Bullet Work (28 page)

  

Kyle saw Shazzy Time move closer on the
inside. They were approaching the turn, and Kyle had kept Aly
Dancer in rhythm and under a slight restraint. Shazzy Time had
stayed close enough that Kyle couldn’t drop Aly Dancer down onto
the rail. If Barrilla wanted to move into that pace, that was more
energy he had to use. Arestie was moving closer on the outside but
still half a length back.

  

“Aly Dancer
leads entering the turn.… Shazzy Time now moves
up to engage the leader. Arestie is next on the outside…two back to
Built In on the rail.”

Oh please, please,
Dan thought.
Don’t let that horse get by you.
Don’t give it up. Stay in there.
“Come on Aly. Come on,
Kyle, God damn it.”

  

Kyle looked to his left and saw Barrilla
grinning. He was pushing on his horse—not all out, but he was being
aggressive. Kyle waited. Barrilla looked over and yelled, “See you
bay—bee.”

When Shazzy Time pulled alongside, Aly Dancer
saw her for the first time. She tugged on the reins, throwing her
head forward. She’d pinned her ears back. She was angry. She didn’t
want that horse to get by her. Kyle waited. He couldn’t wait too
long, but he could wait some.

  

“Shazzy Time
puts a head in front.… Aly Dancer is next…Arestie
moving up strongly on the outside…Built In tracking those three
along the rail.”

The crowd roared when the announcer called
Shazzy Time ahead. At that moment Dan’s natural hatred for chalk
bettors escalated.
Damn it, we were the home
team,
he thought.
Come on, Kyle, let her
go.
Maybe they’d hit the board, hang on for third. He wanted
to win so badly, but stakes placed in her second race would be
nothing to be ashamed of.
She’s still a damn nice
filly.

Just then he saw it.

Suddenly the race was in slow motion. Dan had
been around racing long enough. He could see it. Many people
unfamiliar with the sport would never see it, or, if they did, they
wouldn’t understand the significance. Years of watching horses and
riders had taught Dan to spot the things that mattered.

Barrilla was urging Shazzy Time with vigor.
They hadn’t pulled their whips yet, but he was riding hard. Arestie
was moving well, but the rider was pushing her as well.

Kyle was sitting chilly. He was just riding.
“God, please be right,” Dan muttered. Kyle wasn’t asking her for
run yet.
He’s got a ton of horse left.

“Shazzy Time leads by a neck…Aly Dancer
right there…Arestie challenging those two on the outside…half mile
in 44 and 4.”

  

Kyle came out of the turn, threw a cross, and
yelled, “Haaaah.” He gave Aly Dancer her head, and she responded.
Kyle pulled even with Barrilla.

Without looking over, Kyle shouted, “See you,
asshole.”

Aly Dancer accelerated powerfully. Kyle
shifted his weight slightly, and she changed leads, digging for
home. This was what she wanted. She opened up and extended her long
stride.

She covered ground like a Ferrari coming out
of a turn and screaming into the straightaway.

She steadily moved past Shazzy Time and was
soon clear on the inside, but Arestie was right there on her
outside like she was glued to her hip.

  

Dan was holding a string of tattered
newspaper. He threw it on the ground and pounded on the rail with
the palm of his hand. “Come on. Yes. Come on, baby. Show them you
got heart. Show ’em what you got.”

“Aly Dancer moving powerfully—she retakes
the lead…Arestie on the outside.… Shazzy Time is losing pace…Built
In making a move toward the inside.”

  

Kyle was pushing and scrubbing on her neck
with his knuckles. He could hear the whip crack, as Dagens hit
Arestie. Was it possible? Arestie was gaining on the outside.
Stride by stride Arestie was eating into their lead.
How could we go those fractions and she’s been outside me?
How can she have anything left?
Kyle kept urging, “Come on,
come on, baby.” He flashed the whip along the right side of Aly
Dancer’s head.
Give me a little more; let’s put
this other one away.

“Arestie moves up alongside Aly Dancer…these
two down the stretch.… Built In is third, two back.”

