Bullet Work
Page 21
Kyle nodded. Saying nothing was the best thing a jockey could do in this situation. Jake didn’t say anything about the prior ride, but he was making himself clear—don’t get in behind horses unless the pace was crazy.
The paddock judge called, “Riders up.”
The horses circled past them one last time. Kyle bent his outside knee and lifted his foot. Jake grabbed Kyle’s ankle and hoisted him up onto the saddle in one easy motion. “Get the money,” said Jake as he slapped Aly Dancer on the hind quarter.
Dan made his way out to the apron of the grandstand as the track announcer was introducing the field for the My Lassie Stakes. In a typical race day he would never notice the introductions unless they interrupted a conversation. But today he could hear nothing else.
“Number 4 is Aly Dancer, owned by Dan Morgan, trained by Jake Gilmore, and ridden today by Kyle Jonas.”
Dan looked up at the grandstand and saw Lennie, Milt, and TP cheering and thrusting their fists in the air. He’d never seen them do that. Not once in his life. They were making damned fools of themselves. Dan waved at them and motioned for them to sit down. It was embarrassing.
He took a deep breath and walked up the grandstand steps. Dan couldn’t sit with the gang. He needed to watch the race alone, and he had to be standing. He might actually combust if he stopped moving for ten seconds.
His heart felt like it was going to break through his ribcage and fall on the floor in front of him. Won’t be long now. Dan got in line to make a bet. They trudged slowly toward the cashier. The lines were eight to ten people long, with lots of money being laid down. More than the wager, he knew the process of waiting in line would make the time move faster.
He put $500 to win on Aly Dancer and, following Lennie’s advice, bought a fifty dollar exacta with his horse over Arestie. He didn’t box them, putting Arestie on top. That would be bad luck.
A quick glance at the TV screen showed Aly Dancer at 5-1. Shazzy Time had been bet down to 6/5. Lennie was right. In things equine, Lennie was always right. Jillite was 7/2. Built In was 6-1, and Arestie was 9-1. The other five entries were all over 18-1.
Dan walked to an open area at the top of the first landing of the grandstand, where he could watch the race. Kyle was trotting Aly Dancer alongside the lead pony. She looked majestic and confident, and Dan was shaking noticeably. “Okay, girl. Let’s see what you got.”
Chapter 52
kyle circled slowly on Aly Dancer. She had warmed up nicely, head down and tugging on the bridle. Just one race under her belt—but she knew what this was all about. The rider on the lead pony leaned slightly backward and said, “You gonna get ’em?”
“Damn straight.”
“Good luck.”
They were double loading the nine horse field, which meant the one and five were loaded into the gate together, then the two and six, and so on. Being in the four hole, Aly Dancer would be last to load before Arestie, the nine horse, completed the field. She wouldn’t have to stand long. That was good. He watched as the three horse, Pleasure Is Mine, moved forward into the gate. The lead pony rider unclipped his rope as one of the gate crew slipped a leather strap through the bridle and led Aly Dancer forward. Kyle pulled his knees up and in, and Aly Dancer smoothly walked into the gate.
“One out.”
From the grandstand Dan was not sure he was even able to breathe. Get away clean. Just get away clean.
“They’re all in line.…”
Dan leaned forward and grabbed the railing. Just get a clean break.
“And they’re off.…”
Kyle had braced for the break and balanced forward on his toes perfectly. The gates flew open.
Aly Dancer came out like a shot.
“Aly Dancer breaks on top and takes the lead…Shazzy Time on the inside…Arestie in the middle of the track.”
Dan jumped and pounded his form on the rail in front of him. My God, she broke like her tail was on fire, but Shazzy Time was right there with her.
“Down the backside they go…Aly Dancer leads three parts of a length.… Shazzy Time is second on the inside…one back to Arestie…Jillite and Pan Magic inside her…Built In a length back on the rail…two back to Pleasure Is Mine and Millet Alley…Smoke Force trails.”
