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“Let’s go,” Jo said.
Brooks glanced over at her from the driver seat and frowned. “Go where?”
“To Anderson Stables,” she said. “To pick up your jockey.”
“My jockey? I wasn’t aware I had one.”
“And that’s exactly why we’re going,” she said. “You can’t race a thoroughbred without a rider. And I’ve found the perfect one.”
“Without me meeting him first?”
Jo raised one eyebrow. “What makes you think it’s a him?”
Brooks’s lean cheeks flushed, and he shrugged his shoulders. “Okay, then. Who is she?”
Jo settled back in the passenger seat and buckled her seat belt. “You were right the first time. Our new jockey is a he.”
And it had taken hours to track him down.
Yesterday afternoon, after breaking the news of their new venture to Frankie and Earl, Jo had dug through the old belongings in her room at the main house, searching through drawers, old albums, and address books from ten years ago. After hours of hunting, she had managed to find the number of the man she’d been looking for.
Lee Simmons. One of the best—if not the best—jockeys Jo had ever known. An integral part of the team Lone Oaks Crossing once had in residence with Earl at the helm.
Jo hadn’t seen or heard from Lee in years, but she remembered how impressed she’d been with his passion for the sport and the horses he rode. He’d started interning early—just as she had, waking up at the crack of dawn, following a rigorous training routine that involved stringent workouts, healthy eating, and strict attention to the pounds on the scale. Despite the challenging regimen, she couldn’t remember him ever complaining—not even once.
Even early in his career, Lee had possessed an innate gift for quickly determining a thoroughbred’s strengths and weaknesses and would tailor his approach to match each horse’s unique abilities. And Lee had been fearless—almost to a fault. He’d remained calm in the face of overwhelming challenges on the track, maintaining his focus and encouraging the thoroughbreds he worked with to do the same.
She and Earl had been blessed to have Lee on their team ten years ago and she doubted, wholeheartedly, that they would have achieved what they had if Lee had not been part of their team.
Jo hoped—and prayed—Lee would bring the same energy, discipline, and talent to Brooks’s thoroughbred and guide Another Round to a Derby win despite the misfortune they’d suffered ten years ago. A misfortune that had proven to be not only her downfall but Lee’s as well. The loss of Sweet Dash had been too much for Lee to bear, and from what she’d been told by Lee’s current employer, he had abandoned racing not long after, just as she had, and ventured out on his own in search of a fresh start.
Only, she suspected things hadn’t quite turned out as well as Lee had perhaps hoped. But there was no need to share that bit of information with Brooks just now. And besides, once Brooks met Lee, he’d recognize the rare qualities Lee possessed that made him the perfect jockey for Another Round.
“So,” Brooks asked. “Who is this fantastic new jockey you’ve found?”
“Lee Simmons,” she said. “He’s the first and only jockey that came to my mind yesterday.”
Brooks put the truck in drive and headed down the driveway. “You’ve worked with him before?”
“Yeah.” Jo looked out the passenger window, staring at the highway. “I worked with him years ago.”
Brooks reached the end of the driveway and stopped the truck. “Years ago? As in the year you won the Derby?”
“That would be the one.” She gestured toward the road in front of them. “Take a left here. The stable he’s working at is about an hour and forty-five minutes away. I know a couple back roads that might get us there faster though.”
The truck remained parked as Brooks stared at her, his brow creasing. “This Lee you’re talking about . . . he rode Sweet Dash, right?”
Jo looked down and picked at one of her thumbnails. “Yeah.”
“Did he ride Sweet Dash in the Preakness Stakes, too?”
Jo bit her lip. “Yeah.”
Brooks sighed. “And this is the jockey you think would be a good rider for Another Round?”
Jo looked up and spoke firmly. “Lee is a great rider. What happened to Sweet Dash wasn’t his fault. A horse could have the best rider in the world and still stumble. Lee had no control over what happened.”
Brooks studied her face. “What other horses has he raced?”
