5.

As July wound down to a close, the heat became increasingly harsh and Cindy was jumping out of her skin. She had been in Saratoga Springs for two weeks, working with the horses every day until the point of exhaustion and without a word from New York. She had raced Hansea to a hard fought second place finish in the Grade II Schylerville Stakes, a six furlong event for two year old fillies, sent one of Lucas' juvenile colt contenders, Hero's Medal, to a fourth place finish in the Sanford Stakes. On top of it all, she had jockeyed Round About to a win the Whitney Handicap. All three times there had been no Jack, and not even a trace of Jack.

She had to admit there was a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach. Lucas had told her he was out in California with Ryan representing a few owners at the yearling sales, but that to Cindy was pointless information. She wanted to know why he wasn't in Saratoga. Yearling sales and business deals didn't matter to her now.

Of course, she understood, she was being unreasonable. Jack was a trainer. His job was to buy horses for owners and train them to make up for the money they had spent in the first place. She understood that perfectly. The problem was that crushes were always unreasonable, and as much as she wanted to make sense and cool down, she couldn't.

"You are stiff as a board," Laura joked as she jogged past them on Fresh Tactics, the chestnut colt shaking his mane and snorting at Sunday Punch, who let out a punctuated squeal along the outside rail.

Cindy sighed and urged Sunday into a canter, rolling up next to Laura and Tactics. "I'm just a little tired," she shrugged, easily lying. Laura gave her a sly look and rolled her eyes.

"Okay," she nodded, pulling Tactics down to a trot and walk, the fiery colt bouncing and kicking up dirt. "How far does David have you breezing him?"

Cindy looked down at Sunday Punch as she pulled him up and looked at the gate that was being wheeled across the Oklahoma training track.

"Four furlongs," she announced. "The Amsterdam is coming up in less than a week and he doesn't want to push him."

"I'm going five," Laura nodded, glancing back at Brian Connelly, William Lewis' assistant trainer, who was standing with David. Both men were watching them.

"I guess I'll see you back at the gap," Cindy said, and Laura nodded, heading Tactics around the training gate for another warm up lap. Sunday was ready to go, and Cindy walked him up to the gate where two other horses were waiting on her, sprinters much like Sunday.

The gray colt tugged at the reins and slid easily into the gate, gentlemanly as ever. The two other horses, a colt and a gelding, lined up alongside for just a few seconds before the gates burst open and Sunday exploded.

They had been put on the rail, since Sunday had drawn the number one post position in the race in just four days. The gray colt collected himself and seemed to unfold dramatically, as though he were sprouting wings down the track. Cindy didn't have to encourage because the colt was running by himself, staring down the two competitors on his outside with a white ringed eye.

The three of them burst into the turn and sped up, accelerating. Cindy leveled herself with the colt's neck and felt the power coursing along the reins like a live wire, directing the colt closer to the rail as his natural inclination was to pop away from it as they turned. Cindy watched the horses on their outside falter and fall back just a hair when they zoomed past the last marker, Sunday Punch tearing at the reins and trying to switch leads into the homestretch. Cindy stood up in the stirrups and pulled back steadily, Sunday reacting immediately and slowing.

"Excellent!" she heard David yell as she softly galloped past the gap a few moments later, Sunday huffing with each stride they took up the track. "Keep cooling him out and come back after a lap!"

Cindy nodded mutely and let the colt revolve to the outside of the track, dropping to a canter and finally a walk, ambling down the track and breathing heavily.

"Looks like we finally learned the source of your name," Cindy said to him, giving the colt a pat on his hard, sweat soaked neck. Sunday snorted and tried to jump into a trot, only to be pulled back by Cindy when she saw Laura burst by on the rail with Tactics, the chestnut colt plowing through a small group of exercise horses to take the lead coming out of the turn.

Cindy smiled and watched Tactics fight up the middle of the group, shooting down the stretch with Laura's urging. The tall chestnut was certainly showing off all of the speed and stamina of his champion sire, Gulch.

"Bet you can run like that," Cindy said to Sunday, who flicked his gray tipped ears at her and shook out his mane, dancing on slender dark legs that slowly molded into splotched white. The colt had everything in him to be a fantastic sprinter, with Two Punch and Lit de Justice in his pedigree. His dam, Lit, had been a champion sprinter in her group, and his sire was a father of the champion sprinter Smoke Glacken. Sprinting was in Sunday Punch's blood, and Cindy couldn't wait to feel the colt's power on race day.

