Backstretch Baby

Backstretch Baby

By

Bev Pettersen

Copyright © 2015 Bev Pettersen

Digital ISBN: 978-1-987835-03-8

Print ISBN: 978-1-987835-04-5

This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book, or a portion thereof, in any form except for the use of brief quotations in articles or reviews. This book may not be resold or uploaded for distribution to others.

This is a work of fiction. References to real people, events, establishments, organizations, horses or locales are intended only to provide a sense of authenticity, and are used fictitiously. All other characters, and all incidents and dialogue, are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real.

Editor: Pat Thomas

Cover Art Design: Kim Killion

Formatting: L.K. Campbell

http://www.BevPettersen.com

DEDICATION

To Marie Snarby, in celebration of all the lives she touched.

Eve Lewis knew the thud of pounding feet meant trouble. No groom would sprint down the barn aisle and startle a bunch of hot-blooded Thoroughbreds unless there was good reason.

Ashley skidded to a stop in front of Eve, her face flushed from her mad dash. “The bridles are gone!” she said. “Every single one.”

Eve stiffened, then bolted to the tack room. It wasn’t much, just an old stall crammed with tack and grooming supplies. But the little room was definitely emptier than it had been last night. The nail hooks were bare. Not a single bridle remained.

She gaped in disbelief, struggling to absorb the empty wall, stripped of everything except a lonely martingale and her dented white helmet.

She twisted, checking the saddle racks, and her breath oozed with relief. At least the rest of the tack hadn’t been taken. Her exercise saddle was still perched in its regular spot, along with all their girths, pads and grooming kits. It was strange the saddles hadn’t been stolen as well but clearly the thieves had been on foot and limited in what they could carry.

A liniment jug had been kicked aside, thickening the air with its pungent smell. She picked it up from the wooden floor, trying to tighten the cap before replacing it on the shelf with the rest of the medical supplies. But she fumbled, almost dropping the top, and realized her hand was shaking.

“Did you lock the tack room last night?” she asked, trying to keep her voice steady.

“I think so.” However, Ashley averted her eyes. “Can’t really remember.”

Eve sucked in a shallow breath. Ashley was six months pregnant and already reeling from the loss of her jockey job. It was tough working as a groom when one’s dreams revolved around riding. She understood that all too well.

Still, this loss was devastating. The horses couldn’t be exercised without bridles, and losing a day’s training could be critical. Even more so for a novice trainer at a strange track. At first, she’d been ecstatic when her boss had entrusted her with accompanying a string of Thoroughbreds to this small racetrack north of LA. But so far, the three weeks here had been filled with nothing but bad luck.

“Boss will blame me for this,” Ashley said, her voice plaintive. “He’s been a prick ever since he got married. They’re looking for a reason to trim staff. Think I’ll be fired?” She cupped a protective hand over her stomach and stared at Eve, desperate for reassurance.

“Don’t worry,” Eve said. “Jackson won’t fire you.” But she grabbed a rag and blotted up the puddle of liniment, trying to hide her concern. Ashley wasn’t a very good groom. However, she was an extremely talented rider and when her pregnancy was over, Ashley would be back in the saddle where she didn’t make many mistakes.

Unfortunately, Eve had begun to suspect their boss had relegated them to this track at the insistence of his new wife. And that perhaps the temporary assignment wasn’t really an opportunity but a warning.

Ashley wrung her hands. “But Jackson isn’t making the decisions anymore. And Victoria doesn’t want other women around, especially single ones.”

Eve tossed the sodden rag into a bucket. There was considerable truth to that statement, but she didn’t want to fan gossip, especially now that she was an assistant trainer. She had six horses under her care, and it was critical to prove she could handle the job.

She’d ridden for Jackson Zeggelaar’s barn for four years, and she loved being a jockey. But high speed falls left too many broken bones, and jockeys weren’t paid when they didn’t ride. Her son would be starting school soon, and she needed a safer career, one better suited for a single mom.

The scar from her latest surgery was still pink and itchy, and she rubbed her wrist while making a mental list—call Jackson, notify security, replace tack.

She snapped several pictures, angling her phone to include a shot of the metal padlock dangling from the tack room door.

Her eyes narrowed on the lock. It wasn’t broken or jimmied, and the door still sat solidly on its hinges. It had been Ashley’s turn to feed this morning. They shared a dorm room and Eve had heard the buzzing alarm clock, the thud of boots when Ashley had left for the barn.

“I don’t understand how the thief got in,” she said. “You were the first one here. Was the door open when you arrived?”

Ashley looked down, suddenly preoccupied with brushing hay off the front of her jeans. “I was a little late today,” she muttered.

“But was the door open when you came?” Eve asked, struggling to remain patient.

“Not sure,” Ashley said. “Don’t really remember.”

She must have sensed Eve’s frustration because she shook her head, her voice strengthening with indignation. “I sure didn’t expect other track people to steal from us. Who would have thought that?”

Eve palmed her phone, forcing herself to wait out the stream of excuses. She’d always found it easier dealing with horses than people. But she was improving. Certainly a four-year-old son had left her softer, more aware of other people’s vulnerabilities. Sometimes though, it was tempting to climb on a horse and gallop away. Escape employees and all their personal issues.

“So you’re saying the door wasn’t locked?” she asked.

Ashley replied with an infuriating shoulder shrug.

“If you forgot to lock up last night,” Eve said, her voice tightening, “I need to know.”

“But I was tired last night, and my legs are swollen, and Stinger was banging the wall, and it’s so hard to remember.”

“Try.”

Ashley flinched at the sudden whip in Eve’s voice. “Sorry,” she said, her bravado disappearing. “Maybe I forgot to lock up. I’m sorry.” She hung her head in genuine misery.

