Long Shot

by D. Jackson Leigh

  “Grass is too wet to cut that early.”

  “The horses have to be fed and their stalls cleaned early. Eight sharp.”

  *

  David, of course, didn’t show up until ten, so after Tory had to listen to Joyce’s lecture about hiring her lazy brother again, she had to feed the clinic patients herself. That put her behind schedule for the rest of the day.

  Tuesday didn’t go much better. An emergency call to see a horse with an infected eye delayed her arrival at the softball fields where Bridgette’s game was already under way, so Tory parked along the fence in the outfield and watched the game from her truck.

  She fell asleep halfway through the fifth inning, not stirring until she felt fingers combing through her hair. She opened her eyes to find Bridgette smiling at her.

  “God, I hope I wasn’t drooling,” she mumbled sleepily.

  Bridgette laughed. “No. You’re adorable. But you look exhausted.”

  “Long day,” Tory said, rubbing her face with her hands to clear the cobwebs from her brain. “I guess the game is over. Did you win?”

  “Yes. You missed me striking out the last batter.”

  “Oh, man, I’d like to have seen that.”

  Bridgette shrugged. “There’ll be other games. I came over to invite you to go with the team for pizza, but I really think you need to go home and get some rest.”

  “I think you’re right. I wouldn’t be very good company tonight.”

  “You were very good company Saturday night, so you’re forgiven. What about this weekend?”

  Tory shook her head. “I volunteer each year at the Chincoteague pony swim. I’m leaving Thursday morning to head to the coast.”

  “Ah. The wild ponies. I sketched them once. They’re beautiful.”

  “Well, I don’t know exactly how wild they are anymore with so many tourists around, but they do still run free.”

  “Call me next week when you get back?”

  “You bet.”

  Bridgette gave Tory a quick kiss. “I better run so I don’t get left by the others. See you later.”

  “Yes, you will,” Tory vowed as she watched Bridgette jog gracefully across the field. When she saw her catch up to a few of the other team members, she started her truck and wearily headed home.

  Chapter Eleven

  “Yes!” Leah leapt from her seat, raising her arms overhead and wiggling her hips in a little happy dance. Her two-dollar bet to place had come in second to pay off at twelve-to-one odds. “I wo-on, you lo-ost! I picked a winner, you picked a do-og!”

  Tory might have replied to Leah’s little victory song, but she couldn’t peel her eyes away from that cute butt long enough to put together a coherent thought.

  Leah had been waiting when Tory picked her up that morning. Her sister Debbie wasn’t due to arrive until afternoon, so she had enlisted Gram’s friend again to sit with her until Debbie got there. Jimmy had promised to come over and care for Nighty until they returned Sunday afternoon.

  The two-hour ride to New Kent’s Colonial Downs went fast. Leah brought along information she had downloaded on the pony swim and pelted Tory with questions the first hour of the trip. The second hour, Tory answered questions on how to bet at the track and how to pick a winner.

  They walked the backstretch where the horses were stabled and ate lunch in the Jockey Club while they studied the day’s racing form. Neither being much of a gambler, they spent the afternoon playing two-dollar bets. The competition to see who could win the most money was fiercer than the horses’ race for the finish line.

  Tory couldn’t help but roll her eyes as Leah insisted on ignoring her advice about bone structure and muscle tone and, instead, bet on horses with a catchy name or a flashy coat. To her chagrin, Leah’s system of picking winners seemed to be as accurate as her more technical approach. But she was too enamored with that cute happy dance to be seriously insulted.

  Tory couldn’t remember having so much fun. It was impossible to resist Leah’s enthusiasm and playful teasing. She was disappointed when the horses lined up for the last race of the day.

  They watched the entries closely as they were walked toward the starting gate. Tory had her eye on number three, a leggy two-year-old with a deep chest and powerful hindquarters. He was the picture of Thoroughbred breeding.

  “That one,” she said, pointing him out to Leah.

  But Leah shook her head. “I like the black one, number seven.”

