Golden Filly Collection Two (75 page)

Amy stood next to Firefly’s shoulder, stroking the red-gold hide and adopting Trish’s habit of crooning sweet nothings into the filly’s twitching ears.

“You’re turning into a real horse person,” Trish said.

“I think I’ve always been one. That side of me just got put on hold, that’s all. You think Kevin would mind me having a horse?”

“How should I know? He’s
your
fiancé. I haven’t even met him yet.” Trish left off with her filly and followed Donald Shipson down the line of curious horses.

“This is your mount for the second race. You’ve ridden him before, and he’s improved a lot since then. By the way, you’ll be riding against Red in all three races.”

“That should make for more fun. I love beating out my friends.”

“You better head up to the jockey room.” Donald checked his watch. “You know how strict they are about check-in times.”

Trish waved to Amy. “Come on, we gotta get going.”

By the time they’d walked around the track, thunderheads reared above the skyline. Trish could see lightning flashing in the distance and hear the thunder muttering.

“Will they race even if it storms?”

“This track is so well maintained that it can handle a lot of water and still be dry enough to race. Sometimes they delay between squalls, though.”

Trish tried to study while they waited for the program to begin, but she felt so restless she could hardly sit still. Up and down she paced, into the lounge between the men’s and women’s jockey rooms, where jockeys played cards or shot pool or just shot the breeze. She bought a Diet Coke and visited with Red. Then back to her books. What was wrong with her?

“Good luck.” She gave Red a thumbs-up sign when he headed out for the first race. And when he won it, she went nuts along with the others. It was easy to tell he was a favorite in the women’s dressing room, for sure.

When the call came for the second race, they took the escalator down and walked out the jockey passage together. While Trish heard her name cheered a couple of times, Red again seemed to be a special favorite of the crowd. She could tell why—his ready smile helped everyone enjoy their day.

Her butterflies lodged in a traffic jam, right in her throat. Donald Shipson gave her a leg up and an encouraging smile. “This is just a race, like any other. No big deal.”

Trish’s smile helped relax her entire body. “How come you always have just the right words to make people feel better?”

“It’s a gift. Now, this old boy likes to set the pace, but he can’t today because Red will run you right into the ground if you let him.” At Trish’s nod, he continued. “And he needs the whip to kick into the sprint, so don’t hesitate to use it.”

The bugle rose above the tall green roof of the stands and floated back down to the paddock. Donald handed her off to the pony rider, and out the tunnel under the stands they walked.

While the gelding strutted his stuff for the crowd, Trish glanced at the grandstand. This was nothing like Derby day, when every seat was taken and the infield was full. And now, spectators huddled in blankets.

Red saluted her with his whip from three horses over when the horses entered the starting gates. Trish nodded back.

At the gun they broke clear. Trish forgot all but the horse she rode and the finish line six furlongs away. “Easy, fella,” she sang through the first turn. She looked to the right to see Red hanging even with her. Two horses ahead dueled for the lead. But out of the turn, she went to the whip just like Shipson said. Within strides she and Red had left the two front runners behind and drove nose to nose for the swiftly approaching tall white posts.

“Come on!” Trish swung her whip again, two right-handed slaps. The gelding leaped forward. Two strides and he crossed the line. A win by a nose. Trish grinned at Red and flashed him a victory sign. “Sorry about that,” she called.

“Sure you are. My turn next.”

“Good job, Trish. You rode that one perfectly.” Shipson, Bernice, and Marge joined Trish in the winner’s circle. “I’ll bet Red wishes you’d stayed in Washington.”

“Oh, I don’t think so, dear,” Bernice drawled, making them all laugh.

The next race could have been a rerun except for a different ending. Red gave the victory signal and Trish took the place.

“Sorry, Adam. I tried, I really did.” Trish jumped to the ground.

“I’m happy with this. Winning would have been good, but this old boy did just fine.” He let the groom lead the gray gelding away. “You be ready now. Firefly’s waiting.”

Trish nodded and headed back up the stairs to the jockey room. She had four races to wait out.

By the seventh race the rain still held off except for a sprinkle now and then. But when Trish followed the line of jockeys out to the saddling paddock, it looked like a mighty hand had painted the sky black.

“Sure hope this holds off a few more minutes. I don’t like the look of those clouds at all.” Adam rebuckled the girth and checked the fit on the bridle. “You know this girl better than anyone, Trish. You need to watch numbers four and eight. I think they’re the real contenders.”

Trish nodded her agreement. Her mouth had adopted the Sahara feel again. Thunder clapped and she flinched.
Knock it off,
she ordered herself.
You know how to relax, so just do it.
She smoothed her fingers down the bright white number one. She hated being on the rail. Firefly didn’t care for it much either. Guess they’d just have to break faster than anyone.

Totally calm on the outside and fluttering on the inside, Trish waited for the gun. At the shot, the gates clanged open and Firefly leaped out in a perfect break.

“Easy, girl.” Trish kept a firm hand on the reins but let the filly set her own pace. Going through the turn they pulled ahead enough to let Firefly run the way she liked. Down the backstretch they pounded, horses jockeying for position. Into the final turn. Lightning flashed just above the cantilevered roof of the grandstands, seeming to dance on the third cupola. The heavens opened like a dam sending water thundering down a river.

The riders and horses were drenched between one breath and the next. The horse who came up on the outside faltered and clipped Firefly’s rear foot. Trish heard a crack. Firefly fell forward and Trish catapulted over the filly’s head.

