CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 11
Spending Christmas in New Orleans was an exciting prospect for a tourist. There were decorations galore: lights strung along wrought-iron fences and live oak trees, decorated streetcars, steamboats, and carriages. There were bonfires on the levee, caroling in Jackson Square, and lavish feasts packing tables in every restaurant on every corner. The city throbbed with joy, celebration, and festivity.
But Jo, Brooks, Frankie, Earl, Cheyenne, Lee, and Nancy (a groom from Brooks’s stables) had traveled to New Orleans for a different reason. After being packed into trucks and transporting Another Round along the interstate for a total of eleven hours, they were eager to let Another Round stretch his legs and settle in at the Fair Grounds Race Course as well as unpack their bags and get a good night’s sleep. Nervous tension combined with a packed schedule of race preparation had left them with little time or inclination to sightsee. Instead, they spent every spare moment they had (and a few they didn’t have) seeing to all of Another Round’s needs, getting acquainted with the racetrack, and praying for a safe race.
Finally, the day after Christmas, one hour and twenty minutes from the start of the Gun Runner race, Jo and Nancy escorted Another Round across the racecourse grounds to the receiving barn. The winter sun hung low in the late-afternoon sky as they fell in line with the other horses, trainers, and jockeys, all preparing for the race.
“What do you think?” Nancy asked Jo, eyeing the sweat glistening along Another Round’s bare neck. “He looks like he’s starting to wash out.”
Jo glanced at Another Round and noted the stressed look in his eyes as he took in the other horses and the unfamiliar surroundings. “He’s nervous. That’s to be expected.”
But she had to admit that Another Round’s high level of nervous tension was cause for concern.
Over the past two months, she’d put Another Round through a safe but vigorous training routine to enhance his strength and stamina. The colt had performed well, growing stronger and more confident every day. Their hopes had been high during the drive down to New Orleans. Another Round’s times were great, his love of running had intensified during his training, and his personality remained upbeat and friendly through it all. There had been nothing to indicate that Another Round would react negatively heading into a formal race.
But in racing, nothing was certain and very little before or during the race could be controlled.
“It’s the other horses,” Nancy said, glancing around as they entered the receiving barn. “They’re putting him on edge.”
Inside the receiving barn, other colts walked around, some grinding their teeth and others kicking, most of them eyeing each other suspiciously.
Jo nodded. “Another Round’s a born competitor, and he knows he has competition. Let’s just hope he puts that nervous energy to good use.”
“At least the weather’s perfect,” Nancy said. “We couldn’t ask for a better track.”
That was true. The December air was cool, but the climate was similar to that of Kentucky this time of year—weather Another Round was used to training and running in—and the dirt track was dry and welcoming. Conditions for the night’s race were pretty much the best they could possibly be—save for Another Round’s emotional response to his surroundings.
“Should we pull him?” Nancy asked, eyeing Another Round again, this time with intense concern.
Jo shook her head. “Not yet. If nothing else, he needs the experience. We may have practiced with starting gates in the pasture, but he needs to enter a gate beside competitors and get a feel for what it looks and sounds like.” She patted Another Round’s neck and murmured soothing words. “Let’s give him a chance,” she said quietly. “If he doesn’t want to run, he’ll let us know.”
Nancy laughed and rubbed Another Round’s forehead. “Yeah. Lee told me he learned that the hard way a couple weeks ago. He said he’s never met anyone more stubborn than Another Round and Cheyenne.”
Jo smiled, recalling the incident. It had been a normal day—perfect for training—like today, but Another Round had planted his feet the moment he’d hit the exercise track at Lone Oaks Crossing and refused to run. Lee had tried to coax him into participating for quite some time, but Another Round was stubborn (possibly more so than Cheyenne) and had refused to train that one and only time.
“Cheyenne’s probably going nuts in that hotel room right about now,” Jo said. “She’s probably asking Earl and Frankie a million questions and angry about not being able to be here with Another Round.”