Eve clamped her mouth shut and looked away, hating to see her friend upset. Ashley was barely twenty and even though Eve was only five years older, she often felt like the girl’s mother. However, this wasn’t the first time Ashley had been careless. She was simply disinterested in anything but riding.

Fortunately, Jackson and Victoria weren’t around to witness Ashley’s mistakes. Rumors swirled that both Jackson’s race stable and his marriage were struggling. And that they wanted to reduce staff.

“We have to establish the facts,” Eve said, calming her voice. “Before I call security, the police. Our boss.”

Ashley gave a glum nod. “Well, I left the dorm about four-thirty. But maybe I didn’t get here until five.” Her voice rose, turning defensive again. “It’s easier getting out of bed to gallop horses than to shovel shit. And pregnancy makes me tired. So lately I’ve been stopping at the guardhouse for a visit. Just for a minute. But Liam always gives me free coffee.”

“Liam? The guy with the thick neck?” Eve shuddered. “You didn’t do your job because of coffee with some bulked-up rent-a-cop?”

“I know he gave us a hard time our first week.” Ashley crossed her arms. “But he’s really nice once you get to know him. And it saves me a dollar at the kitchen. You don’t understand what it’s like to be broke and alone and pregnant.”

Eve rubbed the back of her neck. She didn’t discuss personal details with many people, but she certainly knew what it was like to be broke. On the other hand, she’d never been truly alone. She’d always had the support of her mother as well as Megan and Scott Taylor. Ashley had nobody. And the reality was that being a single mother was tough, especially when one relied on horses to earn a living.

“Okay,” she said, trying to stay calm. And clearly this wasn’t the best time to remind Ashley about the dangers of too much caffeine. “So you had coffee with some guard—”

“Not just any guard,” Ashley said. “The
head
guard.”

“Right.” Eve pulled in a deep breath. “You came a little late, around five. But you still arrived before Miguel? You were the first one here?”

Ashley gave a reluctant nod.

“So,” Eve said, feeling like she was pulling teeth, “last night you were here for the eight o’clock check. That means the theft happened between eight and five this morning. And you don’t remember if you locked the door?”

“Think I did.” Ashley scuffed at the floor with the toe of her boot. “I really think I locked it,” she added, as if trying to convince herself.

Eve rubbed her throbbing wrist. Only three people knew the combination to the lock. Ashley, Miguel, and herself. Miguel was old and arthritic, but he was a long-time employee of Jackson’s and rarely made mistakes. And then only if he’d been drinking. But he hadn’t touched liquor since last summer. This past Friday, she and Ashley had helped him celebrate his eight-month anniversary.

She glanced down the aisle. Miguel limped into Tizzy’s stall, oblivious to the drama. As always, his attention was focused on the horses. He began unwrapping bandages, diligently checking the gelding’s legs and readying him for his morning gallop. Only there wouldn’t be any exercise today.

If they’d been back at Santa Anita, Jackson would simply borrow a few bridles from a neighboring trainer, at least until he had time to visit the tack store. But at Riverview Racetrack, she was a newbie. She didn’t know anyone. They’d been assigned stalls in the overflow barn at the southeast end of the track. It wasn’t even a shedrow, just a small building leased from an absentee farmer.

At first, she’d been delighted with their location, pleased that Jackson had made such thoughtful arrangements. The barn was a horseman’s dream. It had a patch of grass with plenty of shade, as well as a small walking ring and even a fenced sandpit where the horses could roll. A colorful hammock and two picnic tables were clumped beneath a sheltering oak tree.

Taking a horse to the track required a fifteen-minute walk along a solitary path, but it was a ride she enjoyed. Not only was it an excellent warm-up, it gave her a feel for each horse before they started their daily exercise. The isolated location had seemed perfect.

She hadn’t realized track workers used the picnic tables in the afternoon, lugging their babies and lunches, and letting the toddlers play in the deep sand. Unfortunately, Ashley had turned Banjo out in the sandpit and the horse had rolled, slicing his back on a rusty metal truck. That had left them with five sound horses…until last week when the gray mare had developed a nasty stone bruise which had reduced Eve’s string to four. At this rate, she wouldn’t have a horse fit to race by the end of the month. And Jackson demanded results.

“I can’t believe
they’d
steal our tack,” Ashley said, yanking back Eve’s attention. “You shouldn’t let them hang out here anymore. They’re robbing us blind.”

“We have no idea who did this,” Eve said. “It’s not fair to assume.”

She turned and walked toward the wide end door, tired of Ashley’s constant sniping about the local workers. But Ashley followed.

“Those women know we sleep at the dorm,” Ashley went on. “And that our barn is empty all night. They’re here every afternoon. Now more of them are coming, especially since you arranged for that second sand pit.”

Eve’s gaze drifted to the fresh pile of sand, covered by a protective tarp. She hadn’t the heart to banish the kids from their favorite play area. Safe spots were scarce at a racetrack. But she couldn’t risk having her horses hurt by their toys. Besides, it wasn’t sanitary for children to play in a pen frequented by Thoroughbreds.

So last week, she’d dug into the last of her money and ordered a truckload of premium white sand to create a pit solely for the children.

“And what is the reason for that big tarp?” Ashley went on, scowling at the sand.

“The orange cat is hanging around again,” Eve admitted. “And I want to keep the sand clean. A few of the women are pregnant and shouldn’t be around cat feces. Besides, the tarp doesn’t just keep out stray cats. It helps despook the horses.”

“Yeah, right.” Ashley snorted. “You’re just looking out for those kids.” But she smiled for the first time that morning. “I didn’t even think about the cat using our sand as a litter box. Or how that might not be good for pregnant women. Shows how little I know about babies.”