Golden Filly Collection One (23 page)

David and Firefly occupied the first stall since they’d drawn the post position. He buckled the saddle girth and cupped his hands to boost Trish up. “You can do it.” He patted her white-clad knee. “Brad’s waiting for you.”

Trish took a deep breath and let it out slowly. She gathered her reins and leaned forward to rub Firefly’s shiny neck. “Okay, girl. This is it. Let’s use those eagle’s wings.” The melody of the song trickled through her mind like a calming stream on a summer’s day.

Firefly liked the crowd. She pranced beside Dan’l like a queen bowing to her subjects. Ears nearly touching, chin tucked to her chest, she danced down the track. At the turn, when Brad loosened the lead shank, Firefly broke into a canter, her body collected, every muscle and sinew primed for the breaking strides.

She entered the gate, again behaving like the lady she was. Firefly even remained flat-footed when the horse next to her reared and nearly unseated the jockey.

The hush fell, that moment when all the world seems to wait on tiptoe for the shot.

Trish crouched forward. The gun, the gate, and Firefly’s burst for freedom seemed to explode at the same moment. Her “GO!” disappeared in the thunder of the race.

Firefly took the post like a veteran. Each stride lengthened, hurtling her forward. Trish concentrated on her horse, at the same time staying aware of the horses on her right.

Firefly tugged at the bit. Her ears swept back and forth listening to Trish’s encouraging song. The horse flattened out, reaching for the finish as each furlong post flashed by. As they crossed the wire, Firefly was still begging for more slack. No other horse even came close. They won by a furlong.

The stands went wild. Trish heard the roar now that she could relax. “Wow! Oh, baby, you’re awesome.” She patted the steaming neck, then settled back in the saddle so she could snap her goggles up on her helmet. “You not only won, you ran away from the pack.” Firefly jogged sideways on her approach to the winner’s circle, her neck curved, head high, as befits a reigning monarch.

She posed for the pictures, as if nodding to the flash. Trish and David grinned at each other. But their father’s place in the picture as owner was empty.

“Mom called,” David said as they led Firefly away. “Dad’s okay but they decided since yesterday wore him out so bad, they’d skip today. They’re waiting for you to call when you’re done. He said good luck on your next race too.”

Trish hugged Firefly one more time before David led the filly off to the testing barn. “If only Dad could have seen this,” she whispered to her steaming mount. “He’d be so proud of you. And here we thought Spitfire was our big winner.”

Trish felt strange in blue and green silks. Even her butterflies didn’t like the new colors. She felt like a royal battle waged in her middle. The whip in her hand didn’t help either. But Mr. Rodgers had insisted that she carry—and use it.

The saddling paddock—round with stalls radiating out like spokes on a wheel—felt different without David and Brad there to cheer her on. She gathered her reins after the boost into the saddle. Dandy pricked his ears at her voice. She leaned forward to stroke his neck and smooth his black mane to one side.

“Ready?” At Trish’s nod, the trainer untied the slipknotted rope and backed Dandy out of his stall. They joined the parade to the post, in the middle of the pack, position number three.

“Lord, we really need those eagle’s wings this time,” Trish included the prayer in her monologue. “Sure hope you have more than one pair. Firefly flew on hers.” They broke into a canter at the turn. Dandy seemed alert and raring to go.
But he doesn’t have the class of our horses,
Trish thought as she guided him into the gate.
Guess I’m already spoiled.

Her whip hit his haunches as the gate swung open. Dandy bolted forward, his ears laid back. “Sorry, fella, but that’s the way it goes.” Trish leaned forward, her goggles brushing his mane. “Come on now!” Dandy settled into an ever-lengthening stride. As they rounded the first turn, Trish encouraged him again, this time taking him to the rail, just behind the front runner. When a horse came up on their right, Dandy lengthened his stride again. And kept his position.

The far turn found the field bunched behind them. When Dandy slowed a bit, Trish tapped him with the whip again, her voice commanding in his ears, “Come on, Dandy, give it all you’ve got.” He laid his ears back again and drove down on the front runner.

They finished second, by half a body length.

“Wow-ee!” Trish felt like throwing her whip in the air and screaming for joy. They hadn’t won, but Dandy’d been tagged as last in the field. What a long shot.

“Incredible.” Jason Rodgers shook her hand. “He’s never run like that. How about riding for me Wednesday? If you can get Dandy to run like that, I’d like you on my other horses too.” He handed her an envelope.

“Thank you, and I’d love to.” Trish shook his offered hand. “What race?”

“How about the third and the seventh?”

Trish stopped in her tracks. The third? School wouldn’t be out yet. “Sorry.” She shook her head. “I could do the seventh but I’m not out of school till after three.”

“That’s fine. I’ll see you then.”

But what’s your mother going to say when she hears this?
her innernagger gloated.

Chapter

04

Y
ou’re awfully quiet.” David steered the truck into the hospital parking lot.

Trish’s sigh originated somewhere down about her toes. She’d agreed to ride for Rodgers before she had asked her parents. And her mom was upset over today’s ride. What would she say about riding Wednesday?
But I won’t be missing any school. At least I thought of that.
She tried to make things all right in her mind before she needed to explain to anyone else, but it wasn’t easy. In fact, she knew she was in the wrong. Again.

“It’s nothing, really,” she answered David with a shrug. “Just tired, I guess.”

