A Love Like Ours (17 page)

To be female in a male-dominated field had been a struggle for them both. They’d had a difficult time convincing trainers to trust them with their best horses. Which became a downward spiral, because unless you had a shot with the best horses, you couldn’t win, and if you couldn’t win, trainers didn’t want to put you on their best horses.

Her grip on Willow’s reins tightened as she watched Jake incline his head to listen to Elizabeth. It appeared that Jake had decided to stick with her “lady’s man” strategy for Silver Leaf. He was going to try a female jockey on him. But judging by the riding clothes Elizabeth had on, the female jockey wasn’t going to be Lyndie.

Why had she waited so long to ask Jake if she could ride Silver in his opening race? She’d wanted the perfect moment, but her bide-my-time strategy had failed her.

Willow’s groom approached, and Lyndie released the bay colt into his care. Heartsick, she made her way toward Jake and Elizabeth.

When Jake looked over and saw her, a jolt of awareness and power traveled through their eye contact.

Elizabeth acknowledged her with a reserved inclining of her head. “Hello, Lyndie.”

“Good to see you again, Elizabeth.”

“You two know each other?”

“We both worked at Santa Anita,” Elizabeth answered.

“I’ve thought of you several times since I’ve been here at Lone Star,” Lyndie said to her. “I remembered that you’d started coming to Texas in the spring.”

“This’ll be my fourth season here. As soon as Lone Star closes, I head to California. Are you going to the West Coast this summer?”

“No, I’m here full time now. My sister . . .”

“That’s right.” Elizabeth’s face took on that down-tipping look people always gave Lyndie when she mentioned Mollie.

“Elizabeth is going to breeze Silver Leaf,” Jake stated.

Even though Lyndie had expected as much, the words still wrenched her. A
breeze
gave a horse an opportunity to stretch out in a run, not an all-out sprint, but fast enough to feel the breeze in his face, thus the term. In the days leading up to a race, a breeze could reveal much to a trainer about a horse’s mental and physical readiness. After today, Jake would likely gentle Silver’s training regimen in order to conserve the best of the horse’s energy for when it mattered.

“He’s a good-looking horse.” Elizabeth stepped to the stall’s opening, her hands entwined at the small of her back, her gleaming black hair caught in a low ponytail.

Lyndie shifted so that she could see into the stall and for the first time noticed Zoe kneeling within. By the looks of it, the tall redhead had nearly finished wrapping the stallion’s rear legs.

Misgivings swamped Lyndie.
Swamped
her. The whole situation felt wrong. She didn’t know whether that was because putting Elizabeth on Silver was actually, intrinsically wrong or because of the envy twisting inside her. She had no right to say anything against Jake’s decision to let Elizabeth breeze Silver. Jake trained Silver Leaf; Lyndie did not.

Elizabeth had been jockeying for seven or eight years straight now. She might only be two years older in age than Lyndie, but Elizabeth far surpassed her in race experience. On paper, Elizabeth was obviously the better choice.

Zoe led Silver out and saddled him. Elizabeth donned her riding helmet, then Jake gave her a leg up into the saddle. “I’ll walk to the track behind you,” he said.

Elizabeth set off.

Zoe shot Lyndie an urgent look and did a double head tilt toward Jake. It seemed that Zoe didn’t want Elizabeth jockeying Silver, either.

“If it’s all right with you, Jake, I’ll join you,” Lyndie said. Silver would have been the final of her horses to exercise. Since Elizabeth was riding him instead, Lyndie had completed her work.

“All right.” Jake started walking.

Your enthusiasm overwhelms!
Hurriedly, she shucked off her protective vest and pulled a pale pink sweater over her white tank. She caught up with Jake outside the barn.

Ahead, Elizabeth sat atop Silver, completely relaxed.

Lyndie wrestled against jealousy she didn’t want to feel.
Elizabeth has never been anything but professional toward you, Lyndie. Remember?