Kyle had a snug grip on Aly Dancer. She was tugging at the reins. She wanted her head free. She wanted to run. Kyle had to balance frustrating his filly by restraint or risk letting her burn up all her energy and have nothing left at the end of the race. He tipped his head down and looked to each side to see where horses were around him. He tried to judge the pace. He didn’t want to go too fast early, but he also didn’t want another horse in his filly’s face.
“Aly Dancer continues to lead…Shazzy Time right there on the inside half a length back and Arestie creeps closer…opening quarter in twenty-two and three.”
Dan banged on the railing. His form was starting to shred from the beating. What the hell is he doing? Dan thought. Twenty-two and three? Is he insane? Jake had said to ride with confidence, but good lord. Shazzy Time and Arestie were cutting the same fractions, so they were all in the same boat. I’ll just die if she gets beat at the wire by a deep closer.
Kyle saw Shazzy Time move closer on the inside. They were approaching the turn, and Kyle had kept Aly Dancer in rhythm and under a slight restraint. Shazzy Time had stayed close enough that Kyle couldn’t drop Aly Dancer down onto the rail. If Barrilla wanted to move into that pace, that was more energy he had to use. Arestie was moving closer on the outside but still half a length back.
“Aly Dancer leads entering the turn.… Shazzy Time now moves up to engage the leader. Arestie is next on the outside…two back to Built In on the rail.”
Oh please, please, Dan thought. Don’t let that horse get by you. Don’t give it up. Stay in there. “Come on Aly. Come on, Kyle, God damn it.”
Kyle looked to his left and saw Barrilla grinning. He was pushing on his horse—not all out, but he was being aggressive. Kyle waited. Barrilla looked over and yelled, “See you bay—bee.”
When Shazzy Time pulled alongside, Aly Dancer saw her for the first time. She tugged on the reins, throwing her head forward. She’d pinned her ears back. She was angry. She didn’t want that horse to get by her. Kyle waited. He couldn’t wait too long, but he could wait some.
“Shazzy Time puts a head in front.… Aly Dancer is next…Arestie moving up strongly on the outside…Built In tracking those three along the rail.”
The crowd roared when the announcer called Shazzy Time ahead. At that moment Dan’s natural hatred for chalk bettors escalated. Damn it, we were the home team, he thought. Come on, Kyle, let her go. Maybe they’d hit the board, hang on for third. He wanted to win so badly, but stakes placed in her second race would be nothing to be ashamed of. She’s still a damn nice filly.
Just then he saw it.
Suddenly the race was in slow motion. Dan had been around racing long enough. He could see it. Many people unfamiliar with the sport would never see it, or, if they did, they wouldn’t understand the significance. Years of watching horses and riders had taught Dan to spot the things that mattered.
Barrilla was urging Shazzy Time with vigor. They hadn’t pulled their whips yet, but he was riding hard. Arestie was moving well, but the rider was pushing her as well.
Kyle was sitting chilly. He was just riding. “God, please be right,” Dan muttered. Kyle wasn’t asking her for run yet. He’s got a ton of horse left.
“Shazzy Time leads by a neck…Aly Dancer right there…Arestie challenging those two on the outside…half mile in 44 and 4.”
Kyle came out of the turn, threw a cross, and yelled, “Haaaah.” He
gave Aly Dancer her head, and she responded. Kyle pulled even with Barrilla.
Without looking over, Kyle shouted, “See you, asshole.”
Aly Dancer accelerated powerfully. Kyle shifted his weight slightly, and she changed leads, digging for home. This was what she wanted. She opened up and extended her long stride.
She covered ground like a Ferrari coming out of a turn and screaming into the straightaway.
She steadily moved past Shazzy Time and was soon clear on the inside, but Arestie was right there on her outside like she was glued to her hip.
Dan was holding a string of tattered newspaper. He threw it on the ground and pounded on the rail with the palm of his hand. “Come on. Yes. Come on, baby. Show them you got heart. Show ’em what you got.”
