The Final Turn (Cajun Cowboys Book 2)

by Patricia Watters

  Turning her back to the group she started brushing Lady while going over in her mind her strategy for the race. The biggest difference between the breeds was fastness out of the starting gate. Quarter horses had strong explosive muscles which gave them excessive speed for short distances, specifically a quarter mile, but by the half mile mark Jetstream should be about spent, whereas Lady would be running with extended energy, except by then the race would be over.

  The question was, would Jetstream's strides be long and powerful enough to hold the lead after the quarter mile point? A rookie jockey would push him hard to that point and no doubt ask for more speed afterwards, and since Jetstream wasn't bred for distances he'd start to fall back, whereas that would be about the time Lady would be warming up. But Jetstream wouldn't be carrying a rookie, and Edgar Robichau understood the game. He'd no doubt hold Jetstream back, conserving his energy, then ask him for a burst of speed when it was critical, and that's the game plan she'd count on.

  She fluttered the saddle cloth over Lady's back.

  It wasn't the prospect of losing three-hundred bucks and her trophy that was driving her now. She wanted to prove to one cocky Cajun cowboy, who she had the misfortune of living next door to, that she was a competent jockey who could take Rags to her maiden win, and by Heaven she'd win this race to prove she had the skill to do it!

  Lady suddenly became agitated, flattening her ears and prancing in place. "Whoa, girl," Piper said, realizing Lady had picked up on her rush of incensed determination to win the race, and the mare didn't like what she was sensing.

  While Piper attempted to calm her so she could put the saddle pad on her back, a male voice caught her off guard. "Take it easy, big girl." Ace grabbed the bridle as Lady tossed her head. "One lap around the track with a little dirt kicked in your face and it'll be over."

  Annoyed, Piper fixed her gaze on a pair of dark eyes glinting with humor, and said, "If you think Jetstream won't be getting dirt kicked in his face, think again. Lady's raring to go."

  "Rarin' to go back to her stall." Ace stroked Lady's neck. "She's nervous and workin' up a lather because you're about to saddle her. That's not eagerness to get out on that track and run."

  "It will be once she's out of the gate."

  Ace's eyes sharpened with awareness. "I take it she has a problem loading."

  Piper hated to admit Lady was inclined to balk at the starting gate, another strike against Mick, who tended to be heavy-handed with the horses when it came to starting gate schooling. "It's not her favorite thing to do, but she'll muddle through."

  "A horse rattled at the starting gate's got its mind on bein' caught in a steel contraption and some predator that clangs comin' after it, not runnin' for the love of it, a set back from the start."

  "And I suppose Jetstream struts into the gate with eager anticipation," Piper taunted.

  "Bingo. You nailed it. Any horse my grandfather trains loads easily. He schools them in gate training till it's old shoe because with only two furlongs to run, the horse with the most explosive power out of the gate wins. The problem you're facing is Jetstream will blow this mare away at the gate and by the time she catches up, the match will be over."

  "You've already decided the outcome when in fact you have no idea what Phantom Lady can do. She's powerful, athletic and competitive when she's challenged. She's also a direct descendant of War Admiral."

  "If we're talkin' pedigrees, Jetstream's a direct descendant of Dash for Cash, probably the greatest racing Quarter Horse ever." Ace glanced at his watch. "Meanwhile, it's time to load so you'd better get movin'. I'll hold her while you saddle, or you can hold her while I saddle, and I'll give you a leg up when you're ready."

  Piper pressed her lips in annoyance. The last person she wanted as a jockey's valet was Ace Broussard. Eyeing him with distrust, she said, "I'm puzzled why you're being helpful, but since you are, given the choice of holding the mare or saddling her, I'll saddle. That way I'll know the girth is tight and the saddle won't dump me before we hit the finish line."

  Ace let out a huff of feigned indignation. "I'll ignore that remark as the ramblin' of a hysterical female."

  "Yeah, right." Piper placed the saddle and pad on Lady. "I'm serious. Why are you helping me? What's in it for you?"

  "A fair race. And don't be so suspicious. There's nothing in this for me. I don't own either horse, and no one plans to cut me a share of the winnings. Consider it a neighborly gesture. Besides, it's nothin' more than a backwoods match race. Tomorrow will be just another day."

