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“See you later,” I said to Becky, taking my leave.
I went outside to sit on a bench on while I tore open the envelope. There was a check in the amount of $10,000 made payable to me. Trey had attached a note on his personal stationary that read, “From the Desk of Trey M. Sinclair, Esq.” I wondered what the middle initial ‘M’ stood for? I'd never asked Trey about his middle name. His note was brief, and to the point:
Tylar,
Hope all is well. Here's the check for releasing liability of the handling of your trust from the firm of Findley, Morris & Sneed. Accepting this does not waive your right to criminally prosecute your mother should her whereabouts become known. I'll forward you the deed on your property in Radcliff once executed by the Recorder’s office. You'll need to contact the auditor’s office in order to get the semi-annual tax billing sent to your current address. Also, I recommend you contact the utility companies in Radcliff to have them put into your name. Please let me know if I can be of further assistance.
Very truly yours,
Trey M. Sinclair, Esq.
Trey’s all-business tone was a slap in the face. If I thought that scene in the stable last month between us was humiliating, it was nothing compared to this. He treated me as a client. This was the final humiliation. If he'd shown anger at me it would've been better than this. I could deal with anger. I couldn’t deal with apathy. His lack of emotion diminished me to the core. What kind of a fantasy world had I created for myself those couple of months? It was nothing that a future could ever be built upon.
I spent the next week and a half at the arena from sunrise to sundown working with Derringer. Mark was concerned at my obsessive practicing but it felt therapeutic to me; it made the days go faster, it wore me out so that I could sleep without dreams.
My new riding outfit arrived at the store. Mark drove me in to pick it up. I hadn’t driven my Mercedes for weeks. I didn’t plan on driving it again. I didn’t want that car. It represented something that was despicable to me. It was a gift from Trey for me being his paid whore, as far as I was concerned.
Malvern Park was a five-hour drive from Bristol. I was riding up with Mark; his dually was pulling the horse trailer with Derringer. Ray and Charlie were driving some of the other horses up. We would be staying at a hotel near the park.
We left Bristol at 6 a.m. the day before the competition. Mark wanted to make sure that Derringer was rested and calmed well before we took center stage in the arena. We made fairly good time, arriving in Malvern a little after noon. Mark dropped me at the hotel while he took Derringer on to the stables to get registered and settled in. He said he’d meet me later for some dinner.
Once in my room, I unpacked my clothing and hung up my riding outfit. The early morning and long drive exhausted me and I promptly fell asleep across the king-sized bed. I was awakened by the sound of my hotel phone ringing. It was Mark on the phone; he was ready to go to dinner. After we ate, we took a ride over to the park. I visited with Derringer while Mark discussed tomorrow’s schedule. The music freestyle started at 10 a.m. Derringer and I had pulled third in the line-up, after Amazing Grace and Saltillo. Not a bad position out of 15 entries. We walked around the arena, which was standard in all parks for these competitions. Mark had all of the tack unloaded and in the storage area of Derringer’s stall.
We drove back to our hotel. He asked me if I wanted to have a cocktail at the lounge before retiring for the evening. Despite my nap this afternoon, I was still tired. We agreed to meet for breakfast in the hotel at 6:30 a.m.
I fell into a deep, exhausted sleep and didn’t wake until my alarm clock buzzed at 5:15 a.m. I got dressed and applied some make-up. I brushed my hair back into a tight bun. Wow, I looked like Jenna! I covered it from the top of my crown to the base of my hairline in back with a hairnet that was close to the color of my hair. That would secure it and still allow for my derby to fit comfortably on my head.
My dress boots were shined to perfection and my riding outfit was stunning. My navy blue derby actually looked a little saucy perched on my head. White gloves in hand, I was ready. I headed down to meet Mark for breakfast. He was already in the hotel restaurant, waving to me as I approached the entrance. He stood up as I arrived and grasped my hand.
“Tylar, you look fantastic!”
I knew what he was doing; he wanted to assure me all was fine so that I could concentrate on the competition. Nerves played a very big part in the results of these competitions.
“What would you like for breakfast?”
“Mark, my stomach is in knots, I think I want to play it safe with a toasted bagel and apple juice.”
Mark signaled for the waitress and then turned to me. “Tylar,” he said, “don’t worry. You're prepared. Derringer is prepared. Do you know what your greatest strength is as you enter the arena today?”
He had me there.
“Your biggest strength is that your horse loves you. You have a bond that in all of my years in this business I’ve not seen until now. Use that bond, Tylar, trust it. You'll be fine.”
We arrived at the park early. I went to Derringer immediately to brush and tack him up. I braided his mane while Mark checked on the horses scheduled for the Quadrille. I took advantage of this opportunity to have a one-on-one talk with Derringer as I braided. I told him how much I loved him. I told him that no matter what, we just needed to go out into that arena and give it our best. I finished the last braid, tying the plait into a button with yarn. He looked magnificent.
When it was time, Mark and I led Derringer to the arena, awaiting our cue.
“Everything will be fine, Tylar.”
“I know it will, Mark.” I believed it.
It seemed like no time had passed at all and we were being announced.
“Introducing five-year-old Derringer, owned by Trey Sinclair of Sinclair Stables, Bristol, Virginia; trained by Mark Montgomery; ridden by Tylar Preston.”
The opening chords of Lady Gaga’s “Born this Way” came across the speakers. It was as if Derringer just took over. We were out in the arena; Derringer commenced his prancing as Lady Gaga continued. From the halt and salute at the beginning to the halt and salute at the end, the execution was perfect. Derringer’s impulsion, his stride in the collected canter, his leg yield in trot were perfectly choreographed to the sound of the song. His circle right was flawless. The collected gaits down the center line couldn't have been any better. Derringer had impressed everyone.
Mark stood waiting at the arena gate, grinning from ear to ear. He pulled me down off of Derringer, twirling me around and around before he set me down. We waited for the judges to post our scores.