“Aly Dancer moving powerfully—she retakes the lead…Arestie on the outside.… Shazzy Time is losing pace…Built In making a move toward the inside.”
Kyle was pushing and scrubbing on her neck with his knuckles. He could hear the whip crack, as Dagens hit Arestie. Was it possible? Arestie was gaining on the outside. Stride by stride Arestie was eating into their lead. How could we go those fractions and she’s been outside me? How can she have anything left? Kyle kept urging, “Come on, come on, baby.” He flashed the whip along the right side of Aly Dancer’s head. Give me a little more; let’s put this other one away.
“Arestie moves up alongside Aly Dancer…these two down the stretch.… Built In is third, two back.”
Kyle couldn’t wait much longer. He had to go to his whip. She was tiring, but he knew she was giving everything she had. Arestie had to be tiring as well. She’d been in an extended drive since the three-sixteenths pole.
If Kyle could create a little space between them, he could hold Arestie off. Just one surge, just a little space—they could break Arestie’s heart.
Kyle raised his whip and cracked Aly Dancer; she lunged and dug in. He switched hands with the whip like he’d done thousands of times and smacked her twice on the left side. She responded. She ducked her head slightly and looked right toward Arestie as if to taunt her. Two jumps later she had her head in front of Arestie.
That’s when Kyle heard the snap.
Part Four
Down the Stretch
Fillies were simply different
from their male counterparts—and not merely in matters of reproduction.
Fillies exhibited pain thresholds significantly
higher than colts. Maybe it was a genetic inheritance that prepared the female species for the pain of birthing. Maybe it was a kind of focus and determination the male equines don’t possess.
Great fillies would occasionally beat
great colts, but more often than not a comparable male could beat a comparable female. That’s why they rarely raced against one another.
Genetics made males bigger and stronger, but it gave females the will to win in spite of the pain.
That’s how AJ could convince a frightened mare to run through a burning wall. For the desired outcome, a female race horse would run through all levels of pain, would run beyond the load supported by tender bones, would push ligaments to the point they snapped like a taut rubber band.
The heart of great fillies should never be questioned. Down through the ages they have come—Ruffian, Go For Wand, Eight Belles.
From all corners of the racing world they waited impatiently for that special one. When she appeared, they watched, breathlessly, awestruck by the brilliance, the speed, the beauty.
Deep inside they knew they were watching something magical, something that stopped time, and they never wanted it to end—something beyond skin, and bones, and muscle. They were watching a symphony in motion. They were watching Picasso at an easel. In that moment they were peering over God’s shoulder.
Fillies of this caliber were never beaten; they succumbed, reluctantly, only to their own hearts.
That kind of filly became a selfless victim of her desire to win, her desire to please, her desire to compete, her desire to run fast despite conditions.
For that kind of filly, the heart pushed her to a place the body was simply incapable of following.
Chapter 53
kyle recognized the sound. He had heard it before, and it made his stomach quiver. Arestie was trying to get past his horse, but Kyle’s filly was running her guts out to stay in front. The next instant, they were alone. Kyle turned to look, even though he didn’t need to. He knew what he would see.
“Arestie and Aly Dancer…strongly toward the wire…three back to…Arestie’s down…Arestie’s fallen on the track. Aly Dancer alone to the wire.… Built In will run second with Smoke Force third.”
The groan from the grandstand was seismic. Arestie fell forward, catapulting Dagens onto the track. Arestie crashed into the racing surface and flipped tail over head. Dagens hit the track face-first. He bounced and pin wheeled down the track, his arms and legs flailing like a rag doll thrown out of a speeding automobile. Arestie crashed in one final gut-wrenching collision with the track. She landed no more than four feet from where Dagens lay motionless, facedown on the track.
The jockeys went into emergency control and attempted to guide their mounts around the injured horse and jockey. Some were still trying to get in contention for a check; others were just trying to avoid another pileup by veering clear. They knew the horse, they knew the silks, and they knew the jockey. But most of all they knew it could be them down on the track.