Cheyenne had done a great job of taking care of Another Round over the past two months and had developed a close relationship with the colt, but the Fair Grounds Race Course housed a casino and, unfortunately, due to age restrictions, she’d had to sit this race out.
“I’m sure she’s having a fit and probably giving them a fit, too. Lee said the kid sure gave him one his first week back at Lone Oaks Crossing.” Nancy laughed. “Boy, I hope Another Round does well. Cheyenne will think I didn’t do my job if he doesn’t.”
Moments later, the horse identifier came their way to verify Another Round as well as Jo and Nancy. Soon after that, they moved to the paddock, where Jo saddled Another Round.
When she finished saddling the colt, Jo stood beside him, stroked his neck, and whispered soothingly in his ear. “You’re a winner, sweetheart, no matter what. When it’s time, take off and enjoy every moment. Then come back to us, safe and sound.”
She kissed his neck, then stepped away so Nancy could lead him to the walking ring, where spectators and potential bettors might view him.
Brooks joined Jo inside the walking ring and watched as Another Round slowly made the circuit. The sun had dipped below the horizon since they’d left the receiving barn and the floodlights were on, casting garish light across the track and grounds.
“How’s he looking?” Brooks asked, standing beside Jo.
She wove her fingers together and squeezed. “I don’t know. He seems nervous, and we can tell the tension’s getting to him.”
Brooks reached out and took her hands in his, the calm strength of his touch melting away the anxiety she hadn’t been aware she’d been harboring. “He’ll be fine. Win or lose, he’ll have an opportunity to compete. That’s what’s important, right?”
She nodded. “Just think good thoughts in the stands, okay?”
He kissed her forehead, then smiled down at her, his familiar features a welcome sight. “He’s going to be great. I can feel it.”
Moments later, Lee joined them in the walking ring, dressed in black-and-white quartered silks and a black cap with ORIGINAL SIN printed in white lettering on the back.
“Well, don’t you look smart,” Jo said. “You spiffy up well.”
Lee laughed. “Doesn’t take much when your boss gets you the finest stuff.”
Brooks smiled. “You’ve earned every penny and then some, Lee. You’ve worked your backside off the past two months.” He held out his hand. “Good luck out there.”
Lee shook his hand. “Thank you.”
Casting one more glance at Another Round, Brooks wished Jo luck as well, then left to return to his box seat.
“How’re you feeling?” Jo asked, though she already knew the answer. He was nervous. She could see it in the way he opened and closed his hands by his sides, his eyes flicking over the crowd and horses.
“I’m good.” He grew quiet, his expression turning somber. “No matter how this all turns out, Jo, I want to thank you for the opportunity to ride again.”
The earnest gratitude in his tone made Jo’s breath catch. “I should be thanking you for agreeing to join our team. You’ve worked wonders with Another Round and picked up right where you left off years ago. I really hope we win a few—for all our sakes.”
Lee nodded. “Let’s hope things turn out well.”
Ten minutes before starting time, Lee was allowed to mount. Jo gave him a leg up and once he was settled, he and Another Round headed to the track, accompanied by a pony horse and rider.
Jo hoped the track pony would help calm Another Round down as he passed the crowd in the stands and made his way to the starting gate. She watched as Lee warmed Another Round up, cantering him around a bit, and hopefully settling their nerves.
Soon, the horses were loaded, one at a time, into their starting gates. Jo bit her nails, watching and waiting, her heart beating erratically until finally, the seven gates swung open and the colts took off, bolting down the dirt track at high speeds, each vying for a position in front.
To Jo’s relief, Another Round didn’t freeze or plant his feet. Instead, he ran with the others, though his gait seemed restrained, as though he were holding back, or perhaps hesitant to go full throttle in such unfamiliar territory.
“Come on, boy,” she whispered, the shouts of the crowd echoing in her ears, almost drowning out her thoughts. “Pick up the pace.”
