me know when their tuition is due.”
“You can count on
that.”
“Good-bye, Louie.”
Louie Picard hung
up the phone. Would bygones ever be bygones? Like many at the track, Tug O’Hanlon
had his enemies. Most got even and went on with their lives.
Shaking his head,
Louie had to admit he’d been suckered in at first. And then betraying his
friend had become routine. Now his family depended on the financial support. No
one before in his family had ever gone to college. He was proud that his kids
had gone, and now his grandkids were going.
He’d get a call
every time Tug had a horse that looked like a strong contender for stakes
racing. He might have a claimer win five races in row. No call came. But on
those rare occasions when he had a horse that looked like the possible big
horse, the calls started up again until that horse faded.
And now there was
the promising filly Tug’s daughter trained. Picard reached for a beer sitting
on the end table and stared at the images flickering on the TV. Screwing up
Cassie’s dreams left a bad taste in his mouth. He’d known her since she was
born.
He’d helped Tug
raise Cassie after her mother left. Cassie had been one of his best exercise
riders. She’d done well for herself, real well. But she was now training a
horse that had tons of promise. He’d wondered if he’d get the call this time. Tug
wasn’t doing the training; Cassie was. The call had come anyway. At least he’d
be able to enjoy tomorrow’s race. He was looking forward to seeing how the
filly would run without the drugs slowing her down.
It was a warm,
cloudless Saturday morning, the day of Hope’s first race since arriving back
from Wyoming. Cassie sat back on her heels, running her fingers up and down the
filly’s legs, feeling for heat or any sign of puffiness. There was none. Hope
appeared fresh and ready. Cassie smiled, yet was unable to keep the butterflies
in her stomach from tumbling about. Would her dad’s strategy actually go as he
predicted? She wasn’t so certain about the altitude edge. Had she stayed long
enough?
“Well, if it’s not
the Chicago cowgirl returned.”
Cassie cringed at
the sound of Ed Harrington’s biting sarcasm. She stood up and nodded a curt
greeting. “I’m back, and we’re ready to race.”
“She does look more
eager than I’ve ever seen her. Maybe your old man’s onto something. I assume
she won out in the boonies without difficulty.”
“No problem—she won
by ten lengths.”
“Today will be
different,” he said flatly. “You’re back in the big leagues.”
“Right,” Cassie
replied warily. Her stomach cramped. She knew it could be very different.
Running his hand
along the top of Hope’s back, Harrington confided, “Say, if she wins, I’d like
to help you celebrate by taking you out for a nice dinner.”
Alarm bells rang in
Cassie’s head. Conversation with the man had always been punctuated with sexual
innuendo, but she hadn’t really thought he was seriously interested in her. Men!
One fling for the summer was enough. One fling with a horse trainer was one too
many.
“No thanks,” she
murmured. “I’ll need to get back to Dad shortly after the race, win or lose.”
“Some other time,
then,” Harrington replied with an air of cockiness.
Later that
afternoon, Cassie watched Hope prove Tug O’Hanlon to be some kind of a horseman’s
wizard. The filly won her allowance race without much trouble. Just as she had
in Wyoming, she held the lead from start to finish, winning by two lengths.
Cassie’s spirits
were sky high while cooling down her horse after the race. Even Harrington’s
congratulatory buss on the cheek outside the winner’s circle hadn’t bothered
her. All was well. She was proud of what they’d accomplished. Hope had a
promising future. Her dad would be ecstatic and could soon look for another
trainer to take over Hope’s management as well as the rest of his small string
of horses. And she, Cassie
“You can count on
that.”
“Good-bye, Louie.”
Louie Picard hung
up the phone. Would bygones ever be bygones? Like many at the track, Tug O’Hanlon
had his enemies. Most got even and went on with their lives.
Shaking his head,
Louie had to admit he’d been suckered in at first. And then betraying his
friend had become routine. Now his family depended on the financial support. No
one before in his family had ever gone to college. He was proud that his kids
had gone, and now his grandkids were going.
He’d get a call
every time Tug had a horse that looked like a strong contender for stakes
racing. He might have a claimer win five races in row. No call came. But on
those rare occasions when he had a horse that looked like the possible big
horse, the calls started up again until that horse faded.
And now there was
the promising filly Tug’s daughter trained. Picard reached for a beer sitting
on the end table and stared at the images flickering on the TV. Screwing up
Cassie’s dreams left a bad taste in his mouth. He’d known her since she was
born.
He’d helped Tug
raise Cassie after her mother left. Cassie had been one of his best exercise
riders. She’d done well for herself, real well. But she was now training a
horse that had tons of promise. He’d wondered if he’d get the call this time. Tug
wasn’t doing the training; Cassie was. The call had come anyway. At least he’d
be able to enjoy tomorrow’s race. He was looking forward to seeing how the
filly would run without the drugs slowing her down.
It was a warm,
cloudless Saturday morning, the day of Hope’s first race since arriving back
from Wyoming. Cassie sat back on her heels, running her fingers up and down the
filly’s legs, feeling for heat or any sign of puffiness. There was none. Hope
appeared fresh and ready. Cassie smiled, yet was unable to keep the butterflies
in her stomach from tumbling about. Would her dad’s strategy actually go as he
predicted? She wasn’t so certain about the altitude edge. Had she stayed long
enough?
“Well, if it’s not
the Chicago cowgirl returned.”
Cassie cringed at
the sound of Ed Harrington’s biting sarcasm. She stood up and nodded a curt
greeting. “I’m back, and we’re ready to race.”
“She does look more
eager than I’ve ever seen her. Maybe your old man’s onto something. I assume
she won out in the boonies without difficulty.”
“No problem—she won
by ten lengths.”
“Today will be
different,” he said flatly. “You’re back in the big leagues.”
“Right,” Cassie
replied warily. Her stomach cramped. She knew it could be very different.
Running his hand
along the top of Hope’s back, Harrington confided, “Say, if she wins, I’d like
to help you celebrate by taking you out for a nice dinner.”
Alarm bells rang in
Cassie’s head. Conversation with the man had always been punctuated with sexual
innuendo, but she hadn’t really thought he was seriously interested in her. Men!
One fling for the summer was enough. One fling with a horse trainer was one too
many.
“No thanks,” she
murmured. “I’ll need to get back to Dad shortly after the race, win or lose.”
“Some other time,
then,” Harrington replied with an air of cockiness.
Later that
afternoon, Cassie watched Hope prove Tug O’Hanlon to be some kind of a horseman’s
wizard. The filly won her allowance race without much trouble. Just as she had
in Wyoming, she held the lead from start to finish, winning by two lengths.
Cassie’s spirits
were sky high while cooling down her horse after the race. Even Harrington’s
congratulatory buss on the cheek outside the winner’s circle hadn’t bothered
her. All was well. She was proud of what they’d accomplished. Hope had a
promising future. Her dad would be ecstatic and could soon look for another
trainer to take over Hope’s management as well as the rest of his small string
of horses. And she, Cassie
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