A slip here, a shift there, a young horse, an unpredicted injury, someone moving the wrong way at the wrong time and they could be the one on the track. They rode without fear, but they knew what fear was. Now it was a jumble of bones and flesh down on the track.
The grooms for each horse stood near the finish line so they could put a cinch on their horse when they returned to the unsaddling area near the winner’s circle. They were the first to respond. Arestie and Dagens lay about sixty yards from the finish line. Half a dozen men raced toward them.
Kyle rode Aly Dancer to and through the finish line. He stood in the stirrups, bent over at the waist, and eased Aly Dancer. He had just won the largest stakes races of his career. It would be one of his biggest paydays. He had first call on an undefeated two-year-old filly. He knew she had more potential and natural talent than any horse he’d ever climbed on, but now fear gripped him. He looked down and swallowed hard as Aly Dancer galloped out. He had to lean off to the right side so the vomit wouldn’t land on Aly Dancer.
Like the rest of the crowd, Dan cringed visibly when Arestie fell. He didn’t even watch his horse cross the finish line. His eyes were glued on the horse and rider tumbling onto the track. From the first landing of the grandstand, he watched several grooms race toward the fallen competitors. Dagens wasn’t moving. He was facedown on the track. One of the grooms was down on his hands and knees, trying to talk to Dagens. The groom quickly sat upright and motioned for assistance. Dagens didn’t move.
Arestie was trying to get up, and she screamed out in pain. Dan could see that her front legs were broken. She tried to get her front legs under her, but she would collapse, only to try again.
These were proud animals. They lived on their feet; they slept on their feet. They did everything on their feet. Not being able to stand made no sense in a horse’s world. The pain mixed with the fear caused Arestie to try even harder to get to her feet. Her genetic code was firing off a singular message to her brain. Get on your feet.
The grooms had reached her and were trying to keep her down. She was fighting them with everything she had. They were trying to prevent more damage and to calm her. It was a fight that was unwinnable.
The ambulance sped onto the track and rapidly approached the scene. In the distance Dan could see the vet trailer being brought onto the track from the backside. The vet trailer was a state-of-the-art equine medical vehicle. It provided the means for injure
d horses to get transported off the track and be surrounded by medical care to aid and care for the animal.
In the corner of his eye Dan witnessed a vision he’d seen before, a hop and run, a hop and run. AJ had jumped the fence and was moving as quickly as he could toward the horse.
Emotions were running raw. It was the frustration of trying to help the horse while knowing the situation was dire. Keith Kimbrough had run over to the spot where Arestie was being held. He knelt next to her and tried to hold her neck down so she wouldn’t have the leverage to attempt to get up again.
AJ was moving as quickly as he could. He looked to his right and saw the ambulance go past him. The ambulance would park nearer the finish line to allow them to treat Dagens but also to provide room for the emergency vet van to get near Arestie.
AJ never saw it coming. He hopped and ran in his unique way until he was about ten feet from the horse. Kimbrough’s groom, the one Dan called Romeo, threw a roundhouse punch that completely cold-cocked AJ. Dan ran down the stairs toward the apron. He had to get to AJ.
The impact of the punch nearly lifted AJ off the ground. He spun with the motion of the right cross and flew backward, landing face first on the track. The blindsided punch should have rendered him unconscious. It should have broken his neck.
Amazingly, he scrambled to his hands and knees and continued toward the horse. The groom tried to knee AJ to keep him away, but the boy kept crawling. There were several men standing near the horse, including Vic Dancett, who was talking to Kimbrough. AJ crawled between the legs of the standing men and reached forward to place his hands on the horse.
Arestie suddenly went quiet. She continued to breathe powerfully but didn’t struggle to move or get up. AJ was shaking and convulsing. Blood was pouring from his mouth and nose, covering the horse and the dirt track. AJ was crying out something unintelligible, and several men stepped away. The boy’s entire body was in a tremor, sweat was streaming off him, and tears ran down his face, mixing with the blood.