Until this year. It seems like even the best, most exciting things about life have lost their luster. I can only hope it’ll come back. One day.
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT - Trick
“I don’t know why you didn’t just let me drive. Even that piece of shit I’m working on now would be a better ride than this thing.”
Rusty hasn’t stopped complaining since we left his shop.
“So what you’re saying, since you helped me fix this truck, is that you do crap work. Is that it?”
“I do great work. I’m just saying that…it’s a truck. They can only be so comfortable. A car would be much better for a ride like this.”
“A, it’s not that far. And B, I’m getting the word out. Since I got the logo magnets for the doors, I’m like a driving advertisement for equestrian awesomeness.”
After I sold the Mustang, I felt pretty guilty, like I’d betrayed Dad or let him down, even though he did it first. He did love that car and he wanted me to have it. But financially, I just couldn’t justify keeping it when selling it would help so much.
I don’t feel quite as bad now, though. I used the logo from the top of the Ferrier’s kit, the one with the horseshoe and my initials, for my new venture, my new life. Even if I don’t always feel like an official champion Quarter horse breeder, at least I can start looking the part. All I’m lacking today is the horse trailer I bought to pull behind. It’s outfitted with the logo, too.
“It’s gonna feel pretty damn far when I try to get out on numb legs and a cramped ass.”
“God, you’re worse than a woman. Stop your bitching and find us some good music to listen to.”
Our barbed banter continues the rest of the one hundred and twelve miles to the track. The race we’re attending is one of the biggest before the Colonial Cup in November. I know all the big names in Southern breeders have at least one horse in the mix. If I hope to get Rags in a race early next year, I need to check out the competition.
At the track, after we’ve parked, Rusty and I head for the stable area. I made sure we left in enough time to be able to mill around down there and check out the horseflesh, maybe pick up on a little something helpful or important. I hadn’t planned on jumping into this blind. I guess I’d sort of figured I’d get to know a lot more about this stuff from Sooty and Jack, but…
I stop to introduce myself to several trainers along the way. They’re polite enough, most of them not seeing me as any kind of competition. I have my age working for me in that way. They don’t fear me or feel threatened by me, which means they’re more likely to answer my questions and feel more relaxed in talking than they might otherwise. At least that’s my theory. And it seems to be spot-on so far.
After talking to a trainer out of the more Northern parts of the state, I see the familiar colors of Jack’s operation—dark purplish-blue and deep brick red. Maybe it’s where I haven’t seen it in a while or maybe it’s where I still can’t get Cami out of my head, but the blue looks just like her eyes and the red isn’t that far off from her hair. Could be my imagination, but I wonder if Cherlynn’s looks had anything to do with Jack picking those colors for his horses. Maybe, like me, he was so in love with her, he saw her everywhere, saw her eyes and her hair in every blue and red around.
I turn back the other way. No sense making it harder than it has to be. No reason to torture myself. It’s been months since I’ve seen Cami, but it hasn’t gotten any easier. In fact, it might even be getting harder every day. I’m not sure. Sometimes it feels like it can’t hurt any more. But the next day, it does.
Rusty grabs my arm. “Where you going, man? Don’t you know him or something?”
I look around to see who Rusty’s talking about. I see Sooty standing at the door of a stall, looking in my direction. Our eyes meet and he nods. I nod in return. He tips his head toward the stall and disappears inside. I debate whether or not to go talk to him.
Surely it can’t hurt anything, right?
I turn around and walk back to where Sooty disappeared. In a way, I hope Cami is in there with him. Even though it would probably kill me to see her, I want to. Just one more time. Up close.
But he’s alone in the stall. Just him and Highland Runner.
I know the shock registers on my face.
“Are you kidding me?”
Sooty smiles in that way he has. It’s mischievous. And pleased.
“Nope. I told you, you were right about him. He’s got something. He’s a winner.”
“Is this his first race?”
“Naw, we’ve had him in some smaller ones. Jack wasn’t convinced too easy. But once he saw him run…”
Pride, and lots of it, bubbles up in me. I feel like laughing and whooping like a kid. But I don’t. I just smile. It’s probably a pretty big smile, though.
“Damn.”
Sooty laughs. “That all you’ve got to say?”
“What else should I say?”
“I don’t know, but I hope you’re proud, son. Jack’s been picking and breeding winners for a lot of years. I’ve never seen him wrong about a horse, never seen him misjudge talent. He’s got a great eye. But you…you got something different, Trick. You were born to work these horses. It’s in your blood.”
I take a deep breath. There’s a swell of emotion in there that I don’t want to get the better of me. Not knowing what else to do, I stick out my hand. Sooty takes it.
“Thanks, Sooty. I just…I don’t know… Thanks. It means a lot.”
He winks at me. “I knew it would.” Sooty leans back against the wall and tips his hat up. “What brings you ‘round?”
“Just checking out the competition.”
“Competition? Is that right?”
I nod. “Got a horse of my own now. I’m making a go of it. I don’t know exactly how it’ll turn out, but I have to try.”
“You talking ‘bout that wild horse? Did you finally get it?”
I can’t remember ever telling Sooty about my plans for adopting Rags.
“Yeah, I did. A couple months ago. How’d you know?”
“Pretty little bird told me you had plans for one,” he says with another wink. “Glad to hear you got him.”
Cami was talking to Sooty about me? I’m not sure how I feel about that. Encouraged, for sure. Curious. Confused.
Damn! Don’t give me hope after all this time.