She was so involved in thinking about the colt's possibilities in the Amsterdam that the gap came up to her sooner than she thought, and when she looked up she nearly feel out of the saddle. There, standing just in front of her, was Jack.

"Jack?" she asked, barely able to find her voice. It was like it had left her in the time she needed it most.

"Hey," he said, leaning against the white railing next to Brian Connelly. David was mysteriously absent, but to Cindy this was a mild concern. She jumped off of Sunday and led the gray colt off the track, a delirious smile on her face.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, finding her voice again. She hung back a little as Brian waved Laura in, Tactics lathered and hyper from his breeze.

"Came up for race day," Jack announced. "I thought we had some deal, or am I wrong?"

"You're not wrong," Cindy grinned, feeling flushed all over. "This is great!"

"I'd like to point out that you haven't come to New York," Jack said. "You're lucky I'm even saying hello."

"Oh," Cindy stopped, giving him a thoughtful look. "But I thought you were in California most of the time."

"I was," Jack nodded.

"You're confusing me," Cindy kidded.

"It's not hard, is it?" Jack smiled and Cindy punched him in the arm.

"Jack!"

"Hey!" Laura called, stopping Tactics next to the gate and jumping off, pulling her helmet off her head. "What's the word from New York, Jack?"

"Got a new horse in," Jack said. "And fittingly we sent it up here."

"A new horse?" Cindy asked, handing Sunday Punch off to his groom as Jack nodded. "Yeah. Fresh from California. Brought him back with me the other day."

"Let's see him," Laura said, walking off the track and leading Tactics, handing him off to a groom as they headed across the street to the main track's backside. When they got to the barn, Cindy already caught sight of the new colt, who had his beautiful chestnut head craned out of the stall opening.

"Who is this?" Cindy asked, giving Sunday a pat on his soapy rump as they walked by where the horses were getting their baths.

"His name is Wonderment," Jack said, hanging back as Cindy walked up to the chestnut colt, running her hand over his wide stripe that wove down his face. The colt was big and well-made, with a shocking chestnut coat and three white socks covering both his hind pasterns and near fore. Cindy couldn't help but fall in love with him.

"Tell me his whole story," Cindy said, looking back at Jack as Wonderment arched his neck and huffed into her hands.

"It's actually an interesting one," Jack said, watching Wonderment stamp a hoof and whinny down the aisle as Sunday Punch was led by, the damp gray answering back with an excited grunt.

"He was born in Ireland at Coolmore, bought at the Doncaster yearling sales in England by Marion Jones, sent to France to train up until this January where he was shipped out to California to begin training under Baffert before Jones died. There was a dispersal sale of all of her stock back in England. Wonderment was sent back to Europe, sold to Darren Starks, an American, who then shipped him back to California. Turns out Starks saw the colt working at Santa Anita and traveled to England to buy him at the sale. Starks is one of Lucas' owners, and took the colt out of Baffert's barn and dumped him in Lucas', where he was shipped here to begin his two-year-old season."

Cindy looked wide eyed at Jack and took a deep breath. "That's certainly a story," she said.

"Get's better," Jack said, giving her a look. "He's by Wonder's Champion, out of the famous English miler Brown Eyed Beauty."

At the name of Champion, Cindy went speechless again. All she could do was look between the colt and Jack, wondering if it was true.

"This is one of Champion's?" Cindy asked, trying to realize what she was looking at. She had thought it would be nearly impossible to find one of Champion's offspring in the states, since the sheik had made it clear that he would be breeding Champion to only the best of Europe, and mainly to his own mares. Cindy's mouth was gaping open, and Laura calmly reached over and nudged her.

"Going to have a heart attack?" she asked.

"I..." Cindy stammered, suddenly blown over with another, more urgent question. "Who's riding him?

Jack gave her a little look that told her she shouldn't ask what she already knew.

"You are."

Cindy was walking on air. The days before the Amsterdam flew past and the heat, the awkwardness, and the loneliness disappeared in one fell swoop. Sunday Punch was ready for the race, and Fresh Tactics was made the morning line favorite for the Jim Dandy despite his late season start against Kentucky Derby also-rans.

The summer house in Saratoga was transformed to a hotel, putting up Jack and Lucas, who were happy to stay there. Even Ryan was flying in to stay the weekend with his first real success story, Linebacker, starting in the Jim Dandy. Laura hadn't been enthusiastic about it, but Cindy couldn't say no and secretly she didn't think Laura seemed too upset about her ex-boyfriend sharing a house with them in the first place.

