III. The Tests of Time
Hooves raining over the hard outer track of dirt. Hundreds of thousands of screaming voices at all notes and ranges. A crack of lightning and thunder rolling in answer. It hadn't stormed over the Derby in years.
The track was listed as good, still hours from becoming sloppy as it had been sealed before the first race on the card. Cindy could have disagreed after running through it with Sunday Punch and Silvan. Silvan had run on grass, but Sunday Punch had been on the dirt and came back to the Grandstand with his splattered silver coat a dull brown, Cindy's silks barely recognizable with the slop that had kicked up on them en route to the winner's circle.
She had won twice today. It had been a good day for grays. Now, with the crowd standing damply under ponchos and umbrellas by the saddling paddock, Cindy eyed her last gray in her last race – Honor and Glory in the Derby.
The filly's dappled coat was dull in the weather, the rain painting dark stripes along her sides. She wore Whitebrook's blue and white blinkers, the plastic cups already starting to collect the rain and drip as the filly moved her head. Her two entry mates, the honey bright Heliacal and the coal dark War Hero, danced behind her, their odds soaringly better than hers. This was expected, as she was a filly and had never run successfully on an off track.
Cindy frowned a little as the filly danced by, tossing her dark mane over her neck like a girl beckoning the boys by fluffing her hair. She looked painfully feminine in a field of sixteen colts, all strapping young things with ripping muscles and arched necks.
"Okay," Ashleigh said, ducking into the number eleven stall where Cindy and Ian were watching the filly. Cindy looked over at the other woman, who was clad in a dark gray dress suit and had done her hair up into some stylish ponytail. "Josie and Anne are ready to go," Ashleigh reported, looking at Cindy pointedly. "How about you?"
"I'm good," Cindy said simply, shugging.
"You remember the plan for her?" Ashleigh asked nevertheless.
"I'm crystal clear, Ash," Cindy said, her eyes scanning over the seventeen horses in the field, falling on the horse that was receiving some late action – Pleasant Picture.
"You sure?" Ashleigh asked, putting her hands on her hips. "You know she'll stalk the leaders, but with that post position you'll have to settle on the outside. There might be a crush up front, so…"
"I'm not going for the rail," Cindy jumped in, pulling her eyes from the bay Pleasant Picture.
"She'll settle on the outside, I'll ride out the race clear, and if she can go the distance she'll go the distance. Okay?"
"Don't get smart with me, Cindy," Ashleigh said softly, frowning. "I'm just going over the race with you, just like I did with Jo and Anne. You're no different."
"Fine," Cindy nodded, stepping out of the way as the filly entered the stall before the official call for riders up.
"Also, try to keep the crop to a minimum," Ashleigh said over the filly's back as Ian checked on the equipment a second time. "She's not used to hard riding. A few chirps and encouragement with your hands will do it."
"I understand," Cindy said through gritted teeth as the call was announced. She moved around to the filly's left side and got a leg up from her father, trying to shove away Ashleigh's worried, thinly veiled directions.
"Ride safe, Cin," her father told her, taking the filly's shoulder as they moved out.
"Thanks, dad," Cindy smiled fleetingly before they entered the line up and paraded out of the saddling paddock.
The filly followed with her groom until they reached the tunnel under the stands, where the rumbling of the crowd reverberated through the concrete foundation. The filly pricked her ears at this, unaccustomed to such a noise, but moved to the drizzling gloom that hung over the track.
Cindy blinked as the whoosh of cold rain started to become heavier, splattering on her silks and sinking deeply into the filly's dark coat. They were handed off to the outrider assigned to them, everyone miserable in the wet but moving through the paces as tradition dictated. The outrider ponies still had flowers in their manes, the cupola beyond the turf track was ready for the celebration after the race, the women in the grandstand were still decked to the nines under their umbrellas, and the infield seemed to be completely unfazed by the weather. Cindy didn't expect anything less.
