Jockey Girl

by Shelley Peterson

  Evie did not say what she was thinking, that the horse’s name was No Justice. “Oh!” she exclaimed. “My exams. I have two exams tomorrow. I write history at nine!”

  “I know,” said Aunt Mary. “Don’t worry, I’ll have you back in lots of time. You ride at six. We cool him out. We load him up and bring him home. I drop you off at school by eight-fifteen at the latest. Lots of time. If you agree.”

  “I do!” Evie inhaled and relaxed her shoulders. “Okay. And Beebee and Jordie?”

  “They’ll get ready for school by themselves tomorrow and catch the bus at the end of the lane. They’ll be fine.”

  “You thought of everything. Thank you. Both.” Evie surprised Aunt Mary by hugging her tightly and totally startled Jerry by turning to hug him, too. Then she ran to the house to study. She couldn’t stand still for one minute more. Magpie raced along with her.

  The next morning Evie and Mary were up at four, quietly getting ready to go. They whispered and tiptoed around the house so as not to awaken Beatrice or Jordie.

  By four-thirty the dogs were fed, and breakfast cereal, bananas, orange juice, and muffins were on the counter. The kids’ lunches were made and their clothes laid out. Lastly, Mary wrote a note of instructions and taped it to the fridge.

  They walked down to the barn with the dogs at their heels. Dawn was creeping up the horizon with a pinkish glow, and the morning air was fresh. Mary got the truck and trailer set up with hay and a large container of water. She packed the racing saddle, leg wraps, cooling blanket, and brushes.

  While Mary organized the equipment, Evie went out to bring Kazzam in from the field and to polish him up.

  To her surprise, Christieloo was in the same field, grazing right alongside him! She must have jumped over the fence sometime in the night. The minute she led Kazzam into the barn, Evie said, “Aunt Mary, you’ll never guess! Kazzam and Christieloo were out together and totally happy!”

  Mary smiled. “I wondered if that might happen. They’re very fond of each other and have been since the first day.”

  “Should we keep them together?”

  “Yes. Otherwise, she’ll jump back anyway, or worse, he’ll jump in with all three and that might be quite … eventful.”

  Evie knew exactly what she meant. Horses are very territorial and the other geldings might gang up on the new guy. “Not good before the big race.”

  Evie turned her attention to Kazzam. The black horse could sense Evie’s excitement. He was extra alert, with his nostrils a little more flared than normal and his ears a bit more forward. “You’re quite right, boy,” she told him as she picked out his feet, “Today is a very important day. But you know what to do. Just run. That’s what you like to do, so just do it.”

  Evie led Kazzam onto the trailer and they were ready to go. She shivered with nerves. Mary hugged her and said, “You’ll be fine. It’s in your blood. Let’s get going!”

  By five-fifteen the Parson’s Bridge trailer stopped at the stable gate. This time, Magpie was not in the truck and they were allowed through. Jerry Johnston was waiting, his truck idling on the other side.

  He waved through his open window. “Just in time. Follow me.”

  Evie’s eyes took in everything. It seemed early to her, but the place was bustling with activity. They drove past the staff barracks and the backstretch, and along the dirt road between long, low horse barns. Horses were being led or ridden, cars were moving around, and people of all ages, heights, and weights seemed to be everywhere. She saw a truck delivering feed. There were veterinarians, one examining a horse’s leg, another checking eyes. Over at one of the long, lean-to buildings housing rows of stalls, referred to as shed-rows, was a farrier, hammering on a shoe.

  Mary had been right. This place was a world unto itself.

  Evie was mesmerized. So close to the biggest, most modern city in Canada, and yet these scenes could’ve taken place a hundred years ago. Well, except for the vehicles, she thought. But nonetheless, it felt romantic to Evie, and she wanted to drink it in. Her neck swivelled left and right in her effort to miss nothing.

  “Jerry’s pulling in here,” said Aunt Mary. “This is the plan. It’s quite simple. He’ll look after the people, we’ll look after the horse.” She parked her rig beside Jerry’s truck.

  Evie nodded. “Suits me.” Jerry’s job sounded too complicated to her, anyway, with three of this and three of that plus the official starter.

