7.
"Cold Rivalries"
Cindy leaned against the white plastic railing, watching the colts and fillies working out around the track, prancing by on slender, earth toned legs. It was still in the quiet moment of morning, just before dawn, and Cindy could see her breath drift around her face, condensing as she exhaled.
She loved Santa Anita. Everything about it astonished her. The sheer beauty of the track against the California landscape set her in awe, made her understand why she had hated leaving this place, even if nothing had seemed to go right for her here.
"Hey, Cin," Jack greeted, ambling up to the track rail, leaning next to her, bending his tall frame almost ridiculously low so he could look at her eye to eye.
"Hi, Jack," Cindy said, giving him a smile. "Have you heard anything about Mr. Perfect?"
Jack's handsome face immediately darkened. Since Cindy had just recently come back from Wheeler Ridge, she didn't know anything about Mr. Perfect since the race. Thinking about the wreck made Cindy's skin crawl, but knowing that a horse may die made it all the worse.
"He made it through surgery," Jack frowned, shaking his head. "But it doesn't look good. He still has yet to wake up. I'm sure we'll know sometime in the next few hours if the colt is going to take to his cast or not."
"What was the break?" Cindy asked, watching a chestnut colt power around the turn, stretching out in the homestretch, reaching for the wire with all he had.
"Bad," Jack grunted, looking down at his perpetually tanned hands. "Both his legs are broken, the right worse than the left, but still..."
Cindy shook her head, listening as Jack trailed off, reaching up to rub a hand through his thick black hair. "You did a good job, Cindy," Jack said, giving the young jockey a smile. "Believe me."
"Thanks," Cindy smiled. Thinking about the downed horses made her sick, but she knew that it was a part of racing, something she had come to bitterly accept over the years.
"Ready to roll, Cindy?" Lucas called behind her, leading Watchmaker up to the gap.
"Yes," Cindy said, sure of herself. The big red chestnut colt pranced up to the gap, his ears playing energetically. Cindy grinned up at him, watching the beautiful horse impose himself above her, arching his neck proudly as he surveyed the track ahead of him. The San Vicente Stakes was rolling around the corner fast, and Lucas was planning on getting another breeze in before then.
"Five furlongs," Lucas boomed, lifting Cindy into the saddle with ease. "End it at the wire, as always," he instructed, giving Watchmaker's scarlet neck a good pat.
Cindy settled in the saddle and pushed her feet firmly in the stirrups. While Watchmaker was generally gentle on the track he had his moments, nearly unseating Cindy the day before. Cindy had a suspicion that this behavior was inherited from his sire. Shining had never attempted anything like that with her, and Cindy had practically learned how to ride on that mare's back.
"Right," Cindy nodded, turning the chestnut around and heading him out to the track, going through their warm up circuits. Press reporters were gathered up and down the rail, watching the colts for the weekend's San Vicente. Several of the most recent Derby winners had come from Santa Anita, especially the San Vicente Stakes, so much of the press had assembled to watch the works, handicapping the race as best they could through their notes and knowledge of past performances. Cindy knew Watchmaker was being held at high esteem with his run away win in his very first race the month before. She caught several reporters following her as she completed her second circuit around the track, letting the colt out inch by inch.
Watchmaker shook his fiery mane, lunging out suddenly to get Cindy's attention, bobbing his head harshly. Cindy stayed put, feeling the colt's muscles bunch and release underneath her as the colt let out a series of small bucks down the track, testing Cindy's patience once again.
"What happened to that gentleman, huh?" Cindy asked the red colt, letting him slide into a slow gallop, suddenly feeling the colt shift into a high gear, watching the colt's ears flick back in automatic concentration.
"There he is," Cindy smiled, resting a hand on the colt's neck as he ran, upping his speed gradually as Cindy pointed him to the beginning marker, watching the wooden pole streak toward them.
In a blur, Watchmaker passed it, Cindy leveling herself over the colt's withers and giving him rein. The red colt knew the signal and flattened out himself, speeding down the track, pressing so close to the rail that Cindy could feel her chaps skimming along the white plastic tubes.
Watchmaker ground his teeth over the bit, yanking his head down to gather more momentum, catapulting himself around the far turn, his slender legs churning through the well-tilled dirt on the inside of the track. Cindy reached forward, urging the colt on, wanting him to put forward his best for the reporters, who each stood with a stop watch, flicking their eyes from the horse to their clocks.
"That's it," Cindy whispered, feeling her words whipping behind her with the wind. "Let's go, boy!"
She shouted to the colt as he plunged into the homestretch, streaking down the track, passing by slower horses on the outside, running nearly uncontrolled down to the wire. Cindy patted the colt twice on his shoulder with her hand and immediately felt a release of new, raw energy, causing the colt to surge forward, bursting past the finish with wild force, protesting as Cindy stood in the stirrups, slowing him down.