Breaking out of the post parade, they warmed up in the far turn. The filly rolled into a ground eating canter, her darkly tipped ears pricked back to listen as Cindy guided her up the rail and back down, smiling at her cousin and her friends as the rode by. The filly tossed her multi-toned gray mane and snorted a little, rainwater shaking off her muzzle and flinging out of her mane.
Cindy tugged her down to a halt behind the starting gate and sat silently as the field began to load. Beyond the gate, a wet and eager crowd of over a hundred thousand waited for them. The twin spires were rising up against the darker grays of an upcoming storm cloud. Cindy thought for a moment what would happen if lightning should strike that starting gate with seventeen of the nation's best Thoroughbreds standing inside. When it was her turn to load she shook the thought away, looking down to her mount as the filly was led forward and into the metal chute.
"Honor and Glory," Cindy murmured to herself as she pulled down her sets of goggles over her eyes and wrapped her fingers into the filly's mane. "Let's see what your parents gave you."
The last horse
loaded, and the gates sprung open as the rain began to pour. The
filly lunged, using her hindquarters to propel her out of the gate as
she dug in quickly with her fore hooves.
They were only a stride
from the gate when Cindy saw it coming. Rasoso, a longshot colt,
careened left and straight into the filly, bumping her hard before
falling back rapidly to chase the field. The filly slid to the left
and lost momentum on the increasingly slippery surface. The field was
racing away from them, so Cindy put the filly to work.
Within seconds they were settled fourth from last on the rail, flying by the grandstand with a wall of horses and mud in front of them. Cindy left the filly to settle, tucked against the rail with the sparse scattering of closers as horses eager to find the pace crushed each other in the front.
They wound into the backstretch and rode out the race clear. The filly keeping her ears pricked back, listening to Cindy and depending on her to get them home. Cindy stripped off a set of goggles as the mud flew up from horses' hooves and connected with the filly's chest and neck, raining on Cindy's blue and white silks. The rain was coming down harder, and the filly was starting to get anxious as they began to round into the far turn.
Cindy heard the closers just as she began to hear the screams from the infield and the grandstand through the pummeling of the horses on the dirt and the pouring rain. She glanced behind her and saw Josie putting War Hero into action, the burly black son of Wonder's Warrior turning on his speed.
As War Hero flew past, Cindy put her filly into motion. She pulled down another pair of goggles, shoved her hands into the filly's mane, and asked for more. The filly dug into the slippery dirt and went wide, following in War Hero's wake as they made a sweeping arc around the field that was dropping back, too exhausted to make a real run at the wire.
The filly was galloping swiftly, moving in the wake of her running mate as they blew into the homestretch. They were now, from what Cindy could tell, running fifth and six together. They had passed Anne and Heliacal somewhere in the pack, the gray and the black running suddenly side by side up to the leaders.
Two more horses were passed, unable to find the strength to go the distance. War Hero had the edge, racing a half-length in front of them as they blew past another marker. Cindy pushed into the filly's mane and rotated her crop into her left hand, swinging it next to the filly's eye. There was a sudden surge then as War Hero plunged to the left and passed a tiring rival on the inside, skimming along the rail. The filly went to the outside, following right behind.
Cindy swung the crop behind her and tapped the filly sharply several times as War Hero began to lengthen his lead on them, galloping up to the leader who was tiring so quickly but didn't want to give up. The filly pushed again, less vigorous than before. They slid slightly on the ground, fought to find their footing, and tried to make up time as the leader and War Hero passed under the wire together, the filly rolling in a length and a half behind in third.
Exhausted, Cindy found it almost difficult to stand in the stirrups, tugging back on the reins as the filly stumbled to a halt in the first turn, the rest of the field hauling itself in through the mud and the pouring rain. She caught sight of the winner, a dark bay colt named Dynomont whom had been overlooked the entire time, headed back to the winner's circle. Cindy watched him as he trotted toward the turf track, then pulled her last set of goggles off and wheeled her filly back to the grandstand.
