“Did you know Shelby turned thirteen today?”
“I didn’t,” I reply. “Happy Birthday!”
Her cheeks blush pink. “Thank you.”
“And now that she’s thirteen, it’s time she started working,” Jack says, hugging her from behind.
“What? I’m not working on my birthday!”
“Yes, you are.”
“You can’t make me.”
“I’m boss of the farm this year,” Jack says.
“If you make me work, I’ll tell everyone you still sleep with your little Raggedy Andy doll under your pillow.”
The horsemen stop talking. The horses stop moving. Everyone looks at Jack. I burst out laughing along with everybody else.
“Raggedy Andy?” I say.
His cheeks puff like a chipmunk’s. “Can you help Savannah, please?” he asks his sister, exasperated. “We really need your help.”
“You do?” Shelby asks.
“I think Star hates boys,” I say. “And I need help tacking him up.”
“Oh. Well, why didn’t you just say so, Jack? I figured you wanted me to muck out a stall or something.” Shelby sashays over to Star in her skirt.
Other horsemen in the paddock seem amused that a horse owner’s daughter is taking charge. Star behaves like a polite gentleman while Shelby and I finish getting him saddled up. And before I know it, it’s post time.
Bryant Townsend mounts the horse, and sure enough, Star starts acting like a brat as they trot up to the starting gate.
Jack beckons for me to walk with him up to the finish line. Our fathers and Gael trail behind us, and Shelby returns to the grandstands to sit with her mother.
“Stand with me,” Jack says. Then he drops a hand onto my shoulder and squeezes, not taking his eyes off the starting gate.
The gates crash open and the horses erupt into the race. Star comes out clean and charges ahead with the other horses. “Yeah!” Jack screams. The pack makes the first turn together, leaving a wake of brown dust. The field spreads out on the backstretch. Star stays with the lead group as they navigate the far turn.
“You got it, boy!” I yell.
Red Delight streaks to the front of the pack. Getting the Dream falls back into third. Star moves forward into the seventh position. On the straightaway, as they’re charging for the finish line, I’m gripping Jack’s arm and bouncing up and down.
“Go!” I scream, and I swear, Star looks over at me and kicks it into high gear. He manages to pass Raising the Flag and Mixed Appeal but ends up in fifth place overall. Dammit.
I crouch to the ground, covering my eyes. How could he lose? I kept him calm all the way up until the race. He was happy, he was fed, he was raring to go.
“1:47,” I hear Gael saying.
Damn. He added four seconds onto his time. I dig the heels of my hands into my eyes and pray that Mr. Goodwin doesn’t make Jack sell Star. Pray, pray, pray.
I feel gentle hands cupping my elbows and pulling me up from the ground. Jack lifts my chin and looks in my eyes. “How much do you weigh?”
My eyebrows pop up. “What? Wh—”
“Just tell me—what do you weigh?”
Why is he asking me this? I know exactly what I weigh (102 pounds), but I won’t let on that I care. “I dunno, a hundred pounds or so?”
“Do you have a jockey’s license?”
I shake my head.
“Get her an apprentice license,” Jack tells Gael. “Start the paperwork tonight.”
My mouth drops open.
“No—” Dad starts.
“I want to see what she’s got during a real race,” Jack interrupts.
“Son, Savannah has no experience—” Mr. Goodwin says.
“She’s better than most men,” Jack replies. “Do you think I’d allow Gael to put just any exercise boy on my horse? Clearly it’s been working out during practice, and that’s why Gael and Danny are gonna start training her for real tomorrow morning. I want her trained up and ready to go before Kentucky Downs, understand?”
Kentucky Downs is next week. Oh God.
“But she’s a girl,” Dad says.
“Girls have been jockeys before,” Jack says. “A woman won the Santa Anita Handicap two years ago. And Rosie Napravnik has over a hundred wins.”
My heart slams into my chest.
Dad shakes his head. “It’s too dangerous and I want more for her—”
“This would be more for her,” Jack says, standing up tall. “If she’s able to get her license and win a race, she’d get a percentage of the purse.”
I’ve never heard Jack speak so authoritatively. Mr. Goodwin rubs his chin, looking from his son to me.
“Are you just going to stand there?” Dad says to Mr. Goodwin.
“Star is my son’s investment and he’s in charge. I gave my opinion, but he makes the calls.”
“She’s my daughter,” Dad growls.
“She’s getting her license—” Jack says.
“Over my dead body—”
“Stop!” I yell, and the men turn to face me. Boys. They can’t even be bothered to ask what I want. “Dad, I’d love to get my license. Riding is what I want to do—”
Dad slaps a scowl on his face. “Savannah—”
“What’s wrong with getting a license? I could start training and see if I’m good enough. I want to see Star win.”
Gael nods. “I’ll do the paperwork today. Since she’s over sixteen years old and I’ll sponsor her, it won’t be a problem to get an apprentice license in a hurry. She can start training first thing in the morning.”
Dad says to Jack, “Savannah has no experience and you want her to race a priceless horse—”
“He isn’t priceless,” Jack says. He’s several inches taller than Dad, but my father is smart, quick, and strong, so he doesn’t even flinch at Jack’s display of Alpha maleness. “I paid a lot for him to be born and I want to see him win some races. I want Savannah trained as a jockey. Go big or go home.”
He nods at me, and I bounce on my toes. Racing horses is even better than being a full-time exercise rider. I could fly!
Not to mention I could make a percentage of the purse! I could help Dad pay off debt from Mom’s medical bills. I could help give my little sister a better life. I clasp my hands together, excited at the prospect of racing horses for a living. Why have I never thought about this before?
To get a full-blown jockey’s license, I think I’ll have to race in something like forty races as an apprentice under instruction of a trainer.
“I want you back in the barns right now,” Dad says to me in a low voice. “We’ll talk about this in private.”
I’ve never seen him so pissed. I turn right around and hightail it toward the barns.
“Savannah!” Jack calls out. “Tomorrow! Five a.m.”
Whether Dad likes it or not, I’ll be there.
Back in the barn, I pace back and forth across Star’s stall, waiting for Rory to get done hot-walking him.
Dad appears and leads me away from the horses before he rips into me.
“This is way too dangerous to even think about. Isn’t being an exercise rider enough for you?” Dad asks, grasping my shoulder.
A few weeks ago, yeah—it was enough. But I never imagined I’d stand by the racetrack and dig into a hot dog beside horse owners. I never imagined Jack would question why I’m not going to college. I never imagined a guy like him might try to kiss me.
“It seems like I should try,” I say. “You just said a few minutes ago that you want more for me. Well, this would be.”
Dad kisses the top of my head and embraces me tight. “Remember the Derby last year? Seven jockeys got thrown from their horses. Seven! Jockeys die every year. And Aaron Riddle was paralyzed not long ago. He’ll be on a respirator the rest of his life. Max Jackson fell off a horse and broke his collarbone, his legs, his arm, and had a brain bleed! Do you know what that would do to me if I saw you like that? I’ve already seen your mother die—” Dad chokes on his words.