Backstretch Baby Page 4

  Eve twisted away from the clerk’s curious eyes, dismay leaving her movements jerky. Victoria had joined Jackson’s stable last year as a lowly hotwalker. Three months later, they were married. Eve had always thought that landing Jackson was the woman’s main goal, but perhaps taking over his business was her real intent. He seemed to regret the marriage, and the last few months he’d turned increasingly morose. Now that Eve was away from Santa Anita, Victoria was clearly making a power move.

  “I can handle things here,” Eve said, her voice tight. “In fact, both Tizzy and Stinger will be entered for the weekend.”

  “Good,” Victoria said. “Be sure to run Stinger a mile and an eighth. And don’t call back until Sunday, when you finally have some race results. Understand?”

  “I do understand,” Eve said. She cut the connection then smacked the phone against her hand.

  “What’s going on?” Ashley’s eyes widened. “Won’t she let Jackson pay?”

  “She won’t even let him talk,” Eve said.

  “Can you ladies pay for these items, or not?” the clerk asked, a little too loudly.

  Eve raised her head, conscious of five other customers straining to catch the drama. Unfortunately she couldn’t afford a single bit and bridle. “Not today,” she said, reaching for her twenty-dollar bill. “We’ll take the shirt though. I’ll pay for that with cash.”

  Ashley reached out and stopped Eve’s hand. “No,” she said. “I don’t need the shirt as much as you need the bridles.” She folded the shirt, laying it on top of the counter and walked toward the exit.

  Eve followed, hating to see her disappointment. But Ashley was right. Her finances were stretched to the limit, and tack was critical. Somehow, she had to find enough money for at least one bridle.

  They walked toward the exit, both of them holding their backs carefully erect. But this time the guard didn’t open the door. In fact, he blocked their way.

  “I need to check your purses,” he said.

  “We don’t have purses,” Eve said.

  “Your friend has a backpack. She needs to open it, please.”

  “It was for the bridles,” Eve said, “which we didn’t buy—”

  “Never mind.” Ashley pulled off her pack and thrust it at the guard. “Here, take a look. It’s obviously empty, except for my water bottle.”

  The guard glanced inside the backpack, then jabbed his thumb at the door. “Fine,” he said. “You’re free to go.”

  “How very kind,” Eve said. She pushed open the door and held it for Ashley. Clearly the man’s services as a doorman didn’t extend to non-paying customers.

  She scowled back at the guard but once outside immediately began texting.

  “What are you doing?” Ashley asked. “Texting Jackson?”

  “No sense,” Eve said. “Victoria has his phone. I’m checking with a few friends, trying to figure out what’s going on.”

  “It won’t matter,” Ashley said glumly. “Haven’t you noticed the rest of Jackson’s staff are all men now? Every groom, exercise rider and hotwalker. Victoria is cleaning house. And we’re next.”

  “Don’t be so pessimistic,” Eve said. But her dismay grew as text messages pinged in reply. It wasn’t quite as bad as she feared, but everyone confirmed Victoria was leading Jackson around by his dick, even proclaiming she owned half his business since she hadn’t signed a prenup.

  “I didn’t see this coming,” Eve said, her spirits plummeting as she scanned her screen. “Poor Jackson.”

  “You were out with a broken wrist, busy with your son. And Victoria assumed you were married. Now that you’re back, as Jackson’s assistant trainer no less, she sees you as a threat.”

  Eve yanked open the car door, her mind whirling. She could probably find riding work at another stable, but once again, she’d have to claw her way up from the bottom. The only horses she’d be given to exercise would be cheap claimers, usually the most dangerous to ride. And danger was exactly what she was trying to avoid.

  Unfortunately her recent injury had been costly. Not only had she lost months of earnings but other riders had taken her place. Unless one was a top tier jockey, trainers had notoriously short memories. Of course, they had to please their owners, and it was only natural to favor the hot jockey.

  “Luckily you’re friends with two of Jackson’s owners,” Ashley said. “If Victoria manages to chase you off, they’ll probably move their horses.”