"Oh my God!" Cindy cried as soon as she got the colt down to a controlled trot, patting Watchmaker's sweaty neck with a gleeful look on her face. "That was fantastic!"
When she looked up she could see Jack's face, a flashing grin settled there. He laughed and patted Lucas on the back, who looked like he might burst.
"Fifty-nine flat!" Lucas shouted as Cindy brought the trembling Watchmaker to a stop in front of him. "Flat! I can't believe me eyes. This is going to be the work of the day!"
Cindy laughed out loud and reached down, hugging Watchmaker as Jack checked the colt's legs, running his skilled hands over each, coming up with nothing.
"He's perfect," Jack said, looking up at the colt and shaking his head. "Just like Red Army."
"Just like Shining, you mean," Cindy corrected him, jumping off the colt's back and handing the horse off to his groom.
"Just like them both," Jack said, nodding. "Fifty-nine. And here I'd thought Townsend King's time would be the best of the day."
"Townsend King?" Cindy asked, turning to look up at Jack. Her eyes had been all over Watchmaker, following the colt as he was led up to the barn. She couldn't believe her good fortune. To be riding a horse like that toward the Kentucky Derby was something she still couldn't quite believe.
"Yeah," Jack said, looking over at Cindy as though she had just grown two heads. "The Townsend King who came in a close third in the Breeders' Cup Juvy last year," he summed up, looking at Cindy with laughing eyes. "He smashed a race record here about a month ago in the San Miguel Stakes. Townsend Acres is heading him to the Derby."
"I knew that," Cindy said, shaking her head. "I just haven't seen the Townsend's around lately, and even Townsend King."
"They're stabled in barn 18," Jack shrugged, "if you so want to see them."
Cindy frowned, finding a small part of her that did really want to go take a look at the Townsend horse. Lately it seemed that Townsend Acres had been dropping out of view, their horses less than stakes material. Cindy knew of Townsend King, and she knew that the gray colt had the ability to shatter time like a glass window. The colt had crashed through the San Miguel field as though they were standing still, breaking the record by a little over a second. Cindy wanted to see this colt up close. She wanted to know what Watchmaker was up against, even if it was Townsend Acres, Whitebrook's arch nemesis, and her own.
"Yeah," Cindy said suddenly, pushing away from the rail and heading down to the block of barns. She could hear Jack jogging to catch up with her, sensing a story.
"Why Townsend King, Cin?" Jack asked, slowing next to her as Cindy stalked by the row of barns. Counting down to 18.
"I just want to see what all this fuss is about," Cindy explained, shrugging, stopping outside barn 18. "How fast did he go this morning?"
"A minute and change," Jack reported, looking down the dark aisle. "He's an impressive one."
"I'll bet," Cindy retorted, straightening her shoulders and taking a step inside. She walked down the aisle until she found the gray, looking into his stall.
The gray colt lifted his head and regarded Cindy without interest, flicking his small ears at her calmly. The colt's gray coat shimmered in the dim barn light, glowing a soft silver, like Glory.
"He's a beauty," Cindy admitted grudgingly, wishing Townsend King didn't have to remind her of the gray Whitebrook champion. The colt took a step in their direction, leaning his head lazily against his stall door. Cindy scratched his forehead gently and sighed.
"Barbero's grandson," she said, knowing the colt's pedigree as well as she knew Watchmaker's. "By Bero out of Townsend Silver. A good match, I would say."
Jack stood behind her, watching the gray with quiet eyes. "Have you had enough?"
"Almost," Cindy answered, realizing just how much the colt looked like Glory. He was almost a dead ringer for him, but maybe slightly smaller, with more of a tapered muzzle.
"Cindy," a deep voice cut through the still air. "Here I thought I wouldn't run into you."
Cindy jumped, recognizing that voice instantly. She turned and saw a tall man walking up to her, obviously aged, but with much of the same sophisticated good looks as before. It was Brad Townsend, heir to Townsend Acres.
"Hello, Brad," Cindy said, clenching her teeth secretly, refusing to take a step away from Townsend King's stall. She would stand her ground this time.
"Had to get a good look at King?" Brad asked, a sardonic smile playing around his mouth.
"More or less," Cindy shrugged, watching the gray colt back into his stall again, heading to his water bucket to suck down a few mouthfuls of cool water.
"I suppose you saw his time today," Brad said, his smile becoming more apparent. "The best on the track."
"Actually," Cindy smiled smugly, "I didn't. I was up on Watchmaker."
Brad nodded silently. "What was his time?"
"Fifty-nine flat," Cindy said, watching Brad's reaction, gauging it expertly.
