Lessons

“So have you missed me girlie?” Luc said with a grin as he mussed up Lacey’s hair in the midst of zipping up his protective vest.

Lacey rolled her eyes but grinned before readjusting her ponytail. 

“Course you have, now how’s my colt?” he continued with another grin. 

“Good,” Lacey said as she zipped up her protective vest.

 It was early, a little past 4:30. She, Luc, Jonah, Estefan, Sal, and Carlos were the only ones in Triple Birch’s shed row. Discreet had been the name of the game. Since Jonah had made the decision to work the Ghost and Gabe in company the whole track had been buzzing about the news. They were calling it a precursor to the Derby, an early glimpse at what may be. If Lacey had been one of them she would think the same thing. It wasn't a usual thing, pitting one three year old champion against the other, the perfect Florida Derby winner against the gritty Wood Memorial victor. It wasn't usual. It wasn't done. And so the press had been talking of nothing but.  It was hoped that the early hour had dissuaded a good chunk of the press. 

“He’s quieter than I remember,” she continued as she pressed her long wispy bangs back with a fabric headband before she put her helmet on, “Took him out for a good long jog yesterday, he was nice and soft, gentle on the hands for once, that’s new.”

“I think they call that growing up,” Luc said with a smile as he pulled on his own helmet.

“Will you two quit chatting and get over here,” Jonah grumbled from his spot out in the yard between Paranormal and Gabe. Lacey rolled her eyes again, but she understood why the old man was so tense. Having as many Derby contenders as he did was bound to make anyone more than just a little anxious. Lacey slipped between the colts, both of whom were eyeing each other up. The Ghost was quiet about it, his eerie blue eye shifting back and forth to take in every inch of his opponent. Gabe's study was a bit more evident, he snorted and pawed, his eyes offering up a clear challenged. But Paranormal didn't bite. Lacey wondered if they remembered racing against one another last fall, or if the tension was just brought about by typical teen-aged masculinity.  

Gabe let out a whistle, making his previously silent challenge vocal, and incredible clear.  Although the Ghost was able to ignore the prior challenge it was apparent that the verbal call-out had gotten under his skin.  His nostrils flared, ears pricked and then pinned as he pawed at the cement snorting and making a scene.

“Well I guess he remembered that he does in fact have testicles,” Jonah muttered as he gave the grey colt a pat on the neck. For a moment that brought Paranormal back to a still stand but Gabe, who was ignoring Carlos-his groom- kept on whistling and prancing about.

“Oh stop being an idiot you stupid boy,” Lacey admonished as she gave him a sharp slap on the chest with her gloves.

The colt, having never been one to cause reason for punishment, balked at that. Within moments he had turned sullen, still glaring and snorting at Paranormal, but it was with all the passion of a kid who’d been put in the corner for being a brat.

Paranormal, by contrast, arched his neck and snorted and carried on with no concern for Sal’s shoves and pulls.

“Alright,” Jonah said as they finally got the two colts walking down to the gap, “Keep ‘em apart right up until the breeze. Lacey you let Gabe go at the sixth pole. Luc I want you to be a few lengths behind him, drop into a gallop at the seventh. I’m not looking for heroics, just a nice work in company. If either of them want to start a pissing contest you pull them up, understand? I don't want the press to have anything to talk about. Comprende?”

Both of them nodded.