Cindy had already started to work Wonderment, riding him under Jack's guidance. The big chestnut colt reminded Cindy so much of his sire that just sitting on him nearly brought tears to her eyes, but she swallowed them down and rode. The colt had a ground swallowing stride, and perfect build. If it weren't for his face markings, Cindy had decided, he would almost be a carbon copy of Champion. She had to admit to herself that she was already dreaming of the Triple Crown.

The night before the Amsterdam saw a packed house. Bottles of wine were uncorked and Cindy found herself on her fifth glass before she was even aware of counting them. It was sticky outside, and with the doors and windows open there was little relief from the heat generated by the crowd and effects of the wine. Cindy found herself wandering around the pool in efforts to cool off, wishing she could kick off her designer shoes and dip her legs in the inviting water.

"You look great tonight," she heard a voice behind her that she half expected to be Jack. She had hoped it would be, but she knew his voice and quelled the excitement in her when she turned and saw David walking out of the house.

"Thank you," Cindy said, looking down at herself. She had pulled on an airy blue dress at the last minute, and was still wishing the party had been casual enough to wear shorts without getting a confused glance.

"Damn hot out," David said, stopping next to her and looking at the pool.

"You have that right," Cindy chuckled, taking a sip of her wine and looking back at where David had come, searching.

"You're probably waiting for someone else," David said, apologizing when he caught her looking past him. At that, Cindy did a double take, looking up at him.

"Excuse me?" she asked, narrowing her eyes and trying to keep her heart from jumping out of her chest.

"Jack, right?" David asked. "I mean, it's natural. Him being your boyfriend, I'm guessing you're looking for him."

Cindy nearly choked and had to reach up to her mouth to catch the wine that she thought must be dribbling past her lips.

"No, I'm just getting some fresh air," Cindy defended. "And Jack's not my boyfriend."

"He's not?" David asked, giving Cindy a confused glance before looking back at the house. They could both see Jack talking with Ryan just inside the doors. Cindy stared at him quietly, trying to come up with words.

"No, he's never been," she said looking away when she caught Jack glancing back out toward the pool. Cindy stared down at the rippling water and took a gulp of wine.

"Oh," David said. "My mistake then."

"Out of curiosity," Cindy caught him before he took a step away. "Why did you think that?"

He laughed, shoving his hands in the pockets of his expensive pants and digging the toe of his shoe against the hard stone of the porch. "I saw you two in the parking lot. And after the other day when he brought that colt up I just figured you and he were something. But I turned out to be wrong. I have been before."

Cindy frowned, still trying to keep her heart beat down. She was failing miserably, especially when she saw Jack and Ryan walking out onto the porch.

"I'll see you tomorrow," David said, touching her softly on the arm before walking away, nodding toward Jack and Ryan on his way back into the house. Cindy smiled to them as someone turned on the outdoor speakers and the music playing inside crackled to life on the porch.

"Having a striking conversation?" Jack asked, abruptly taking Cindy's free hand and spinning her to dance in time with the music. Automatically she flushed, shaking her head. There was no way on earth Jack would ever know they had been talking about him. Of course, Cindy didn't have to think twice about the possibilities of Jack already knowing what was going on based on context clues.

"Nothing more striking than your conversation, Jack," Cindy smiled up at him, trying not to spill the last few mouthfuls of wine that sloshed in the glass as he spun her and brought her back up to him.

"Why thank you," he smiled at her, and Cindy dipped her head down, curling her hand holding the wine glass behind his shoulder as she diverted her eyes to look at her hand in his. She took a breath and refused to think. That made things much easier to deal with.

"That's it," Ryan said, snaking his hand in and stealing Cindy away. "I'm cutting in."

Cindy laughed as she was swooped away, a few drops of wine finally jumping out of the glass and trailed down the sides to the rock ground.

"I missed you so, Ryan," Cindy kidded with the other man as Jack picked up his beer from the patio table and drank.

"Damn straight," Ryan grinned. "No one can get on without me around, I've noticed. Have you seen Laura today? She's a wreck."

"Well, that might be because you're here and not away in California where she's used to you being," Cindy pointed out.

"Don't wreck my mind set, Cindy," he said jokingly.

"Okay. Ignorance is bliss, after all," Cindy agreed, swaying along with Ryan until the song was over and Cindy saw Laura march out of the house. Cindy spun away from Ryan and walked over to Jack, leaning against the rock wall that divided her parent's property from the neighbor's. He leaned against it next to her, the beer bottle dangling in his hand while they both watched Laura and Ryan through a steady stream of people moving out into the fresh air.

