Conflicted (Everlasting Love)(17)
Halfway through the three-quarter-mile race, Rhapsody—who already had a commanding lead over most of the field—stumbled and fell, taking three more horses with her: Sterling’s Silver, Serendipity and Pennywise. While she was not seriously injured, suffering only two sprained ankles, Serendipity suffered two broken legs, three shattered ribs and assorted other injuries while Pennywise ended up with a dislocated shoulder. Sterling’s Silver, after much debate, was put down.
“While we at the Triple H, and the rest of the horseracing community, are saddened by the loss of Sterling’s Silver, we are extremely grateful that the collision did not endanger the lives of more horses,” commented Jesse Rainwater, Crown Rhapsody’s trainer since birth. “We look forward to a long racing career for Rhapsody and expect her to be back on the track within six weeks.”
While few in the horseracing community doubt the brightness of Crown Rhapsody’s future, all acknowledge that, for the Triple H, this year’s Belmont Stakes will always be the one that got away.
HE LOVED THE SMELL of the track, the scent of horses and popcorn and money combining into a potent cocktail of luck. Jesse took a deep breath, absorbing the scent into his very soul before leaning forward and speaking softly into Crown Rhapsody’s ear.
Always high-strung, today she was so nervous that neither Jesse, nor Herbert—the parrot that was her constant stall companion—could calm her down. Almost as if she, too, knew that this wasn’t just another race. As if she knew that this was it—the race that could bring her everlasting glory and bring Jesse, if nothing else, a chance to relax from the craziness of the quest Big John had set him on nine years before. He was more than ready for a break, the chance for a little bit of peace calling to him as little else ever had.
Hailed as the greatest racehorse since Secretariat, the entire racing community had high hopes for Rhapsody—major newspapers and racing magazines across the country proclaimed that the Triple Crown would be won this year, that the outcome of the Belmont Stakes was a guaranteed certainty. Even the bookies had gotten onboard, offering some of the lowest odds on his horse that Belmont Park had ever seen.
There was no doubt in his mind that Rhapsody was capable of winning this race. She’d won the Derby by almost three lengths, leaving her competition in the dust—literally. The Preakness hadn’t been any harder. She’d taken an early lead and raced to victory nearly unchallenged.
Why then was he so nervous about this race? Why was his stomach knotted and his head pounding as if the fate of the world rested on this one horse’s shoulders? He’d never worried about a race before, had always done his best with breeding and training and left the rest up to the horse. Win some, lose some. That had always been his philosophy, though his horses won many more races than they lost.
But this was different. Desiree was on tenterhooks, thrilled and crazed at the idea of finally bringing the Triple Crown back to her daddy’s ranch. Back to her ranch. Maybe that was where his own anxiety was stemming from—he didn’t want to disappoint her, couldn’t bear to see the sadness in her as the most coveted prize in horseracing slipped through their fingers again.
Taking a few deep breaths, Jesse calmed himself, centered himself, sent himself seeking within the worried and uptight mind of his very high-strung racehorse. He walked with her for a little while—in the manner his mother and grandfather had taught him so many years before. He found her fears and soothed them as best he could, comforting and reassuring her. If only his fears could be soothed as easily.
“It’s time to go,” Desiree’s voice was higher than normal, excitement and nervousness showing on her face as she approached the stables where he and Rhapsody waited.
“She’s ready.” His own voice must have been tighter than he thought because Desiree smiled reassuringly as she laid a soothing hand on his shoulder.
“It’ll be fine, Jesse.”
He turned his head slightly, so that he could see both his wife and Rhapsody—the two most important women in his life today. “Do I look that bad?” he asked.
“Not to the rest of the world, but they don’t know you like I do.” She raised a second hand to his shoulders, began a gentle massage that loosened both his muscles and his stomach.
“Who’d we pull?” he asked, relaxing into the comforting pressure of her hands.
“Bill Daley.” Her voice shimmered with suppressed excitement.
“Big John must be doing cartwheels.”
“Pretty close.”
“I bet. Daley’s the best jockey riding today.”
“This is it, Jesse. I can feel it—Rhapsody and the Triple H are going to make history today.”
“Des—” His voice was low, cautioning.
“I know, I know.” She rolled her eyes at him. “Anything can happen. Nothing’s guaranteed. I get it. I do,” she insisted as he raised a sardonic eyebrow in her direction. “But a girl can hope, can’t she?”
“Open the gate for me, will you?” he asked, avoiding her question because he couldn’t stand to say anything to raise or shatter her hopes. Things would play out how they would and the world would know the results soon enough.
The trip down to the starting gate was chaotic—filled with too many people trying to get a look at the Triple H’s nearly mythical racehorse and too many reporters wanting a last-minute quote. He could feel Rhapsody tensing beside him as her nervousness and discomfort returned tenfold.