Lee rode well, urging Another Round on, keeping his seat with confident purpose.
“Crowd Pleaser takes the lead along the clubhouse turn,” an announcer blared over the stadium speakers. “They’re heading to the back of the track now and Mighty Soldier is taking over, stealing the lead from Crowd Pleaser. And we have Another Round surging from the back now, overtaking Outside Margin and Perfect Day . . .”
Jo rose to her tiptoes, straining for a glimpse of Another Round, seeking a flash of Lee’s black-and-white silks. “Come on, come on, come on . . .”
“They’re rounding the far turn now and coming to the top of the stretch,” the announcer continued. “Crowd Pleaser resumes the lead at the quarter pole but Mighty Soldier is powering on and—oh, Another Round has lost steam, sliding behind Outside Margin . . . now Perfect Day.”
Jo caught sight of him, her eyes fixed on Another Round’s face as he ran, chasing the horses that surged ahead of him. “You can do it, boy. Just shift gears.”
“Mighty Soldier is charging up on the outside,” the announcer blared, “but it’s Crowd Pleaser that takes the win, followed by Mighty Soldier, Outside Margin, and Royal Flush.”
Jo exhaled, her shoulders sagging with her spirits as Another Round dashed across the finish line in last position.
* * *
The eleven-hour drive back to Lone Oaks Crossing was more excruciating than the initial trip to New Orleans had been.
“If I had been there, he would’ve done better.” Cheyenne, seated in the back seat of the extended cab, crossed her arms over her chest and slumped back against her seat. “There’s no way Another Round would have come in last in that race had I been with him.”
Jo, seated in the passenger seat, shook her head and sighed. “Cheyenne, we’ve talked about this. At length, I might add. Because of your age, you weren’t allowed into the racecourse and Nancy did a fine job of standing in for you.”
“Not as good a job as I would have done,” Cheyenne said, her eyes meeting Jo’s in the rearview mirror. “Another Round knows me. He wouldn’t have been as nervous or scared if I had been there with him.”
Brooks removed one hand from the steering wheel and adjusted the rearview mirror as he sought out Cheyenne’s gaze. “Another Round would have been nervous no matter what. Even if you had been able to go inside the racecourse with him, you still wouldn’t have been allowed on the track. You wouldn’t have been at the starting gate with him, and you wouldn’t have been able to run the race with him. There’s only so much we can do, Cheyenne. Another Round has to play his part, too.”
Cheyenne frowned, appearing to think this over as she stared out the window at the dark countryside passing with each mile Brooks drove. “Then what will it take to get him to do his part?”
Brooks stared ahead at the highway before them. “I don’t know. But what I do know is that Jo, Lee, and you have done an excellent job preparing Another Round for this race.”
Jo sneaked a glance at his profile, noting the tight clench of his jaw and the firm set of his mouth. Brooks hid it well, but he was just as disappointed in Another Round’s performance as Cheyenne.
After the race had ended, Jo had waited patiently as Lee and a hot walker cooled Another Round down, took him to be drug tested with the other horses, then returned him to his stall to be bathed. Brooks had joined her, a disappointed expression on his face despite the smile he’d forced as he exchanged idle pleasantries with her while they watched the winning horse and his connections revel in their achievement in the Winner’s Circle.
Though Brooks hadn’t come out and said it, Jo knew he was inwardly devastated at the prospect of having backed a losing horse.
“One bad run doesn’t mean you’ve backed a bad horse,” she said softly. Reaching across the console, she placed her hand on his knee in a comforting gesture. “Another Round may have come in last, but he did really well fighting through his nervous tension. A lot of other horses, feeling the fear he did, would have balked at leaving the gate, but he didn’t. He faced down his fears and joined the other horses in the race. At one point, he even came close to the front of the pack.”
“‘Close’ doesn’t cut it,” Brooks whispered back. “We’re betting everything we have on earning enough qualifying points to win a place in the starting gate at the Derby. If he doesn’t start performing, we don’t stand a chance of securing a spot.”