  Jerry glanced briefly at Mary and Evie, then pointed to a building. Mary waved and called, “We’ll meet you at the starting gate.” Jerry nodded and walked in.

  Evie climbed into the trailer through the little side door beside Kazzam’s head. She gently patted his nose and scratched him under his chin. “Remember what I told you? Just run, nothing else. No nonsense, No Justice. Let’s have some fun on the big-boy track.”

  Mary handed her the bridle. Evie slipped off his halter and replaced it with the bridle. She appreciated how he opened his mouth to take the bit. “Saddle?” she called through the side door. Mary passed her the saddle, and Evie dropped the chest bar so she could step beside him and safely place it on his back. She slowly tightened the girth until it was secure.

  Evie needed a moment to collect herself. She stood beside her beautiful gelding and took a long look at him. Kazzam’s ebony coat gleamed with health. He held his head proudly and his ears were alert. His eyes were calm but had the sparkle of spirit. Evie gazed at his graceful, long neck, his perfect legs, and his wide chest. “You are a great horse. Today, we’ll show them you belong here. It’s in your blood.”

  Aunt Mary poked her head over the rear ramp. “Time to go. Are you ready?”

  “Ready.”

  Mary dropped the ramp and unhooked the tail guard. Evie backed Kazzam off the trailer and onto the dirt. He raised his head as he smelled the air. He sniffed in all four directions and snorted loudly, then he opened his mouth and whinnied. Loudly. Other horses returned his greeting, and suddenly the air was vibrant with the primitive calls of wild horses.

  Funny, Evie thought. We people think it’s all about us, but horses have their own society with their own language and their own objectives. This was a perspective that Evie hoped always to remember.

  Mary interrupted her thoughts. “Jerry gave me the signal. Let’s get you mounted.” She gave her a leg up on the count of three. “Okay. Come this way.”

  Evie, riding Kazzam, followed her great-aunt along the dirt road past all the shed-rows. Kazzam was excited and danced a little, but Evie knew he was not fearful. She felt quite elegant on this stunning black beauty and thought that people must be admiring her horse as they passed.

  They turned right and headed for the tunnel under the turf course. Horses and riders passed them, going in the opposite direction, having already completed their daily exercise.

  When they emerged from the shady tunnel, the track appeared in front of them, huge and panoramic. Evie took it all in, looking around at the endless Polytrack surrounded by the wide turf track, with the enormous grass infield in the middle of the oval. Wow, thought Evie. It’s gigantic. Her heart raced. She inhaled slowly, trying to contain her excitement.

  So this is how it looks from the back of a horse. She’d watched countless races, a few times in person, but mostly on television, and the track had looked so much smaller. Less scary. But this is good scary.

  Kazzam, too, was feeling thrilled. He pranced sideways and arched his neck until his nose touched his chest. “Easy, boy,” soothed Evie. “No monkey business. It’s me up here, remember?” She rested her hands on his taut neck and scratched his neck through his silky mane with her fingers. “Just you and me. We’ll be fine.”

  “Evie?” called Jerry. His voice seemed faraway.

  Evie looked around and spotted the trainer in a small crowd of people. These were the people who would deem Kazzam fit to race or not, and accept or reject her as an apprentice jockey. She counted ten people, plus Mary.

  Three steward
s, three jockeys, three trainers, including Jerry, and an official starter. Aunt Mary stood out. She was wearing her bright red shirt and was easy to spot.

  Jerry pointed several times to somewhere behind her, and hollered again. “Evie!”

  “Yes?” She yelled to be heard.

  “Follow those horses and get ... in ... the ... gate!”

  Three horses cantered past her.

  “These horses?”

  “Yes! Those horses!”

  Evie turned Kazzam and began to trot in the same direction. Up ahead was a tall, roofed, white starting gate on wheels, which had been towed onto the track. There were places for up to eight horses, all lined up in a row.

  Kazzam got jumpier and jumpier as they neared. “Please, Kazzam. Please. This is our last chance.” She let him canter and prayed he would behave himself.

  Kazzam lowered his neck and shook his head in agitation. He hopped, but didn’t buck. He allowed Evie to slow him as they arrived at the gate. The other horses were already locked in.