Brad's face tightened and shook his head. "Too fast of a work for a race four days away," he said shortly, looking at Townsend King with hard eyes. "He'll be burned out on race day."
"I guess we'll see," Cindy said, smiling and excusing herself, grabbing Jack as she left Brad Townsend glaring after her.
"If I didn't know better, which I do," Jack shook his head. "I'd think you were baiting him."
"I've waited a long time to put Brad Townsend in his place," Cindy said, grinning at Jack. "After years of the junk he's put me through he deserves everything I throw at him."
"Last time he ran up on the lead and held it," Lucas said to Cindy in the paddock a few days later. "I think this time we're going to have to hold him back more. This is a furlong longer than the last time."
Cindy nodded, watching as Watchmaker was led around the paddock of Santa Anita, tossing his finely shaped head and snorting energetically, dancing on his toes.
"Okay," she said finally, pulling her gaze from the well made chestnut. "I'll pull him back a little."
"Good," Lucas nodded, watching the horses amble around the track, a few acting up in front of the large crowds. Cindy noticed with a sigh of relief that Watchmaker seemed to be indifferent to them, only casting an ear in the crowd's direction, calmly turning his head away.
"Riders up!" Came the call, alerting Cindy to attention. Watchmaker was led up to her and Lucas gave her a leg up, pausing to pat the colt's flank.
"Just keep him out of trouble," Lucas reiterated, looking at Cindy intensely. "You know Townsend King is going to break fast. No early speed duels."
"Got it," Cindy nodded, fastening her helmet and letting the handler lead them away, heading for the track in the seven horse race.
Watchmaker pranced confidently behind Fallsway, a dark bay colt with almost no racing record. The colt was already breaking out into a nervous sweat, darkening his bay coat around his chest and neck. Cindy sat tall in Watchmaker's saddle, keeping a calm hand on the colt's shoulder as another colt, a chestnut named High Man, reared and struck out at his lead, nearly hitting his head on the tunnel ceiling to the track. Watchmaker skittered on his long legs, snorting suddenly at High Man, who wheeled, carrying his groom with him, his eyes rolling in his head.
"Whoa!" Cindy called, watching several more assistants rush up to help push High Man onto the track. Watchmaker's groom held the colt back for several seconds, watching as High Man snorted and plunged out onto the track, causing the crowd to ripple, murmuring about the colt. High Man settled down and began to prance next to his lead pony, finally allowing Watchmaker to step forward, his brilliant red coat gleaming as the sun poured down.
The colt arched his neck as he was handed off to a lead pony, taking off into a floating trot next to the aging palomino gelding. Cindy glanced behind her, warily looking over the rest of the field. It would be a challenging race, she finally decided, turning back around to focus on her horse. Townsend King would be sent straight to the lead, setting shattering fractions as he went. The other colts, Glitter Boy and Michael, won the Belmont Futurity and the Champagne Stakes respectively at two. Then there was the major player, the Eclipse award winner for best two-year-old male, Countdown. The smallish bay horse had won the Sanford Stakes, Hopeful Stakes, and the Breeders' Cup Juvenile by considerable margins the year before. Cindy still didn't know what to think of him, since it was common knowledge that most two-year-old champions floundered at three. What she did know was that he too would try to break fast and lead the field.
Watchmaker shook his deep red mane, grunting eagerly as the out rider picked up the pace, warming up in the first turn. The race was only seven furlongs, so the starting gate was placed near the backstretch, where the horses would load and break.
Cindy rose in the stirrups, feeling the chestnut colt bound into an easy gallop, warming up along the backstretch, shaking his head with anticipation. He wasn't the favorite in the race - Countdown was - but he clearly thought he was. The colt walked as though he knew crushing the competition would be a piece of cake.
Cindy slowed the colt and let the out rider turn him, heading toward the starting gate. Watchmaker tossed his head, plunging away from the pony, throwing his body about like a small tornado. Cindy stayed on, shushing the colt as they approached the gate.
Fallsway loaded perfectly, followed by High Man, who surprisingly didn't put up a fight. Cindy found herself and Watchmaker loading next, the assistant starter grabbing the colt's bridle and leading them into stall three.
Watchmaker stood like a rock, pricking his ears at the track with innocent interest. Townsend King, Glitter Boy, and Michael loaded without a hitch, filing into line easily, letting out quick snorts of suspicion, occasionally squealing with fright as Countdown loaded the gate, bumping and screeching his metal shod hooves against the gate.
Just as the doors shut on Countdown, the bell rang and all seven doors slammed open, stunning all the horses for just a split second before they came roaring out to the approving cries of the crowd.
Watchmaker needed no urging from Cindy. The red colt reared and plunged out of the gate, using his massive, huge strides to carry him forward, thrusting his body to the front.
