Conflicted (Everlasting Love)(18)
Cursing, he shouldered his way through the people as he used every ounce of his gift to keep Rhapsody calm. “She’s losing it,” he muttered to Desiree.
“Just a little farther,” she answered, reaching out a hand to stroke the horse’s neck. “Hang on, girl. We’re almost there.”
Pushing their way through the throngs of excited racegoers, Jesse sighed in relief when he and Desiree finally made it to the starting gate. He’d been to a hell of a lot of races in his life, but he’d never seen this many people milling around behind the scenes. He hadn’t prepared for it, hadn’t prepared Rhapsody for it. He just hoped the horse didn’t pay the price for his miscalculation.
The next few minutes flew by as Rhapsody’s jockey, dressed in the red-and-gold silks of the Triple H, spent a little while talking to the horse before mounting up and getting the horse ready for the small, fenced starting gate that would spring open as soon as the gun went off.
Then it was time to step back, leaving Rhapsody in Bill’s capable hands. Jesse’s stomach churned as he walked away, his left hand clasped tightly in Desiree’s right one. “Daddy’s waiting for us,” she murmured, pulling him toward the box seats.
“I’d rather watch from here.”
“Jesse, no!” She turned to him, disappointment gleaming in her eyes. “It’s hard to see from down here. Plus Daddy and his friends are expecting us. I told him we’d be up as soon as you got Rhapsody settled.”
He started to argue that all he wanted was to be left alone to watch the race in peace. He had a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach, one he’d never felt before. Maybe it was just nervousness, maybe it was instinct, but he didn’t think Rhapsody was going to win this race. And if she didn’t, if something went wrong, he’d rather be alone to deal with the fallout. To deal with his failure, when he’d promised his wife that he wouldn’t let her down again.
With a sigh, he draped an arm around her shoulders and let her lead him to the Triple H box. Filled with her father and his cronies, it was loud and crowded and exactly where Jesse didn’t want to be. But Desiree was there, her sweet body pressed lovingly against his, her hand rubbing soothing circles on his tense back.
And so he tried to relax, despite the growing sickness in his stomach. Grabbing a cola—he didn’t drink when one of his horses was racing—he made his way to the front of the air-conditioned box.
He listened as the announcer listed the horses in the race, his mind ticking off each of Rhapsody’s competitors seconds before the names were announced. Mystic would give her the biggest threat by far—nearly as fast and just as graceful, he’d come in second in both the Derby and the Preakness.
But this was a high-stakes race, and every horse in it had the ability to win. Lucky Lily could easily steal the lead, as could Pennywise or Sterling’s Silver.
The gun went off before he could second-guess the results, and adrenaline roared through him as Bill and Rhapsody took an early lead. As they rounded the first curve, Mystic was in second, though Lucky Lily was running a close and threatening third.
Heart pounding, Jesse watched in awe as Rhapsody fought off the pack to remain in first—around the first curve, the straightaway, the second curve, on and on until they’d reached the final stretch. Breath held, hand fiercely clutching Desiree’s, he watched as Rhapsody flew for the finish line, a full length in front of Mystic.
Jesse turned to Desiree, smiled into her excited eyes, and in that one second everything changed. He heard a gasp from the crowd, whirled in time to see Rhapsody stumble and fall a mere five yards from the finish line. Bill jumped clear as the horse hit the ground hard and Jesse watched in horror as Rhapsody rolled, taking down three other horses before she finally came to a stop.
Then he was running, out of the box, down the two flights of stairs to ground level, hurtling over the barrier between the track and the stands. Flashing his all-access badge at the overwhelmed security guards as he flew past, he got to the sight of the collision before any of the other trainers or owners.
The four downed horses—Rhapsody, Pennywise, Serendipity and Sterling’s Silver—were overwrought, screaming in pain and fear. Pennywise had struggled to his feet, but Rhapsody, Serendipity and Sterling were still down.
He approached Rhapsody cautiously, his heart in his throat, and fear a living, breathing monster in his stomach. If she was hurt badly, if she wouldn’t heal, they’d have to put her out of her misery, have to put her down though everything inside of him screamed at the injustice. She was a champion, a purebred, a noble spirit and the thought of killing her—even to save her pain—was anathema to him.
He glanced to the right, saw Bill holding his arm, a grimace of pain on his face as the first round of paramedics hit the field. But much as he liked the jockey, he was more concerned with getting the horses calmed before they hurt themselves or someone else.
Though Sterling was almost completely still, lying on his side and panting harshly, Rhapsody continued to try to struggle to her feet, whinnying in pain with every movement of her front legs.
“Shh, girl,” he murmured as he approached her. “Just let me look at you. Let me check you out, baby, and we’ll get you something for the pain.”
The next few minutes, and hours, passed in a blur. Big John arrived, anger and disappointment evident in his every stride, but Jesse was too busy to give his father-in-law’s state of mind more than a passing thought.