  “No way. That horse is too small, with a short back,” Tory insisted. “Give me the racing sheet.”

  “Arabians have short backs and they’re fast. Didn’t you read The Black Stallion when you were a kid?”

  “Of course. I even have a video of the movie. But Arabians are built for stamina. Thoroughbreds are faster. That’s why you don’t see a track full of Arabs down there.”

  Tory scanned down to the last race and quickly found the horse she picked. “On the Move,” she told Leah.

  “What?”

  “Number three. That’s the horse to bet. His name is On the Move. He’s won two of the four races he’s previously run, and placed in the two he didn’t win.” Yep. She knew horses and how to pick them. The betting line was three to one on him. He was favored to win. She knew it and the bookies knew it.

  But Leah stubbornly shook her head. “I like number seven.”

  Tory scanned down a few lines and smiled. “You just like the name.”

  “I don’t even know his name,” Leah insisted, reaching for the paper. “Let me see.”

  But Tory held the racing sheet out of Leah’s reach. “Her name,” she said. “She’s the only filly in a race full of boys. It’s also her first race. The bookies think she’s a fifty-to-one long shot.”

  “I don’t care. I’m going to bet on her.”

  “How much have you won so far?” Tory began counting her own winnings.

  “Same as you. I’m up twenty-five dollars.”

  “Give it to me.”

  Leah clutched her winnings to her chest. “Why?”

  “We’re betting all our winnings on number seven.”

  Leah looked skeptical at Tory’s sudden change of heart.

  “All of it? You’re betting on her, too?”

  “How can I not bet on a horse named Leah’s Pride?”

  *

  The larger colts jostled for position after they broke from the gate, boxing the smaller filly in the middle of the pack. She dropped to the rear as they rounded the first turn and moved to the outside.

  Tory groaned. Already at a disadvantage against the longer-legged colts, Leah’s Pride would have little chance of gaining ground while running the extra yards on the outside. But the plucky little filly wasn’t giving up.

  Leah’s fingers dug into Tory’s biceps as Leah’s Pride began to gain ground along the backstretch. “Come on, sugar, you can do it, come on,” Leah chanted. They watched her breeze down the backstretch past the colts jockeying for position, then eat away at the distance between her and the leaders.

  They jumped to their feet when the pack began to round the second turn and Leah’s Pride moved over to nose between the rail and the three leaders. The four galloped into the homestretch in full, ground-eating stride. One horse began to fade, dropping back as Leah’s Pride shouldered past the number-two horse and challenged the leader. They thundered toward the finish line, neck and neck.

  Tory and Leah were both yelling at the top of their voices when the colt’s jockey went to work with his whip. But the speed he had used at the beginning of the race was now taking its toll. The filly edged forward in the last few yards to cross the finish line a nose ahead.

  “Whoo-yeah! Girls rule,” Leah yelled and launched herself into Tory’s arms. Tory staggered backward, then laughed and wrapped her arms under Leah’s hips to lift her up and spin them around. Leah grasped Tory’s face in her hands and planted a long, firm kiss on her lips. Her eyes were shining when she pulled back. “Thanks for betting on my l
ong shot,” she said.

  Tory stared at Leah’s lips. She wanted another taste.

  “Uh, Tory?” The lips were talking.

  “Huh?” She was suddenly aware that Leah’s legs were wrapped around her waist.

  “You can put me down now.” Leah dropped her feet to the ground and pushed back gently. “I’m going to cash in our tickets.”

  Tory nodded, but didn’t say anything. When Leah disappeared at the top of the bleachers, Tory sank into her seat. Her heart thumped like she had been in the race.

  This was such a bad idea. It was like basking in the warm sunshine even though you knew you would get burned. Like eating spicy food, even though you knew you would suffer acid reflux later. Still, she couldn’t deny the delicious anticipation of the rest of their weekend.

  *

  Leah collected their twenty-five hundred dollars in winnings and they headed to Chincoteague, where they ate dinner at Etta’s Channel Side Restaurant. The family atmosphere was noisy, but Tory’s badge identifying her as a volunteer veterinarian got them a table that overlooked the Assateague Channel and the famous Assateague lighthouse. Leah was delighted with the house-special crab cakes while Tory opted for the oysters.

