Bullet Work (14 page)

“What?” Dan asked finally.

“Danny, she went forty-five and four, maybe
faster. Mickey is going to write her up at forty-six and one. May
not be a big deal to many people, but I think Mickey’s going to try
to cash a ticket when your filly runs.” Dan gave him a puzzled
look. “Clockers have been known to miss a killer workout because,
if they put it down as it happened, it would knock down the odds.
It wasn’t a totally dark work, but I guarantee you, he’s got his
eye on your filly.”

Milton edged his way around Lennie to get out
of the box seats. “I’m going with the three and gonna play him with
the four and seven in exactas,” Milton said. “Likatious is gonna be
a bust today. I can’t play him as the chalk. You guys want
anything?”

They weren’t sure whether he meant a bet or
libation. Dan shook his head no. As Milt neared the top of the
steps, Dan said, “Heck, if I ordered a sandwich, he’d eat it before
he got back to the box anyway.”

“Tough card today, Danny boy,” Lennie
muttered. “They’re going to make it hard on us.”

“Where’s TP?” he asked, looking down on the
crowd milling around on the apron below them.

“Emilio’s got a ride here. He may be
buttering up the trainer in the paddock.”

“Or practicing his excuses,” Dan said, which
raised a chuckle. “Lennie, were you in the seminary once? Am I
remembering that right?”

“Yeah, I was. Mom was so proud,” he said.
“For the whole three months. Then I came to my senses and went back
to Princeton to get my math degree. That was an odd time.” Lennie
stared at the tote board and put his pages on his lap. He lifted
his glasses and rubbed his nose. “I’m going to pass this one.
Likatious may run out, but he might as easily draw off and win by
five. Can’t play this race.”

“Does the name Ananias mean anything to
you?”

“From the Bible?” Lennie asked. Dan shrugged
and nodded. “Well, you’re talking about Ananias and Sapphira. It’s
a biblical story that theologians have debated through the ages.
Some think it has to do with tithing, and others think it’s about
deception.”

Dan looked at him, waiting.

Lennie continued, “As the story goes, Ananias
was married to a gal named Sapphira. Ananias sold some land and was
preparing to short his contribution to the apostles. You see, early
Christians gave everything they had to the apostles. Didn’t believe
that they owned anything—just held it for the work of the church.
Anyway, Ananias kept some of the money and only gave part to the
apostles.” Lennie eased back in his chair and looked out over the
track.

“And?” Dan asked.

“And God struck them both down. Killed both
Ananias and his wife.”

“Killed them?”

“Well, in the scriptures it was known as
‘giving up the ghost.’ You just dropped dead. So ‘kill’ might be a
harsh word, but they died spontaneously. So you tell me the cause
of death. They were just taken out. Boom.”

“Why? I don’t get it,” said Dan.

“That’s why scholars have debated the story
for centuries. One theory is that he didn’t give the right amount
to the apostles. Ergo, they were killed. Another theory is that it
wasn’t about the money. It was about deception. If Ananias had been
honest about how much money he got from the deal and only wanted to
give the apostles so much, he wouldn’t have been struck down. I’m
not sure either one is completely right. You know, there are some
strange stories in the Bible, and I’ve always wondered what was
lost in translation or about errors in transcription. To me, the
story seems like it’s missing some pretty important pieces.”

Dan looked down and tried to imagine why
someone would name a child Ananias.

“So, what sent you on this biblical trip down
memory lane?” Lennie asked.

“Oh, I met a guy with the name Ananias, and
he said it was from the Bible, and I wondered what the story
was.”

“Quite a tag to hang on someone,” said
Lennie. “What did they do, name his brother Pontius Pilate?”

Milton came back, carrying a tub of popcorn,
and he had two hotdogs wrapped in foil in his jacket pocket.

Lennie scooted back as Milton slid past him.
“Bet the favorite, didn’t you?”

Milton looked at him like he just ruined a
birthday surprise. “Damn straight. Dellingham wouldn’t bring him
back and put him in this spot if he didn’t think he’d fire. Plus,
lot of barn money coming in on him late.”

The tote showed Likatious at six to five.
Track announcer Dean Horn called them all in line.

Likatious ran middle of the pack and never
fired. He finished last. A total non-factor.