It went off fine at the start. Lacey did her job, and Luc did his. Gabe, always quick to warm up and dig in moved easily into a quick clip at the six furlong pole. Paranormal fired off soon, she knew that from the sound not the sight, but being a bit slower to work up it took a few minutes until Luc brought him up into Gabe's field of vision.  Once Gabe saw the grey colt coming for him he dug in, pinned his ears, and flung himself forward. Lacey let out an admonishing sound and tugged sharply on the reins. The colt bowed his head, tucking his nose to his chest in a show of obedience and came back under Lacey a bit more fully.  For a furlong and a half the two worked nicely, Gabe ahead enough so as to not feel challenged, with Paranormal happily galloping along at the other colt's flank entirely unfazed by his position.  Then something, Lacey didn't know what, caused Gabe to jump forward his teeth clicking against the bit. The Ghost, being a horse who took pleasure in chasing others, took this encouragement. By the end of that furlong Paranormal had his nose up to Lacey's heel. Gabe pinned his ears, Paranormal charged on the outside, his left ear swiveled to the side the other pinned back. Three furlongs then, Paranormal began to stretch into himself a bit, but Gabe kept up his unrelenting speed. The nose of the grey colt began to coast at Lacey’s knee, then it was even with Gabe’s chest and then both colts were dead even. Paranormal’s breathing was labored though while Gabe’s was not, it was too quick too fast for the lanky grey. In another moment the Grey Ghost would have fallen back, but Gabe in a haze of testosterone didn't understand that. Instead he did something he’d never, ever, ever done.

He reached over, snarling, ears flat against his skull, and tore his teeth into the nearest part of Paranormal, which happened to be the colt’s shoulder.

Lacey hauled back on Gabe as fast and hard as she could. Paranormal screamed in shock and pain and then tried to take advantage of the situation and lunge his own attack on Gabe. Luc was faster though, he hauled hard on the left rein and slammed the colt down to a trot and then a walk. Within moments outriders swarmed on both colts, and they were dragged to the gap, where Jonah waited with the nearest vet.

Carlos took hold of a now anxious and bewildered Gabe, Lacey hopped off and got a good look at Paranormal, his white leg was stained with blood. The bite itself didn’t look too bad, but the colt was certainly making a scene. He was still raring to go at Gabe, teeth grinding, ears pinned, evading all attempts by Estefan to get him to stand still and quiet for the vet.

“Honestly Jonah, I had no idea that he was going to do that. I’d have pulled him up. I thought it was going well,” Lacey stammered out.

Jonah, who was attempting to aid Carlos in holding the bay colt's head managed a nod, but his voice was taut. The flashing of cameras in Lacey's peripherals didn't make the situation any better, “Just help get Paranormal back to the barn. Go.”

She made the quick decision that obeying was the smartest course of action.  With she on one side and Estefan on the other, Paranormal gave into reason and walked back to the shedrow with all the attitude of an aged school horse, the only sign of what had happened on the track was the red smear on his shoulder. Once the colt was safely within the confines of the shedrow the grooms took charge, and Lacey was quickly pushed aside.  Estefan wiped the blood off the colt’s chin and quickly unsaddled him. Gabe came in down on the other end, still jittering in place as he came down from his rage induced high. Carlos stayed at his head as Jonah quickly unsaddled the sweat soaked colt, but even with his groom attempting to distract him Gabe was still a mess. Both men kept shouting out in surprise as he swung his big frame back and forth in the narrow confines of the shedrow. 

“Joder!" she threw her helmet to the floor,"Ese hijo de puta, mierda!. Idiota perdido la maldita cabeza y no pude hacer una mierda!" she looked down to where Gabe had just nearly body slammed Carlos into the wall. 

“Es un potro ¿qué esperas?” Estefan said with a brief smile as he passed the colt’s tack to another groom, “Incluso los mejores pierden la cabeza de vez en cuando. Él es un semental de corazón, incluso si es sólo un bebé.”

“Un bebé estúpido,” she countered.

“Ya aprenderá. Míralo ahora, está molesto por ser un idiota. Caballos serán caballos.”

Lacey just rolled her eyes, "Lo que si me quita?" 

Estaban shrugged, "Luego se le quita. ¿Qué puede hacer además de lo que ya has hecho? Usted toma la culpa y seguir adelante. Eso es chica de la vida."

Lacey didn't say anymore. She wanted to snap back that it was bullshit, that the colt was a fucking moron and she did all she could, that in no way shape or form did she deserve to lose the ride. But she also knew that it had nothing to do with deserving. It was the way of life here, maybe the way of life everywhere. It wasn't fair and it wasn't about what you deserved, or thought you deserved. Which was why come the next morning when she looked at the whiteboard in the tack room and only saw the crumbs of color in the space where her name had been next to Gabe's she didn't give anyone the pleasure of her reaction. Jonah hadn't been spiteful, Eminence, Zahra, Marzanna, Paranormal (although his name now had an asterisk next to it, the note reading he'd be out of work for the next few days at least), and Cryptology were still hers, but it still hurt. Still crawled under her skin, and she let it stay there, let it linger as a lasting reminder of what failure felt like. 