Cindy urged him on, pumping her hands, guiding the colt to the front and on the rail, finding herself the victor easily, putting away Countdown easily. Cindy grinned, but before she could congratulate herself, she saw Townsend King's gray head appear to her right, bearing down suddenly, and fast.
"A little more, boy," Cindy called, letting the colt out another notch, trying to keep Townsend King at bay. She knew Watchmaker was going to have to pull off some fast fractions to keep Townsend King off of him. Cindy watched desperately as the gray colt pulled along side her, striding easily to the front, a half length ahead of Watchmaker, beginning to set fast fractions.
Watchmaker recovered quickly from his sudden loss of the lead. The colt's ears flattened and he seemed to bear down, forgetting Cindy even existed on his back. The chestnut colt fought back, drawing even with the gray once again, leaving the rest of the field in their great power struggle.
Cindy could hear the fans raucous roars as the field entered the far turn, the only turn in the race. Watchmaker bore down, digging in on the rail and speeding next to Townsend King, who seemed to only grow stronger with the prospect of the speed duel. Cindy knew that Michael and Fallsway were coming on strongly. The race was already spilling into the homestretch, and Countdown still had to make his move, if he wasn't blown off his feet from the beginning.
At the quarter mile pole, Cindy let Watchmaker have his head, yelling to the colt, feeling the red horse shift gears and leads, streaking to the wire like a scarlet blur, pulling away from Townsend King. But the gray wasn't done yet.
Cindy looked behind her to see the gray's jockey going for the whip. Soon Townsend King was drawing even again, snorting wildly and eyeing Watchmaker with a white-ringed eye, galloping toward the finish. Cindy could hear another horse closing in, a light bay, obviously Countdown. The young champion was bearing down, making up ground like an automotive, churning down the middle of the track.
Cindy pumped her arms, feeling her heart rising into the middle of her throat. She had to win this race. Watchmaker was going to win, and he was going to be nominated to the Triple Crown.
Cindy screamed to the colt, kneading her hands along Watchmaker's neck, pulling out the crop and flicking it past his eye, giving him the universal command for more speed. Watchmaker dug down and lunged forward again, pushing his nose ahead of Townsend King's, hauling Cindy toward the wire with all he could give.
Cindy worked on the colt, watching the wire speed toward them. Countdown wasn't tiring either, drawing along Townsend King's right side, sticking his nose forward to be included. Then they crossed the wire.
Cindy was immediately standing in the stirrups, glancing back at the toteboard quickly. Photo flashed across the board. Hold tickets.
"Nice race," the jockey of Townsend King offered, shooting Cindy a smile. Cindy smiled back calmly, hiding the nerves throbbing in her throat. That had been too close. As she rode Watchmaker back to the Grandstand she looked back up at the toteboard, searching for the finishing time.
Her jaw dropped. There, flashing in sync with photo, was the race time, clearly showing that the track record had been broken by just less than a second. Watchmaker shook his damp mane, coming to a trembling stop at the Grandstand, watching the throngs with tired brown eyes.
"Crap, Cindy," Jack called, pushing his way up to Watchmaker, taking the colt's bridle and looking up at her. "That was amazing."
"A little off Lucas's plans," Cindy shook her head. "A new track record?"
"Do you think we got it?" Jack asked, leading Watchmaker away from the fans, keeping the sweaty colt moving.
"Maybe," Cindy said, looking around her, watching the television cameras zooming in on her and the chestnut colt. "I think Countdown may have had it."
Suddenly the crowd groaned, a ripple effect waving through the stands. Cindy twisted around in the saddle and grinned. There was the number three on top of them all.
"We got it!" Cindy shouted, jumping off of Watchmaker as soon as Jack led him into the winner's circle, practically landing on the smartly dressed, young assistant trainer. She wrapped her arms around Jack's neck and planted a victorious kiss on his check, then spun to wrap her arms around Watchmaker.
"Guess I shouldn't feel too special," Jack laughed, patting the colt and watching Cindy rain kisses all over Watchmaker's dark red nose. Cindy gave him a look and finished kissing the colt, smiling wide.
Lucas fought his way into the winner's circle and received a kiss from Cindy, who triumphantly bounded back up to the horse, Jack giving her a leg up for the picture. The Dearharts filed in, pride beaming off their faces.
"What's next?" One reporter shouted, pushing closer. "Is he headed to the Derby?"
"Definitely!" Mr. Dearhart boomed, putting his arm around his wife and another hand on Watchmaker's shoulder. "Provided he's nominated."
"Don't worry about that," Lucas laughed cheerily, holding the horse as Cindy jumped off, a grin plastered to her face. "Once a San Vicente winner, Triple Crown nominations follow. We'll be heading to the San Felipe next."
Cindy beamed and raised a victorious fist in the air. "San Felipe here we come!"
