Golden Filly Collection One (2 page)

Tricia settled back in her short-stirruped racing saddle as the horse slowed to a trot, then a walk.
Man, oh man,
she thought,
Dan’l’s never been this fast. Maybe, no, not maybe. For sure this horse is going to do it for us.
She pushed her goggles up on her head and dreamed ahead.
Only one month to go before the season opens. Twenty-eight days until my birthday. Then I’ll be sixteen and old enough to ride at the Portland Meadows Racetrack. To win!

I know we can do it. Spitfire and me.

She stroked the animal’s arched neck. “We’ll do it, won’t we, fella?”

Spitfire danced faster when he felt the reins loosen. His ears pricked forward as he recognized the gray walking ahead of them. The black blew. He tossed his head. He tried to take the bit in his teeth, but Trish foiled his attempt when she tightened the reins.

“Thought you’d try something, didn’t you?” She gentled him with her voice. As they came up on Dan’l, Spitfire jogged sideways. His front legs crossed one another, like a dancer in a
pas de deux
.

“Well? What’d you think? Wasn’t he fantastic? Oh, Dad, I’ve never ridden so fast in my whole life. He’ll do it for us, won’t he?”

“Wait a minute.” Hal laughed as he held up a gloved hand. “Give me a chance to answer. Which question is most important?”

Trish chuckled. “He was
so
good!”

“Better than just good.” Hal nodded. “Makes me more sure than ever that Spitfire’s the one we’ve been waiting for. I think he has the speed to win.”

Trish grinned at her father, but her grin turned to a frown as she watched him bend over Dan’l’s gray neck. He coughed until he gasped.

“You okay?” She reined the side-stepping black down.

Hal nodded. “Just too much dust.” He wheezed as he spat the choking phlegm at the ground. “I’m fine now.”

“You sure?”

“Of course I’m sure,” he snapped. “Don’t start cross-examining me, babe.”

Trying to hide her hurt feelings, Tricia jerked the reins. Spitfire reared in surprise, then crowhopped in place. “Sorry, fella,” she muttered as she straightened him out into a slow trot again.

“Sorry I barked at you.” Hal trotted the gray even with Tricia and her sweating mount.

“That’s okay.” Tricia shrugged. “But Dad—”

“No buts. Let’s talk about something else.” Hal tapped her gloved hands with his whip. “How did Spitfire feel when you pulled him up? Did he have more to give?”

“I think so.” Trish settled back in her saddle. “But he was tiring.”

“That’s just conditioning. Did he want to keep running?”

“Did he ever! With another horse pushing him, I think he’d really have gone.”

“Well, poor old Dan’l just wasn’t in shape to give that youngster a real run for his money.” Hal patted his mount’s sweaty neck. Dan’l twitched his ears, then tossed his head. As he side-stepped, pulling against the reins, Hal laughed. “I know, old man. You love to run too.”

Trish wanted to reach over and hug the old horse. He was her favorite the horse who had helped her learn to be a jockey. She’d been exercising him for the last five years, getting ready for her first race at Portland Meadows Racetrack.

“We’re getting close, huh?” She smiled at her father.

Hal nodded, his understanding immediate. So often they read each other’s minds, not needing to finish their comments.

“We’ve got a lot to do.” Hal loosened his reins to bring Dan’l into a canter. “Not the least of which, you’ll be late for school if we don’t hustle.”

At that moment she noticed her mother, Marge, and nineteen-year-old brother, David, leaning on the fence by the gate. Caesar, their purebred sable collie, sat obediently at their feet, never taking his eyes off the moving animals.

“David!” Trish trotted up to the gate. “Did you see us? What’s the time?”

“Fantastic!” David grinned and held up the stopwatch. “It looks like he did four furlongs in forty-eight and two, and that’s with no one pushing him.”

Tricia leaned forward as David waved the shiny gold watch on its chain.

At the sight of the unfamiliar glinting object, Spitfire half-reared and whirled to get away. Caught off-balance, Tricia grabbed instinctively around the animal’s neck and dug in with her knees. Like a slow-motion picture, she catapulted from the horse’s back and thumped onto the loose dirt of the track. Even as she hit the ground, Trish clutched one rein in her hand to keep Spitfire from backing away.

