her leg over the horse and settled into the saddle.
“Crouch low over Peg,” he instructed her. “Ye must connect with yer horse physically as well as mentally. A winnin’ jockey and horse become one. Ye ken?”
Blaze gave him a smile that made rising early worth every minute of lost sleep. She nudged her horse forward to the start line.
“Wait until they’re eight lengths ahead of ye,” Ross called.
He kept his gaze fixed on Blaze. Her lips were moving in silent communion with the filly, who seemed to stand more confidently. Or was his imagination running wild? Horses did not feel confident or anything else.
“One, two, three, go .”
Bender and Rooney spurred their horses into action, galloping down track.
“Go now, lass.”
Blaze and Pegasus bolted away. The filly chased the two horses down track at an amazing speed. Blaze’s lips never stopped moving as the filly ate the distance like a starving man at a feast.
And then it happened. Pegasus flew through the hole between the two horses.
“God’s balls, she did it,” Ross shouted.
Blaze slowed the filly and turned toward the start line. He could see her smile even from this distance.
Ross helped her off the horse. Before speaking, she paused to stroke the filly’s face. “Love Peg,” he heard her whisper.
“Pegasus, I do believe ye’ll win a few races,” Ross said, patting the filly.
“What good is Blaze taking her through the hole if Rooney will be riding?” Bobby Bender argued.
Raising his brows, Ross looked at Blaze. His dark gaze demanded she answer the trainer.
“We’ll practice every day,” Blaze said, “and Peg will learn to go through the hole while I guide her from the sidelines. Communicating from a distance takes practice.”
“Time is short,” Rooney entered the argument. “Peg cannot learn by Monday.”
Ross recognized the worry in Blaze’s eyes. To her credit, she managed a confident smile for the trainer and the jockey.
Did the lass believe in miracles? Why would God grant her a miracle when so many others needed a miracle more than she?
By fair means or foul.
“Blaze will ride Pegasus in The Craven next Monday,” Ross announced, startling everyone.
“I will?” Blaze looked flabbergasted.
“I refuse to become an accomplice to this,” Bender said.
“Bobby, ye need to go along to get along,” Ross said, giving the man an easy smile. “I’ll make it worth yer while and shoulder the blame.”
“The Jockey Club will revoke your membership,” Bender warned him.
“I’ve read the book,” Ross countered, “and I canna recall any specific rule banning female jockeys.”
“Inverary will never permit his daughter to race.”
“Bobby, ye worry too much aboot life’s little thin’s,” Ross told him. “Ye should be worryin’ aboot findin’ employment if ye dinna go along with me.”
“I knew I should have stayed in bed this morning,” the trainer muttered.
“They’ll disqualify her for being female,” Rooney argued, and the trainer bobbed his head in agreement. “She won’t even make the starting line.”
“Both of ye sport red hair and freckles,” Ross said. “Once dressed for racin’, no one will suspect she isna ye.”
“What about her”—Rooney dropped his gaze to her chest—“her you-know-what?”
Ross laughed at Blaze’s blush. “She’ll bind them.” He looked straight into her blue eyes. “Give me an honest answer, lass. Do ye want to win enough to ride Peg if need be?”
Blaze bobbed her head. “I’m game.”
“Mind ye, this can only work at Newmarket,” Ross warned her. “When the horses move to Epsom, the other track willna allow deception. Ye’ll need to use the next two months trainin’ Peg to go through holes with Rooney.”
“I understand.”
“I’ve a plan that can work.” Ross looked at the trainer. “Bobby, I’d be grateful if ye showed each mornin’ for practice and escorted the lass onto the track on race day. Ye dinna need to know
“Crouch low over Peg,” he instructed her. “Ye must connect with yer horse physically as well as mentally. A winnin’ jockey and horse become one. Ye ken?”
Blaze gave him a smile that made rising early worth every minute of lost sleep. She nudged her horse forward to the start line.
“Wait until they’re eight lengths ahead of ye,” Ross called.
He kept his gaze fixed on Blaze. Her lips were moving in silent communion with the filly, who seemed to stand more confidently. Or was his imagination running wild? Horses did not feel confident or anything else.
“One, two, three, go .”
Bender and Rooney spurred their horses into action, galloping down track.
“Go now, lass.”
Blaze and Pegasus bolted away. The filly chased the two horses down track at an amazing speed. Blaze’s lips never stopped moving as the filly ate the distance like a starving man at a feast.
And then it happened. Pegasus flew through the hole between the two horses.
“God’s balls, she did it,” Ross shouted.
Blaze slowed the filly and turned toward the start line. He could see her smile even from this distance.
Ross helped her off the horse. Before speaking, she paused to stroke the filly’s face. “Love Peg,” he heard her whisper.
“Pegasus, I do believe ye’ll win a few races,” Ross said, patting the filly.
“What good is Blaze taking her through the hole if Rooney will be riding?” Bobby Bender argued.
Raising his brows, Ross looked at Blaze. His dark gaze demanded she answer the trainer.
“We’ll practice every day,” Blaze said, “and Peg will learn to go through the hole while I guide her from the sidelines. Communicating from a distance takes practice.”
“Time is short,” Rooney entered the argument. “Peg cannot learn by Monday.”
Ross recognized the worry in Blaze’s eyes. To her credit, she managed a confident smile for the trainer and the jockey.
Did the lass believe in miracles? Why would God grant her a miracle when so many others needed a miracle more than she?
By fair means or foul.
“Blaze will ride Pegasus in The Craven next Monday,” Ross announced, startling everyone.
“I will?” Blaze looked flabbergasted.
“I refuse to become an accomplice to this,” Bender said.
“Bobby, ye need to go along to get along,” Ross said, giving the man an easy smile. “I’ll make it worth yer while and shoulder the blame.”
“The Jockey Club will revoke your membership,” Bender warned him.
“I’ve read the book,” Ross countered, “and I canna recall any specific rule banning female jockeys.”
“Inverary will never permit his daughter to race.”
“Bobby, ye worry too much aboot life’s little thin’s,” Ross told him. “Ye should be worryin’ aboot findin’ employment if ye dinna go along with me.”
“I knew I should have stayed in bed this morning,” the trainer muttered.
“They’ll disqualify her for being female,” Rooney argued, and the trainer bobbed his head in agreement. “She won’t even make the starting line.”
“Both of ye sport red hair and freckles,” Ross said. “Once dressed for racin’, no one will suspect she isna ye.”
“What about her”—Rooney dropped his gaze to her chest—“her you-know-what?”
Ross laughed at Blaze’s blush. “She’ll bind them.” He looked straight into her blue eyes. “Give me an honest answer, lass. Do ye want to win enough to ride Peg if need be?”
Blaze bobbed her head. “I’m game.”
“Mind ye, this can only work at Newmarket,” Ross warned her. “When the horses move to Epsom, the other track willna allow deception. Ye’ll need to use the next two months trainin’ Peg to go through holes with Rooney.”
“I understand.”
“I’ve a plan that can work.” Ross looked at the trainer. “Bobby, I’d be grateful if ye showed each mornin’ for practice and escorted the lass onto the track on race day. Ye dinna need to know
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