Kyle couldn’t wait much longer. He had to go
to his whip. She was tiring, but he knew she was giving everything
she had. Arestie had to be tiring as well. She’d been in an
extended drive since the three-sixteenths pole.

If Kyle could create a little space between
them, he could hold Arestie off. Just one surge, just a little
space—they could break Arestie’s heart.

Kyle raised his whip and cracked Aly Dancer;
she lunged and dug in. He switched hands with the whip like he’d
done thousands of times and smacked her twice on the left side. She
responded. She ducked her head slightly and looked right toward
Arestie as if to taunt her. Two jumps later she had her head in
front of Arestie.

That’s when Kyle heard the snap.

Fillies were simply
different
from their male counterparts—and not merely in matters of
reproduction.

Fillies exhibited pain
thresholds significantly
higher than colts. Maybe it was a genetic inheritance that prepared
the female species for the pain of birthing. Maybe it was a kind of
focus and determination the male equines don’t possess.

Great fillies would
occasionally beat
great colts, but more often than not a comparable male could beat a
comparable female. That’s why they rarely raced against one
another.

Genetics made males
bigger and stronger, but it gave females the will to win in spite
of the pain.

That’s how AJ could
convince a frightened mare to run through a burning wall. For the
desired outcome, a female race horse would run through all levels
of pain, would run beyond the load supported by tender bones, would
push ligaments to the point they snapped like a taut rubber
band.

The heart of great
fillies should never be questioned. Down through the ages they have
come—Ruffian, Go For Wand, Eight Belles.

From all corners of the
racing world they waited impatiently for that special one. When she
appeared, they watched, breathlessly, awestruck by the brilliance,
the speed, the beauty.

Deep inside they knew
they were watching something magical, something that stopped time,
and they never wanted it to end—something beyond skin, and bones,
and muscle. They were watching a symphony in motion. They were
watching Picasso at an easel. In that moment they were peering over
God’s shoulder.

Fillies of this caliber
were never beaten; they succumbed, reluctantly, only to their own
hearts.

That kind of filly
became a selfless victim of her desire to win, her desire to
please, her desire to compete, her desire to run fast despite
conditions.

For that kind of filly,
the heart pushed her to a place the body was simply incapable of
following.

Chapter 53

kyle recognized the sound. He had
heard it before, and it made his stomach quiver. Arestie was trying
to get past his horse, but Kyle’s filly was running her guts out to
stay in front. The next instant, they were alone. Kyle turned to
look, even though he didn’t need to. He knew what he would see.

“Arestie and Aly Dancer…strongly toward the
wire…three back to…Arestie’s down…Arestie’s fallen on the track.
Aly Dancer alone to the wire.… Built In will run second with Smoke
Force third.”

The groan from the grandstand was seismic.
Arestie fell forward, catapulting Dagens onto the track. Arestie
crashed into the racing surface and flipped tail over head. Dagens
hit the track face-first. He bounced and pin wheeled down the
track, his arms and legs flailing like a rag doll thrown out of a
speeding automobile. Arestie crashed in one final gut-wrenching
collision with the track. She landed no more than four feet from
where Dagens lay motionless, facedown on the track.

The jockeys went into emergency control and
attempted to guide their mounts around the injured horse and
jockey. Some were still trying to get in contention for a check;
others were just trying to avoid another pileup by veering clear.
They knew the horse, they knew the silks, and they knew the jockey.
But most of all they knew it could be them down on the track.

A slip here, a shift there, a young horse, an
unpredicted injury, someone moving the wrong way at the wrong time
and they could be the one on the track. They rode without fear, but
they knew what fear was. Now it was a jumble of bones and flesh
down on the track.

The grooms for each horse stood near the
finish line so they could put a cinch on their horse when they
returned to the unsaddling area near the winner’s circle. They were
the first to respond. Arestie and Dagens lay about sixty yards from
the finish line. Half a dozen men raced toward them.