Milton threw a half-dozen tickets in the air
as the leaders were halfway down the stretch. “Damn it. I told you
he couldn’t win a one-horse race. Didn’t I tell you that?” Milton
said in total frustration.

“That you did, Milton,” Lennie said, licking
a finger and turning to his pages for the next race. “That you
did.”

Chapter 24

The morning sun hung low in the sky
but presaged a blistering, humid day. The movable outside rail on
the backside of the racetrack was shifted over, leaving a
thirty-foot gap, which allowed horses and riders to get onto the
track from the backside.

Morning works were in progress. Some would be
official works, some in company, and others galloped and cantered
around the track as the daily exercise. Jake wasn’t at the barn, so
Dan wandered over to the break.

Those who loved this game could stand for
hours and watch horses go by. With experience, the exceptional
athletes could be spotted much the same way one could watch a group
of boys playing basketball and rank-order their ability. It was
called “watching their action”—how they moved over the ground, how
eager they were to be on the track. Some would show reluctance;
some would be so full of themselves they would drag the rider
around the track, throwing their heads in a plea for a loosened
grip.

Exercise riders had been given instructions
for each mount, whether that was a canter just to stretch the legs,
a two-minute mile clip, or a bullet work. Horse and rider had to
cooperate, or it was a constant tug of war between man and animal.
Man had the leverage; the animal had its will. On good days, they
fought to a draw.

He spotted Beth standing on the left side of
the break, leaning against the rail. Her tiny frame mirrored the
posts holding up the rail, with her blonde hair swaying slightly in
the breeze. She was looking up the track, past the clocker’s tower,
probably watching one of her charges go through its exercise
regime.

Riders going past made sure to catch a good
glimpse, and those going to and from the track gave her an in-depth
once over. Some shouted to her or at least in her direction. She
ignored them, keeping her eyes on the long backstretch.

“Who you got out today?” Dan asked.

She shifted her weight and looked over,
brightening. “Tom Crater’s mare, Breaking Dawn. Just giving her a
little air.” This meant a moderate workout, just to aid in
conditioning. “She’s a tough customer. Doesn’t like working in the
mornings. Would rather sleep in.”

“Mare’s done all right. She runs well in the
afternoons.” Dan had cashed a bet on her a few times. He knew the
ins and outs of Jake’s barn, and even though he didn’t have an
ownership interest in the horse, she was on the same team.

“Yeah, some of these characters only want to
race. Problem is, unless we get them sharpened in the mornings,
they won’t have any legs for the afternoons.”

“Makes you wish you could talk to them,
explain the purpose.”

She smiled and looked him in the eye. “Oh, we
communicate. Believe me. May not be with words, but after a while
they know the drill. They may not like it, and they can be stubborn
as hell, but they know. Never want to take the chip off their
shoulder. Want them to have that edge, but like dancing, somebody’s
got to lead and somebody’s got to follow.”

“Who’s who?”

This raised a chuckle. “We lead.” Beth gazed
out over the track, watching for Breaking Dawn. “Well, most of the
time anyway.”

Dan gave her a quick glance, then looked up
the track. “Which one?”

“Emilio’s got a green shirt under the
vest.”

He found them in the middle of the track,
just out of the turn, pounding toward them. “What’s he doing? A
two-minute clip?”

“S’posed to. Hell, he may have to go to the
whip to get that out of her.”

They watched in silence as the mare came
toward them. From straight on, it was difficult to determine how
fast she was moving, but Emilio bounced up and down, indicating
that he was working somewhat to raise her interest level.

Dan spotted the man coming down the stairs of
the clocker’s tower that adjoined the track twenty yards from the
break. He was the man he met at the trainer’s meeting, the one who
nearly broke his hand. The farrier.
What’s a
farrier doing in the clocker’s tower?

The man approached, and Dan caught his eye,
or at least part of his eye. Most of his attention was on Beth’s
backside. “Ginny. Right?” He didn’t bother to offer a hand to
shake.

Ginny nodded. “Dan.” He kept moving past,
giving one last glance at Beth’s backside.

Breaking Dawn moved past them, and Beth’s
head followed the arch into the turn. She turned and saw Ginny
moving away, then focused her eyes back on the horse.

“Guy’s bad news,” she said.

“Ginny?”

“Yep.”

