Jockey Girl

by Shelley Peterson

  As soon as Christieloo was in a forward trot, making a large circle to the left, Evie put more leg on and sat down squarely. She tapped the mare’s side with her right leg. Immediately Christieloo began to canter on her left lead. More of a lope, Evie thought. Quite easy to ride and very manageable, even bareback. They cantered in loops to the left, loops to the right, and when Evie decided to canter the figure eight, Christieloo swapped her leads perfectly.

  “You’re amazing!” called Evie. “Utterly amazing!”

  “No kidding!” a voice answered from the fenceline.

  “Aunt Mary!” Evie brought Christieloo to a halt and walked her over to the fence, all the while wondering how to explain. With a tough exam tomorrow, she really should not have been outside her room, let alone on a horse that she’d been told had problems. How much trouble was she in?

  Aunt Mary’s mouth was not smiling. Not a good sign.

  “I know I should’ve waited. I’m sorry. I couldn’t study because I’m too worried about Beebee and Jordie and mostly my mother, so I came outside just to breathe fresh air, then I sort of found myself thinking about riding Christieloo.”

  “I’m not mad, Evie. I’m quite pleased that you’ve made such progress. I had no idea how much Christieloo knew. I haven’t been on her back yet.”

  “Really?” Evie slid to the ground and praised the mare. “Good girl, Christieloo. Good girl.”

  “The minute I put the bit in her mouth she started misbehaving. Her teeth have been checked and they’re fine, so there’s no problem there.”

  “I didn’t use a bridle. Maybe the bit is her problem.”

  She removed the halter and rubbed her soft nose. As soon as Christieloo realized she was free, she spun and bucked, then trotted off to graze beside Kazzam, who welcomed her with a quiet nicker.

  Evie turned back to her aunt. “But really? You haven’t been on her back? She was so eager to be good. I love her!”

  Aunt Mary smiled. “You have a wonderful way with horses, Evie. You’re gentle with them. And patient. They trust you, and you teach them how to learn.”

  Evie felt herself blush. “Thanks, Aunt Mary. I thought you looked mad.”

  “You had me worried, I have to admit. You shouldn’t have done this alone. You know that, don’t you?”

  Evie nodded. “I do. It might’ve gone wrong.”

  “And when it goes wrong, it goes wrong quickly. You might’ve gotten yourself, and this nice little mare, into serious trouble.”

  Evie dropped her head. She knew it was true. “I know. I’m sorry.”

  “Well, everything turned out fine. Just don’t do it again. Or I will be mad. Very mad. Come help me unload the groceries. Do you know everything you need to know for your science exam?”

  Evie whistled through her teeth unhappily. She’d felt so lighthearted while she was riding Christieloo, and now all that good feeling drained from her body.

  Mary put her arm around her shoulders as they walked to the truck. “Can I help?”

  Evie shook her head. “No. Unless you can tell me that Beebee and Jordie are okay and that my mother isn’t lying doped up in a ditch.” She shrugged theatrically, trying to lighten up the serious things she’d just listed. “That’s all. And that my science exam is cancelled.”

  Aunt Mary picked up the theme. “Tall order. I’m not sure I can make those three wishes come true. How about some peanut butter with chocolate-chunk ice cream instead?”

  Evie made an effort to put her worries aside and smiled. “It’s worth a try.”

  They carried in the bags of groceries and put the food away. The dogs were underfoot, hoping for a spill or good will. Aunt Mary ordered them out. “Scat, ungrateful brutes,” she said as she opened the door, then shut it behind them. “Give them an inch.”

  The phone rang. “I’ll get it,” said Mary. “You get your ice cream.” She picked up the receiver. “Hello?”

  Evie was scooping a generous amount of delicious-looking ice cream into a bowl when she glanced at her aunt and stopped in mid-scoop. Aunt Mary looked dumbstruck.

  “Who is it?” whispered Evie.

  Mary ignored her. “Why do you think she’d be here?” asked Mary. “Uh-huh. Well, she’s not in.”

  Evie stepped closer and tried to hear. Mary pulled away and said into the phone, “I’d rather you didn’t, actually. Thanks, and goodbye.”

  Evie waited expectantly.

  “The press. It’s that reporter, Chet Reynolds, who broke the story about Molly Peebles.”