“Oof!” She grunted at the force of the impact. “Oh, no you don’t!”

She rolled to her feet to control the plunging horse. “Come on, Spitfire.

It’s only me. You’re okay.”

Hal swung Dan’l around to block the colt from taking off.

“Tricia…” David began.

“I’m fine.” She kept her eyes on her horse. “I’ve been dumped before.

Besides, my pride’s hurt worse than my rear—I think.”

“Well, if your pride’s as dirty as your rear, you’re in real trouble.”

“Thank you, big brother.” Tricia held the now-quiet horse’s bridle with one hand and dusted herself off with the other. “Hey, Mom. What’d you think?” She looked to the fence where Marge had been standing with David, then at David. “Where’d she go?”

Hal and David shrugged in unison.

Tricia shook her head. “Not a good time to take a flying lesson, huh?”

Hal shrugged again and stared toward the house, disappointment clear in the droop of his mouth and shoulders. “Come on, Tee. These guys are hungry and so am I.”

“But, Dad, I didn’t get hurt. And Spitfire didn’t mean to dump me. It was that stupid watch that scared him.”

“I know,” Hal answered as he walked his mount beside Tricia. “But you know your mother’s worried that you could really get hurt on the racetrack.”

“Sure. And a meteor could fall out of the sky and pound me into the dirt.”

Hal chuckled.

“Or the school bus could sprout wings and kidnap me…”

“Now, Tee.”

“Or I might get ptomaine poisoning from my cereal.” Trish delivered the last with all the dramatic flair of a seasoned actress.

Hal laughed again. “Well, falls have happened to better jocks than you, you know.” He nudged Dan’l into a trot. “But don’t worry, I’ll call the emergency wagon for you after I wash these horses down and feed them. Think you can hang on till then?”

“I’ll try.” Trish touched the back of her leather glove to her forehead. The wink her father gave her was all the applause she needed. “David?” she asked as he fell into step beside her. “How am I ever gonna convince Mom that I’m a careful rider?”

“Sure you are.” David reached behind her to pat Spitfire’s neck. “You just proved it.”

“D-a-v-i-d!” She dug into his ribs with her elbow. “That fall was no big deal.”

“To our mother it was. You know what a worrier she is. She’s always worried about Dad at the track, and now you add to it. Besides, in her mind, girls shouldn’t be racing horses, especially not
her
girl.”

“Yeah, I should take dancing lessons and wear a frilly tutu. Maybe I should smear makeup on an inch thick too, and chase every guy in sight.”

“Knock it off, little sister.” David draped an arm around her shoulders. “No one said growing up was easy.” He glanced at his watch. “You better move it or you’ll be late for school, and you know what happens—”

“Okay. Okay. Don’t remind me. I’ve already been late once and school’s been going less than a week.” She trotted toward the stables, Spitfire dancing behind her. “David,” she called after him as he turned to the house. “You can muck out the stalls. It’ll be good for you. Someone once told me it builds muscles.”

“Got enough already.” David flexed an arm, then whistled for Caesar.

Together, they loped up the rise.

Tricia led Spitfire into his stall and cross-tied him. As she reached to loosen the saddle girth, she heard her father start to cough in the adjoining box stall. She pulled the racing saddle from Spitfire’s withers, paused, then called, “Dad?” As the coughing continued, she slung the saddle over the lower half of the stall door. In frustration, she jerked her goggles and helmet off her head, only to run trembling fingers through her thick ebony hair.
If I could just go to him
, she thought.
But what if he yells at me again?

The rattle of her father’s struggling breath filled the stalls. Spitfire tossed his head, eyes rolling white at the strange sound.

Tricia crammed her gloves into her pocket and, green eyes flashing, stepped into the sunshine. She swung Dan’l’s stall door open. Her father leaned against the wall. His body sagged as he choked for breath.

“Dad…” Trish shook his arm. When he turned, she saw bright red bubbles frothing from the corner of her father’s mouth.