  "For you, maybe. I'll be facing my father's wrath." Piper ducked beneath Ace's arm and crouched in front of Lady so she could thread the girth through the martingale.

  "You were ready for that from the start," Ace said, "but when word gets out that the Harrisons entertained coonasses on the lawn your grandmother will come unglued."

  Piper couldn't deny that Nana would have a fit. "My grandmother coming unglued is also a part of my life. I ignore it." When she stood, Piper found herself staring at a gray tie with wild ducks on it while standing within the circle of Ace's arms, his left hand on the bridle, his right stroking Lady's neck, his warm breath wafting against her forehead. But when she raised her chin and her eyes fixed on his, and she felt that same warm breath against her lips, the hammering in her heart reminded her that whatever was taking place had to stop!

  Ducking out of confinement, she returned to Lady's side and started tightening the girth, while saying, "I'm surprised you didn't change out of your church clothes before coming here."

  Ace stopped stroking Lady's neck and extended his arm to display his suit. "I'm dressed for the fais do-do. What do you think? Do I clean up well?"

  Piper found herself scanning the length of him, taking in the breadth of his shoulders, and the lines of his gray suit, and the whiteness of his starched shirt, thinking someone had gone to a lot of trouble to make sure it was presentable for church. And she couldn't help noticing the shine on his western boots, at least they must have been shining earlier in the day.

  "Well?"

  Piper shrugged. "A suit and tie seems overkill for a fais do-do."

  "You want to talk overkill? Considering your get-up at the jousting tournament, instead of lookin' like a stable hand today I kinda thought you'd be strutting around in clean white jock pants and the Harrison Stable silks for this race."

  "I had my reason for dressing like I did at the tournament, but like you said, this is nothing more than a backwoods match race. I am surprised Edgar went all out though."

  "That's because Jetstream's owner made it a requirement for racin' his horse. I think he expected your father and his trainer to be here."

  Piper let out a short snort. "If my father was here there'd be no race."

  "Why? Because we're Broussards, Cajuns, or quarter horse people?"

  "All of the above. As for wearing Harrison silks, my father made sure there are none my size. Racing's definitely a man's world around here. It's drummed into me daily by my father and his trainer. They don't want to ride a girl. Girls aren't as strong. We're not as aggressive. I take that guff from them all the time. But one way or another I'll get around it and show all the doubters that male jockeys haven't cornered the market on aggression, courage, and fighting spirit. Give me a good horse and I'll level the playing field."

  "You've got a good horse, and in a few minutes you'll get the chance to put your money where your mouth is, all three-hundred bucks."

  "I intend to. That way my father will have to take note, once he gets over the shock of learning exactly what went on here today."

  "Except he'll be doubly ticked when he learns his horse lost. You ready for a leg up?

  Piper was on the verge of shooting back a snide remark but decided to let it pass. She'd win the race and have the greatest of pleasure rubbing Ace's nose in it. "Give me a minute to put on my body armor."

  After donning her protective vest, helmet and goggles, Ace gave her a leg up, and said, "Good l
uck, chère, and may the best man win."

  His wry smile set Piper on edge. An endearment followed by pigeon-holing her as one of the boys was meant to unsettle her, though portraying a tough, don't-give-me-any-crap facade was the way female jockeys had to present themselves if they expected to get anywhere in this male-dominated sport. But she refused to start analyzing Ace's words or his motivation behind them. She had a race to win and that was her focus.

  After taking Lady for a short warm-up jog along the side of the track away from the onlookers, Piper guided the mare toward the starting gate where Edgar sat on Jetstream, who was calm and unruffled. But as soon as Lady approached the gate she began tossing her head, prancing in place and rearing, so Piper turned her in a circle to calm her.

  "We'll load Jetstream first," Edgar said to Piper. "That might calm your mare." Without so much as a blink of his equine eyes, Jetstream entered the gate and stood motionless.

  Piper again urged Lady forward, but this time the mare reared higher, almost unseating her.