She could have been out celebrating, as she had won two races that day. She was proud of those accomplishments, because it was, at current, more than anyone else could boast about. However, she wasn't celebrating. She wasn't out drinking and laughing and dancing, and after this she felt that she wouldn't be anytime soon.
Instead of celebrating her victories, she sat in the office of the all too quiet stakes barn Whitebrook was using temporarily for the Derby and looked at Ashleigh Griffen. If she had been younger she would have felt nauseous. Instead she just felt oddly petulant and eager to get this over with.
"I'd like to know what you were thinking," Ashleigh said simply.
"I was thinking about winning, Ashleigh," Cindy replied with a sigh. "I gave that filly a winning ride."
"She immediately lost ground when you hit her," Ashleigh shook her head. "I told you specifically not to ride her hard, but you did and you call it a 'winning ride.' I'm really at a loss for words."
"I hit her a grand total of five times," Cindy said, restraining herself from just standing up and walking away. This was her former mentor, and she would act professional although everything in her body told her to leave before things degenerated into a fight. "She came back to the barn with no cuts or welts from my crop. She's fine. What happened was she was beginning to slip on that damned track."
"You went totally off of what I told you," Ashleigh frowned. "We don't hit that filly. How many times you touched her with the crop is irrelevant."
"We were losing the race," Cindy ground out the words. "I can't just sit on the back of a horse and not try to do everything in my power to get it into a better position. That's grounds for a steward's inquiry, and you know it."
"Not if I told them the reasoning behind the strategy," Ashleigh said. "You deliberately ignored me, as you have been deliberately ignoring me all week. When exactly are you going to listen?"
"Is this what your problem is?" Cindy laughed with disbelief. "I'm not listening? I listened just fine to Lucas and won two races today. Don't sit there and accuse me of not listening."
"I didn't say you weren't listening to Lucas. You're not listening to me," Ashleigh pointed out, her voice rising as Cindy stared at her with a perturbed glare. "You never have listened to me, Cindy."
"I listened just fine," Cindy said, her voice rising in turn. "I exercised that filly to the letter of your directions. I raced that filly under unforeseen circumstances and placed. I do not see the problem here, Ashleigh. Why in the hell did you hire me to ride her and stick with me this whole week if you thought I wasn't listening?"
"It was a favor to you," Ashleigh responded, her voice loud.
"Don't give me that," Cindy rolled her eyes. "I can understand a convenience factor, or that you might just have some faith in my ability to ride a horse over that. I'm not a charity case. I don't need Derby mounts. What favors do I need from you?"
"Fine," Ashleigh said, raising her hands. "You don't need the charity. You were here and you've done well for Lucas, so I thought you'd like the ride. I thought you'd do well on Glow, if you'd like to know the truth. But you've shown the opposite of my hopes again."
Cindy stared at Ashleigh for a moment, silence crashing down onto the room. Ashleigh had used similar words with her before, in a different place and time.
I gave her to you hoping you'd do something great with her, but you've done the opposite of that.
"I see," Cindy said, her voice softer now, feeling small and vulnerable again like she had so long ago.
"I don't want to bring any of what's passed back to the forefront," Ashleigh shook her head. "I don't want to deal with that right now."
"I can't apologize to you anymore, Ashleigh," Cindy said, setting her mouth in a firm line. "I'm very past that."
"I know," Ashleigh responded, sounding tired.
I am so disappointed.
Cindy let a small breath puff from her lips as she exhaled, then looked away to the door. She could feel the nausea start to rise from her stomach. She had to get out.
"Thank you for letting me ride her," Cindy said, not recognizing her own voice or whom she was talking about. Ashleigh only looked at her silently, the urge to continue the conversation suddenly struck down and gone from her. Cindy rose from the chair and turned around, headed for the door.
I cannot forgive this.
"I hope you do well in the future, Cindy," Ashleigh said just as Cindy's hand touched the doorknob. She squeezed her eyes shut, exhaled, and nodded. Then she left without looking back.