Kyle rode Aly Dancer to and through the
finish line. He stood in the stirrups, bent over at the waist, and
eased Aly Dancer. He had just won the largest stakes races of his
career. It would be one of his biggest paydays. He had first call
on an undefeated two-year-old filly. He knew she had more potential
and natural talent than any horse he’d ever climbed on, but now
fear gripped him. He looked down and swallowed hard as Aly Dancer
galloped out. He had to lean off to the right side so the vomit
wouldn’t land on Aly Dancer.

  

Like the rest of the crowd, Dan cringed
visibly when Arestie fell. He didn’t even watch his horse cross the
finish line. His eyes were glued on the horse and rider tumbling
onto the track. From the first landing of the grandstand, he
watched several grooms race toward the fallen competitors. Dagens
wasn’t moving. He was facedown on the track. One of the grooms was
down on his hands and knees, trying to talk to Dagens. The groom
quickly sat upright and motioned for assistance. Dagens didn’t
move.

Arestie was trying to get up, and she
screamed out in pain. Dan could see that her front legs were
broken. She tried to get her front legs under her, but she would
collapse, only to try again.

These were proud animals. They lived on their
feet; they slept on their feet. They did everything on their feet.
Not being able to stand made no sense in a horse’s world. The pain
mixed with the fear caused Arestie to try even harder to get to her
feet. Her genetic code was firing off a singular message to her
brain. Get on your feet.

The grooms had reached her and were trying to
keep her down. She was fighting them with everything she had. They
were trying to prevent more damage and to calm her. It was a fight
that was unwinnable.

The ambulance sped onto the track and rapidly
approached the scene. In the distance Dan could see the vet trailer
being brought onto the track from the backside. The vet trailer was
a state-of-the-art equine medical vehicle. It provided the means
for injured horses to get transported off the track and be
surrounded by medical care to aid and care for the animal.

In the corner of his eye Dan witnessed a
vision he’d seen before, a hop and run, a hop and run. AJ had
jumped the fence and was moving as quickly as he could toward the
horse.

Emotions were running raw. It was the
frustration of trying to help the horse while knowing the situation
was dire. Keith Kimbrough had run over to the spot where Arestie
was being held. He knelt next to her and tried to hold her neck
down so she wouldn’t have the leverage to attempt to get up
again.

AJ was moving as quickly as he could. He
looked to his right and saw the ambulance go past him. The
ambulance would park nearer the finish line to allow them to treat
Dagens but also to provide room for the emergency vet van to get
near Arestie.

AJ never saw it coming. He hopped and ran in
his unique way until he was about ten feet from the horse.
Kimbrough’s groom, the one Dan called Romeo, threw a roundhouse
punch that completely cold-cocked AJ. Dan ran down the stairs
toward the apron. He had to get to AJ.

The impact of the punch nearly lifted AJ off
the ground. He spun with the motion of the right cross and flew
backward, landing face first on the track. The blindsided punch
should have rendered him unconscious. It should have broken his
neck.

Amazingly, he scrambled to his hands and
knees and continued toward the horse. The groom tried to knee AJ to
keep him away, but the boy kept crawling. There were several men
standing near the horse, including Vic Dancett, who was talking to
Kimbrough. AJ crawled between the legs of the standing men and
reached forward to place his hands on the horse.

Arestie suddenly went quiet. She continued to
breathe powerfully but didn’t struggle to move or get up. AJ was
shaking and convulsing. Blood was pouring from his mouth and nose,
covering the horse and the dirt track. AJ was crying out something
unintelligible, and several men stepped away. The boy’s entire body
was in a tremor, sweat was streaming off him, and tears ran down
his face, mixing with the blood.

When Dan got to the track and moved toward
the scene, he could see Dancett and Kimbrough talking. The vet van
had been parked to block the view of the grandstand. Kimbrough put
his hands to his face, pushing his cowboy hat back on his head. He
was shaking his head side to side slightly. Dancett stared at him
directly and put a hand on his shoulder. Kimbrough brought his
hands down and nodded.