  "We'll get her," Ace called out. He and Pike took hold of Lady's bridle, and after stroking her neck and talking soft words to calm her, they began coaxing and cajoling to move her into the gate, to which Lady shifted her weight backwards, dug in her heels, pinned her ears at the crew and vehemently refused to move.

  Piper, sensing that Lady was on the verge of pitching a wall-eyed hissy fit, said to the men, "Let's try opening the front gate and backing her in. It's worked before."

  "It's worth a try," Ace said, "but at some point this mare needs gate trainin' if you people plan to continue racin' her."

  Piper couldn't dispute that. She also knew Mick wasn't the trainer to do the job. But advising her father to send Lady to Henry Broussard for gate schooling was a dead end. She took Lady around to the front of the starting gate, and to her relief, Lady didn't balk when Ace, with Pike's help, backed her into the gate. Once inside with the gate closed, Ace stepped onto the narrow ledge and began rubbing Lady's neck and talking to calm her, while Piper concentrated on getting set for the start.

  After a few moments, Ace said, "You ready?"

  Piper nodded.

  An instant later the bell clanged, the doors slammed open, and the horses burst onto the track, Jetstream taking an early lead as Piper expected.

  Crouched tight to Lady's neck, Piper heard the thwack of Edgar's whip slicing through the air, asking Jetstream for more speed despite being two lengths ahead, something she hadn't expected. She knew that's how a quarter-mile race was run, but this was a half mile race and she'd assumed Edgar would pace the colt, saving his energy for the homestretch the way she was pacing Lady, although Lady was fighting being restrained from running full out, the yells and cheers of a crowd rooting for Jetstream urging her on.

  Lady was familiar with the enthusiastic roar of spectators and it excited her, which almost had Piper laughing aloud because the cheers were for her opponent.

  For a furlong, Piper endured the bombardment of clumps of dirt being kicked into her face by allowing Lady to stalk Jetstream, while not asking for speed, then midway to the turn she gave Lady a little tap with her whip, signaling for her to start moving out.

  Lady immediately lengthened her strides, gradually gaining on Jetstream until she loomed alongside and began inching ahead, but from the sound of hoofbeats, Piper could tell Jetstream was picking up speed, regaining what became a half-length lead. With the turn coming up, Piper mentally prepared for the dizzying speed that would send the horses down the backstretch and the half-mile pole as soon as they had negotiated the wide curve.

  Leaning into the turn, Piper rode close to Lady's neck, but as soon as they hit the straightaway she gave Lady another tap with her whip, a reminder that it was time to move out. As Jetstream accelerated, Lady began to gather speed, her neck stretching with each stride, her long powerful advances grinding up the course, sending dirt flying.

  While blazing down the track in a mind-boggling clip with the ground rushing beneath them, Piper lowered her belly and rode as hard as she could. With Jetstream now a half-length behind, she knew the colt was beginning to falter. She glanced beneath her arm and saw he'd dropped back further, giving her a full length lead. But mid-way to the finish, Jetstream began gaining by increments, cutting into Lady's lead with every lunge.

  "Go Lady go!" Piper called out while giving Lady another swat, a reminder to truly turn on the speed. Lady extended her strides, and with the finish line fast approaching, Piper felt a rush of triumph, certain Lady had worn Jetstream down.

  "Go Jet!" Edgar yelled from behind. With several thwacks of his whip, Jetstream seemed to shift into high gear, surging into contention.

  Somewhere in the background people were yelling, but it was a blur as Piper spread herself flat over Lady's withers, reins clutched in her left hand, her right with the whip pressed close to Lady's neck. She glanced back again and saw that Jetstream was gaining ground, and with every long powerful stride Lady's lead was vanishing.

  Then they were neck-in-neck, hurling down the straightaway at a dizzying pace, with Piper well over Lady's neck, moving with her, urging her on, and for several strides Lady gained ground. But soon Jetstream began inching up until he was alongside Lady and they were again neck in neck, noses bobbing to and fro, and even though Lady had tremendous speed, it was becoming painfully clear that Jetstream was a quarter horse with a late-race kick.

