Golden Filly Collection Two (73 page)

All she had to do was hold Spitfire by the reins and stand with her hand on the car door. Besides saying her lines, of course.

After three dry runs, her mouth felt like the Sahara Desert. She hadn’t said the words right any time.

Spitfire nudged her in the back as if to say, “Get with the program. I’m bored.”

“Knock it off,” she ordered under her breath.

“Okay, Lennie, get her some more mouth. And her forehead’s getting shiny.”

Timmy took Spitfire and walked him down the aisle while Trish stood still for more painting.

“You can do it, honey,” Lennie murmured while dusting Trish’s forehead. “Just relax.”

Trish nodded. “Thanks.”

Timmy brought Spitfire back and they started again.
Please, God, this is so new.
She took a deep breath. Spitfire snuffled her cheek. “Racing Spitfire is like riding the wind.” She stepped forward. “So’s driving my LeBaron.”

Thunder crashed so hard the roof rattled.

Spitfire reared back, jerking the reins from her hands.

Chapter
13

C
ut!”

“Easy, fella.” Trish focused all her attention on her quivering horse. “It was just thunder. You’ve heard it plenty of times living back here.” Spitfire leaned his forehead against her chest, letting her rub his ears and down his cheeks. “You’re okay, you really are.”

“easy, son.” Red joined Trish, with one hand smoothing Spitfire’s shoulder, the other locked on a rein. “You’re doin’ fine.”

“Trish, are you all right?” Joseph stopped just beyond Spitfire’s reach. “Looked like he jerked your arm right out of the socket.”

“No, I’m fine. You kinda learn to go with a horse when he freaks like that. Besides, Spitfire wouldn’t hurt me, would you, fella?” She kept up her stroking. “He’s really just a big baby, you know.”

“Not intentionally anyway,” Red muttered, all the while keeping his hands busy calming the colt.

“Right.” Joseph didn’t look as if he believed her for one minute.

“Hang on to him, Trish. Here comes another one.” Timmy appeared beside her and snapped a lead line onto the D ring of the bit. “That last one hit right above the barn.”

Trish commanded her own body not to flinch with one side of her brain while comforting Spitfire with the other. She didn’t like loud noises any better than he did.

Blue-white light flashed in the windows at the same moment as they heard a skull-vibrating crack. When the thunder kaboomed at the same instant, Trish kept a loose hold on the rein in case Spitfire reared again. She couldn’t help the flinch. It sounded like something monstrous crashing into the barn roof.

Spitfire half reared again, one of his flailing front feet nicking the convertible door on his way back down. Feet back flat on the floor, he trembled from nose to tail.

But unlike thunder, the horrible sound kept on crashing. With metal screeching and booming, it sounded as if the entire world were falling and crumbling.

Spitfire stood with his head against Trish, his shiny black hide breaking out into darker patches of sweat. Timmy stood on the colt’s offside, offering the same comfort as Trish.

“A tree fell on the wardrobe trailer!” one of the grips yelled from the doorway. “And two of the trucks. You won’t believe the mess out here.”

In spite of the pouring rain, everyone but the three with Spitfire dashed outside to see the damage. Trish looked down at her silks, now sprinkled with black hairs. “All the rest of my gear was in that trailer. This is the only set I have left.”

“That’s the least of our worries.” Amy came to stand beside her after looking out the door. “Wait till you see the destruction out there.” She joined Trish in stroking Spitfire. “I’ve never in my life seen rain like that. You can barely see the crashed tree and it’s not a hundred feet away.”

“Probably should just put him back.” Lightning flashed again and Trish counted the seconds before the thunder boomed. “Two, three, four. It’s passed us and going away.”

“What were you doing?” Amy asked.

“Light travels faster than sound, so when you count between the light and the sound, you can tell how far away the lightning flashed.”

“Remind me how grateful I am we hardly ever have thunder and lightning storms in Washington. I didn’t want to know all this.”

Trish led Spitfire away from the convertible and down the aisle between stallion boxes, Timmy and Red keeping pace. Other stallions hung their heads over the web gates and either nickered or laid their ears back. Spitfire ignored them all, whuffing in Trish’s ear and nosing her pockets. Now that the rain no longer sounded like artillery fire on the roof, he barely twitched when more thunder rolled.

“He’s been pretty good about the noises like that up to now,” Timmy said, bringing the colt a handful of carrot pieces. “Just those two struck right here. I doubt they’ll do any more shooting today.”

“Great. And I never did get my lines right. This could take forever.” Trish rubbed the side of her face against Spitfire’s cheek. “I don’t think I’m cut out to be a model, do you?”

By evening the crew had cut away the tree, brought in new trailers, and salvaged what they could from the damage. Trish’s silks had only needed laundering, which she did up at the house. Lennie made a trip to Lexington to pick up new makeup to replace what was smashed, while one of the crew jury-rigged a makeup mirror and counter for her to work at. Fortunately the tree had fallen toward the end of the trailer, rather than in the middle.

“We’ll start again right after supper,” Joseph announced about five o’clock. “Trish, think you could have your lines down by then?”

“I have them now.” She flashed a look of gratitude at Red. They’d been rehearsing for hours. “I never dreamed this could be such work. Three stupid lines and I keep flubbing ’em,” she muttered for his ears alone.

