Sand whispered against sand as hooves flicked the grains in a spray across the track. Soft breaths of horses cantering, trotting, breezing spilled into the air, and muffled shouts of betters, trainers, and grooms buffeted against the tiny world the track encapsulated.
Bloodless Day yielded easily as I pressed my leg into his warm side, admiring the crest of his neck and the blast of frost from his nostrils as he snorted. With his newly roached mane, he looked very much like a dragon.
"Very good, Anna!" Willifred called across encouragingly as I reined him towards the gate. "That's it for today; gotta save some of that energy for the race."
I met Jack's gaze as he trotted easily past on Mira, a smaller and smoother mare. Despite her attributes, his eyes tightened with pain at his leg, but he still mouthed a 'thank you' at me as BD let out a tiny but exuberant buck.
For the past month, I'd been riding the stallion almost daily. Only when it was absolutely unavoidable did Jack get on him. Even today, race day, he hadn't mounted to get a feel for BD on the Aqueduct track.
BD felt very, very good.
I dismounted at the gate and accepted a rare high-five from the usually stoic trainer. "I have high hopes for today and good news for tonight," he confided with a whiskery grin.
"Care to share?" I asked with raised eyebrows as BD rudely shoved at my shoulder with his muzzle. Lightly worked and fit, he was still raring to go.
Willifred shook his head. "It's a surprise. But I'll say this much- dinner's on me tonight!"
Shooting him a suspicious glare, I rolled up my stirrups and clucked to BD. With his old, usual fire, the stallion threw his head up and shifted his weight to his hindquarters, but then he blew through his nose as if to say "I was only joking" and walked patiently on. I smiled to myself at what a difference a few months made.
Later, I'd pester Willifred for his surprise.
*****
BD's lip wriggled when the curry comb circled over his neck. He looked funny, so I continued brushing there, laughing when he began to toss his head and lean into the brush, clearly enjoying himself. It was too cold out to hose the horses down, so grooms were delegated to grooming them before and after every ride. The horses had never looked better, though BD was the only one who hadn't been body clipped yet.
He stopped tossing his head abruptly and turned as far as he could in the cross-ties, ears pricked behind us. I stepped quickly out of the way as his massive body swung around before looking, too, at what he was suddenly so interested in.
It was Jack, limping slightly as he led the filly into the shedrow. "Here, give me her and go sit down and ice your leg," I ordered, whirling into motion. BD was unceremoniously shoved into a stall where he flattened his ears, and I had the filly hooked up to the cross-ties by the time Jack had lowered himself to a nearby hay bale.
"You don't need to baby me," he grumped as I shot him a worried look. Ever since I had found out about his leg, he'd been more open about it around me, limping and being careful about his motions, complaining, and confessing to how much he'd spent on ice packs in the past few months. It was a lot. It was nice to know that he trusted me enough to reveal this side, but I was beginning to wish that he would go to somebody that could actually help. At least they would be paid to deal with his moaning and griping.
"Maybe I don't," I finally responded. "But you need to baby that leg."
Jack remained silent as I finished the filly off, flipping a cooler expertly over her back. It was trimmed with the Piperson colors, just like the jackets the farm had given all of the employees for the upcoming winter. As I was leading her away, though, towards her stall, he spoke. His voice grated with many more years than he'd been alive. "Wes is here. She was looking for Lilac."
I halted the filly. She tugged, once, impatiently against the lead rope and then stood still, arcing her neck to peer warily at the still turbulent Bloodless Day in his stall. "Lilac? But she's gone."
"That's what I told her. You'd think she would have known that, right? Kept tabs and all?"
The thought made me uncomfortable, but I kept my tone level. "There's not much damage she can do from the east coast. Lilac is thousands of miles away. What she wants will have to wait."
Jack made an affirmative sound, and I led the filly away.
*****
It was most definitely getting colder. The air rattled in my lungs as I leaned against the railing, breathing in the freezing scent of horses and the Aqueduct track. Willifred leaned next to me; he'd told me he never went to the owner's box when he did go to the races. "Why are you here today?" I asked.