  Edgar drove Jetstream hard, his sharp verbal commands accompanied by the thwack of his whip slicing through the air, spurring the colt on. In an instant Jetstream picked up momentum, taking the lead. With the half-mile pole coming fast, Piper pumped her arms, urging Lady to keep up as they charged toward the finish to the excited yells of the onlookers. Just short of the wire, Lady reached Jetstream's neck and although Piper gave her one last swat, it was too late. In a final surge, Jetstream won the stretch battle by a head.

  Despite feeling out-and-out disappointment, Piper patted Lady's neck while saying, "Good girl. Good race," letting her know she'd done her best, then Piper let Lady fall into a jog to cool her down, but mainly she needed to cool herself down, both physically and mentally.

  She wasn't ready to face Ace and be submitted to his gloating, nor did she want to be subjected to a Cajun fais do-do where she might be trapped into dancing with him. She'd never been to one of those noisy affairs, but Anne seemed thoroughly taken in by them, which of course she would be. She was married to a Cajun!

  After a few minutes, Piper glanced toward the infield and saw that Edgar had dismounted and was holding Jetstream. Standing with them were Ace, Henri, and Jetstream's owner, while on the roadway cutting between fields of sugarcane, a parade of Cajuns led by Pike, Alex and Gator Broussard headed back to the Broussard ranch for the barbecue and fais do-do.

  While Piper was tempted to disappear into the shed row where she would unsaddle Lady and wash and brush her until everyone left, she knew it would be the coward's way out, and if truth be known, this was a small sampling of what her future held if she made it into the big time as a female jockey. She must learn to graciously accept defeat.

  Holding that thought, she dismounted, pasted a smile on her face and led Lady toward the gathering, prepared to congratulate Edgar for a race well run, assure Norman Rowe she'd have the small brass plaque on the trophy engraved with Jetstream's name, and try to ignore Ace Broussard and hope he'd forgotten about her late-race bargain to attend the fais do-do.

  CHAPTER 5

  Piper avoided looking at Ace as she approached the group, focusing instead on Edgar while offering her hand. "Congratulations," she said.

  Edgar smiled politely. "Much obliged. You ran a good race, yeah. I fought for every furlong. It's been years since I ran quarter horses and it was a reminder that with them it’s more about hustle than style. When your mount breaks from the gate with a force that can propel him to fifty miles an hour in a few strides, the name of the game's ride hard and fast for the finish, and a quarter mile comes quic
k, except in this race we still had another quarter mile to go."

  "I know, and you caught me off guard," Piper said. "I knew Jetstream would have lots of power out of the gate but I thought you'd pace him so he'd have fuel left for the homestretch."

  "I figured he'd be good for that." Edgar patted Jetstream's neck. "He's got a lotta thoroughbred in him through his dam."

  "Thoroughbred?" Piper eyed Edgar, dubiously. "How much thoroughbred?"

  Edgar shrugged. "Don't know. You'll have to ask Henri."

  Piper peered over Edgar's shoulder at Henri, who had a sheepish smile on his face. "You never said anything about Jetstream having thoroughbred in him when you told me you'd found a quarter horse. Exactly how much thoroughbred are we talking?"

  "Not enough to disqualify him. Check his papers if you want." Henri's gaze moved beyond Piper and his smile faded.

  Piper glanced back over her shoulder, and to her mortification, she saw her grandmother marching in long determined strides toward her.

  Breaking from the group, with Phantom Lady trailing behind on her lead, Piper walked up to meet her grandmother, who pinned her with sharp eyes and said in a snappish voice, "What on earth is going on out here? I was awakened from my nap by a loud ruckus, and when I looked out the window and saw people in suits and dresses standing in the cane field and horses running around the track I thought I'd stepped through the looking glass. Explain yourself, my girl."

  "It's simple. We had a match race."

  Nana fixed her gaze on Phantom Lady, who stood behind Piper. "You were racing one of your father's top mares. Does he know about this?"

  "No, but I'm sure you'll bring it to his attention the moment he walks in the door," Piper said, miffed that her grandmother was hashing this out in front of all these people.

  "You're testing me and testing does not bring out the best in me," Nana clipped. "And yes, your father will certainly hear of this. What do you think this place is? Some kind of backwater bush track like that bunch of Cajuns operate next door?"