Jockey Girl

by Shelley Peterson

  Evie knew what she had to do. “I’m staying here.”

  “Nonsense,” said Yolanda. “It’s my job. Get out of here.”

  “Please. You two go. I’m totally okay. Please? I want to stay with Kazzam. I need to. For me. Now go home. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Mary smiled proudly and placed her hand on Evie’s shoulder. “You certainly will.”

  “Can you bring my riding stuff, Aunt Mary? It’s all on the chair in my room.”

  “Absolutely.” Then she asked, “How did you know, Evie? You were so sure No Justice needed you.”

  Evie shook her head. “I really don’t know. But I’m sure glad we came here tonight.”

  Yolanda agreed. “Amen to that.”

  26

  Race Day

  The big day arrived. It was Sunday, the day of the running of the Queen’s Plate.

  The downpour had ended sometime after midnight, leaving the air fresh and clean. This very special morning dawned as bright and clear as any since 1860.

  Evie had awoken several times in the night, wondering about the man Kazzam had beaten up, puzzling about what he’d been up to and why. Each time, she reassured herself that her horse was safe with her in the stall and then fell back to sleep in the deep straw.

  Finally, she gave in to wakefulness as sunshine poured through the stable windows and the horses began to stir.

  She climbed out of Yolanda’s sleeping bag, stretched her arms and legs as she stood, and brushed the straw from her clothes. “It’s today, Kazzam. It’s finally today,” she whispered to her horse. “Nobody can stop us.”

  The black horse nickered his agreement and pawed the ground before nosing around for discarded oats in the straw.

  “One, two, and up!” Jerry said as he boosted Evie into the saddle. Imogene’s saddle. Wearing Angela’s riding boots.

  They were in the outdoor Walking Ring at their appointed place. So far, the day had been a blur of excitement, and now she sat, numb, lost in her thoughts.

  She had no right to be there. No right to be sitting in this saddle and wearing these boots. She hadn’t earned it. She patted Kazzam’s shiny black neck. Evie knew that she was here for one reason — because Kazzam allowed her, and no other jockey, to ride him. The horse had the speed. He was the star. If another jockey had wanted the ride, she wouldn’t be sitting there, waiting for the race to begin.

  It was noisy. The crowd was supposed to stay in the centre of the parade track, but the owners and their friends and grooms and trainers crawled around the place like ants.

  Kazzam tossed his head and nickered. She stroked his withers absently, considering that just last night she thought he might die.

  “Okay up there?” asked Jerry. A crease of concern crossed his brow when she didn’t answer. “Evie?”

  “Yeah. Right as rain.”

  He pinched Evie’s calf to get her attention. “Rain? No rain today. It’s a great day for a lope around the track.”

  Jerry hadn’t heard her right, Evie thought. It didn’t matter. They would run a good race. They’d make him happy.

  Kazzam reared slightly, his front hooves leaving the ground, then coming down hard. Next, he hopped up impatiently with his hind end, then snorted loudly.

  Her head cleared. “I get it, boy!” Evie laughed. Kazzam knew how to bring her back to the present. Kazzam knew how to give her head a shake. “We’re going to do this,” she promised him, “for your name in the history books. But mostly for my mother.”

  “She’s talking to herself,” said Jerry to her aunt. Evie heard him and saw his concerned look. He continued, “Last night was a big shock. And she’s only sixteen. Do you think she’s okay?”

  “She’s all right,” answered Aunt Mary. She polished the toes of Evie’s boots with a rag. “Aren’t you, Evie?”

  Am I all right? Evie asked herself. Yes, I am. “Let’s do this!” she said loudly.

  They smiled up at her at the same moment, with identical expressions of huge relief and great expectation.

  At the sight, Evie began to laugh and she couldn’t stop.

  Their faces turned to worry again, simultaneously.

  “Stop worrying!” she commanded them. “Seriously!” Evie forced herself to settle down.

  Aunt Mary’s eyes welled with tears. “I’m proud of you, dear girl. I love you. I’ll see you at the finish line.”

  She patted Kazzam’s neck and whispered, “You’ll do us proud, No Justice, I know it.” And then her slight frame disappeared into the crowd.