His eyes glittered with excitement. "I reckon this is going to be a memorable race."
"Yeah, but Lilac told me that you only go when you have a horse in, like, the Derby," I said. "This is just a normal race."
"Not normal. It's fairly high stakes. A good, challenging race for a good, challenging horse. I'm expecting good things."
Remembering the way Jack had been favoring his leg, the most I could do was hope for good things.
The horses were already in the gates. I squinted at the other side of the track and was rewarded with a flash of green of BD's blinkers in the third post. The cold had made the day unusually clear and crisp, and I could see far beyond what I usually could.
The gates flew open, and the horses were off.
They were long legs and streamlined bodies, tails that stretched out behind them and manes that flapped up and down, but I couldn't see BD. He must've been running on the outside, behind the other horses. In my mind he ran like the wind, Jack still on his back as the stallion found his own path, and then Jack grew a pony-tail, a more slender form, and it was me riding, flying across the track, boring down on the finish-
"What's that boy doing?" Willifred asked sharply. Abruptly snapping out of my daydream- oh, what a time to dream!-, I jerked my head to the bend of the track, where the horses were thundering towards the final stretch. BD had finally fought his way to the front of the group, but it wasn't speed he was fighting.
Jack usually rode with his horse. His hands kept a perfect, steady connection with the bit as the horse's head surged backwards and forwards, but today BD's head was up, straight in the air, mouth agape as he pulled frantically at the bit, trying to get room to move his head and surge forwards. My heart sank as two, three horses flew past BD.
He went wild. Desperate for traction, he curved his head to his chest, an evasion trick we'd only barely stopped him from doing, and then slammed forwards, bit firmly in his teeth. Jack was yanked forwards and only managed to stay on, precariously balanced in the saddle. Finally given his head, BD settled and roared into gear. He flew past the third horse and into third place, arrowing for the horses battling for the honor of being champion. But they were knights of the track and BD a king, and he powered past them and burst into first, clear.
Then he was under the wire and a little dark mare had won second and the grandstand went wild and still BD did not slow.
Jack, I suddenly realized, could not stop him. To fall off at this speed would surely cause more injury to the jockey, something he could not afford. And with the reins loosed from BD's vicious tug, he could not pull the horse up. I gripped the rail helplessly as Willifred swore softly. BD rounded the bend and charged back up the backstretch, seeming to gain speed and energy as the other racehorses slowed in front of us, breathing heavily. "I don't understand! Has he forgotten how to ride?"
"His leg..." I said softly as BD rounded the bend again. That idiot horse was running the same race twice, without pause! But I saw a bobble in his stride as he reached his limits. The other horses had cleared from the track. Breath shorted as though I'd run the race myself, I ducked under the railing and ran out to the middle of the track.
The sun was at it's zenith, haloing BD in molten gold as he leaped over a shadow, nearly unseating Jack. The jockey's face was white as he hung grimly on, staying with the thousand pound stallion with sheer will and arm strength. His feet, I saw now, had slipped from the stirrups and his legs banged against BD's side with every stride.
"BD!" I shouted and leaped when he was five strides away from me.
With practiced ease, he dropped his hindquarters. In sixty feet, he'd skidded from a flat-out gallop to a square halt, right in front of me.
The grandstands fell silent. I hadn't noticed noise before, but it's absence was unmistakable. A breeze rattled through the world, a baby let out a cry, and all I heard was BD's wild breaths. "It's okay, buddy," I murmured, reaching out and slowly, slowly taking hold of a rein. "You're alright. You ran, and you won. Today's been good to you."
BD ducked his head to step closer to me, and Jack fell off. Then something more terrible than the runaway, something worse than Shamrock or a cliffhanger or Lilac's departure, happened.
A long, slow tear trailed down his face.
He hadn't cried when his leg had originally shattered. He hadn't cried when Shamrock was put down. He hadn't cried when Bloodless Day had thrown him across the track, or when the doctors had told him he'd never ride again. But now, crouched in the light of glory, he began to sob freely, a horrible choking sound as he realized there was no capturing and refusing this emotion, this one release from pain.