  They checked into the bed-and-breakfast owned by some friends where Tory had standing pony swim weekend reservations for the only room with two double beds.

  But the evening was still young, so they drove to the beachfront and Tory explained exactly where the ponies would swim over. Police officers were patrolling, telling people they couldn’t sleep on the beach.

  “People will start staking out a spot before daybreak,” Tory explained. “By about two o’clock, when the ponies begin to swim over, every inch of this shore will have someone standing on it. The worst part is the lack of bathroom facilities.”

  “Tell me you have some special reserved spot for us so we don’t have to get up in the middle of the night and sit out here.”

  Tory nodded. “I have two seats reserved on the ferry that runs alongside the ponies as they swim. It’ll get you close enough to shoot some pictures if you have a decent zoom.”

  “Yes. I’m so excited about tomorrow.” Leah caught Tory’s hand to give it a squeeze. “Thanks for letting me come along.”

  Tory wrapped her fingers around Leah’s, refusing to relinquish the slender hand that fit so perfectly in her own larger one. “You may not be thanking me after spending hours in a dusty paddock, vaccinating wild ponies.”

  They walked silently through the sand for several minutes, still hand in hand. A multitude of stars blinked in the dark velvet sky above them. The continuous sound of waves crashing matched the thumping of Tory’s heart.

  When they came upon a jetty of large boulders, Tory stopped and turned to rest her butt against the biggest of them. She pulled Leah close.

  “Don’t,” Leah whispered, her dark eyes searching Tory’s.

  “Don’t what?” Tory asked, her voice low and husky.

  “Don’t kiss me.”

  “Why do you think I want to kiss you?”

  “Because I can see it in your eyes. Because I want to kiss you back.”

  “So why is this a problem?”

  Leah stepped forward between Tory’s legs. She wrapped her arms tight around Tory, resting her cheek against her chest so Tory couldn’t see her face.

  “I have so many things going wrong in my life right now, Tory. God, you’re the sweetest, sexiest woman I think I’ve ever met, but I can’t handle one more complication. And you, sugar, would definitely be a huge complication if I let you kiss me.”

  They stayed like that for a while, Leah clinging to Tory while Tory idly stroked Leah’s back. Finally, Leah stepped away. “Friends?” Her eyes were vulnerable and pleading.

  This complex woman had so many constantly changing facets, Tory felt she was in a swirling whirlpool that was slowly sucking her in. She steadied her emotions. She knew she would hate herself for what she was about to do next. Still, she stood and draped her arm over Leah’s shoulders to guide her back down the beach.

  “Let’s go get some shut-eye, friend. We’ve got a long day ahead of us.”

  They spoke little as they returned to the bed-and-breakfast and readied for sleep. When they slid into their respective beds, Tory turned out the light and they lay there listening to each other breathe.

  “Good night, Tory,” Leah finally said.

  “Good night,” Tory answered, staring into the dark and wishing desperately she could either ignite or douse the painfully smoldering attraction between them.

  Chapter Twelve

  Tory and Leah rose early the next morning to breakfast with their hosts, a couple of entertaining guys who had been partners in life as well as business for more than twenty years. The guys packed them a gourmet lunch in a small cooler since the restaurants would be swamped by lunchtime.

  Leah had an interview scheduled with the president of the Chamber of Commerce for her travel piece, and Tory had to check in with the fire department, which coordinated the pony swim every year.

  Tory thought Leah was impossibly sexy in her low-cut jeans, Western boots, and tank top. She had pulled her silky brown hair through the back of a blue ball cap with Dixie Chick scrawled across the front in pink lettering. It took every ounce of Tory’s willpower to resist the urge to fasten her lips on the tasty juncture of Leah’s shoulder and slender neck.

  “Cute,” she commented.