  Eve slammed the driver’s door, struggling to think. Dex and Dani owned Tizzy, and Scott and Megan had Stinger. But that was only two horses, not a big consideration for Victoria when Jackson managed a stable of forty. And Eve would never ask her friends to switch trainers just because Jackson no longer had a job for her.

  “Men are such wimps,” she said, clicking her seatbelt tight, trying to downplay her concern. Both Ashley and Miguel had put their trust in Eve, following her from Santa Anita to Riverview. And as the trainer in charge, she felt responsible for her employees, every bit as much as she did for the horses.

  “What are you going to do?” Ashley’s face was so pale, tiny freckles showed up on her nose. “The horses can’t race if you can’t exercise them. And even you can’t ride without a bridle.”

  “Don’t worry,” Eve said. “I’ll think of something.” She pushed in the clutch and forced a reassuring smile. “At least the car didn’t stall while we were inside,” she added. “And there’s still lots of gas in the tank.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Eve propped her elbows on the picnic table, watching three determined boys struggling to build a castle. They filled a bucket with sand and tipped it on top of a growing mound. The sand collapsed to a chorus of groans, and they promptly started the process all over again. One boy looked about four, his dark eyes filled with such lively intelligence, he reminded her of Joey. It almost hurt to see him, and her chest gave a little twist.

  She’d never been away from Joey for more than three days. But she had to make this job work. Had to create a better life and stop scraping just to meet monthly expenses. The last round of medical bills for her wrist had consumed her savings. If not for her mother babysitting, the new training career would be impossible.

  And her mother was slowing down, better with babies than an energetic boy. Megan and Scott would be happy to help, but Eve hated to turn to them. Again. Her chest gave another kick. They would never try to take Joey. Would they?

  “We didn’t see you riding this morning.”

  Eve glanced at the stocky woman seated beside her. Juanita was one of the few ladies that came in the afternoon who could speak English. While the other women conversed in rapid-fire Spanish, Juanita had switched to English, clearly making an effort to include Ashley.

  “She couldn’t ride today,” Ashley said, leaning over the table, eager to join in. “Our bridles were stolen.”

  Juanita’s eyes widened. “But that is terrible. Horses need exercise. How will you train?”

  The entire group of women silenced. Clearly they understood some English, or perhaps it was the alarm in Juanita’s voice that sparked their attention.

  “I’ll find a bridle somewhere,” Eve said.

  She gave Ashley a warning head shake. Up until last year, Victoria had worked at Riverview. She probably still had contacts here, and Eve didn’t want rumors spreading. Owners liked their horses with successful trainers, not struggling ones. And there was something about Juanita’s expression, as if she knew much more than she pretended.

  “Maybe we should fill some buckets with water,” Eve added. “So the children can wet the sand and make it stick.”

  “I’ll get the hose,” Ashley said, rising from the table.

  Juanita waited a moment, then her voice lowered. “You don’t have the money to buy a new bridle?”

  Eve studied the woman. Despite her sense that Juanita knew more than she let on, she seemed trustworthy. Eve had never heard her gossip, not once.

  “I’m broke right now,”
she admitted. “And my boss has too much going on to help. But it’ll be all right once we run a couple races.”

  She wasn’t going to complain, not to Juanita and the other women. Their lives were hard enough, and she wanted this play area to be a spot they could enjoy. Besides, on the poverty scale, she was better off. They worked back-breaking jobs for minimal wages. Juanita helped in the track kitchen so at least she had access to plenty of food, and conversation. But some of the women looked lost and despondent. In fact, Camila, one of the younger women, barely spoke.

  “If anyone here has children,” Eve said, switching back to Spanish, “there’s a new program that might be helpful.” She leaned over the table and waved a form. “It’s based on need and helps single mothers.”

  Camila looked up, her usual coolness replaced with interest. “It would help with baby care?”

  “Yes,” Eve said. “And it’s partly subsidized by the racetracks so the eligibility requirements aren’t as steep. The wait period isn’t very long either.”