The finality in his tone intensified Jo’s own fears. She sat back in her seat, turned her head, and looked in the side mirror at the set of headlights following close behind Brooks’s truck. Earl, Frankie, Lee, and Nancy traveled in the truck behind them, and Jo wondered briefly if they were having the same conversation.
Lee was probably thinking the same thoughts as Brooks. He’d left the track disappointed in himself and Another Round. And worst of all, he’d had a difficult time looking Jo in the eye as they’d loaded Another Round into the trailer for the return trip to Lone Oaks Crossing.
It broke her heart to think that he felt his hard work had been for nothing or that he no longer measured up in her eyes. Lee had worked hard for two months, exercising every day, putting Another Round through his paces, and working patiently with her and Cheyenne to provide the best care and attention to Another Round. Nothing he had done—or hadn’t done—contributed to Another Round’s loss in the Gun Runner.
She’d told him as much, just as she’d tried to console Cheyenne and Brooks. But none of them had listened. They were all too consumed with disappointment.
The air in the truck’s cab grew thick and still. Jo lowered the passenger side window and leaned her cheek against it, inhaling the cold night air as it rushed into the cab. Thankfully, the familiar landmarks of Lone Oaks appeared, and soon Brooks had turned onto the driveway of Lone Oaks Crossing and brought the truck to a halt in front of the main house.
Brooks cut the engine, then glanced in the rearview mirror, eyeing the truck that drove up behind them and parked as well. “I’ll stay for a while and help Lee unload Another Round and get him settled for the night.”
“But that’s my job,” Cheyenne piped from the back seat. “I should be the one to wash him off and settle him down.”
Brooks smiled indulgently. “I know. But we’ve all had a long ride home and I imagine Frankie and Jo could use some help getting Earl inside and settled, too, don’t you think?”
Cheyenne sighed, the sound an equal mixture of frustration, anger, and resignation. “I guess.”
They all exited the truck, and for the next half hour, the sounds of truck doors opening and closing, trailers being unhitched, and hooves stepping across metal echoed over the grounds. The night air was cold, and Jo shivered as she helped Frankie and Cheyenne get Earl inside the house and to the kitchen table in his wheelchair.
Earl was cold, too. He sat in his wheelchair, clutching his gray sweater around his shoulders, shivering.
“Let me get you some coffee, Earl,” Jo said, crossing the kitchen to where the coffeemaker sat on the counter. “I bet you’re freezing after that walk outside and probably starving from the long drive.”
Though they’d split the hours of the drive back to Lone Oaks over two days, they’d had to take several breaks along the way and had gotten a late start that morning, causing them to arrive home later than expected. They’d last stopped for lunch around noon, and it was after seven in the evening now.
“I expect he’s going to need more than coffee.” Frankie, standing by the kitchen window, staring out at the others as they unloaded Another Round from the trailer and walked him to the stable, faced Jo, an expectant expression on her face. “Do you know what day it is?”
Jo sifted through a basket on the kitchen counter, looking for a pod of Earl’s favorite coffee to put in the single-serve coffee maker. “Yep. It’s Wednesday.”
“Yes, it’s Wednesday,” Frankie repeated. “But what’s the date?”
“It’s the twenty-eighth of December,” Jo said.
“Exactly.” Frankie propped her hands on her hips. “We’ve spent the last week so focused on that darn race that we missed the most important part of the week.”
Jo’s hand stilled around the coffeepot, her gaze rising to meet Frankie’s. “Christmas,” she whispered. “We’ve completely missed Christmas.”
“Yeah.” Cheyenne plopped in a chair beside Earl at the kitchen table and rested her chin in her palms. “We missed presents, cards, decorations, ham, pecan pie—”
“I have a ham in the fridge,” Frankie said, thrusting one finger in the air. “And a pecan pie in the freezer.” A second finger joined the first, then a third. “And I think there are some green beans in that freezer, too.”
