Page 84 of Dragon Her Heels

Lucifer managed to get within a length of Aramathea but he failed to catch us at the wire. The rest of the crew had opted to get out of the way, accepting their defeat in an equal mix of grace and profanities. Darlene cheered for me, bounced over, and attempted to jump up on my mare with me, sliding down when she failed to get a grip on the saddle. I laughed, slid off the mare’s back, and patted her neck and praised her for her ruthlessness. “We’ll get you many beautiful gems.”

To keep from Lucifer showcasing his status as willing to do evil, I hugged his wife.

The mare tossed her head and whinnied.

“And to think everyone was convinced there was no way the sweetest and prettiest mare here could possibly win,” the Devil said in an amused voice. He rubbed his nephew’s neck and dismounted. “And don’t feel badly, Sam. I don’t even think Bailey would have had much of a chance in that race.”

The cindercorn bowed his head. “Had her rider been hit with a bridle, she would have gone directly into orbit, bucking for at least ten minutes. The race barely lasted for five, and Aramathea refused to allow me to get closer than a length. She taunted me!”

The heavenly mare whinnied and bobbed her head in agreement. I laughed. “Sorry, Sam. Lucifer, can you make sure the bridle is okay? I was going to kick you off his back, but I decided the bridle was more inconvenient and made you lose in a more humiliating fashion.”

He snickered. “Well played. I’ll take care of it. You go get ready for the real race. You have transformed yourself from a mere woman to a jockey worth worrying about. When they do not discount you, they will challenge you, and you thrive when challenged. Thank you for knocking out Darlene early, although I am shamed my Four Horses didn’t even make it far beyond the starting line.”

“If I want to win, I need take advantage of every opportunity.” I patted Aramathea again before vaulting onto her back, grateful I’d practiced on David and could handle the task with grace. As the race winner, I enjoyed showing off my new mare to the crowd, who cheered when I waved at them.

Then I turned her in the direction of where the starting gate would be, setting her off at a gallop so I could take advantage of the time needed to groom the track, get changed, and go through my pre-race ritual so Alligator Bait would understand we were out to win.

I wanted my new stallion, and I wanted to crush my target to the point he never raced another horse. I trusted Lucifer when he said the man behind Alligator Bait’s appearance in a slaughter pen bred excellent animals and took care with them.

But I would end his days as an irresponsible racehorse owner.

If I got my way, he would never win another purse as long as I lived.

In the barn, Yuless waited with Alligator Bait, and I hurried to the nearest bathroom, changed into a clean pair of silks, and began the tedious process of undergoing angelic verification, which numerous owners observed. The scale confirmed my worries the first race might drop some weight off me, and we needed to add several weights to my saddle to make it a fair race for everybody else.

The angel confirmed the weights as well, making my entry into the race unassailable.

Yuless took care with saddling my mare, and once everything checked out, which once again underwent angelic verification, I got into the saddle.

Per our game plan, Yuless led my mare, the cue Alligator Bait required that she needed to pay attention and race like she meant it. While we weren’t the first to leave the barn to make the journey to the track itself, we weren’t the last, which counted as a miracle to me.

I kept an eye on the other horses making a fuss on the way to the gate. A particularly tough colt, who fought his jockey every step of the way, worried me; gate accidents happened, and some of them eliminated several horses in the ensuing chaos.

To my relief, the colt had the second position. His jockey, Maxwell Firo, had immigrated to the United States from Europe after a successful career riding in three day events. Thoroughbred racing had become his passion, and he liked using a heavy hand on his horses.

He’d whip to the maximum allowed.

Sometimes, that could be an advantage. It could also be a disadvantage and a method of cheating.

However, with numerous angels observing the race, one of which had been hired by the track to keep cheating to a minimum, I suspected he’d stay on the right side of the line.

If he didn’t, well, everyone would find out about it sooner than later.

Rather than become tough, as many of the horses did when caught up in the excitement of the impending run, my thoroughbred calmed, just like I’d worked on with her time and time again. A calm horse wasted no excess energy, which meant she’d be able to give her best when it came to reaching the wire first.

Once at the starting gate, my assistant starter took over, and he directed me to gate six located in the center of the line. Some viewed the position as a weakness, but I liked the odd mix of advantages and disadvantages. My favorite was the last gate on the outside; technically, the outside line required more running from the horse, but when I wanted to do a catchup and breakaway, I needed space.

The outside provided space.

Most jockeys fought for rail position, which gave their horses the least distance to run.

While we waited for the final horses to load into the gate, my starter assistant kept a tight grip on Alligator Bait’s bridle, and he patted her neck and cooed to her, praising her for her good behavior. Under normal conditions, when the horses lived at the track most of the years, the starter assistants were assigned a set of horses, learned the behaviors of each animal, and formed relationships with them so they could do their jobs in safety.

Alligator Bait had, thanks to Lucifer and the forces of his many hells, grown accustomed to someone new handling her before each race. I’d even set up a single gate to practice on near my track, and I’d started her hundreds of times over the past few months, preparing for the moment we rode real races.

Starting gates no longer excited her beyond the anticipation of competition. Her body betrayed her desire to run, as her ears pinned back in concentration, and she stood ready to surge forward the instant the gate opened.

Alex Dryden in the first gate would be the jockey I paid most attention to near the finish line. According to all my teachers, he had no scruples about utilizing every gap in the pack of racers. I’d reviewed numerous videos of his actions leading to accidents, and several of them had cost the opposer’s horse their life.