Page 4 of My Queendom for a Horse

But he isn’t giving up as easily this time. He sets his jaw, like he’s determined to be some kind of superhero, coming boldly to my rescue. He drops his voice even lower. “I know racing still scares you. It’s not worth the risk.”

“You’re a little late to start caring about me.” I roll my eyes. “It’s been a decade. Or were you stuck in some kind of stasis all this time?”

I swear, at that exact moment, Obsidian Devil snorts. The timing is so perfect, that I almost believe for a moment that he’s paying attention to our interchange and that he understands it. He’s also dancing around a lot less than he was—and maybe it’s because Finn’s finally on his back, but it feels like it’s because he’s listening in.

I’m going crazy.

Sean’s brow furrows. “I know I screwed up, but I’m here now.”

“I don’t need you here,” I say. “Not anymore.” I urge Five forward.

Sean starts after me, clearly not dropping anything.

Obsidian lunges forward at the same time, nearly running Sean over.

Then they call for us to enter the track. Sean finally grits his teeth and walks away. A moment later, when they call us to approach the tape, Five prances up perfectly, prettily even. Obsidian’s chomping at the bit and dancing left and then right like a drunk bumblebee. It’s even worse than it was before, on the ground, and I can’t help laughing.

“It’s not funny, Sticky. Knock it off.” Finn’s smile belies his gruff words. We circle up and move toward the tape in an inconsistent bunch, the horses shying and head-tossing as they move forward. As always, my jittery nerves fade away when they finally release us. I know what Five Times Fast is capable of, and I’m ready to help him win.

We pull ahead quickly at the beginning. Five did quite well with flat racing. If he didn’t jump quite so beautifully, I might have kept him there, but as we approach the first jump, his timing’s perfect.

He’s ready to win this.

He sails effortlessly over the first fence and heads into the bend in perfect position, a full length ahead of the other horses. The cool November air streams past my face as we clear the next fence and round the bend to the ditch. From the corner of my eye, Earl Grey’s bearing down hard on the inside. When we reach the ditch, he’s only half a length behind me, so I push Five toward the inside and Earl Grey falters on the ditch.

We pull ahead again.

Five and I sail over the fourth and fifth fences and into the downhill jump on the sixth, just as I planned. We’re rounding the turn toward the stands when a pounding sound has me glancing to the outside, just in time to see Finn’s salute as he and his monster fly past me.

I could scream with frustration.

Five can’t pick up that much speed, not going into the seventh and eighth fences, which are brutal. I hope maybe, just maybe, Obsidian will botch things, going so fast over the fences, but he doesn’t. He clears them with nearly a foot to spare. I’ve never seen anything like it. The crowd’s going wild. Finn’s always been an attention monger, but this is shaping up to look very, very bad for me. I try not to think about the fifty thousand pounds I’m about to lose, not to mention the purse money.

I lean down near Five’s neck. I don’t use a whip on him—never have. “Come on boy, I know you’re really flying, but I need a little more. We’ve gotta beat that big bully or we lose the farm. You can do it. I know you can. Let’s stay as close as we can, and at the end we’ll really push, okay?” I pat his neck, and I swear Five bobs his head. Horses understand me, and I understand them. If Five can possibly win this for me today, he will.

We gain on Obsidian on the long stretch between eight and nine, and pull up until we’re almost neck and neck.

I look Finn in the eye and he winks. That jerk winks at me. Like he knew Obsidian would eat Five for breakfast. He whips Obsidian once as we approach the ninth fence, and Obsidian’s ears flatten. The black stallion clearly hates the crop.

Some horses don’t mind a tap now and again—it encourages them, letting them know when to move. I’ve rarely used it, because my horses understand me. I only race horses that love to run. But for most jockeys, it’s an invaluable communication tool.

Finn should already have known that Obsidian hated it, but clearly he didn’t. After we clear the ninth fence, he uses it again. Obsidian actually slows down, and we pull even with them. I smile broadly at Finn.

He scowls back at me. He has the faster horse. He should beat me. But he doesn’t know his horse like he should.

We both clear the first ditch on the second loop, Five and I on the inside, and Obsidian giving us a wide enough berth that it almost feels like he’s being polite.

After the second ditch, with only five fences to go, I lean down and croon in Five’s ear. “You can do it, boy. You can pull ahead. I know you can beat that evil, black beast.” My sweet pony hunkers down and runs, putting everything he has into it.

He’s tired, though.

He clips the fence on fifteen and nearly stumbles. Obsidian pulls ahead.

An entire length ahead.

Five’s giving me everything he has. . .but it isn’t enough.

I don’t want him hurt—I can’t stand the thought of that—so I pat Five’s neck. “It’s okay. You’re magnificent, but if he beats you, it’s okay.”

---