  There were two men waiting for her: the assistant starters. They indicated that she ride into the empty spot at the end. Her throat held an enormous lump and she couldn’t speak, so Evie nodded. She hoped Kazzam couldn’t tell how nervous she was.

  Who am I fooling? she asked herself. He knows me better than I know myself. With that thought, she chuckled and relaxed. “You’re doing better than I am, Kazzam,” she said aloud.

  “Pardon?” asked the older man.

  Evie opened her mouth to answer, but he didn’t give her a chance.

  “Did you call him ‘Kazzam’?” he questioned.

  The young man asked the older man, “Like, as in the horse that Molly Peebles rode?”

  The older man nodded. “The deaf girl.”

  Evie breathed deeply and smiled brightly. She had no idea how to correct their misunderstanding. Anyway, she needed all her concentration for the task ahead.

  “My daughter wants to be just like Molly here,” the older man said. He took hold of Kazzam’s bridle to lead him in.

  Kazzam did not like people doing that, and he swerved away from the man’s grasp. Evie waved her apology and pointed to herself to indicate that she’d get him in place herself.

  Both men stepped back. The younger one said, “Go ahead,” with exaggerated facial movements.

  “Okay, boy,” she whispered. “Easy does it.” One hesitant step at a time, the horse entered the box.

  “Go, Molly!” and “Good luck!” said the men as they clanked the gate shut behind the trembling horse.

  Evie looked down the endless stretch of track ahead and waited for the bell to ring.

  17

  Win, Win, Lose, Lose

  “Dear Lord of creatures great and small, please prove to these judges that Kazzam is fit to race in the Queen’s —”

  The starting bell rang. Just like in the Caledon Horse Race, Kazzam stalled. Again, Evie watched as her competitors raced away, this time kicking up stinging pellets of Polytrack instead of dust.

  “— Plate. Amen.”

  Perched high on her little jockey saddle, Evie couldn’t squeeze her legs to hang on, so she pressed her feet into him. She knew to be patient, to let him decide when to go. Was he waiting to see what strategy was needed? Did he want to avoid the crush of horses at the start? Whatever his reason, Evie remembered how far he’d leaped the last time. She grabbed as much mane as she could and leaned way forward.

  “Please go, Kazzam,” she whispered.

  A second passed. And another. Each second was interminable.

  “Soon, Kazzam?”

  Kazzam sprang out of the gate like a giant kangaroo. Evie held on with every fibre of her body. He accelerated from zero to thirty miles an hour in seconds.

  This is fast, she thought. Very fast. Yet even as she thought he’d neared his top speed, he stretched out and ran faster, closing the gap with every stride.

  Evie had read that the fastest recorded speed of a Thoroughbred racehorse was Petro Jay in 1982, at Turf Paradise in Arizona. He was clocked at 40.18 miles an hour. Faster than Spectacular Bid at 38.2 and Secretariat at 37.5. Why she was thinking statistics at this moment baffled her.

  Kazzam’s pace was still surging. Evie was on top of a galloping machine. Tears streamed down her face as they rushed onward into the wind.

  Kazzam was running so fast the three horses ahead of him appeared to be standing still. The small black horse ran wide to the right and passed them all on the outside — one, two, three — effortlessly! He was hurtling now, nose straight ahead and legs flying.

  Evie loved his great spirit, his desire to win, and she knew he would use every ounce of his courage until the job was done. He powered past and left the others completely and utterly defeated.

  The assistant starters appeared with flags waving, ending the race. Evie couldn’t see clearly through her blurry eyes, but she swore they were both grinning.

  She lifted her weight off Kazzam’s back and rode him around the bend, asking him to slow. His speed diminished incrementally until his gallop became a canter, then a lope, then a trot, and finally a walk. Evie patted his neck, first with her right hand and then with her left. “Thank you. Kazzam, you are truly a champion.”

  Aunt Mary, with her bright red shirt, came running out from the group of people, waving her arms. Evie could see she was very excited. “Evie! Beautifully done!”

  Evie rode over to her aunt and hopped to the ground. Mary hugged her tightly. “Do you have any idea how fast you were running?”

