Regret Not a Moment (23 page)

Although there were pros and cons to entering horses in the same race, Devon on this occasion could see Willy’s point. It would be the first Derby for the renewed Willowbrook Farm, and it was important to regain the racing world’s faith in the name. For only with that faith would the farm become once again a viable breeding operation. And it was breeding, not racing, that provided the steady, predictable income vital to a profitable racing stable.

“I agree to those terms,” Devon said, “and I have another proposal.” For the first time since their conversation had begun, a smile played around Devon’s lips. “I’ll be the lead trainer on Firefly, you on Fearless Leader.”

Willy, riled again, barked, “I can’t have that!”

“Why not?” Devon asked innocently.

“Because I’m the trainer!” he almost shouted.

“Are you saying I’m incapable?” Devon’s voice rose.

“I’m not saying anything about you! It’s a question of authority in the paddock.”

“Do you think this will lead to defiance on the part of the men here?” Devon asked in a tone that implied that the notion was ridiculous.

Willy suddenly quieted down. He pulled hard on the bill of his baseball cap so that it pushed his ears out in a comical way. But Willy’s stormy demeanor stifled any amused reaction from Devon. In a deadly serious tone he said, “I think it will lead to divided loyalties. I can’t operate that way.”

Devon stared at him a moment, trying to think of a response. Once again, she could see his point.

“I see what you mean,” she acknowledged. Then she had an idea. “Look, suppose I commandeer just one exercise rider. Until Kentucky he’ll work just with Firefly and some of the other horses, but not with Fearless Leader. That way, there won’t be two people putting demands on him.”

“I still think this is a recipe for trouble. That makes it look like if anyone here has a problem with something I tell them, they can go to you. You told me I was the boss of the day-to-day operation here. I don’t see how the men can believe that if you’re over there running a separate little training operation.”

Devon mulled this over for a moment. She needed Willy. She was beginning to see that one day they might have a showdown, but it would be disastrous if that occurred now, before the Derby.

Finally, she said, “Then I have another idea. If we choose to run Fearless Leader, I’ll step out of the picture for a few weeks. Go to New York. You’ll have your man back full-time and it will be clear that I’m no longer involved in the Derby training.”

“What if it looks like Firefly should run the Derby?”

“We collaborate on her training.”

The challenge intrigued Willy. Though there were many variables other than training that went into the making of a racehorse, the exercise would primarily be a chance to pit his training skills against those of Devon. He felt that she had a talent for training. He respected her skills even more than she knew, which was the only reason he was able to tolerate her daily presence at the stables. At the same time, he was eager to prove that his horse was better, so that once and for all, Devon would be forced to admit to either his superior mastery of the horses or his superior judgment—Willy didn’t care which. He only knew that he wanted her to withdraw to the same comfortable distance that most owners maintained from the daily workings of their racing operations.

Now she was offering him a chance to prove beyond any doubt that he was the authority on the racing operation. She was less experienced than he and had a further handicap in that she was choosing to back a filly. He could think of only one real objection to the arrangement, and he could see many advantages if his horse turned out to be the better one, as he was certain that it would.

He brought up the point that was bothering him. “I’ll do this under one condition,” Willy said, indicating by his tone that there would be no negotiation on the condition.

Devon raised her eyebrows expectantly.

“I choose which horse runs,” he said in the tone of one who anticipates trouble.

Devon thought for a moment. It would he an act of considerable trust to allow Willy to choose between a horse she trained and one that he trained. But to give him that authority would help to assuage his doubts about her involvement in the racing operation. Furthermore, she did not believe that he would allow his ego to control his professional responsibility. He wanted Willowbrook Farm to win the Derby, and it didn’t matter which horse did it.

“All right, I agree.” Devon said finally. “And as to my exercise rider, I pick Jeremiah.”

“Jeremiah! But he’s my best man!”

“And you’ll still have him. For every horse except Fearless Leader. Look,” Devon added, “I have a handicap in that I’ve chosen a filly. You’ve already acknowledged that. I know you believe in fair play, so you should give me a chance to even it out by loaning me Jeremiah.”

