Repercussion

Author's Notes: In the original books there are at least two incidents where poor old Alec has some pretty serious head injuries. In The Black Stallion’s Son he’s thrown off Satan and ends up hospitalized for a week or two with a pretty bad concussion; seriously, he really should have been wearing a helmet. Later, in The Black Stallion Revolts, he falls from a plane and receives another bad head injury, resulting in blood loss, major pain that lasts for days and amnesia. Both injuries cause him to lose consciousness for a number of hours. This is a bad thing.

I got to thinking and it occurred to me that major head injuries could come back to bite you years later. I spoke to a medical friend (thank you, Gabe) and asked him what could happen.

It ain’t pretty.

* * *

Belle Ramsay was emptying the bathroom garbage can when the pile of bloody tissues made her stop. What on earth? They had to be Alec’s, he was the only one who used the upstairs bathroom since she and Bill’s room was down on the first floor—and there was so much blood. He hadn’t mentioned anything, and she hadn’t noticed any Band-Aids or anything. He would have said something if he were hurt, even if it in passing—well, probably, anyway. And he seemed just fine. Maybe he’d cut himself in the kitchen or down in one of the barns somehow. It could happen easily enough with all the physical work he did everyday. Maybe he was bitten by one of the horses, he could have slipped with a tool or something.

Maybe it was nothing.

Of course it was nothing. If it were something serious she would have noticed it. He was her son and she always watched to make sure he was healthy, much as she knew it annoyed him. Jockeys got injured, it was a simple fact of their lives and she knew this, they all did and that was why she worried so much. She would have seen something if there were anything to see. She made a point of it since she knew he had a tendency of hiding injuries.

Alec was the healthiest person in the world; he almost never got sick, never even got a cold. She asked Alec later that evening but he made a joke about it and changed the subject. With no real explanation forthcoming, she pretty much pushed it to the back of her mind.

About a month later she was walking into the stallion barn, looking for Alec, when she heard the raised voices—a rare thing at Hopeful Farm. Usually everyone was friendly and pleasant, arguments were rare.

“…Because you’re a idiot, that’s why. You pull this crap again and not only are you gone but I’m make sure you have a hell of a time finding any more stable work, do you understand me?”

“Yeah, sure, but, but Alec it wasn’t like that. I swear it wasn’t. I was just trying to…”

She heard something being thrown against a wall, glass breaking. “Get the hell out. You’re fired, you got that? I want you gone. Now.”

“Hey, Alec, c’mon…please. My wife…”

“Not my problem.” Alec stormed out of the tack room, gave her a startled and annoyed look as he went into his own office without pausing, the door slamming behind him.

Tentatively Belle went into the tack room. Jack, one of the grooms, was standing there stunned and close to tears. She went over to him, putting her hand on his arm. “What happened?”

“I don’t know. I was in here folding some stable blankets and he stormed in, telling me I was doing it wrong and it kind of escalated from there. It came out of left field, no warning.” His chin was trembling. “My wife is due in a month, if I’m fired we lose my benefits and the doctor bills will break us.”

“I’ll talk to him, Jack. He was just telling us yesterday what a good job you’re doing—I don’t know, I’ll talk to him.” He looked grateful; afraid to hope he still had a job.

She made her way down to Alec’s office, knocked on the door and pushed it open when she didn’t hear anything. Alec was standing, looking at the wall of trophies from the Derby, Hambletonian and a score of other major races he’d won as if he’d never seen them before. He turned and smiled at her as if the argument had never happened. “Hey, I was just about to stop over at the house to tell you.” He paused, glanced down at some papers on his desk. “I have to go into town for some supplies, ‘should be back in a couple of hours.”

“All right. Sweetheart, I was just wondering; do you think you’ll have a lot of racing to do this spring or do you think that you may be able to spend more time here this year?”

He nodded. “Henry thinks a couple of the new string are ready for some training contests. ‘Just some cheap ones to help their seasoning. ‘Probably just down at the New York tracks or Saratoga then whatever he has Black entered in.” He picked up a halter that was hanging on the back of a chair.

“Alec—what about Jack?”

“What about him?”

“You just fired him.”

He looked at her like she was speaking gibberish. “Why would I fire Jack?” He was serious, he wasn’t joking. He started out of the office, she trailed beside him. As they passed Jack, Alec paused for a moment to hand him the tack in his hand. “You’re doing a great job, Jack—I probably don’t tell you enough, but I’m really glad that you’re here. We all are.”

That was that. The firing and the bizarre argument were never mentioned again.

After that things seemed to revert to normal. Alec was his usual pleasant, competent self and couldn’t have been kinder or more considerate to his parents and the various farmhands. He rode the horses they had in training along with Jack to help teach them to run in close quarters and to get used to being paced for speed. Alec was conscientious about the paperwork he was responsible for and was a professional in every sense of the word. In fact it got to the point where even Jack marked down their confrontation as a weird one-off that could happen to anyone. Alec was probably just having a bad day—everyone did once in a while, right?