Staring and watching at this naked agony was unbearable. I turned my face into BD's hot neck, damped with sweat, and stood there. Though he needed to be cooled down, the Thoroughbred stood with me, a gentle monster surrounded by shattered dreams.
After what seemed like an eternity, BD lifted his head away from me and nickered, pushing me back. Willifred's hand descended upon my shoulder. "Go get that horse in the winner's circle for his picture," he commanded, "and get back to the barn."
My feet did not move. "But-" At Willifred's stony glare, I quailed. "Yessir."
As I led BD away, a crowd of paramedics descended upon the jockey-no-more.
*****
It took five minutes to ruin Jack's life and forty-five to cool down the horse that did it. "You won," I muttered angrily as we walked the zillionth lap around the shedrow, BD breathing heavily. "Why couldn't you have slowed down?"
He didn't really answer, but he did shove me with his nose into a hay net.
By the time we returned to BD's stall, Jack was waiting in a wheelchair and Willifred on his own two feet. The trainer clamped his eyes firmly on BD as I stopped, though halted obediently next to me on a loose rope. Sweat still streaked his coat, which would have to be curried out when he dried, but for the most part he was cooled down. "What's the verdict?" I studied Jack and Willifred's faces for clues, but both were equally stubborn.
"I can't ride for the rest of the year." Jack pressed his lips tightly together. His jaw was working back and forth as he glared down at his bum leg.
It was early October. Three months. "That's not bad at all," I said, surprised.
"And half of next year, either. That's if the doctors agree that you healed sufficiently, since apparently there's no stopping you from riding," Willifred finished. There was no arguing with his hard expression, but I saw Jack wince out of the corner of my eye.
"And I'll have a permanent limp," Jack added sullenly.
"You're a regular veteran," I observed, and then a new thought occurred to me. "What about BD? Who will ride him?"
"Nobody. His season is over." At this, Willifred seemed to straighten. A glimmer of a smile touched his lips. I slanted my eyes at him; was he trying to be rid of BD? His season was just beginning!
"What!" Jack cried. He pitched forwards in his wheelchair and the wheels lurched back, as though it was a very rocky racehorse. BD's head flew up as though he, too, were astonished at the change of plan. "You can't hold him back because of me! This horse has all of the potential!"
"Are you going to listen or speak?" Willifred snapped, and Jack settled. BD, too, lowered his head reluctantly but kept his ears pricked towards the trainer, almost as if he understood the conversation was about his future. "I'm saving this horse. He's still young, and he's going to get a rest for a few months before we bring him back for the three year old season."
"You don't need to end this early!"
"Do you want to risk him further? Do you want him to risk a bowed tendon or worse? What if, today, Anna hadn't been able to slow him down, huh?" Willifred roared. "What if he'd stumbled, or caught a leg on a hole the other horses ran into the track, or tried crashing through a barrier?"
"Everything's a risk! You can't hold back because of a 'what if'!," tumbled out of my mouth. It was true. I'd lived that way for far too long.
"What if I told you Mr. Piperson got a letter in the mail regarding this horse? Would you change your mind then, knowing he qualified?"
I had no idea what that meant, but Jack and BD apparently did. Both of them straightened, expression so alert they could have been asleep before. "You mean-?" Jack managed.
"Yes!" I'd never seen the old trainer so emphatic before. "I'm saving this dammed horse for the Kentucky Derby!"
*****
(Chapter name nicked from "Superheroes" by the Script)
Sooooo. Do y'all still love me? Whoops.
This is one of my longest chapters and probably one of my favorites so far! I have so many exciting plans and I can't wait to finally see them starting to happen!
Has anybody else started school yet? It's been mayhem. Senior year and I'm fit to burst with impatience. I just want to ride and everybody just wants to sit down and talk about the brilliant plans they have for MY future. Sorry, no can do.
Anywhoo.
Yeah.
I thought I'd have more to say but guess not.
-Iggy out