“I can’t do that. Anyhow, you’ve acted as your own exercise rider until now. Why not go on?”

“I’ve acted as
your
exercise rider,” Devon corrected him. “You know I can’t be Firefly’s head trainer and exercise rider all at once. How can I watch what she’s doing if I’m on her?”

“Oh, all right.” Willy threw up his hands in exasperation. “Take Jeremiah! I’ll use Henry on Fearless Leader.”

“Good,” Devon said calmly.

“Fine,” said Willy in a frustrated tone.

“See you later,” Devon said, her hand on the doorknob. She exited and closed the door softly behind her.

“That’s the problem,” Willy mumbled under his breath.

John was proud of Devon’s capability with horses. But it annoyed him that she often refused to go to Manhattan with him because she did not want to leave her activities at Willowbrook. It was a source of frequent arguments between them, and John was beginning to find himself almost jealous of Firefly and other aspects of Devon’s life in Virginia, although he told himself he was silly to feel that way.

“It’s only until the Derby,” Devon often assured him. But he knew that she was hooked on racing, and that she would always find more satisfaction in life at Willowbrook than in New York City.

“Don’t you miss the opera and the theater, all our friends?” John would ask wistfully.

The fact was that Devon did not. She loved the country, John loved the city. She had many friends in Fauquier County. But John found them staid in comparison to the faster New York set. Many of their New York friends, in fact, owned farms in the Virginia countryside, but none of them insisted, as Devon did, on spending more than a few weeks at a time on them.

“If you don’t miss New York, I at least hope that you miss me,” said John one night during a long-distance telephone call from his office.

“Of course I do,” Devon assured him. And she did. Very much. But she had many activities to fill her days and she had her family and friends to fill her evenings. She missed John’s warm touch beside her in bed. She missed his advice and companionship. But she was too busy to dwell on his absences for long—and John sensed it.

“Devon, I’m lonely for you,” John said.

“Me too. When can you come home?”

“This
is home, too. Home is where we are. Together.”

Devon had no reply. She had never thought of New York as home.

“Devon, are you still there?” John asked, exasperated.

“Yes…” Devon thought for a moment of her parents, her friends. Of Grace and Philip. In every successful marriage, it seemed that wives followed their husbands, centered their lives on them. Devon’s independence more closely resembled her actress friends’—whose marriages usually ended in divorce. She thought about the few New York friends who lived separately from their husbands. There were a handful of such liaisons, but those were loveless marriages that also ended in divorce more often than not. Devon did not want that for herself and John. Yet she could not think of a woman she knew who led a life independent of her husband’s and yet still managed to sustain a loving, viable marriage. Devon realized that she would have to make a choice: adhere to the role society had dictated was hers or risk losing her husband because of her refusal to do so.

“John, I understand your frustration and I believe that you’re right to feel that way.” Devon sighed.

John heard the disappointment in his wife’s voice and it hurt him. Why wasn’t he enough for her? How could her interests in Virginia be more important than he was? He understood that Devon would capitulate to his wishes, but he felt that it could prove to be a hollow victory if she was unhappy doing so.

“Darling, don’t be sad. I won’t insist that you join me here before the Derby. All I ask is that afterward you put all that aside for a while and just spend some time with me and our friends.”

“You don’t want to spend summer in the city, do you?” Devon asked, incredulous. None of their friends ever summered in New York. Most went to Newport in June and July, then to Saratoga for the August racing season. Some went to Europe, and a handful went to their estates in Virginia. But not New York City in summer!

“Of course not. I’d like you to come to New York in May after the Derby. Then we’ve been invited to the Vanderbilts’ for the last two weeks in June and to Sydney and Bart’s for July. You don’t have any objection to accepting those invitations, do you?”

