The Horsewoman(37)

“In it to win it,” I said.

“Yes, Maverick,” he said.

“You know what they say about second place?” I said. “Just means you’re the first loser.”

I looked around and saw the stands beginning to fill up. There was always a band and a singer on Saturday nights. I could hear the singer now, a woman, ease into her first song, a really bad version of Taylor Swift’s “You Need to Calm Down.”

Yeah, right, I thought.

I was going twentieth in the order tonight. Matthew was set to go right after me. Tess was going after him. Tyler was last.

Not at the kids’ table anymore.

We stood off to the side now as the other riders and trainers finished their walks. There were even spectators out there. WEF enhanced the fan experience by allowing them to walk the course if they wanted to. It’s why the International looked like a sea of people, men and women, grown-ups and kids. It meant the ring looked exactly like the sport.

“You ride the whole course tonight the way you finished on Thursday,” Daniel said.

“Yeah, but Gorton was right about one thing,” I said. “Just good enough won’t be enough tonight.”

I checked my phone. Six thirty. Just a little more waiting. I couldn’t tell the difference between good nerves and bad nerves right now. I was all nerves. I tried to lean back casually against the sidewall, fighting a wave of dizziness thinking about what was going to play out over the next couple of hours. What was on the line.

Get a grip.

If you’re like this now, are you going to be in control when you’re up on your horse?

Daniel headed down to the barn so that he could walk back here with Emilio and Coronado when it was time.

I took one more look around the course and then headed to retrieve my backpack from the schooling ring. I was passing beneath the stands when I heard a familiar voice calling my name.

When I looked up, I saw him hanging over the railing, getting ready to take a picture of me on his phone.

“Smile,” he said.

“Hey, Dad,” I said.





FORTY



I BOLTED UP the steps to where he was standing and hugged him. Right after I jumped into his arms and nearly knocked him over.

“You’re still full of surprises,” I said. “And it’s not even my birthday.”

“It’s not?” he said.

He looked exactly like, well, Dad. Maybe a little extra gray in the hair and beard since I’d seen him at Thanksgiving in New York. Despite the heat, he was wearing a blue blazer over a white button-down shirt and jeans, and looked nothing like the legal heavy hitter he’d become.

In New York he was known as Black Jack McCabe, now head of the firm he’d taken over when my grandfather had died suddenly of a heart attack. To me, he was just Dad, and I didn’t mind telling him that even though he wasn’t in a business suit, he was still overdressed.

“I heard there was some snob horse race down here tonight,” he said, “and thought I’d stop in and check it out.”

“You know they don’t call them races,” I said. “And you’re the one who sounds like a snob calling everybody else one.”

“Force of habit,” he said. “The only time I ever really like this sport is when you’re in it.”

“What about Mom?”

“The feeling passed eventually,” he said.

He grinned then.

“So how we lookin’?” he said.

“Not much on the line tonight,” I said. “Just Mom’s horse, is all. And maybe the barn.”

“And this used to be such a quiet little town,” he said. “Now it sounds like a reality series.”

“Lot going on, no doubt,” I said.

“How soon before you go?” he said.

I told him where I was in the order, so I had some time before I’d be up on my horse.

“I never liked bothering you once you had your game face on,” he said.

“Just because you’ve watched me ride so often,” I said.

He shook his head.

“That’s my girl,” he said. “Don’t give an inch.”

“You never do,” I said. “And by the way? Can’t you see I have my game face on already?”

“I thought that was your normal RBF,” he said.

We both knew he meant resting bitch face.

“And people wonder where I get my smart mouth,” I said. Then I grabbed him by both shoulders and shook him and said, “Holy crap, Dad, I can’t believe you showed up!”

“You know me,” he said. “Always would have dressed up like a rodeo clown to get a smile out of my kid.”

We took an empty table at one of the outdoor cafés on Vendor Row.

“Your mom told me you pulled one out in the qualifier like my Yankees in the bottom of the ninth,” he said.

“Not gonna lie,” I said. “That one didn’t suck.”

I asked him how much he knew of the whole story with Coronado. He said that Mom had pretty much caught him up before he swore her to secrecy on his plan to be here tonight. Then I asked how much he knew about Steve Gorton.

“The only thing that amazes me is that this guy isn’t a lawyer,” he said.