  “You mean Kazzam,” corrected Evie as she caught her breath. “I just sat on him.”

  “Yes, of course. Kazzam, actually No Justice, was clocked at 37.6 miles an hour!”

  Evie beamed. “Faster than Secretariat and slower than Petro Jay.”

  “You’ve certainly been studying up on racing,” said Mary with undisguised admiration.

  Evie nodded and hugged Kazzam’s neck. “I’ve got a racehorse. Why wouldn’t I?”

  Jerry Johnston appeared at their sides. He could hardly contain himself. “Slam dunk. Well ridden. Thought you’d lost it out of the gate, but —” he paused and shook his head in disbelief “— but, wow, child, you can ride.”

  Evie was touched by the man’s sincerity. “Thank you,” she said. “Do you think Kazzam can run this Sunday?”

  Jerry swallowed, fidgeted, and sniffed. “These people need to conference and make a final decision before we know for sure.” He looked over his shoulder. “But if they decide against him, there’s no justice in this world.”

  There it was again. Did Jerry know what he’d said? “No justice as in No Justice or as in no justice?” she asked.

  Jerry looked startled. “My, my,” he said with a sheepish smile. “I won’t say that again!”

  Mary looked at her watch. “It’s six-fifteen,” she said. “Let’s cool out No Justice and get on our way. Your history exam is beckoning.”

  “And then my English,” added Evie.

  Jerry put his hands on his hips and studied Evie with approval. “Write your exams with a light heart. No Justice was a gent and you rode magnificently.” He waved goodbye to Evie and Mary as they walked back to the shed-rows and their trailer with Kazzam. “I’ll be in touch!”

  Mary patted Evie’s back. “You really impressed those people, dear. They were a bit negative starting out, about both No Justice and you. Him because they were certain he was dangerous, and you because they don’t like jockeys under eighteen years old. Especially girls, most of them.”

  “What did they say after the race?”

  “They were amazed at No Justice’s speed, for one. And how gutsy he is, even in a hopeless situation, so far behind. But the real test is that they have to be satisfied that he isn’t a danger to himself, his jockey, or to other horses in a race. In my opinion he passed with flying colours.”

  “And my age?”

  Mary grinned. “At first you seemed quite young and confused, really,
when you didn’t know where the starting gate was and all that. As soon as they saw how you waited for No Justice to decide to run, then let him run a perfect race, they changed their minds, one by one.”

  “Who was the first?”

  “Imogene Watson.”

  Evie stopped walking. “Imogene Watson? She was there, watching? She was one of the three jockeys?”

  Mary’s eyes glowed. “Yes. She was the first to say you deserve a chance to become an apprentice.”

  Evie’s entire body was covered in goose bumps. “Oh my gawd! Imogene won the Queen’s Plate in 2007!” She looked back, hoping to see her hero.

  “You’ll meet her one day, Evie. Just not today. We’ve got to get you to school on time.”

  Both of Evie’s exams went well. She loved both subjects. If two exams had to be on the same day, it was lucky that it was these two.

  History was even fun to write, since it was mostly true and false with three essay questions that she chose out of nine possibilities. She thought she might have aced it.

  Between exams, she’d gone outside to eat her lunch while brushing up for English. She’d enjoyed reading the books they were taking — though not as much as Elizabeth Elliot novels — and felt ready for that section. Evie felt good about how she did in the grammar section, too.

  At three o’clock, she sat on the wide stone steps in front of the school and waited for Aunt Mary to pick her up. The sun felt warm on her face. Evie put her bookbag behind her head and leaned back with her eyes closed. Now that her work was done, her whole body relaxed. What a perfect day, she thought, smiling to herself. The test race had been utterly thrilling, and two exams were over.

  “Sleeping Beauty, I presume?”

  Evie sat up and looked into the grinning face of Mark Sellers. His eyes shone bright chestnut in the sunlight, and his dark-brown hair gleamed.

  “So who are you, the handsome prince or the bad fairy?”

  He plunked his bag on the steps and sat beside her. “Just call me Handsome.”

  “Great nickname.”

  “Thanks.” Mark nudged her with his arm. “People are talking about you.”