***

“That’d be Scout,” Jonah said as he watched the brand new four horse van back into the shed row’s yard. The horses, curious at the sound of the truck, peered their heads out over their stall doors. Everyone on hand, which happened to be Estefan, Lacey, and Dean had stopped what they were doing and came out into the April sunshine.

The engine cut and Scout jumped out of the driver’s seat, looking harried and tired despite the smile on her face. Benicio walked around from the passenger side with two lead shanks in hand.

“How was the trip Scout?” Jonah asked as he and Dean stepped forward to unlock the ramp and top flaps.

“Hit some traffic now and again but not too bad. Wit’s a bitch to load though. Put us a good forty minutes behind,” she said as she propped her hands on her hips, looking into the revealed inside of the trailer.

Zahra, now nearly white, poked her head out first and let out a long whicker at the sight of Jonah. Lacey smiled at that. Wit was revealed beside her, hay stuck to his forelock, his eyes blinking away sleep.

“Looks like he doesn’t much mind the travel though,” Dean said as he gestured for Benicio to toss him a lead. The tall groom complied and Dean deftly worked the stud chain through the halter’s rings over and under the colt’s nose and lip. Wit, who’d probably been wearing a stud chain since he was six months old, simply wiggled his nose in reply.

Carefully Dean led the triumphant Arkansas Derby winner out and down the trailer ramp. A few press photographers lounged around and took the change to snap a few photos. The colt paid them no mind, his attention was focused immediately on the grass that lay around in spotty patches around the shed row. He unceremoniously dragged Dean to a particularly green spot and ducked his pretty head down to graze. Dean laughed.

“Hold him Lace, Estefan want to get his cooler off? I’ll unwrap his legs.”

Lacey sprung forward and took the lead of the colt, he raised his head and bumped her chest with his nose briefly before returning his attention to the more important food springing up from the ground. Lacey watched as Scout, Jonah, and Benny gave Zahra a similar treatment, although she was far more interested in scouring Jonah’s pockets for treats.

***

Paranormal sulked for days after his assault. He tried to eat out the stitches and when they put a muzzle on him he sulked harder and took to trying to rub his chest again the corner beam of his stall, so they tied him and he took it upon himself to figure out the intricacies of a quick release knot. By the second morning he was able to undo it in ten seconds flat and was back to rubbing his stitches up against any surface that could offer him relief.

Somehow Dean had been tasked with the job of entertaining the colt. It made sense, he supposed, although he hardly appreciated the demotion from assistant training to colt plaything. The grooms were swamped, with Wit and Zee back that barn was full, the two year olds had to be taught how life worked at an actual racetrack (Affinity was not adjusting well to the lack of turnout and required walks at least three times a day or else she starting screaming so loud you could practically hear her at the grandstand), and then there were the inter-horse politics. Marzanna decided that she didn’t like the way Wit gawked at her, Gabe and Paranormal began squealing at the mere sight of the other, Zahra after spending six months in a relatively quiet barn was pitching princess fits every half hour when some horse inevitably started making a fuss. In the midst of it were the two new colts. Both of them possessed the temperaments of ancient school horses and so they simply watched the chaos unfold from their side by side stalls. Occasionally they reached over and discussed this with snorting and nose bumps, but mostly they just peeked out over their stall doors and watched.

Dean, with Paranormal in hand, had become the press’s target. Jonah only left the shed row for the morning works, breakfast, and lunch. Scout was notoriously known for giving absolutely no information unless it was specifically about Crypt’s injury even though she didn’t make herself scarce. The grooms were under contract to keep their mouths shut, and took a special pleasure in frustrating the press by pretending they were incapable of understanding English. Dean, on the other hand, was charismatic, talkative, and spent the majority of his day wandering around with Paranormal trying to make sure he didn’t eat his stitches.