  “What does he want?”

  “What do they all want? A story.”

  “Didn’t you tell me that one of the reasons people are glad I’m racing is the publicity for the Queen’s Plate? Molly Peebles, Kazzam, outlaw horse, all that?”

  Mary nodded. “Yes, I did say that, didn’t I?” She opened the fridge and placed the lettuce in the crisper. Then she straightened. “It was a reflex. I hate people nosing around, but you’re right. This time, we want publicity. Even so, we can’t appear too eager.”

  The phone rang again. Evie looked at her aunt. Mary nodded. Evie took a deep breath and picked up, expecting the reporter. “Hello?”

  “Evie?” It was Beatrice.

  “Beebee! Are you and Jordie okay? Where are you?”

  “We’re fine. Mom took us to Newmarket.”

  Beatrice sounded strong and impatient, to Evie’s relief. Gone was the hesitant tone of her message.

  “Is Sella there with you?”

  “No, she’s fired, but Mom has a, well, friend here and that’s who we’re living with.”

  “I was worried! Is everything okay?”

  “If you’re asking if I miss you, I don’t.”

  Evie grinned. The old Beebee was back in full glory. “Can I talk to Jordie?”

  Long seconds passed before Evie heard the little boy’s voice. “Evie? I miss you. I made Beebee call the number Aunt Mary gave me.”

  “I’ll see you soon, Jordie. I’ll come visit, okay?”

  “Come soon. Mom came to school and took us here. It’s okay here. I thought you’d worry, but we’re okay.”

  “You’re a good boy, Jordie,” said Evie, her eyes full of tears. “I was worried. Really worried, but now I’m not. Thanks for calling. Can I call you, too? Can I have your number?”

  Beatrice came back on the line. She read out the number and then said, “Bye.” The line went dead.

  Evie hung up and turned to Aunt Mary. “I’m so glad they’re okay. They’re somewhere in Newmarket at a friend of Paulina’s. At least they’re safe.”

  The phone rang again. Mary and Evie were startled.

  “Three in a row?” said Mary. “We’re suddenly very popular. This time, I’ll get it. Next time it’s your turn.” She answered the phone. “Hello? ... Yes, Chet. Evie just got in. She’s right here.” Mary held it out for Evie to take.

  Evie put the carton of ice cream back in the fridge and took a big spoonful of chocolatey, peanuty deliciousness from her bowl. Mmm, it tasted good!

  “Evie?” asked Mary, pointing at the receiver.

  “Like you said,” Evie said softly. “We can’t appear too eager.” She swallowed her mouthful and took the phone from her aunt.

  “Hello Mr. Reynolds, this is Evie Gibb. Just a minute, please.” Evie covered the receiver with her hand, stared at her aunt, and flicked her head. She couldn’t pay attention with Mary’s face right up to the phone.

  “Sorry,” whispered Aunt Mary. She walked over to the kitchen area and noisily began to prepare dinner.

  “You’re where? Here?” Evie looked out the kitchen door and there, through the door window, stood the reporter. “Persistent or something?” she asked, and hung up.

  “Why’d you hang up on him?” asked Mary, bewildered.

  Evie didn’t answer. She walked to the door and opened it. “Chet Reynolds, meet Mary Parson. Mary Parson, meet Chet Reynolds.”

  Chet was average height and dark-haired. He’d shaved si
nce Evie had talked to him at the Maple Mills gates and had either brushed his hair or got it cut. Whichever, he looked a lot more presentable than the last time she’d seen him, and he stood at the doorway, uncertain of his welcome.

  Mary dried her hands and said, “Please come in, young man. Have a seat over there and I’ll get you something. Tea? Coffee? Beer?”

  “Thanks, Ms. Parson. I’d love some of that ice cream.”

  He smiled at Evie, who filled another bowl and took both bowls over to the sofa, where Mary had indicated. Chet sat down and said, “I won’t take up much of your time.”

  Evie had to get a confession out of the way. “I was acting like a spoiled snob when I told you to go away before, you know? After the Caledon Race, at my father’s farm?”

  Chet nodded slowly. “You made a very believable rich brat. So, who are you really?”