“Don’t worry, Tee.” The words rasped in his throat. “I’ll be all right.”

No you won’t
, Tricia thought.
Blood means more than allergies or a smoker’s cough, like you’ve always claimed
.

Chapter

02

D
an’l snorted. He shoved his nose into Tricia’s back. When that didn’t get her attention, he blew in her hair. Feeling a burning in her eyes, she absently rubbed his soft nose.

“Oh, Dan’l,” she whispered. “What are we gonna do?”

Hal coughed again. After he spat the choking mucus out of his throat, he pulled a handkerchief from his back pocket and wiped his mouth. When he saw the blood stain, he stared at his daughter.

“Honest, Trish. There’s never been blood before.” He shook his head. “Guess I better see a doctor right away, spare time or no spare time.”

“Guess so.”

Hal wrapped both arms around Trish. As he hugged her close, he absently rubbed the early morning stubble on his chin against her forehead.

Tricia felt a little more secure. Her father had always made everything all right. When she was little, he fixed the broken rope on her swing. He kissed her and put her back up on the pony when she fell off. All her life she’d tagged after him and David as they farmed and slowly built a business training Thoroughbreds for the racetrack.

Most of those years Hal had trained horses for other breeders. It was only since Trish had turned ten that he’d had horses of his own to race. They still had horses in the stalls that belonged to other owners, but Tricia liked to work their own animals best. Since Dan’l was getting too old to race, they had Spitfire and his half-sister Firefly for this season and some real promising young stock for next year.

With her head against her father’s chest, Tricia could hear the air rattling through his lungs. He wheezed, then gently pushed her aside so he could cough again.

“Short and sweet this time,” he tried to joke as he took a deep breath.

“See, Ma, no cough.”

Tricia wanted to join in their old joke from her bikeriding days. “See, Ma, no hands” had been her password. Now all she could see was her father’s pale face with sweat beading on his upper lip. While the horrid red bubbles had been wiped away, a dried-brown smear marked where they’d been.

“Oh no.” Hal checked his watch. “It’s seven o’clock. I’ll get the tack off these boys and you feed them. Then you’ve gotta get to school.”

“I’ll be late anyway, so why don’t I stay home today? I can catch up on some stuff around here while you and Mom go to the doctor.”

“David can do the chores. You’re going to school.”

“But, Dad—”

“Tricia.” Hal gripped her forearms with calloused hands. “I’m going to be fine. Your staying home won’t change anything but your grades.”

Tricia stared into his eyes, seeking an answer to the fear that gnawed like a beaver at the back of her mind.

“Really.” He turned her and lovingly swatted her on the seat. “Now get going. These horses are hungry.”

Sunlight turned the straw to gold as she shuffled toward the open door. Dan’l snorted. Spitfire whickered. Soft nickers passed down the row of white stalls as the horses begged for their feed. Tricia turned and looked at her father one more time. His tuneless whistle accompanied his hands as he uncinched the saddle. Suddenly, the morning was the same as any other, the telltale dab on his cheek the only sign of trouble.

Sucking in a deep breath, then letting it all out, Tricia stepped into the sunshine. “Be right back, fella,” she promised Spitfire as she picked up the buckets and headed for the feed room.

After loading half a bale of alfalfa and the filled grain buckets into the wheelbarrow, Tricia hurried from stall to stall. She measured each animal’s allotted grain into their feedboxes and threw a wedge of hay in each manger. After checking to see that all the animals but Spitfire and Dan’l had water, she stepped into the tack room as Hal finished hanging up the saddles and bridles.

“Ready?” she asked.

“Yep, but I don’t think we’ll race this time.”

Tricia nodded. “That’s okay. I’ve beaten you the last three mornings.”

“I gave you a head start.”

“Sure. Sure.”

“You don’t believe me?”

“Nope.” Trish shook her head.

“What do you think I am?” Her father bent at the waist and with his right hand on his hip limped for several steps. “A rickety old man?”

“Yup,” Tricia responded, trying not to laugh. “Just a worn-out, fallingapart, ancient old man.” The two paced each other up the rise toward the house.