  Leah smoothed down her makeshift ponytail. “When we were kids, Jessica called it my rooster tail. That’s why she calls me Rooster sometimes.”

  “You can be like a bantam rooster.”

  “Ha. You’re too funny, Doc.” Leah raked her eyes over Tory’s usual outfit of Oakley sunglasses, button-up 501s, and paddock boots. Today, she wore a racer-back tank top that accentuated her wide shoulders and carried a ball cap with Greyson Veterinary embroidered on it. “You’re kind of cute yourself this morning.”

  “Why, thank you, ma’am,” Tory drawled in her best Texas imitation, adjusting her cap low over her sunglasses. She grabbed the cooler and headed for her truck while Leah boarded one of the many shuttle buses that had been running since five a.m.

  *

  They met up again near the wharf and picnicked on the carnival grounds. While they ate, Leah chatted about the interview she had just finished. “Did you know they have Misty and her baby, Stormy, stuffed and on display in a museum here on the island?”

  Tory chuckled. “Yeah. I’m afraid most people are disappointed when they see them. The illustrations in the book looked more like a sleek Welsh pony. The Misty they stuffed for the museum had her long winter coat and looks pretty small and scruffy.”

  Leah made a comical face. “I think I’d rather keep the vision I’ve had in my head since I was a child. I loved those books.”

  “I know what you mean.”

  Leah smiled to herself.

  “What’s that smile for?”

  “Just remembering something.”

  “Share.”

  Leah chuckled. “Well, after reading Misty, I wanted a pinto so bad that I rode Nighty over to the drug store, bought a bottle of Miss Clairol bleach, and talked Jessica into helping me turn him into a pinto.” Leah shook her head. “Nighty didn’t mind once the bleach smell wore off, but Gram made me wash the dinner dishes for the rest of the summer.”

  “I’ll bet you were a handful when you were a kid.”

  “Weren’t you, too?”

  Tory shrugged. “Nah. My younger brother was always giving my parents such a hard time that I tried not to give them too much grief. I was always the kid who did the right thing. I still resent it sometimes.”

  “Then don’t.”

  “Don’t what?”

  “Don’t always do the right thing. It can be really freeing.” Leah tossed the remains of her lunch to a noisy group of seagulls sitting beneath a sign that said “Please don’t feed the birds” and headed toward the dock.

  *
/>
  The sun was blazing, but the ocean breeze made for a pleasant cruise. Leah pulled out her camera and shot dozens of photos when a small school of dolphins joined them as they rounded Chincoteague and headed for the Assateague Channel.

  The ferry idled for more than an hour among a flotilla of coast guard boats and other ferries licensed to shadow the swim as the Chincoteague firemen herded the wild ponies together.

  “Aren’t the tides too strong for the babies?”

  “No. We’re waiting so the tide is at its lowest point. Any that are too small will be cut from the herd and held back when the others swim,” Tory explained, pointing to a group of mares with very young foals that were being separated from the larger group.

  Suddenly a shout went up and the main herd headed for the water. Their ferry-boat captain jockeyed for position, and Leah snapped photos nonstop.

  It was over all too soon and they were chugging back around the island. The ponies would be rested for an hour, then herded through town to the pens where they would be examined and vaccinated. Those eligible for the next day’s auction were culled from the horses returning to Assateague to continue their wild existence.

  Leah was incredulous. “I can’t believe people stood on that beach for hours and hours to watch a five-minute event.”

  Tory laughed. “They do it every year. Well, probably not the same people, but another twenty thousand or so will come out next year.”

  *

  They arrived at the pens well before the ponies. Tory showed Leah how to draw up the vaccination shots while she examined each horse, then how to chart whatever information Tory called out for her to write down.

  When the ponies did arrive, Leah found out that Tory wasn’t kidding about the dust. She pulled the dust mask Tory had supplied over her face when it got too bad.

  Burly firemen roped and led the ponies to them one by one and steadied them for examination and vaccination. Though wild, most were accustomed to being handled each year and presented little problem. The ones who put up a fight were led into a tight chute that penned them safely.