  Evie blushed. She always did it at the wrong time. “I’m just me. Evie Gibb. I would’ve been in deep trouble if my father found out I took Kazzam, so I had to lose you.”

  Chet laughed. “You didn’t lose me, in spite of your act.”

  That remark made Evie angry. “Your story caused me a lot of trouble! I had to run away with Kazzam.”

  Chet nodded. “And you came here, to your Aunt Mary’s? Have you always been close?”

  “I’d never met her before. She’s my mother’s aunt, and she sent me a birthday card with a message —”

  Mary interrupted as she set down a tray with coffee, a creamer, and sugar bowl. A few chocolate-chip cookies were on a plate beside the coffee. “Evie has a big exam tomorrow, Chet. We’ll have to get to the point.”

  “Five minutes, ten max. As soon as I’ve finished this delicious ice cream. And a cookie. And a cup of coffee. It all smells great.”

  Mary sat down beside Evie. She took her hand and squeezed it. Evie glanced at her. Mary shook her head slightly and said, “Evie’s sixteen years old, Chet. I’d like you to remember that when you write this piece. Can we keep family matters out of it?”

  Chet took a spoonful of ice cream. “Very good,” he said.

  “You didn’t answer my question.”

  “Family is the really interesting thing about this story.”

  “In that case, I hate to be rude, but this interview is over.”

  Evie sat up straight. “What about the story of the Queen’s Plate and Canadian horse racing? Isn’t that interesting? Established in 1860 by Queen Victoria. Great horses like Northern Dancer, Alydeed, and Izvestia cleaned up. Izvestia still has the fastest time ever at a mile and a quarter — two minutes, one and four-fifths seconds — in 1990.”

  She took a breath and went on, with some urgency. “Let me tell you what to write, Chet. This is the story of No Justice, a little black horse with a great heart, who never got a fair shake. He’s ready to prove himself in Canada’s most prestigious race, the first jewel in the Canadian Triple Crown, followed by the Prince of Wales and the Breeders’ Stakes. No Justice is about to have justice served! Isn’t that a great story?”

  Chet and Mary stared at Evie. Chet began to smile. “A horse story.” He set down his coffee cup. “Make you a deal. I’ll write the horse story. If you win the Plate, you tell me the people story.”

  Evie didn’t want Aunt Mary to tell her not to do this.

  She stood up quickly. “Yes. That’s a deal. But you have to tell the right horse story. I’ll give you all the details. Kazzam’s breeding, his training, his problems. And if you sneak in any personal stuff I don’t like, the deal is off when we win.”

  “If you win.”

  “Right. If we win.” Evie touched the wooden arm of her chair so she wouldn’t jinx herself.

  Chet considered this. “I’m not used to people writing my stories for me.”

  “I’m not used to talking to reporters or riding in the Queen’s Plate.”

  “Point taken. We’ll find our way as we go. What am I allowed to say about you in the first article?”

  “Say whatever you like, just don’t bring my family into it. Just yet.”

  Chet smiled at her again. “I’ll do my part. For this to work for me, you can’t talk to any other reporters about this. I want the story exclusively.”

  Evie shook his hand. “You have my word.”

  “I’m a witness,” said Aunt Mary. She put her arm around Evie’s shoulders. “Now scoot, Mr. Reporter. This girl has a big exam tomorrow.”

  “I’m gone,” he said to Evie, and smiled knowingly. “I actually believe you might win. See you at the finish line.”

  19

  Temptation

  Evie woke up on Tuesday with the knowledge that she was about to fail her science final. Absolutely nothing had seeped into her brain, and she’d studied well into the night. She turned her head and looked at the clock on the bedside table. Six o’clock. The alarm was set for six-thirty.

  Magpie lifted her head from her doggy bed beside Evie’s and flapped her ears loudly. Her eyes were bright and intense, ready and eager to begin her day. Evie put her pillow over her head and tried to ignore her. The dog stood up and stretched herself from sleek head to long toes, then poked her nose under the pillow and nudged Evie in the cheek with her cool black nose.

  “Go back to sleep.”

  Magpie wagged her slender tail and shook her ears again.

  Evie gave in. “You need to go out. Aargh.”

  She and her dog tiptoed downstairs, only to find Aunt Mary already up, dressed, and sipping coffee.