  Jerry and Evie had a moment alone.

  “You never needed my help with this horse, girl. The first time I saw you breeze him — it seems so long ago but it was only weeks — I saw how you let him run the way he needs to run. Follow that inner voice. It’s a good one.” Jerry patted her booted calf. “Remember, you’re in slot one, on the inside track. No Justice likes to go wide, so don’t let them squeeze you. And have fun, Evie. Enjoy the moment. Jockeys wait their whole careers for this race.”

  Evie nodded her thanks. Her throat was too full of emotion to allow her to speak. The trainer gave her a nudge and a hearty grin. “You know where I’m going? To put the last of my money on you. To win. Right now. Every penny.”

  Yolanda appeared at Evie’s side riding Christieloo, who had temporarily become a track pony. They would accompany Kazzam to the gate. The two horses nickered and stayed side by side as if they were harnessed together. Immediately, Evie could sense the difference in Kazzam. Christieloo’s presence made this whole experience less scary for him.

  Yolanda had chosen to wear a bright, pink-and-white-checked blouse with a periwinkle-blue scarf. Angela’s racing colours. She’d put effort into Christieloo’s decor-ations as well, braiding pink and blue ribbons into the palomino’s blond mane and tail. Her saddle pad was bright pink.

  “Nice look, Yoyo,” said Evie.

  “For you, babe,” answered Yolanda. She reached out and patted Kazzam’s soft black nose. “He looks a heck of a lot better than he did last night. How are you doing, Evie?”

  “Great. You?”

  “Couldn’t be better. Thanks for coming to the rescue.”

  “You would’ve done the same for me.”

  “True. That’s what we do.” The two smiled, sharing a moment of unspoken friendship.

  “Come on, Evie. Time for the Post Parade.”

  Together they rode around the track in the outdoor Walking Ring, surrounded by the other Thoroughbreds and their ponies. The puddles were drying up rapidly.

  Here, dignitaries mingled with common folk, and all took a good look at the horses that were about to run. Before they put good money down on bets, people sized up the competition and compared one horse to the next. Disposition, fitness, soundness, and keenness were all on display.

  Evie had no idea how Kazzam looked next to the others and cared not one bit. He was behaving perfectly, even with this big crowd and all the stress and excitement. Underneath her was a horse with a heart the size of the world. He’d proven it the night before by fighting off his attacker.

  As an apprentice, she wasn’t allowed a whip for her first five races, but she never carried a whip, anyway. Not with Kazzam. If he could win, he would win, that was all there was to it. He’d try to get in front. He’d try his best. That was all she could ask. That was all she would ask.

  At her side, Yolanda broke into her thoughts. “There’s Thymetofly. Looks good.”

  He was the odds-on favourite and every inch a champion. The eyes of the crowd were on him. He was a really nice horse, Evie thought, a good-looking bay, and she wished him well. Life would be better for him in her father’s stables if he won. She recognized his pony, Jules. She was a stunning paint mare, and Beatrice had ridden her in hunter classes, winning many.

  She looked around and checked out some others. Roustabout was a handsome chestnut with a powerful chest and haunches, but he was sweating a little too heavily, Evie noticed. Using up his energy before the r
ace.

  Despite the skill of jockey Luke Henry, Pirate’s Dream had his nose tucked right into his pony’s neck as if he wanted to go home and couldn’t look at what was happening. Evie chuckled. She sympathized.

  Passenger Pigeon strutted stiffly, showing how much he longed to get out and run. He might be a real contender, thought Evie. His jockey was Irv Walla. Now Evie put the jockey’s face together with his name. He’d been the first jockey to come out of the men’s locker room the day before.

  Gasparilla and his pony were calm and collected, but to Evie’s eye, not as fit as the others. His jockey, Juan Alou, spun his whip and switched hands. Irritating nervous habit, Evie thought.

  Imogene’s mount was LaLaLady, known for her sudden bursts of speed. Evie admired her sleek lines and gleaming light-bay coat. A nice filly, and the only female horse in the race. She was bucking. Not big bucks, just crow hops, but enough that her pony kept a good distance from the mare’s back feet. Imogene handled the situation well. If Kazzam did that, Evie mused, because of his history everybody would be worried.