The hospital corridors seemed to close in on her as she and David left the elevator. While she tried to walk quietly, her booted heels tapped out echoes to match those marching in her mind.
You better get a smile on,
she ordered herself.
You’re a winner, remember?

“Hi, Dad, Mom.” Trish leaned over the bed to give her dad a hug. “You look better than yesterday.”

“Sorry we didn’t make it to the track.” Hal pressed the button to raise his head, then shifted to a comfortable position against the pillows.

“The doctor gave him a choice of going home a day earlier or going to the track today,” Marge explained.

“And I
need
to get out of here.” Hal patted the bed beside him. “Congratulations, Tee. Sounds like you and Firefly ran some race.”

“She was having fun out there.” Trish gave a little bounce. “You should have seen her. That horse loves the crowd—you’d think all the applause was for her. And now that she knows how much attention she gets for winning…well, just try to keep her back.”

“And we’d counted so hard on Spitfire. Now we have two winners. That’s wonderful!” Hal took a sip of water to soothe his throat. “How’d you do with Rodgers’ horse?”

“A second. Mr. Rodgers could hardly believe it. And he gave me this, besides what I’ll get as part of the purse.” She handed her father the envelope. “Every little bit will help with the entry fees.”

“No, Trish. That’s your money. You earned it, you bank it.”

“But, Dad.”

“No, I mean it. We’ve never expected you kids to help with the bills and we won’t start now.”

But this is different,
Trish thought.
You’ve never been sick before and you’ve always had so many horses to train, you’ve turned some away. Now we only have Anderson’s two.
She glanced over at her mother but, seeing the frown on her face, wisely left it at that.

After some casual banter about other things, Marge finally asked, “Have you kids eaten yet?”

“No, but we’ll fix something at home.” David rose from his chair. “We’ve got the chores to do.”

“Where’s Brad?”

“He had to do something with his mom and dad tonight, so we’re it.”

“How much homework do you have?” Marge turned to Trish.

“Not much.” Trish rolled her lips together. She wasn’t lying, exactly. It all depended on how you defined much.

“Well, David, you do the chores so Trish can study.”

“Why doesn’t
he
do my chemistry and I’ll feed the mares.” Trish knew she’d made a mistake the minute the careless words were out of her mouth. “Just a joke.” She backtracked as fast as she could. “Come on, Mom. Just a joke.”

“When will you learn?” David asked as they walked back down the hall after their good-byes.

Trish just shook her head. And
he
didn’t know the half of it.

Trish fixed tuna fish sandwiches when they got home. She took hers into her bedroom and, after changing clothes, sat down at her desk. The glow from the desk lamp pooled on her chemistry book and the paper with only two problems done. She’d better hit it hard.

Two hours later she rose and stretched. Chemistry caught up. Spanish reviewed. Only one composition to go—and that only two pages. But her eyes felt like someone had thrown a handful of sand in them.

She thought longingly of a hot bath as she stumbled to the kitchen for something to drink. David was sprawled on the sofa, dead to the world, while the TV flickered in the corner.

“Hey, why don’t you sleep in bed.” Trish prodded his shoulder.

“Um-m-m.” David didn’t even open his eyes. “Just waiting for Mom.”

Car lights flashed in the window as Trish poured herself a glass of milk. She felt like sprinting down the hall and hiding in her room.

Marge hung her coat in the closet. “Hi, kids. Any messages?”

“Forgot to check.” Trish looked at the answering machine. “It’s flashing. I gotta finish a paper.” She left her mother to deal with the machine and headed back to her books.

Another hour, and she slipped her recopied paper into her notebook. What a way to end a winning day; all her homework caught up. Except reviewing history—but the test wasn’t until Tuesday, she reasoned. No more studying tonight. Her bed was calling.

“ ’Night, Mom.” Trish took her plate and glass back to the kitchen. Marge was still on the phone.

Trish slung her jeans and sweat shirt over the chair. She planned on putting them on again in the morning, so why hang them up? She’d just turned out the light when Marge tapped at the door.

“Trish?”

“Yeah, I’m awake.”
Here it comes,
Trish thought.
And what do I do about Wednesday?

Marge turned the lamp back on. She started to sit down in the desk chair but frowned at the clothes draped across the back. Instead she sat at the foot of Trish’s bed.

“Your father and I’ve been talking….”

I’ll just bet,
Trish thought as she folded her arms behind her head.

“You
know
how much I hate your racing at the track.”

“Yeah.”

“But I agreed to go along with what your father said. You could race
our
horses.”

“But, Mom…”

“No, let me finish.” Marge paused, as if searching for the right words. “Trish, I don’t want you racing for other stables. You don’t know those horses and you haven’t had a lot of experience yet.”

“But that’s how I’d get more experience.” Trish couldn’t keep her mouth closed.

“You’re only sixteen. You don’t need more experience racing; you need time for school. Your studies have to come first.”

“But, Mom.” Trish sat up and hugged her knees. “Racing is all I want to do, and I’m doing okay in school too.”

“Okay isn’t good enough. You are too bright to waste your brain riding horses. You can pull straight A’s when you work at it.”

All Trish heard was “waste.” “What do you mean
waste
? You think Dad wastes his time training horses? That’s our business, Mom, and his dream. We’ve always talked about when I could jockey for our horses. And now all
you
want is for me to go to school. Other kids go out for sports—mine is just a different one.” Trish could hear her voice getting louder. She knew she should calm down, but she couldn’t. “And besides, I made good money today.”