Jo smiled. “Either way, that sounds like enough food to feed the lot of us and give us a reason to enjoy each other’s company without any stress for the first time this week.”
Frankie nodded. “Sounds like a winning plan to me.”
One hour later, Jo, Frankie, and Cheyenne had managed to round up enough food to create a small feast for Lone Oaks’s racing team. While Brooks, Lee, and Nancy settled Another Round in the stable for the night, Jo, Frankie, and Cheyenne worked feverishly in the kitchen to rustle up an impressive, though belated Christmas dinner comprised of ham, green beans flavored with the ham bone, creamed corn, some dinner rolls Frankie had bought prior to their trip, and a recently warmed pecan pie for dessert.
Cheyenne, having caught the Christmas spirit at some point during the process, had even found a white lace tablecloth on a shelf in the pantry and spread it out on the kitchen table along with enough place settings, silverware, and glasses of ice for everyone.
Frankie, who’d frequently glanced out of the kitchen window as they’d cooked, checked it one more time, then waved Cheyenne over toward the front door. “Cheyenne, run on out there and ask those three to come on in, please. They look about done out there and the food’s ready.”
Cheyenne complied eagerly, her hunger the driving force if the rumbles from her stomach were any indication.
Jo and Frankie had just finished filling each glass of ice with sweet tea when the front door opened, and Cheyenne returned with Brooks, Lee, and Nancy following close behind.
“Oh, my word,” Nancy said, “what’s that wonderful smell?” She walked into the kitchen behind Brooks and Lee, then stopped in her tracks as she spotted the food-laden table. “That looks delicious. I’m starving!”
“Well,” Frankie said, “we figured y’all were starving just like us and we got to thinking that we all missed a decent Christmas dinner together, seeing as how we were so focused on the race and all.”
Jo waved a hand toward the table. “Please, have a seat, everyone. We’ll say the blessing and dig in.”
It was a tight fit, but they managed it.
After everyone was settled, Jo looked at Cheyenne. “Would you like to say the blessing, Cheyenne?”
Cheyenne, seated opposite Jo, held her gaze for a moment, then looked around the table and shrugged. “Sure.” After everyone bowed their heads, she began. “Dear Lord, thank you for letting there be a ham in Frankie and Earl’s fridge. And the pecan pie in the freezer. I love pecan pie. The green beans I could’ve done without, but I suppose the pie will make up for it.”
A strangled cough emerged from the end of the table and Jo cracked open one eye, catching sight of a grin on Lee’s face.
“Thanks for letting Another Round race, too,” Cheyenne continued. “Except for him losing. You could’ve gave him that one. I mean, you know how hard we’ve worked and—”
“Cheyenne.” Jo met her eyes across the table. “Let’s keep it humble and grateful, please.”
She rolled her eyes. “Anyway, I’m going to wrap this up because I’m hungry, but I do want to thank you for sending me here.” Her tone had softened, lowering almost to a whisper. “Thank you for letting me stay here. Thank you for letting me work with Another Round. And thank you for everyone at this table. Thank you for letting me not be alone this Christmas. Because even though we didn’t win the race, I still had fun on the ride there and in the hotel. And the best part . . . the best part that I want to thank you for is that I got to come back to Lone Oaks Crossing. Coming back here tonight, felt . . . like, well, like coming home. Amen.”
Jo’s vision blurred and she blinked hard as she raised her head and looked around the table. Everyone was silent. Frankie was wiping her eyes, Lee and Brooks had a contemplative look on their faces, Nancy smiled at Cheyenne, and Earl had wrapped his arm around Cheyenne’s shoulders and hugged her close, tears rolling down his cheeks.
“Well . . .” Jo cleared her throat, realizing that the loss on the racetrack was nothing compared to the heartfelt gratitude in Cheyenne’s voice as she’d prayed. As far as Jo was concerned, despite their huge loss in New Orleans, Cheyenne had just given them the best win. “Amen.”