  “Who’s that, Yoyo?” asked Evie, looking at a horse she didn’t recognize.

  “The gelding with the long back?”

  “Yes. Who is it?”

  “Phil’s Pholly. His jockey is Angel Barrera. Good guy.”

  Evie made a mental note. Something in the horse’s eye got her attention. He looked smart, and more than a little sneaky.

  “Holy! The governor general and his wife are here!” whispered Yolanda. Evie looked to the centre of the grass enclosure. A trim man dressed in morning coat and top hat grinned boyishly at the people in the ring. His wife seemed far more interested in the horses than the people. She studied them with a knowledgeable eye, and when Evie and Kazzam passed by, the horse gave her a little nicker. The woman smiled up at Evie. “Good luck,” she mouthed.

  Evie smiled back and mouthed, “Thank you.” It meant a lot to her. Her back straightened and her resolve hardened. She wanted to show the world what she and her horse were made of.

  “It’s time,” said Yolanda. “I’ll get you to the gate.”

  “Number one all the way,” asserted Evie.

  Out on the big polyfibre track, Evie felt tiny. The stands were far in the distance. The green grass in the middle and on the sides was so bright that it hurt her eyes. She was glad that she’d been here once before, when she was given her apprentice status. Now, she saw that as her dress rehearsal.

  Kazzam began to dance sideways. He was keen to run. “That’s what we’re here for, Kazzam, but not just yet.” The horse tossed his head and began to prance.

  Yolanda leaned in to grab his bridle. Before she could, though, Christieloo butted him with her head, hard, right on his neck. He jerked away, startled, and took a good look at the mare with his left eye.

  Together, Evie and Yolanda laughed.

  “That surprised him,” said Evie.

  “Smartened him up a bit,” agreed Yolanda.

  On both sides of them, and in front and behind, the contenders jogged and trotted on the long stretch toward the post. The colours of all the luminous silks were vibrant, and brilliant sunshine sparkled madly off the pond in the centre.

  Evie could feel herself drifting into a fog again. Her muscles were going limp. This was exactly how she’d felt before the Caledon Horse Race. Strangely disconnected. But now she recognized it for what it was. Her body was storing up energy for when she needed it.

  “Earth to Evie, earth to Evie,” said Yolanda loudly.

  “I’m all right,” she mumbled.

  “Here we are. Number one. I’ve got to leave you here. Will you be okay?” Yolanda sounded uncertain.

  “I’m all right. Seriously.”

  “Do I have to head-butt you to wake you up? Like Christieloo?”

  Evie snapped to. “We’re ready to fly.”

  “That’s my girl.” Yolanda walked with Christieloo beside the gate and waited while the assistant starters got Kazzam into hole one, the closest position to the inside of the track. The gate clicked behind him.

  Yolanda joined the other pony riders behind the post until the race began.

  Evie positioned her goggles over her eyes and adjusted her helmet. She was alone with her horse. Ahead stretched the testing place, where horses vied for glory. Power, speed, endurance. That was what it was all about. “What are you thinking, Kazzam? Do horses care about glory?”

  Eerily, Evie was sure she felt his answer. No. We care about running the fastest … in any group.

  She was positive that was the correct answer.

  As the other horses loaded, she bent her head and whispered, “Dear Lord of creatures great and small, please bring everybody home safely. Let the fastest horse win, not the best, cuz I know Kazzam is the best, no matter what happens today.”

  She thought back to the Caledon Horse Race, when she’d prayed to the animal gods to win. This was different, somehow. This was the big time. Winning would be the cherry on the chocolate sundae. A sundae still tastes delicious without it.

  “They’re at the post!” called the announcer.

  Evie jerked into position. Very briefly, she glanced to her right. Thirteen riders sat forward over the necks of thirteen of the best three-year-old racehorses in Canada. Goggles over their eyes, hands forward, silks covering their helmets, determined mouths, one-hundred-percent focus. In that split second, that little glimpse was etched into her brain. She would never forget it.

