The Horsewoman(36)

I could see how fired up she was today, the excitement in her voice and in her eyes, pausing the round a few times, showing me places where I’d picked up time, even when I wasn’t pushing the horse, especially on what she called one ballsy turn where I went inside the flowers and not out.

“That,” she said, “was riding.”

“Good thing,” I said. “Or we finish out of the money. Pretty much in all ways.”

“There’s a great old sporting line,” Mom said. “What could have happened did.”

Then she was the one giving me five. As she did, we heard a loud explosion of laughter. About ten tables down from us, Steve Gorton was sitting with Tyler Cullen.

We watched as Gorton leaned across the table, said something to Tyler, who laughed his ass off until the two of them clinked glasses, finished their drinks, and stood up. As Tyler came around the table, Gorton clapped him on the back, then put an arm around his shoulder, like they were heading back to the frat house together.

Mom and Grandmother were staring at them the same as I was. “Well, pardon my French,” Grandmother said, “but there’s a couple of pricks who deserve each other.”

“Gee,” I said, “and we were all having such a nice day.”

“We’re still having a nice day,” Mom said. “And they do kind of make a cute couple, don’t you think?”

I was barely listening as I watched Steve Gorton and Tyler Cullen head down the ramp. As they disappeared through the tent door, I said, “At least we know who Gorton wants the next man up on Coronado to be.”





THIRTY-NINE



GRAND PRIX SATURDAY.

With a 7 p.m. start time, I didn’t do much to shorten my day by waking up—not that I’d slept much to begin with—at six in the morning. No point in trying to roll over and go back to sleep. That wasn’t happening. So I threw on some sweatpants and quietly went down to the kitchen and put on coffee. Drank two cups, went back to my room, got into my workout clothes and drove over to the gym at the club. Made myself promise not to look at the clock until I’d done my weight circuit, three sets on each machine, and at least twenty minutes on the treadmill.

Finished on the treadmill, toweled off, drank a bottle of water. Then looked at the clock.

Still just nine o’clock.

But three hours down.

I went to the barn and rode Sky, who was still riding like a dream, every damn day. If I could win tonight—because that’s what I was thinking, even if I wasn’t saying it aloud to Daniel or Mom or Grandmother or anybody—maybe I could start showing Sky again, even against Coronado.

Just not tonight.

Tonight, it was Coronado and me against the world.

I had to keep busy, or I was going to have an hours-long panic attack lasting until it was time to leave for the show grounds. My idle mind kept turning to the money, the million dollars Grandmother had passed up. Life-changing money for all of us.

In the end, she had placed a seven-figure bet on me.

Longest day of my life, I thought, and it wasn’t even noon yet.

After Sky was back in her stall, I took another shower—by the time seven o’clock rolled around I was going to be the cleanest rider in Wellington, Florida—and drove over to my favorite beach in Manalapan, just south of Palm Beach. I didn’t often go to the beach, even though in light traffic the drive took only a half hour. The ocean was there when I needed it.

I needed it today. Spread out a blanket and walked for about an hour. Came back and sat and stared at the water and then walked across the street to my favorite ice cream place on the planet, the Ice Cream Club, bought a pint of coffee and a pint of chocolate, then drove back to Atwood Farm.

By six o’clock Daniel and I were ready to walk the course. Tyler Cullen and his trainer were right behind us. He tried to ignore me. Wasn’t happening this time.

“Didn’t know that you and Steve Gorton were boys, Tyler,” I said, trying to sound casual.

“I like being around money,” Tyler said. “You should know that by now.”

“Your horse isn’t enough for you?” I said. “Now you’re trying to poach mine?”

Tyler shrugged. “Can’t have enough money,” he said. “And can’t have enough prize horses.”

He winked at me.

“Long as you can hold on to them, of course,” he said.

I smiled now.

“I better get movin’, Tyler,” I said. “If I stand here like this much longer, people might start to think I’m the bitch.”

As Daniel and I took off, Daniel leaned down and said, “Never heard that one before.”

“Been saving it for the right occasion,” I said.

Forty horses tonight. One of the richest purses of the year. Probably the biggest crowd of the season. Atwood Farm needed that first-prize money as much as I wanted to win it. But the stakes were way bigger: Ride my horse well enough to keep it.

Once we got away from Tyler, Daniel did all the talking. He had taken a series of pictures of the course on his phone, as if he were walking it inside his head before I even arrived.

Then we were pacing it off for real. He showed me the four different places where I could pick up speed. Then we were analyzing the jump-off course—Daniel kept saying when I made the jump-off, not if I made it—and showed me the spots where he said I would have no choice but to take chances if I wanted to win tonight.