Page 14 of Dragon Her Heels

On average, four to ten fillies were nominated or qualified for the Triple Crown.

The Kentucky Derby would be the problem race, and I would need to enter every race I could to score enough points to win Alligator Bait a spot in the race. In good news for me, the races would begin in the fall and run through the winter and early spring.

By May, we’d either prove fillies deserved a place in the lineup or lose. In some ways, my filly had gotten lucky. She rivaled most colt thoroughbreds in size, eliminating the disadvantage fillies faced. She stood as tall and as proud as the colts, shoulder to shoulder with them or taller. Next, as her owner, I cared about her happiness and her health.

I hadn’t purchased her to become a broodmare, destined to carry foals for the rest of her days. I might breed her once or twice with a stud to have a piece of her legacy down the road, doing several breedings if necessary to have a filly.

I’d decide later if I kept or sold any of her colts should she throw any.

I wouldn’t sideline her or restrict her to races limited only to fillies. If she had the heart to beat the boys, I’d give her the opportunity.

I wasn’t in it for the money, the fame, or the glory.

I wanted to give my horse the chance to fly, and she was happiest competing.

Sometimes, I wondered why she’d performed so poorly on the track in her first few starts, but I suspected it had something to do with either her previous owner or her jockey. I couldn’t fault her trainer.

Whomever had trained her had done so trying to cultivate a champion.

Jockeys aiming for the Triple Crown wanted nothing to do with the fillies, who weren’t likely to go the distance for them.

If we did win, I’d spend the money on the barn, I’d upgrade her track so she could continue to enjoy her breezes until she no longer wanted to chase the wind, and I’d put the rest away for when it came time to repair or replace the fences, redo the pasture, and otherwise help my horses live their best lives until their dying day.

I foresaw spending an unfortunate amount of money buying unwanted racers and offering them a luxurious retirement. Thanks to my magic and my willingness to use it, I could house one horse on an acre with no problems.

Twenty-five horses could share the racetrack pasture, assuming the herd got along. In reality, I’d keep ten at most in the track pasture and build additional paddocks along the property. If there was a dragon and the dragon came calling, my employment terms would allow me to work with my animals, do my job, and enjoy my happily ever after. And if the dragon annoyed me, well, I’d do my best to feed him to the alligators living in Lake Hancock.

After all, I hadn’t dyed my hair black to offer a warm welcome to those who got on my bad side. And if the dragon didn’t approve of my piercings, choice of hair color, or way of life, he’d learn in a hurry that he could deal with it or find a different executive secretary.

Pleased with my decision, I began the process of picking and choosing which races I’d enter Alligator Bait in. Because I had a check worth writing home about, I’d give my parents a call to check in with them and go on the hunt for a truck and trailer worthy of my precious filly and our mutual ambitions.

* * *

I waited for the storm to ease before heading to my office and making use of my landline to call my father. Of my parents, my father was the one I could trust to listen before deciding if he would be snide or supportive. It could go either way, but with a new job secured, my expenses check being processed through mobile banking, and good times ahead, I suspected we’d have a better talk than normal.

“Hey, baby girl. What’s up?” my father answered, and judging from the background noise, he’d decided to be domestic and cook my mother dinner.

Domestic meant supportive, and I resisted the urge to cheer over my good fortune. “I got a job,” I announced.

“Well done. I thought you weren’t going to be looking for a while? Earned, just like I told you when you quit your old job. I’m impressed you got a house for a reasonable amount, though. The market’s rough. You’d budgeted for a year off.”

While I disliked lying, I’d left out some details about my purchase to my parents, who believed I had gotten a project house I would make habitable over the next few months before returning to work. “The job offer came knocking at my new door, and it was too good to refuse.”

“Better than your old place?”

In some ways, I regretted having told my parents about the nature of my employment agreement. On one hand, they’d been proud of my negotiation abilities. On the other, they had been disappointed I’d only looked ahead ten years.

“It’s significantly better for similar work,” I confirmed. “There will be performance bonuses, and my salary is higher. I’ll have to travel, but I’ll be paid additional for any traveling I need to do. For the moment, it’s remote work, so I don’t even have a commute.”

If the dragon did come calling, my commute would be to the lakefront, something I could tolerate with grace. If the castle did prove inhabitable, my work would be living right down the hall.

After I got off the phone with my father, I’d select the races I would enter Alligator Bait into before preparing the nicest of my guest rooms for my future boss.

“Congratulations. I know you hated your last commute. How is fixing up your new place going? Your mother and I can take some time off if you’d like to show us.”

Hm. Perhaps I’d work on picking my races before I got off the phone and go on a trip to the races with my parents, giving them a look at my new mare before taking them to my slice of heaven. I popped open my laptop and checked the races, plugged in my horse’s record from her last race, and discovered she needed to be two to enter. In what had to be the blessing of some god, there was still a slot in the first of the Kentucky Derby prep races.

“How would you feel about heading to Louisville, Kentucky, with me to watch a race?”