The force when she hit the ground came from both sides. She tried to roll as she’d been taught, but a weight crushed down on her chest. When Trish forced her eyes open to a slit, Firefly stood with one foreleg dangling.
Not Firefly!
Her silent scream followed her down the deep black pit of oblivion.

When she felt the medics putting her on a board, she came to enough to mumble, “Don’t let them put her down.”

“Easy, miss.” A rich Southern voice tried to calm her.

“No!” Trish summoned every bit of strength she had. She heard Adam’s voice somewhere near. “Promise! Adam! Don’t put her down!”

“I’ll try, Tee. As God is my witness, I’ll try.”

The blackness surged back.

Trish could hear her mother’s voice, but no matter how hard she tried, no words made it out of her mind. Marge was praying; that much Trish knew. The medical people made several comments as they worked over her.
I must be hurt bad this time.
The thought floated through her mind. She didn’t have any ability to stop it. But thoughts were all she could manage.

She heard doctors giving sharp commands and the words “surgery—stat!” along with “punctured lung.”
Must be pretty serious.
The words “code blue” shocked her. What shocked her even more was her point of view. Trish felt as if she were floating up in the corner of the room, looking down on the table where the surgical team worked over a body. Was that
her
down there? And if so, what was she doing up here?
Am I dreaming? If I am, this is the strangest dream I’ve ever had.

She felt herself drifting off when suddenly a long, dark tunnel beckoned, and with a mild sense of curiosity, she entered it. Far away at the end, it appeared as if a light were guiding her. Total peace surrounded her. In fact, she seemed to float on a current drawing her closer with love. She followed the light, her curiosity deepening. Just when she felt sure she would see someone she knew, she felt snapped backward like a ball on the end of a rubber band.

The doctor’s voice sounded above her. “Okay, we got her. Let’s get this stitched up and get outta here.” Trish heard no more.

When she floated back up out of the gray swirling clouds, she could hear her mother talking with a gentle-sounding woman. Trish felt her eyelids flutter open, as if the action helped pull her mind back to the room. “You’re awake.” Marge leaned over the bed so Trish could see her without moving her head. Trish blinked her eyes. Nodding took too much effort.

Why didn’t you let me stay there?
But with the tracheal tube in her throat so she could breath, she couldn’t say anything even if she’d had the strength.

“You’re in intensive care. The doctors repaired your lung.”

The accident came screaming back. A shudder started at her feet and raced upward.

“Tee, it’s okay. You’re going to be fine.” A tear trickled down Marge’s cheek. “You’re going to be fine.”

What about Firefly?
But Trish slipped back into fog, unable to ask her question.

When she swam to the surface the next time, David stood next to the bed, holding her hand. Maybe it was his voice that woke her up. “Hi, baby sister. Now don’t panic, easy. Firefly is in about the same shape you are.” As the tension eased out of Trish’s jaw, he smiled again. “I knew that’s what was worrying you. There’s a plate and a bunch of screws in her leg, so if it heals right, we’ll be able to use her for a broodmare, at least.”

Trish felt ten-pound weights pulling her eyelids back down, and she was off to the swirls where there was no noise, no pain, nothing. If only she could stay awake long enough to tell them about the bright place.

Pain like nothing she’d known in her life brought her back to reality.
Leave me alone!
While the words screamed in her mind, only a groan escaped around the tube.

“Hey, welcome back.” The nurse at Trish’s head smiled down at her. “I know this is making you uncomfortable, but you’re on your way to a regular room.”

Uncomfortable! Lady…
Trish clamped her teeth together, but all they hit was the tube.

“On three.” They lifted her from one bed to another with a sheet, just like she’d moved Caesar on the tarp. Trish escaped back into the world of nothing.

“Water.” Trish’s eyes flew open. She’d actually said a word. No tube. Oxygen by nose prongs. Bed in a room with peach color on the walls.

“Here.” Marge pressed a spoon against Trish’s lips. “It’s ice for you to suck on. It’ll help the thirst.”

Trish took the wonderful cold chips in her mouth and let them lie on her tongue. She’d never appreciated ice before. Better than—“Can I have a Diet Coke?” Her croak could only have been heard in a silent room.

David laughed from the foot of the bed. “She’s getting better.” He came up and took her hand. “That’s my sister.”

Trish accepted more ice chips. When she tried to move, pain shot through her from front to back and around. Maybe it was chickening out to sleep, but it didn’t hurt there. When would she be able to tell them about her adventure?

“The doctors said we almost lost you.” It was the next day, and with Trish able to talk better, Marge sat filling in some holes for her questioning daughter.

“I know. I heard them.” Trish turned her head to be able to look right at her mother. “Mom, it was the neatest thing. Like I was watching what they were doing, watching from up in the corner of the ceiling. Then I saw this long tunnel with a light way at the other end and when I started down it, I wasn’t afraid. It was full of peace. When I got to the end, there was the most glorious light.…”

Trish stopped, letting her mind remember and the rest of her feel.

“And then?” Marge whispered, tears streaming down her cheeks.

“I felt as if Dad was there but I didn’t see him.” Trish paused again. “I don’t think he had a choice.”

“A choice?”

“Uh-huh. I got to live. But I don’t blame Dad for wanting to stay there. Such love. All around.” Trish grasped her mother’s hand. “It was beautiful!” She turned again to watch her mother’s face. “Don’t cry. I’m here.” Trish’s lips curved in a smile. “This world’s a pretty special place, isn’t it?”