“No…” Devon hesitated. “But won’t we spend any time this summer at Willowbrook? There’s so much I need to do here and—”

“Darling, I have no intention of renouncing Willowbrook and I never meant for you to get that impression. I simply enjoy spending time with our friends and I don’t want to miss the entire Newport season on account of Willowbrook.”

“Oh…” Devon sighed, this time with relief. “Could we spend the first two weeks in June here?”

“Of course,” said John warmly, happy now that Devon had agreed to his plan. He looked forward to a summer filled with long days of sailing, tennis, and golf and the nights of sumptuous dinners and parties. He was a gregarious man who enjoyed his friends. He often felt restless when Devon and he spent quiet evenings at home, whereas Devon could go weeks on end without socializing with anyone but family and the most intimate friends. He resolved to see to it that Devon had the most amusing summer of her life.

Devon knew that Firefly had the breeding, the gait, and the physical ability to win races. These factors were already established and beyond Devon’s control. But there were two very important factors that she could, to a great degree, control: training and surveillance of Firefly’s health. Finally, Firefly had the handicap of being a filly, a variable that Devon could not control but
could
manipulate.

Because Devon did not possess many hard-and-fast beliefs about Thoroughbred training, she was free to let her imagination explore unconventional possibilities. She decided to train Firefly to win by having her become accustomed to winning.

As Devon had pointed out to Willy, Firefly had won several races the previous year, but Willy had not entered her in any top competitions because it was important to his pride to resurrect Willowbrook as a revenue-generating enterprise. He had thus entered her in races that he believed she had a good chance of winning, rather than those in which she would be challenged.

But Thoroughbred training involved challenging horses to the utmost. Willy and most other experts trained their horses by a combination of running them alone and running them against challenging competition. Devon’s training theory, however, was based on her knowledge of horses in the wild. She knew that horses survived by staying close to the herd; thus the winner of a horserace was most often an animal that has stayed in the middle of the pack, or close to it, until the end, when the whip of the jockey urged him forward. A natural pack leader, though, would try to pull ahead of other horses; it was his instinct to do so. And in the wild, stallions were pack leaders. A filly’s instinct, especially as she aged, was the opposite. Devon concluded that Firefly could only become a Derby winner through careful reconditioning—by competing against and beating colts on a regular basis. Devon hoped that Firefly’s victories the previous year would provide a good foundation upon which to base future training. So, instead of urging the colts Firefly competed against to run faster, Devon would place Firefly in a field of three colts, surrounding her, and she would instruct the exercise riders to hold their colts back to the degree that Firefly would remain part of the pack but still win.

While Firefly, like all racehorses, was kept in her stall almost all day so as to conserve her energy, her competitors were allowed to run free over the vast Willowbrook acreage. Firefly would emerge from her stall each day explosive and ready to vent her suppressed energy. The colts, on the other hand, were free to do so all day. Almost from the first, the tactic worked remarkably well. Her time was better than that of Fearless Leader’s no matter what distance was run. So much so that Willy did not know what to make of the phenomenon.

“Fearless Leader is a mudder,” Jeremiah commented one day as he slowly walked Firefly around a corral to cool her down, Devon in step beside him. Normally, a junior stable employee, called a hot walker, performed the task, but Jeremiah and Devon preferred to handle almost every aspect of Firefly’s training themselves. They were afraid that the hot walkers would shortchange Firefly’s cool-down time, and as a result leave her stiff and sore. “That was fine when the weather was so wet last fall, but it’s been dry most of this winter and Firefly, she likes a dry track.”

“But what are we going to do when the spring rains come?” Devon asked.

“That I don’t know, ma’am. It’s not that Firefly can’t run a muddy track. It’s that Fearless Leader loves it.”

“After all,” Devon said, “Fearless Leader is my horse too. It really doesn’t matter if he does better. As long as one of them is Derby material.”

Jeremiah gave her a sidelong look with his intelligent brown eyes. He smiled sympathetically and said, “Yes, ma’am.”

Devon could not resist laughing out loud at his careful diplomacy, and the young man responded with a handsome flash of white teeth against chocolate skin.