  Eve passed her a form, rather surprised at the girl’s interest. Camila was barely twenty and whippet slim. However, while there were only twelve ladies who came to the sand pit regularly—and Camila wasn’t one of them—Juanita had confided that they all shared Eve’s information with other backstretch workers. Some women were currently pregnant but too shy or afraid to come forward. Or maybe there was just no room to sit.

  “Should I try to find another picnic table?” Eve asked. “In case other women want to come? Maybe just to hang out and watch the children play?”

  “Si, gracis.” All the women gave a vigorous nod. “Bella princesa,” someone called.

  Their enthusiasm surprised her, warming the otherwise bleak afternoon. Her job might be in peril, but the women’s social club was thriving. Unfortunately that didn’t pay the bills. And if Tizzy and Stinger didn’t step on the track soon, it wouldn’t be fair to race them on the weekend.

  A fact of which Victoria was no doubt aware.

  Eve rubbed her wrist, barely noticing its ache as she skimmed her options. Depressingly few. However, Jackson had mentioned that Tizzy could be galloped without a bridle. He’d been joking, of course, and it was against the rules to take a horse on the track without approved equipment. Outriders were always vigilant. But they were only present during training hours.

  And desperate times required desperate measures.

  She folded her hands, accepting she was most certainly desperate. And tonight seemed a good time to discover if Tizzy was as well trained as everyone believed.

  CHAPTER SIX

  “Sure you want to risk this?” Ashley’s voice squeaked as she tightened Tizzy’s girth another notch. “You don’t want to end up back in the hospital. Or worse, suspended.”

  “It’s the perfect time,” Eve said. “Almost midnight. No one will be around.”

  Training hours were from six to ten in the morning. The track was strictly monitored then, and it was impossible to exercise a horse without a bridle. She’d be banished. However at night, the track was deserted. Besides, she didn’t have much choice. Tizzy needed to stretch his legs.

  But even Miguel, who always seemed to understand a horse’s psych, appeared worried. Leathery grooves fanned the skin around his eyes and his gnarly fists gripped Tizzy’s lead shank much tighter than usual.

  Eve shoved aside her own misgivings. She adjusted her helmet and safety vest then reached up and snapped two rope lead lines to the sides of Tizzy’s halter. Of all the horses she’d ever galloped, he was the only Thoroughbred she’d dare ride on a track without a bit in his mouth.

  Tizzy’s owner, Dani Tattrie, had spent a lot of time training this horse before he’d been sent to the track. The gelding was as well trained as any ranch horse. More importantly, he was the special type who always wanted to please his rider.

  “We’ll be fine,” Eve said. “He can’t stand in his stall any longer. It’s not fair to him if he’s going to be entered for Saturday.”

  “Don’t fall off,” Ashley said as she legged Eve into the saddle. “They’ll catch you for sure.”

  “Want me to lead another horse over?” Miguel asked, his eyes still grave. “For company?”

  She shook her head. Having another horse waiting by the gap might draw attention, especially if they started calling. Besides, Tizzy was one of the most confident horses she’d ever met. He didn’t mind being ridden off alone.

  Of course, she’d never taken him out in the middle of the night before.

  “Let’s go.” She shoved aside her own misgivings, knotted the two ropes into makeshift reins and settled into the saddle.

  They headed down the aisle and into the crisp night. Ashley led Tizzy from his left side with Miguel on the horse’s right. And it worked fine until they left the open area and entered the dark path leading to the track.

  First Miguel stumbled, then Ashley, both humans walking so tentatively that Tizzy started to prance, picking up on Eve’s frustration with the tortoise-slow pace.

  “I’ll take him alone from here,” she said, keeping her voice low. “And meet you two at the gap. You can cut across the parking lot and open the rail. Keep the flashlight off, unless you need to warn that someone’s coming.”

  She couldn’t see their expressions, just the outline of their bobbing heads. Then they faded into the darkness, and she and Tizzy were alone.

  The horse stepped out, his walk long and relaxed now that he wasn’t encumbered by two grooms hanging onto his halter. He had excellent night vision, and her eyes slowly adjusted as well.