She and Elizabeth had once shared the camaraderie of two outsiders banded together. They’d stuck up for each other, treated each other with respect, and encouraged one another through losses and setbacks. However, there had always, always, been a thread of competitiveness between them, too.

Because they’d been the only two female jockeys at Santa Anita, the racing faithful had naturally compared them. As good as Lyndie had believed she’d had the potential to be, the stats had continually favored Elizabeth.

Elizabeth was a blunt, no-nonsense, tremendously driven person, and her intense work ethic had paid off. Lyndie had been driven, too. But she’d been needed at home to help with Mollie. She hadn’t been free to put in the same number of hours as Elizabeth.

During her jockeying days, Lyndie had begged God month after month for a trainer—just one—to give her a chance on a great horse—just one. That trainer and that horse had never come, but nonetheless, she’d poured every spare minute, plus all her hope and energy, into jockeying for two whole years. Eventually, though, unable to make ends meet, Lyndie had let go of jockeying and the tall dreams she’d built for herself around it. It had not been an easy decision. She’d grown up imagining herself riding in the Kentucky Derby.

Elizabeth had continued jockeying. She’d toughed it out through seasons of low pay, danger, and adversities. Over time, she’d carved out a modest career for herself. She’d never ridden a big horse, the kind of Thoroughbred that the racing community called a
World Beater. But Lyndie kept atop of things enough to know that Elizabeth had finished last year’s season at Lone Star near the middle of the jockey rankings, making her the best of the female jocks the track had to offer.

So. Why, knowing what she did of Elizabeth and her journey, didn’t she have the grace to hand over Silver to her with blessings? Goodwill? Instead, miserable protectiveness, like that of a mother for her baby, engulfed her. She’d put in so much time with Silver. She loved the horses she exercised. For goodness’ sake, she loved all animals. But there was something about Silver. That indefinable magic.
She’d
been the one to comprehend his inner workings.
She’d
been the one to make him run.

She and Jake, walking side by side, had covered most of the distance to the track in silence. Only fifty or so yards to go.
Lord, should I say something?

No discernible answer. She definitely didn’t want to ruin her fragile, hard-won camaraderie with Jake. Then again, she’d known she’d
have
to step on land mines with him occasionally. “Elizabeth’s very good.”

Jake made a sound low in his throat.

“She’s experienced. She has great instincts.”

“Why do I think you’re about to tell me not to put her aboard Silver Leaf for his opening race?”

“Because that’s exactly what I’m about to tell you.”

Without looking at her, Jake frowned. “I thought you’d be pleased. She’s female.”

“But she’s not me.”

He came instantly to a stop. He surveyed her face as if searching it for answers. “No. She’s not you.”

Lyndie straightened to her full height. “I want to ride Silver Leaf in his opening race.”

Charged quiet. “What?” he whispered.

“I want to be Silver Leaf’s jockey. Please.”

“No.”

“I jockeyed for two years. I’ve kept my license current. I won’t
ask to ride any of the other horses, but I’d really appreciate the chance to ride Silver Leaf.”

“You’re very good at what you do. But the answer’s no.” He turned and stalked toward the track, shutting her out.

She stayed abreast of him. “I realized that I wanted to race him a while ago. I’ve simply been waiting for the chance to talk to you about it.”

“It’s not going to happen, Lyndie.”

“Why?”

“It’s too dangerous.”

“But it’s not too dangerous for Elizabeth?”

“No. It’s not.”

Betrayal stung her. “I’m as capable as she is.”

He didn’t answer.

Surely he wasn’t holding her spill against her? He himself had said that there’d been nothing she could have done differently the morning she’d fallen. . . .

Maybe her spill wasn’t at the root of his reluctance. His experiences in Iraq and the wounds he’d sustained there had likely made him more susceptible to worry, both justified and unjustified. “There are certainly risks involved in jockeying,” she said carefully. “But they’re calculated risks. I’ve been riding for years and I’ve had a few injuries, but they’ve all been minor.”

