Page 128 of Dragon Her Heels

THIRTY

“We seem to have a rather angry guest.”

Unlike Alligator Bait, Elegance in Moonlight fussed getting into the gate, although I managed to control him sufficiently to protect myself and the starter assistant from the animal’s exuberance. The instant the gates opened, the cream of the colt crop would battle for the largest of the preliminary purses along with becoming a leading stallion prospect regardless of what happened during the remainder of the Triple Crown races.

The race served as a prospect race for three year olds, brought serious money to the table, and should we win, we’d walk home with a purse of over a million dollars, which I would spend on bettering thoroughbreds and proving ethics and racing were, in fact, compatible.

The gate opened, the horses surged forward, and I made a decision that I would likely regret.

I lowered my hands and gave Elegance in Moonlight the choice to run his heart out.

Like Alligator Bait, I’d conditioned him for a mile and a half tracks, hoping to build his endurance and general strength so he could crush our opponents. As we’d gotten the outside gate, the decision would either make or break us.

Elegance in Moonlight had the strength to handle the course’s length, but did he have the speed and the heart?

The stallion prospect, as he did for me when we were training at home, turned his ears back flat and went to work. I caught glimpses of other horses out of the corner of my eye, but rather than join the crowd, I kept my colt on the outside of the pack, accepting the longer distance in exchange for a clear run at the finish line.

Unlike the other races I had run, I went for the lead from the start, hoping my colt’s size and his conditioning might make up for the extra distance I asked of him.

I kept the colt in the middle of the track, safely away from the other competitors, eliminating the dangers of sharing space with Maxwell Firo and Alex Dryden.

I trusted Alex not to hurt any of us on purpose, but accidents happened when jockeys vied for position.

Maxwell Firo worried me—and a quick glance over my shoulder confirmed the man, in his orange and green silks, battled for a better spot nearby.

I had two choices. I could push Elegance in Moonlight harder and hope to pass or edge closer to limit the distance he needed to run to keep his lead.

At half a horse ahead, I lacked the luxury of mistakes.

As Elegance in Moonlight had come to me whip shy, I’d exchanged my regular whip for the shortest permitted plus a centimeter to ensure compliance, padded it as much as allowed in the same irritating rulebook, and even went as far as to pad the shaft and handle, rendering it to be a visual cue rather than something capable of doing more than make some noise and potentially catch my colt’s attention.

I shifted my hand to his shoulder, gave him an encouraging scratch, and nudged him with the whip.

If I believed my eyes, I had done the equivalent of dip my poor baby in battery acid, as the colt extended his stride and gave me a burst of speed. A thump along my back and right shoulder heralded the kind of pain I’d only experienced a few times before, and my grip on the reins loosened. I snatched Elegance’s mane and held on tight, wondering what the hell had happened.

My first move would be to get Elegance across the finish line, ideally in first place. Then I’d worry about the problem of my shoulder. I’d curse about it every breath of the way, and my foul language did a good job of spurring my colt on.

I only cursed when pissed, and the poor boy understood my boss was about to get a punt across the lake, as half the time, I snagged my lover right out of the air while riding, subjecting Elegance to my random acts of affectionate violence.

In the future, I would need to add cussing to my race regime intentionally.

Elegance in Moonlight ran like I’d installed rockets in his rump as I focused on breathing while doing my best to ignore how my right shoulder throbbed with the beating of my heart. My shoulder would be a problem once we crossed the wire.

I needed both arms to get the colt to stop once he got started.

I was so focused on making certain I didn’t run into anyone or anything, I lost track of precisely where we were on the track, and only when I spotted the end of the winner’s circle seats did I clue in that stopping my colt would be a good idea. As feared, my right hand refused to cooperate, forcing me to cope solely with my left to slow the headstrong animal.

I bit back my curses, hoping my silence would clue Elegance in Moonlight he needed to slow.

Motion out of the corner of my eye caught my attention, and I realized Alex came up alongside, reaching for Elegance’s bridle. I held course, making certain my horse stayed in position. The other jockey, after a first failed grab, managed to snag the reins, which allowed him to slow both our horses.

I resumed cursing, although I tossed a thanks or two his way in the process.

“Don’t try to dismount,” Alex ordered. “Do you know what happened?”

I shook my head. “My shoulder is not happy.”

“You were shot.”