  It was a cloudy but serene night. Through the trees, barn lights glowed in neat rows, set against the taller lights of the parking lot. The horse path was a dark ribbon, but Tizzy knew where he was heading. He felt strong and solid, and she drew in an appreciative breath, enjoying the feel of a good horse, as well as the solitude. This wasn’t so different from a pre-dawn gallop, except that the track wasn’t lit.

  She stroked his velvety neck, grateful for his obliging nature. He flicked an ear but continued his long-reaching walk, obviously focused on reaching the track. And no wonder. Other than being led around the tiny ring by the barn, Tizzy hadn’t been out of his stall for thirty-six hours. They hadn’t dared let him loose in the sandpit, afraid his pent-up energy might result in energetic bucking and cause an injury.

  She sat easily in the saddle, looking straight ahead but absorbing the night sounds, alert for any movement. Tizzy’s behavior without a bridle wasn’t even her biggest concern. Riding on a closed track was a serious offense, and she couldn’t afford to be fined or suspended. But as Jackson stressed, it was past time to run some races. And no horse could safely compete if he were stuck in a stall all week.

  She tightened her hold on the two ropes, putting tension on the halter, experimenting with her control. Tizzy arched his neck, giving to the pressure on his nose. She loosened the ropes and gave him another approving pat. If he listened like that on the track, there’d be no problem.

  Traffic hummed in the distance, joined by the sound of frogs chorusing from the nearby river. Overhead, a blinking plane carved a path in the dark sky. Other than that, their world was insulated from any intrusion. It was Tizzy’s raised head, the shortening of his steps, which alerted her to someone’s presence.

  He stared straight ahead, ears riveted. Alert but certainly unafraid.

  Ashley stepped from the shadows. “You made good time,” she whispered. “We just got here. The rail is open.”

  Eve peered past her, straining to see the track. It was darker than she’d anticipated, the white inner rail barely visible.

  “I’m going to stick to a trot,” she said. “If all goes well, I’ll turn and gallop a mile. Flash the light if you have company, and I’ll know to stay away.”

  “Okay,” Ashley said. She and Miguel stepped aside, and Eve walked Tizzy through the gap.

  He tossed his head, fresh and eager to run. She turned him clockwise, the op
posite direction of a race, letting him know this wasn’t a speed work.

  She guided him to the middle of the track, away from both the inner and outer rail, and he settled into a beautiful floating trot, his ears pinned forward, as if searching for another horse. The makeshift reins felt odd, the ropes thick and lifeless in her hands, but she quickly adjusted.

  They rounded the clubhouse turn. Tizzy’s steps were muffled in the deep dirt and fortunately his dark coat blended into the night. He only broke stride twice—once when a rabbit darted across the track and the second, when a loud motor roared aggressively from the parking lot entrance.

  “You’re a good boy,” she murmured, slowing him to a walk.

  She stopped and stood for a moment, listening to his breathing, feeling the slow beat of his heart. It was obvious he needed more exercise.

  She turned, still staying in the middle of the track but now headed in a counter-clockwise direction. This was the moment of truth—when she’d discover if she really had any control. She hummed a soothing children’s lullaby, Joey’s favorite, and the one she always relied on to keep a horse calm.

  But Tizzy’s head rose. His nose jutted out and he rocketed into a gallop, veering toward the inner rail so quickly he almost whipped the rope from her weakened wrist. She rose in the stirrups, letting her weight fall on his nose, frantically trying to steer him back to the middle of the track. He resisted, but only for a moment.

  Then he gave to the pressure on his nose, his stride steadying, as if they were partners once again and he was used to being galloped in a halter. And he might have been. Dex and Dani Tattrie were mighty fine trainers.

  She grinned, relishing the cool air whipping her cheeks. The wind always eased away her worries, but it didn’t get any better than this. She’d never had a big racetrack all to herself. There were no distractions—no pounding hooves or riders’ hollers or other animals to avoid. It was just her and this obliging horse. Pure magic.