"What's up, Jack?" Cindy asked, nudging him and taking another mouthful of wine.

"Nothing much, Cin," Jack responded, looking over at her and reaching out to touch the blue material of the dress. "Nice."

"Thanks," Cindy said a little too quickly, feeling her heartbeat speed up. She returned the favor, plucking at the white dress shirt sleeve he had rolled up his arm from the heat.

"Oh, you flatter me, Cin," he joked, and Cindy shrugged.

"That's what I'm here for. To further everyone's swelling egos."

He laughed and took a drink of his beer, finishing it off.

"Which number is that?" she asked him, cocking her head as he set the empty bottle on the table.

"Not sure. I think I lost count somewhere between six and nine."

"Good Christ," Cindy snorted, finishing off her wine and setting down the glass. "How drunk are you?"

"Not so much," he answered.

"How is it that you're never that drunk no matter how much you drink?"

"You've never seen me drink too much," he told her.

"That's a lie," she pointed at him.

"Oh?" he asked, grabbing her finger.

"Yeah, 'oh,'" Cindy laughed, pulling her finger away and nearly falling over, tipsy on the high heels of the designer shoes and wine. This she didn't worry about, since Jack was there to grab her wrist and steady her, letting Cindy lean forward to rest against his frame.

"I think that was one glass of wine too many," Cindy told him, her voice muffled against his shirt.

"That's my little lightweight," Jack laughed, folding an arm over her back to keep her stationary against him. Cindy breathed with light rasps, wanting to just close her eyes and curl up there. The wine was starting to cloud up her head, and already all she wanted to do was sleep right there.

The part of her brain that was still unclouded by the alcohol was triumphant. There wasn't even a need to blush at the scene. In fact, a small smile formed on Cindy's mouth as she watched Laura and Ryan start to dance in front of her heavy eyes.

"So what do you think about them?" Cindy asked Jack, curling her arms around herself while he still let her rest against him.

"I think he'll probably stick around for a while," Jack said. "If Linebacker does moderately well in the Jim Dandy he might head on to the Travers and Ryan will be around New York a little this summer."

"No, Jack," Cindy shook her head a little against his chest. "Laura and Ryan. Come on. A prediction."

"Always about the romance, huh?"

"Always," Cindy smiled, shifting her weight just a little.

"You know how they are," he said, and Cindy nodded, happily listening to his heart beating and the vibration of his voice. "They'd be happy fighting forever."

Cindy made a small agreeing noise.

"What the hell is this?" she heard Lucas boom at them as he walked out the french doors and walked over to them, handing Jack another bottle of beer.

"Can't stand straight," Cindy muttered at him and Jack laughed.

"You hear that, Lucas?" Jack asked him. "Your jockey can't stand straight."

"Damn, that's a problem," Lucas said, drinking. "I guess I can put Laura up on Sunday tomorrow if need be."

"Don't you dare," Cindy pointed at Lucas, still refusing to stop leaning against Jack. She was enjoying it too much. "Besides. She's in no better shape."

"Yeah," Lucas said, looking back at Ryan and Laura, who were in deep discussion, and rolled his eyes. "Predictions?"

"Happy fighting forever," Cindy responded.

"Good one," Lucas said, and Cindy jumped when she felt Jack pinch her side.

"Jack!"

"Couldn't help myself."

"You never can."

"Part of the charm."

"Whatever," Cindy said, nearly starting to fall asleep against him again.

"We'd better get this jockey to bed," Cindy could dimly hear Lucas saying, and she didn't want to move. It was late, and all she wanted to do was sit and rest her head against Jack's chest for the remainder of the night. She also knew that wasn't a possibility. The crowd was thinning out, and she felt satisfied that she had seen the end of the pre-race celebration.

"Hey, Cin," Jack said, pushing away from the wall and collecting Cindy so she could get her balance. She could still feel his hand on her back. "You feel like sleeping?"

"I thought I was sleeping," Cindy murmured.

"That's all I need to know," Jack said, pointing Cindy toward the house and walking her through the doors, following close behind her.

"Why is wine so evil?" Cindy asked him as he followed her up the stairs, spotting her.

"As far as I'm concerned, wine is far from evil," he said, walking her down the hallway and into her room, letting her plop on the bed.

"That's because you'd take advantaged of me, wouldn't you?" she asked, laying down and smiling at him.

"Oh, in a heartbeat, Cin," he said and she laughed.

"I knew it."

He left her room with a smirk and she rolled over, smiling and falling asleep, waiting out the night for the coming morning.