it.”
“Any time, Trish. See you.” The doctor honked his horn and waved as the incoming cars braked in the gravel.
“What’s Bradshaw doing here?” David slammed his car door.
“The gray filly has a virus. He says it’s really contagious so we have to be extra careful.”
“Oh great,” David groaned, “that’s all we need.”
“I’ll be up in a minute. Just gotta fork some straw in her stall and get her a bucket of warm water.”
“Want me to do it?”
“Naw, my boots are already contaminated. Won’t take me long.”
“Trish.” Dave stopped her. “Better be prepared. Mom’s pretty upset.”
“About Dad?”
“That…and other things.”
By other things, he means me, Trish thought as she loped back to the barn. So what’s new?
Chapter
07
F ifteen minutes later, Trish slid open the glass door and sank into the nearest chair. At the staccato tap of her mother’s heels, Trish looked up.
Her “Hi, Mom” trailed into a whisper when she noticed the white line around her mother’s tight mouth. With a clenched jaw and hands to match, her mother stopped two feet in front of her.
“I thought you cared about your father, but it’s just like I’ve always said. Those horses come first in your life.”
The attack left Trish in a momentary state of shock. “But, Mom.” She shook her head, as if to clear her ears. “Someone had to do the chores. You know Dad always says—”
“You listen to me for a change.” Marge’s words were clipped, each syllable sliced as if with a sharp knife. “Your father is more important to me than anything on this earth. The horses, the racing—I don’t care about those. When he asked for you tonight, where were you?”
“But—” Trish was frantic to get a word in.
“I’ve had it!” Her mother turned toward the living room. She shook her head. “I’ve just had it with you, Tricia.”
“But, Mom!” Trish bit off the plea.
“Horses. All the time! Sometimes I hate those animals.”
“That’s not fair.” Trish leaped to their defense.
“You were needed somewhere else—where were you?”
“Mom! David went with you. Somebody had to take care of things around here.” Trish tore her fingers through her hair. “The filly went down and—”
“Mother…Trish!” David vainly tried to interrupt.
“Do you think Dad wants everything to fall apart around here?”
Trish’s voice rose. “He’s sick enough, and all you’re worried about is whether or not I went to the hospital. Well, you can worry all you want to, because I couldn’t go tonight.” She brushed away the tears cascading down her cheeks. “And I probably won’t go tomorrow either.”
“That’s nothing new. When have you ever done what I wanted?” her mother countered.
“Well, Mom, if I did what you wanted, we wouldn’t have a jockey to race this year.” The rage welled up within her like a mushroom cloud.
“You never want me to do the things I like best. I’d rather be with horses than with people any day!”
“Tricia!” her mother reprimanded.
“You started this, Mother. Dad and I love racing.”
“That’s fine for a man. But in case you haven’t figured it out yet, you’re fast becoming a woman. Racing Thoroughbreds is a man’s job.”
“No! No, it’s not! You know there are women jockeys. And they do okay. You just worry all the time. You don’t want your daughter to be different.” The feelings of rebellion within scared her, but she couldn’t stop the flood of words. “Remember, you’ve said, ‘Always tell the truth.’
Well the truth is, when it comes to racing, I don’t care if you don’t agree with me!”
“Watch your mouth, young lady!”
“I have a right to say what I think!”
“Trish, go to your room.” Her mother took a step closer. “I’ll not allow you to talk to me like that.”
“You can’t stand the truth, can you? When you don’t like what I have to say you send me to my room. Maybe I should sleep in the
“Any time, Trish. See you.” The doctor honked his horn and waved as the incoming cars braked in the gravel.
“What’s Bradshaw doing here?” David slammed his car door.
“The gray filly has a virus. He says it’s really contagious so we have to be extra careful.”
“Oh great,” David groaned, “that’s all we need.”
“I’ll be up in a minute. Just gotta fork some straw in her stall and get her a bucket of warm water.”
“Want me to do it?”
“Naw, my boots are already contaminated. Won’t take me long.”
“Trish.” Dave stopped her. “Better be prepared. Mom’s pretty upset.”
“About Dad?”
“That…and other things.”
By other things, he means me, Trish thought as she loped back to the barn. So what’s new?
Chapter
07
F ifteen minutes later, Trish slid open the glass door and sank into the nearest chair. At the staccato tap of her mother’s heels, Trish looked up.
Her “Hi, Mom” trailed into a whisper when she noticed the white line around her mother’s tight mouth. With a clenched jaw and hands to match, her mother stopped two feet in front of her.
“I thought you cared about your father, but it’s just like I’ve always said. Those horses come first in your life.”
The attack left Trish in a momentary state of shock. “But, Mom.” She shook her head, as if to clear her ears. “Someone had to do the chores. You know Dad always says—”
“You listen to me for a change.” Marge’s words were clipped, each syllable sliced as if with a sharp knife. “Your father is more important to me than anything on this earth. The horses, the racing—I don’t care about those. When he asked for you tonight, where were you?”
“But—” Trish was frantic to get a word in.
“I’ve had it!” Her mother turned toward the living room. She shook her head. “I’ve just had it with you, Tricia.”
“But, Mom!” Trish bit off the plea.
“Horses. All the time! Sometimes I hate those animals.”
“That’s not fair.” Trish leaped to their defense.
“You were needed somewhere else—where were you?”
“Mom! David went with you. Somebody had to take care of things around here.” Trish tore her fingers through her hair. “The filly went down and—”
“Mother…Trish!” David vainly tried to interrupt.
“Do you think Dad wants everything to fall apart around here?”
Trish’s voice rose. “He’s sick enough, and all you’re worried about is whether or not I went to the hospital. Well, you can worry all you want to, because I couldn’t go tonight.” She brushed away the tears cascading down her cheeks. “And I probably won’t go tomorrow either.”
“That’s nothing new. When have you ever done what I wanted?” her mother countered.
“Well, Mom, if I did what you wanted, we wouldn’t have a jockey to race this year.” The rage welled up within her like a mushroom cloud.
“You never want me to do the things I like best. I’d rather be with horses than with people any day!”
“Tricia!” her mother reprimanded.
“You started this, Mother. Dad and I love racing.”
“That’s fine for a man. But in case you haven’t figured it out yet, you’re fast becoming a woman. Racing Thoroughbreds is a man’s job.”
“No! No, it’s not! You know there are women jockeys. And they do okay. You just worry all the time. You don’t want your daughter to be different.” The feelings of rebellion within scared her, but she couldn’t stop the flood of words. “Remember, you’ve said, ‘Always tell the truth.’
Well the truth is, when it comes to racing, I don’t care if you don’t agree with me!”
“Watch your mouth, young lady!”
“I have a right to say what I think!”
“Trish, go to your room.” Her mother took a step closer. “I’ll not allow you to talk to me like that.”
“You can’t stand the truth, can you? When you don’t like what I have to say you send me to my room. Maybe I should sleep in the
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