Naturally the press began to circle the pair like buzzards.

Dean didn’t really mind. He didn’t hate the press, he understood the necessity of it, without publications such as Blood-Horse, Thoroughbred Times, and the Daily Racing Form fans and handicappers would have no way of getting reliable information and without the fans and handicappers there would be no sport. So Dean and Paranormal, who arched his neck and posed for the photographers (he even let a few brave one’s pet him) became Churchill’s press darlings.

This was how Dean found himself giving informal interviews every day in the grassy spot of grass that Paranormal had deigned his own.

“Still no word on the filly?” a man from Blood-Horse asked.

Dean shook his head, his gaze drifting to Paranormal briefly, “We still are undecided. I know it seems simple to you guys, but we have to look at it from a bunch of ways. The filly is spectacular, but she’s particular too. If she draws an inside slot it’s over and the Derby is a big field.  We have her career to think about, she was a quick developing juvenile and at her size who knows how long she’ll last. We don’t want to make that end come quicker by tossing her up into the Derby. It’s a hard field this year, a lot of good colts. She’s never known hard and we aren’t sure if the Derby is the place to introduce her to it.”

“Can you tell us anything about the recent arrival to your shed row here? That was quite a win in Arkansas, but do you think he’s tired himself out?”

“Well,” Dean said as he let Paranormal have a few more inches of lead rope, “Wit, that’s what we call him around the barn, is a tough son of a bitch. He ran five times as a two year old, just maidens, but he still ran. This season he’s kept running too. Sometimes we think that’s all he knows how to do. But a horse peaking too early is always a concern for any trainer on the trail. Me though? No I don’t think he peaked last Saturday. He’s got more than enough in the tank for the Derby.”

“Are you at all concerned about his size? That’s a big colt.”

Dean tilted his head toward Paranormal, “Wit’s about half an inch taller than this guy here. He’s a bit lankier, rangy-like, compared to this guy, but he knows his body well. Couldn’t have tossed as many riders as he did and never hurt himself in the process if he didn’t.”

“Now,” a woman from the Thoroughbred Times said, stepping forward out of the throng, “You’re sending two speed horses to the Derby in Quick Wit and Golden Age, both prefer to run at the front.”

“Well I won’t deny that Wit’s a pacesetter. He can’t rate. I can’t tell you how many times we’ve taught him, but it never sticks. He goes for the front and sets whatever pace he’s feeling and that’s that. Golden Age is a bit more malleable. Mike Torrez is a damn good jockey, he knows the colt, has confidence in the colt, and should have no problem keeping the colt calm and relaxed throughout. We’re not worried.”

Dean said it with a convincing laugh, one the journalists returned, but he knew deep in the pit of his stomach that everyone, Scout, Jonah, Mike, were worried.

***

“They work well together don’t they,” Dean mused as he watched Jonah’s grey filly go head to head with Double Up in a brisk morning breeze.

Scout nodded, her eyes glued to the two fillies and their respective riders, Lacey on the grey and Mal Quinn on the chestnut. It was common knowledge that Mal and Scout had a thing now, which Dean found to be a little curious, Scout didn’t strike him as the type of woman to go for younger, ex-druggie, jockeys, but hey what did he know. He understood why Mal went for Scout, Scout was drop dead gorgeous, he hadn’t known that when he’d agreed to take the job, but knowing it now only made his accepting the job seem like a better idea. After all Dean never had or would object getting to work around beautiful women.

The other beautiful women, the fillies did work well together too. Zahra, wholly confident in herself at age four, served as the perfect hard ass trainer for the younger fillies. A few days ago they had worked her and Marzanna in company, Marzanna who usually dominated her work partners found herself actually having to put an effort in to push past Zahra. The older filly’s determination, not to mention her nasty faces, actually caused Marzanna to balk. They’d collectively decided then that the best way to work both of their fillies was with Zahra. Zahra would benefit from working up against a supreme talent like Marzanna and it allowed her to exercise her bitchiness in a productive way.

Everybody won.