Rory hands me the reins, I get a leg up from him, grab the horse’s mane, throw my other leg over his back, and slip my feet into the stirrups. Star prances in a circle and jerks away from Rory, and I might go flying.

“Whoa!” I say, and Star snorts. “Whoa.”

I cluck my tongue and trot onto the practice track. Out of the corner of my eye, I watch as Dad joins Jack, Mr. Goodwin, and Gael in the clocker’s tower. Jack waves and whistles, and suddenly I’m not so nervous. We circle the track twice at an easy speed and then it’s time for the real show. I push the horse to a full gallop. Wind rushes against my face. We must be going forty-five miles an hour. That’s well past the speed limit on the four-lane back in Franklin.

“Go,” I shout to Star, gripping the reins tight. We fly around the track. I’m standing hunched over as I make the far turn, urging the horse faster. My guess is that Star starts slow but makes up his speed later, and now’s when it counts. “Go, Star! You got this!” Ten seconds later we cross the finish line, and I bring the colt to a jog, patting his neck and smiling my brains out.

Jack is clapping and beaming. “Time?” I call out to Gael.

Gael rubs his chin. “1:40. It’s not completely terrible.”

I pump my fist. To hear him say it wasn’t complete shit must mean the horse did pretty well. I steer Star over to the hot-walkers ring, dismount, and hand him off to Dad.

“If he runs like this later today, he’ll win for sure,” Dad says, stroking the colt’s mane, trying to get him to calm down. Star’s ears twitch and point forward.

I get up on tiptoes to kiss my father’s cheek, making him smile. “Do you think I’ll get the job?”

“I’d wait until after the race to bring it up to Jack. He seems nervous out of his mind right now. But yeah, I’d say you’ve got the job if you want it.”

I kiss Dad’s cheek again then make my way toward the barns, my red braid bouncing against my back.

I’m super excited about Star’s prospects for today but tired as hell. I shouldn’t have stayed out past midnight when I had to get up at 5:00 a.m. for the four-hour drive. I spend the next couple of hours helping Dad and Rory in the barns, feeding the six horses and lead ponies we brought with us, keeping them calm. Exercise riders typically don’t help in the barns, but I don’t mind. I love being around horses.