“I’d rather take a fall on the track than this.” Red spoke in the same low tone. The smile he sent her warmed her middle. How come when she was with him she felt all warm and fuzzy, but when she got home again, everything else took over and she only thought of him at night when she included him in her prayers or…She tried to think back. Nope, she didn’t think of him every day during the day.

Someone else said something to him, so when he turned away, Trish studied his face. Intense blue eyes, a smile that warmed everyone in reach, square jaw, and wavy hair nearly the same carrot color as Rhonda’s. In fact, the two of them could pass for brother and sister. He laughed and answered another question about racing.

His laugh brought a smile to her face. One couldn’t be down when Red was around. Could they be more than friends? Did she really want a boyfriend? Maybe this long-distance, half-off, half-on sorta romance was the best kind. She fingered the filigreed gold cross she always wore on a slim gold chain around her neck. Red had given her the gift after she won the Kentucky Derby.

His attention shifted back to her, his gaze telling her she was special. Trish couldn’t break away; it was like a steel cable bound them together.

“That’s the look I want on film.” Joseph stopped beside them. “When the two of you are arguing over red or black. That look—pure sex appeal.”

Trish blinked and felt the red flare up her neck and over her face, painting her in sheets of heat. “Why did I ever agree to do this?” she muttered to herself. “Why in the world do athletes want to do endorsements anyway?”

“For the money, silly,” Amy answered from Trish’s other side. Her comment made Trish realize she’d spoken her question aloud.

“Think about it,” Red joined in. “With what you make from this you could bid on a yearling or buy a new broodmare.”

Trish nodded. “That’s right. Help me keep this in perspective. Other-wise I’m afraid when I get in front of those cameras again, I’m going to melt right into a puddle and drain through the floor.”

“Come on, you were having a good time up there.” Amy poked Trish in the side.

“Right. And you like getting shot at.”

“Well, the adrenaline does give one a high.”

Trish chewed on her bottom lip. “Speaking of adrenaline, you talk to Parks lately?”

“Last night, and he said to tell you no news is good news.”

“But no leads yet?”

Amy put on her official look. “Ma’am, as to that, I’m not at liberty to say.” She grinned and shattered the image. “But at least The Jerk’s not bugging you.”

“How would he know where she is?” Red leaned forward so he could see Amy better.

“The press.” Amy gave a sigh that spoke volumes. “You can bet Curt Donovan and his cohorts have let the entire world know Trish has this contract. Chrysler would have sent out press releases too. Trish, you just don’t seem to understand. You are big news.”

“I don’t watch it or read it unless someone reminds me. Press doesn’t really matter—it’s doing your best that counts.”

“I’ll remind you of that the next time your agent has to turn away mounts.” Red glanced up when someone called their names. “Let’s go eat. We can continue this discussion later.”

As if I want to.
Trish rose to her feet.

By ten that night everyone’s tempers danced like sparks from bare wires touching. Spitfire reacted to the tension and shifted from foot to foot, tossing his head and even laying his ears back. Trish felt she could do nothing right, and by now the car had a second ding in it from one of the colt’s more determined protests.

Joseph finally threw up his hands and shut the entire process down. “Get some sleep and we’ll start again at seven. Trish, it’s coming, so don’t tear yourself down. You learn really quickly for someone who’s never done this before. Besides, working with animals is always difficult.”

Trish stared at him, total disbelief mirrored on her face.

“Believe him, honey,” Lennie whispered when she took the silks and helmet off to wardrobe. “He doesn’t pass out compliments lightly.”

Even so, Trish fell into bed wishing she were at any track in the world other than here. Freezing rain in Portland, or even taking a fall seemed preferable. Coming in last—well, not quite. She did hate to lose. She mumbled her three thank-yous and fell into the sleep of total exhaustion.

“Heavenly Father, please get me through this day.” She whispered the plea before getting out of bed in the morning. “I can’t do this without your help. I’m not a model or an actress. I’m a jockey.” She rolled her head to the side. Outside the window was still pitch black. But she’d already shut off the alarm, so she had to get going. “I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.” She repeated the verse three times. Her “amen” was echoed by a rooster crowing.

“Rise and shine.” Amy tapped on the door. “Meet you downstairs.”

“All right.” Trish threw back the covers. The rooster crowed again, sending his wake-up call echoing over the treetops. “All right, I said I was coming.” Trish headed for the bathroom. She could get used to having her own private bath. She could get used to a lot of the things here at BlueMist.

Her heels clicking down the stairs, she caught herself humming the opening bars to her song. She needed some eagle’s wings today for sure.

“We’re all praying for you, Tee.” Marge sat down at the breakfast table next to her daughter. “I watched for a while last night but I finally left. Joseph gives new meaning to the word
perfectionist
.”

“At least he liked the clips of me riding Spitfire. That storm yesterday sent everything crazy.”

“I just thank God no one was hurt. And a fire didn’t start.”

“A fire would have had a hard time of it with all that pouring rain.” Trish drained her glass of milk and pushed back her chair. “See ya, Mom. Gotta go to work.”

On the third take, she finally pulled everything together: lines, looks, and Spitfire’s ears pointing in the right direction. “Cut. Good job, Trish, and give that black beast an extra carrot.” Joseph pushed his hat farther back on his head and stretched his arms in front of him. “Okay, everyone, back after dinner. We’ll be outside again.”

They spent the afternoon rehearsing Trish and Red together without the horse. By dusk Trish felt if she had to say the lines one more time, smile one more time, or stroke that stupid car, she’d bust out screaming.