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Soon, the horses were loaded, one at a time, into their starting gates. Jo bit her nails, watching and waiting, her heart beating erratically until finally, the seven gates swung open and the colts took off, bolting down the dirt track at high speeds, each vying for a position in front.
To Jo’s relief, Another Round didn’t freeze or plant his feet. Instead, he ran with the others, though his gait seemed restrained, as though he were holding back, or perhaps hesitant to go full throttle in such unfamiliar territory.
“Come on, boy,” she whispered, the shouts of the crowd echoing in her ears, almost drowning out her thoughts. “Pick up the pace.”
Lee rode well, urging Another Round on, keeping his seat with confident purpose.
“Crowd Pleaser takes the lead along the clubhouse turn,” an announcer blared over the stadium speakers. “They’re heading to the back of the track now and Mighty Soldier is taking over, stealing the lead from Crowd Pleaser. And we have Another Round surging from the back now, overtaking Outside Margin and Perfect Day . . .”
Jo rose to her tiptoes, straining for a glimpse of Another Round, seeking a flash of Lee’s black-and-white silks. “Come on, come on, come on . . .”
“They’re rounding the far turn now and coming to the top of the stretch,” the announcer continued. “Crowd Pleaser resumes the lead at the quarter pole but Mighty Soldier is powering on and—oh, Another Round has lost steam, sliding behind Outside Margin . . . now Perfect Day.”
Jo caught sight of him, her eyes fixed on Another Round’s face as he ran, chasing the horses that surged ahead of him. “You can do it, boy. Just shift gears.”
“Mighty Soldier is charging up on the outside,” the announcer blared, “but it’s Crowd Pleaser that takes the win, followed by Mighty Soldier, Outside Margin, and Royal Flush.”
Jo exhaled, her shoulders sagging with her spirits as Another Round dashed across the finish line in last position.
* * *
The eleven-hour drive back to Lone Oaks Crossing was more excruciating than the initial trip to New Orleans had been.
“If I had been there, he would’ve done better.” Cheyenne, seated in the back seat of the extended cab, crossed her arms over her chest and slumped back against her seat. “There’s no way Another Round would have come in last in that race had I been with him.”
Jo, seated in the passenger seat, shook her head and sighed. “Cheyenne, we’ve talked about this. At length, I might add. Because of your age, you weren’t allowed into the racecourse and Nancy did a fine job of standing in for you.”
“Not as good a job as I would have done,” Cheyenne said, her eyes meeting Jo’s in the rearview mirror. “Another Round knows me. He wouldn’t have been as nervous or scared if I had been there with him.”
Brooks removed one hand from the steering wheel and adjusted the rearview mirror as he sought out Cheyenne’s gaze. “Another Round would have been nervous no matter what. Even if you had been able to go inside the racecourse with him, you still wouldn’t have been allowed on the track. You wouldn’t have been at the starting gate with him, and you wouldn’t have been able to run the race with him. There’s only so much we can do, Cheyenne. Another Round has to play his part, too.”
Cheyenne frowned, appearing to think this over as she stared out the window at the dark countryside passing with each mile Brooks drove. “Then what will it take to get him to do his part?”
Brooks stared ahead at the highway before them. “I don’t know. But what I do know is that Jo, Lee, and you have done an excellent job preparing Another Round for this race.”
Jo sneaked a glance at his profile, noting the tight clench of his jaw and the firm set of his mouth. Brooks hid it well, but he was just as disappointed in Another Round’s performance as Cheyenne.
After the race had ended, Jo had waited patiently as Lee and a hot walker cooled Another Round down, took him to be drug tested with the other horses, then returned him to his stall to be bathed. Brooks had joined her, a disappointed expression on his face despite the smile he’d forced as he exchanged idle pleasantries with her while they watched the winning horse and his connections revel in their achievement in the Winner’s Circle.
Though Brooks hadn’t come out and said it, Jo knew he was inwardly devastated at the prospect of having backed a losing horse.
“One bad run doesn’t mean you’ve backed a bad horse,” she said softly. Reaching across the console, she placed her hand on his knee in a comforting gesture. “Another Round may have come in last, but he did really well fighting through his nervous tension. A lot of other horses, feeling the fear he did, would have balked at leaving the gate, but he didn’t. He faced down his fears and joined the other horses in the race. At one point, he even came close to the front of the pack.”
“‘Close’ doesn’t cut it,” Brooks whispered back. “We’re betting everything we have on earning enough qualifying points to win a place in the starting gate at the Derby. If he doesn’t start performing, we don’t stand a chance of securing a spot.”
The finality in his tone intensified Jo’s own fears. She sat back in her seat, turned her head, and looked in the side mirror at the set of headlights following close behind Brooks’s truck. Earl, Frankie, Lee, and Nancy traveled in the truck behind them, and Jo wondered briefly if they were having the same conversation.
Lee was probably thinking the same thoughts as Brooks. He’d left the track disappointed in himself and Another Round. And worst of all, he’d had a difficult time looking Jo in the eye as they’d loaded Another Round into the trailer for the return trip to Lone Oaks Crossing.
It broke her heart to think that he felt his hard work had been for nothing or that he no longer measured up in her eyes. Lee had worked hard for two months, exercising every day, putting Another Round through his paces, and working patiently with her and Cheyenne to provide the best care and attention to Another Round. Nothing he had done—or hadn’t done—contributed to Another Round’s loss in the Gun Runner.
She’d told him as much, just as she’d tried to console Cheyenne and Brooks. But none of them had listened. They were all too consumed with disappointment.
The air in the truck’s cab grew thick and still. Jo lowered the passenger side window and leaned her cheek against it, inhaling the cold night air as it rushed into the cab. Thankfully, the familiar landmarks of Lone Oaks appeared, and soon Brooks had turned onto the driveway of Lone Oaks Crossing and brought the truck to a halt in front of the main house.
Brooks cut the engine, then glanced in the rearview mirror, eyeing the truck that drove up behind them and parked as well. “I’ll stay for a while and help Lee unload Another Round and get him settled for the night.”
“But that’s my job,” Cheyenne piped from the back seat. “I should be the one to wash him off and settle him down.”