  “When do you sleep?”

  Mary laughed. “I’m trying to finish a chapter. Can I get you some breakfast?”

  Evie rubbed her eyes and worked her fingers through her tangled hair. “No. Thanks. I’ll have a shower first.” She let Magpie outside and climbed wearily back up the stairs.

  Later, as Aunt Mary drove Evie to school, Evie was glum and uncommunicative, totally unready to face her exam.

  Mary chatted as she drove. “I just spoke to Jerry. He’s so nervous he makes me laugh. We can’t exercise No Justice today since he raced yesterday, but tomorrow morning good and early we train. Okay?”

  Evie nodded.

  “This week is critical. No sprints, just easy gallops Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday. Saturday he gets off, and then Sunday is the big race. It’s the eighth race of the day and it’ll be run around five. Then we’ll ship out.”

  Evie nodded again. She tried to stay miserable about her exam, but a little buzz of adrenaline was growing in her body. “Have you heard anything more about my mother?”

  Mary frowned. “Not a thing. I’m driving to Toronto to look for her after I drop you off.”

  “What’ll you do if you find her?”

  “The usual. Give her some food and try to bring her home.” Mary sighed. “I’ll try. But she won’t come unless she’s ready. Same old story.”

  Thinking of Angela always succeeded in twisting Evie’s gut. She changed the subject quickly. “Did Chet Reynolds write the story?”

  Mary kept her eyes on the road. “After your exam this morning, we’ll pick up a paper.”

  “You didn’t go online?”

  “Is that an accusation? I’m old, I get it. I’ll learn how to do that another day.”

  Evie chuckled. “A little sensitive?”

  “Get out there and ace your exam, will you?” Mary stopped the truck in front of the school and unlocked the doors. “Youth is a condition that only time can heal.”

  “Very funny.” Evie hopped down. “See you in a few hours?”

  “If I don’t die of old age first.”

  Evie groaned but felt a tiny bit better. “Good luck with Angela.” She waved to her aunt and entered the school. She couldn’t lose her feeling of despair about the exam. Every time she tried to recall any facts, she drew a blank. This was going to be a massacre. A dismal zero.

  Mark Sellers came around the corner as Evie opened her locker.

  “Hey, Evie! Great story about your horse today!”


  What? “You’re kidding! What’s it say?”

  “Read it yourself.” He produced a section of the Brampton Expositor. “It was in the Globe and Mail, too. I saw it online.”

  Evie couldn’t help but wonder if Aunt Mary knew about the story all along but didn’t want to distract her. Or maybe it was bad? Evie grabbed the newspaper from Mark.

  It was just below the fold on the front page of the sports section, with a close-up of Kazzam. In bold print it read: “Will Justice be Served to No Justice?” She’d even written the headline!

  “Great pic of the horse,” said Mark. “He’s a real black beauty.”

  “Let me read it,” said Evie. Chet Reynolds had basically written the story just as Evie had wanted, with the focus on the history of the Queen’s Plate and No Justice’s life and racing career. It mentioned that he’d won the Caledon Horse Race under the assumed name of Kazzam with Molly Peebles aboard, and that Molly Peebles was actually Evangeline Gibb, who would ride him this Sunday. It was all written according to the deal. And Mark was right about the picture of Kazzam. He looked impressive and regal, posing in Aunt Mary’s field with the farmhouse in the background. Evie speculated that it had been taken by Chet before he came to the house.

  “You read fast,” said Mark when Evie looked up.

  “But do I retain anything? That’s the question, and I dread the answer I’ll get in today’s exam.”

  Mark took her hands in his. “You’ll do great. Biology is all about animals and vegetation — zoology and botany — and you love that stuff.”

  “There’s a difference between loving animals and being able to name their dissected body parts.”

  Mark laughed. “You’re funny.”

  “I’m serious!”

  “Come on, let’s get going. It can’t be as bad as you think.”

  Two hours later, Evie was finished the exam and looking around the huge, open room. Roughly eighty kids sweated over their papers on desks lined up in long rows in the gymnasium.

  Mark was two rows over, writing away. He appeared workmanlike and confident. He really is a cute guy, she thought, hunched over his desk in his white T-shirt and torn jeans. More hot than cute. His lips look so kissable.…