  She also knew that they were tough and fast. Super fast.

  Evie cleared her head and grabbed Kazzam’s mane, ready for his enormous leap.

  The bell went off. The gates shot open. “And they’re off!”

  A tremendous surge of animal bodies and radiant silks spilled out and away down the track like a tidal wave.

  Once again Kazzam stood still while thirteen horses raced away. Evie waited and counted, holding on to his mane for dear life. One, two, three, four—

  He leaped. They were off.

  She landed in the saddle with her feet still in the stirrups and the reins still in her hands. She was getting better at this.

  Within seconds she found Kazzam’s rhythm. She reached her arms forward with every galloping rotation. His strides lengthened, then quickened, and the little black horse narrowed the distance between them and the second-last horse, Gasparilla.

  Evie let Kazzam go wide around Gasparilla, and on they ran, still on the outside, easily passing Roustabout and three others running in a small herd. Now, Evie thought, they were in the race. This was a thrill.

  Kazzam stretched out and continued to pick up speed.

  Evie was having the time of her life. Her definition of winning as the cherry, not the whole sundae, had freed her. She raced for the sheer joy of it.

  Evie felt light on her horse’s back, barely touching him as he thundered, thundered! across the ground. She kept her eyes forward, looking through the frame of his perfectly pointed ears, and let the wind pull her cheeks back. She listened to Kazzam’s hooves pounding, pounding, pounding, while his rhythmic breathing kept time. He was a one-horse band.

  They sped by two more horses in a blink. Zoom, zoom.

  Evie was filled with elation.

  Phil’s Pholly was just ahead. Kazzam came up on his right with a steady gallop. As his nose levelled with Phil’s Pholly’s hip, the horse swerved wildly and cut him off. Kazzam got out of the way just in time, jumping with all four feet to the right and just managing to keep his balance. Evie almost came off in the unexpected movement. It scared her.

  Now, things were serious.

  Now, she wanted to win.

  “Get past this guy,” she urged. But Kazzam stayed where he was, right behind Phil’s Pholly, waiting until he understood his options. He kept pace with the other horse and seemed to be using him as a shield.

  In that fashion — Phil’s Pholly with Kazzam right behind — they passed Thymetofly and then Paradise Found on the outside. Kazzam seeme
d uncertain about making another move on Phil’s Pholly, so Evie waited.

  There were four more horses ahead of them on the backstretch. She estimated that the race was half over.

  Kazzam suddenly sped up and veered left, making his move to pass Phil’s Pholly. He gave him lots of room, but Phil’s Pholly swerved again and bumped him. The result could have been disastrous, but this time, Evie was ready and so was Kazzam. He jumped to the left and slipped behind Passenger Pigeon, coming up his inside. Now it was Passenger Pigeon who had to contend with the swerving horse. He didn’t take kindly to it. In response to a shove, Passenger Pigeon hip-checked Phil’s Pholly, forcing him aside. Kazzam sailed past them both on the inside rail.

  The track was clear for seven or eight lengths. Evie let Kazzam get his bearings while she got hers. Those had been some close calls. Evie rose up in the stirrups and let him breeze. When his body lengthened out again, she hunkered down.

  Three horses were running neck and neck, just ahead.

  They led the entire field. She recognized LaLaLady on the outside, next to Thymetofly in the middle, who must’ve come up from the back. She hadn’t seen that happening and began to wonder what else she was missing. The third horse, on the inside rail, was Pirate’s Dream.

  Kazzam closed the gap handily. Evie knew he hadn’t yet reached his top speed. She planned to let him sit in that position, right behind the leaders, in the catbird seat. When he wanted to move, he’d figure it out. In a horse race, he had the advantage of thinking like a horse.

  He switched to his right lead. Until now, Evie hadn’t heard any cheering from the crowd. As they turned onto the home stretch in front of the stands, she couldn’t imagine she’d been able to ignore it. The noise was thunderous. It was deafening!

  The race was closing in. Horses began to crowd them from behind in their final desperate effort to be first past the wire, and Evie got swept up in the mood. She really wanted to win. The chocolate sundae with the cherry. All of it!