“What’s his deal?”

“Stay away from him,” she said, still
focusing on her horse, halfway through the turn.

“No, seriously. Guy’s a farrier isn’t
he?”

“All I know is what I hear. He’s
trouble.”

“Make sure you never shake hands with him. He
nearly crushed all the bones in my hand,” Dan said, trying to get a
laugh out of her.

She wasn’t going for any of it. “Heard he
beat a guy to death down at Louisiana Downs.”

“If that’s true, why isn’t he in jail?”

“Who knows? Maybe he had a crafty lawyer like
you get him off.” She looked over, not smiling. Two horses working
in company blistered past them near the rail. Both were drawn to
the action and competition. One jockey pumped his arms furiously,
trying to get his horse to take the lead over his counterpart. They
watched them spin into the turn, then Beth turned back.

“He’s been ruled off two or three other
tracks, I’ve been told. Threw a jockey through a plate glass window
once. Man’s crazy. I mean it—if there’s a problem, that guy is
always in the neighborhood. Been hanging around the barn a little
too much for my comfort.”

“Jake knows what he’s doing,” he said.

“Yeah, maybe. I’m telling you, stay away from
that guy. He’s not your friend. The guy creeps me out.”

Chapter 25

Kyle leaned forward and hooked his
toes into that familiar position around the stirrup. He wrapped
horse hair from the mane around his index finger and prepared for
the break. He would time it perfectly to be on his toes, leaning
over the horse’s neck. The acceleration would balance him, and his
forward position would keep him from falling back and yanking the
reins. Men who worked as gate hands were scrambling in and around
the starting gate.

“Two out.”

More shifting and movement could be heard
behind him. One gate hand was standing on the foot ledge inside the
stall with Kyle and Aly Dancer. He held the horse’s bridle and
unwrapped the leather strap that had run through the bridle to lead
the horse into the starting gate stall. On the break he would
release the horse, hopefully in a straight course.

“One out.”

The clanging of the stalls slamming shut told
him they were all in. Jack Meeks shouted “No, no, no.” He was
trying to steady his mount, Arestie, in the six hole. Meek’s plea
was directed toward the starter, who stood on a high platform just
inside the rail.

“Whoa, whoa,” said jockey Jim Dagens, in
chorus with the gate hand next to him. Mystic Prose in the number
one shoot had reared back. Dagens’ foot had come out, and he was
desperately trying to hook it back in the stirrup.

The starter would try to accommodate the
jockey’s requests, but when he sensed them all standing well, he
would hit the button. The magnetic field holding the front of the
gates closed would be cut, and the two piece gate would spring
open. Kyle sensed the break and leaned forward up on his toes.

“They’re all standing well…and they’re off.…
Mystic Prose broke well on the inside.… Undaunted Cem moves up from
the far outside to contest the early pace. Magnet Time is third.…
Aly Dancer is placed well inside in fourth…with Arestie just
outside her in fifth.… Big Bad Bess is half a length back, holding
sixth. Prized Piece is next…two back to Gypsum Doll, and Yellow
Bellow trails the field.”

Kyle steadied Aly Dancer. On the break Prized
Piece bolted left out of the four hole and slammed into Aly Dancer,
nearly knocking her sideways and into the two horse, Gypsum
Doll.

Dagens got Mystic Prose away well from the
rail. Aly Dancer didn’t break stride but absorbed a good blow.
Prized Piece got the worst of it. Aly Dancer straightened well and
took up chase.

Kyle looked over his left shoulder and guided
Aly Dancer to the rail. He gathered the reins and held position.
Magnet Time was alongside, and another horse was outside him. Kyle
couldn’t see who it was, and it didn’t matter for the time
being.

He had two horses in front of him and a good
spot on the rail. He could wait it out from here. Kyle decided to
let the front runners extend themselves a bit and gave Aly Dancer a
light tug on the reins. She pulled hard on the reins and pinned her
ears back. She wanted to run.

As the leaders moved from a one-length lead
to two, Kyle drifted Aly Dancer half a lane right to avoid the dirt
spray coming from the front runners. If he stayed directly behind
the leader, the spray would hit his mount in the face. This could
annoy and frustrate any horse, but with a young horse like Aly
Dancer, it could be a negative experience that might affect her
racing career.