“We both know that doesn’t mean you won’t be seriously injured the next time.”

“I’d like to be the one who makes the call about whether jockeying Silver Leaf is safe enough for me to take on. It’s my neck.”

“I’m Silver Leaf’s trainer. I make the call about jockeys.” His tone held the ring of finality.

Lyndie saw that two of Jake’s other horses stood ready, both with their jockeys instead of their exercise riders astride. It appeared that Jake was going to breeze Silver in company, using the same method he’d employed with her a few days prior.

“I’m worried,” she said, “that putting Elizabeth on Silver Leaf this morning is going to set him back.” Stupid tears pricked the
back of her throat. She
would not
cry over this. She was an adult, a professional.

“I disagree.”

“You’ve paired him with a female, but that’s only part of the equation. He has to know and trust his rider before he’ll race for her.” She couldn’t be sure of this, of course. It could be that now that they’d unearthed Silver’s potential and he’d had a taste of competition, that he’d race for anyone.

“Silver Leaf can get to know and trust Elizabeth,” Jake said.

“I spent hours a day with him for two weeks straight before he began to trust me. His first race is in seven days.”

“My decision stands, Lyndie.”

She bit the inside of her bottom lip to keep herself from arguing. He’d agreed to let her join him at the rail each day, and he’d asked her opinion on his horses a couple of times. But she was painfully aware that those things in no way gave her permission to dictate to him what he should do about his racers.

They reached the trio of jockeys, and Jake issued curt instructions to each. The horses moved off.

Anxiety knotted Lyndie’s stomach. Just yesterday they’d stood at this very spot talking easily. Her hopes for them and for the future had lifted. Today, this.

Jake raised his stopwatch, punching it the moment the horses began their breeze. Two of the three horses surged forward. Silver Leaf lagged, which wasn’t out of character. He preferred to let the others dash ahead, assess them, and then unleash his own power.

But this time, he didn’t.

He unleashed none of his own power. The tall dapple grey stallion galloped along exactly as he’d infamously done in all his prior seasons, slow and imperturbable. The other two horses swept far, then farther, in front of him.

Elizabeth had breezed countless horses. Her technique couldn’t be faulted. But to Silver, Elizabeth was a pleasant stranger. She had not earned her way into his inner royal court and so for her, he would not exert himself.

Lyndie’s hunched shoulders eased, and she took a deep breath of relief. It was terrible of her, but she couldn’t help feeling glad. Silver’s refusal to run for Elizabeth meant that she still had a shot at convincing Jake to give her an opportunity to ride him.

Jake said nothing and gave nothing away with his body language, yet she could sense his deep frustration. As the seconds dragged, his control over himself seemed to ratchet tighter and tighter.

If she said anything to him now, she feared he’d shut her down hard. She’d wait and approach him about jockeying Silver Leaf when he wasn’t so defensive.

Between now and then, she’d pray.

Exercise was supposed to be healthy. But Jake knew that if anyone could see him now they’d think he’d driven off the road marked healthy and straight into a ditch called crazy.

It was one o’clock in the morning. Jake continued lifting his body to the chin-up bar in his loft’s workout room. Again, then again and again, as if his life depended on it.

Crazy
. There was a word.

For years now, it had taken all he had to hold himself together. Since Lyndie had returned to his life, his grip had begun to slip.

His breath rushing from him, he dropped to the ground, then staggered a step before leaning his shoulder into the wall for support. His muscles were rubber. Air sawed in and out of his lungs.

He hadn’t been able to sleep, so he’d done what he’d always done when he couldn’t sleep: He’d come here. First, he’d run on his treadmill. Unable to outrun his thoughts, he’d begun weight-lifting more than an hour ago.

He should call it a night. Shower. Try to act like someone who wasn’t crazy and attempt sleep.

Jake’s legs weren’t feeling so steady, so he laid out on a weight bench. His lungs continued to drag for breath. He stacked his hands on his forehead palms-up and glared at the line where the room’s ceiling met the wall.