About a month later Alec told his parents that Henry wanted him to get to Belmont to start really working those two-year-olds. It was only two hours away by car, but the schedule was heavy enough that he’d have trouble getting home too often. He accepted it as part of his job, but the simple truth was that he preferred the farm to the tracks but he knew what had to be done. If the farm was to succeed then they had to get their product out there and racing was the best way to show the racing pros what they had to offer—assuming they won races, of course. Besides, they flat-out needed the prize money to keep afloat; horse breeding was about an expensive and iffy a way to make a living as you could find. Even with the Black and Satan as their top studs, nothing was assured. There were no guarantees.

The next Tuesday, with Alec racing down in New York, Belle was getting a chicken ready for the oven when Bill came looking for her.

“—I just got off the phone with Henry.”

Belle went pale, she knew this was leading to something bad just from the tone of her husband’s voice and the look on his face. “What?” A racing accident? A car crash?

“It’s Alec. He’s in NYU Medical Center in Manhattan. He had some kind of seizure or something—they’re running tests but they…” He faltered. “They don’t know what caused it.” He paused again, regaining her composure. “Henry said that Alec’s awake and he seems fine, he’s just a little disorientated. They’re waiting for the test results.”

A seizure? “I have to go there.” Belle was close to panic. Alec had a seizure? What kind? Why? What if it happened again? What caused it? What if there was some kind of permanent damage?

“I thought you would.” Bill nodded at her, he knew that she would insist driving down to be with Alec and would have given his right arm to be able to go with her, but he knew that Henry was there. Alec was being looked after and they were being kept appraised of what was happening. Besides, someone had to be in charge of the farm and if she went, then Bill would have to stay here to overlook the day-to-day running of the place. He’d go down if anything more happened, but with any luck Alec would be himself and as well as he usually was very soon. He had to be.

Three hours later Belle was stepping off the elevator onto the fifth floor at NYU. It was night, dark, and she was a little surprised that they let her up to see Alec after visiting hours even after she told them that she was his mother. She followed signs on the walls to room 547. Stopping in the doorway she was stunned by what she saw. He was lying in the bed closest to the window, sleeping. There was an IV going into his left hand and an oxygen tube around his ears, held in place in his nostrils.

His face, normally tanned, was almost the same color as the sheets. Though she knew it was unlikely, he looked like he’d lost weight; he was gaunt and had dark circles under his eyes. She moved closer. He had a pallor under the paleness of his skin, he looked gray.

He looked injured, sick and whatever was wrong with him was obviously serious.

“I’m glad you’re here, he’ll be happy to see you.” She looked at Henry, standing at her right shoulder, though she hadn’t heard him come into the room.

“Does he—I mean, can he speak?” Their voices were low.

He nodded. “He’s just asleep. When he’s awake he can talk just fine.”

“What happened?” He had to be all right, he had to.

He guided her out to the hall, around the corner to a small waiting area with chairs. “He’d just finished riding Sandman earlier today, the fourth race. It was a training race, just to school the colt and everything seemed fine—he came in second by a nose and was weighing out. He stepped off the scale, passed out then went into convulsions for about a minute and didn’t wake up for almost an hour. The medics were right there and brought him here. We’re still waiting for the detailed test results but the preliminary readings show that there may be some kind of bleeding.”

“Bleeding?” Belle was listening with growing horror. What did he mean, bleeding? Convulsions?

Henry’s voice was quiet and it was obvious that he was trying to be gentle with her, trying not to frighten her. “Bleeding under his skull.”

She stared at him in horror. “What? How? Why?”

“The doc thinks it may be left over from an old injury.”

“But…”

“Did he ever tell you about the details when we were trying to get Satan broken to the saddle?”

She shook her head. “I know he fell and hit his head but neither of you ever told me about…”

“Alec was up on him without stirrups, the horse reared up and started to fall over backwards, Alec jumped off. The problem was he slipped when he landed and hit his head on frozen ground. He wasn’t wearing a helmet: remember, he was out of commission for more than a month.”

“No helmet? He never told me…”

“No, he wouldn’t, now would he?” She looked at the floor. What else hadn’t he told her?

“But he seemed fine when he finally came home. He was fine.” Then, “How could you let him get on that animal without a helmet? Henry—for God’s sake, he was young then but you’re a professional and you knew how dangerous—how could you and then not tell us?”

Henry looked old, he knew. He’d known when it happened and he’d lived with it every day since. He knew it was indefensible; there was no point belaboring it, not right this minute.

She let it go—for now. “Then a couple of years later when he was in a plane headed out west with Black and the plane went down, he was badly hurt then, too.”

“Sure, but then it turned out that he didn’t go down with the plane like we all thought. They’d opened the freight door to make escape easier and Alec fell out with all the turbulence. Now the plane was low enough that he wasn’t killed but he was pretty banged up and the docs think he may have had a hairline skull fracture from that.” Henry watched her face as he talked. “I guess he never told you about that, did he?”

“You know how he is…Oh my God.”

“They think—and this is preliminary, you gotta remember—that there may be a slow bleed inside his skull. They think that maybe something happened fairly recently, a fall or something, which tore some vein or artery or something which was weakened by all of that stuff before. There may be a blood clot which made him have that seizure and then pass out.”

She hesitated. “Could that have made his personality change?”

Henry gave her a sharp look. “Belle?”

“He’s been kind of all over the place the last few weeks. Moody, angry and then he’ll be really up and happy. And he doesn’t seem to know he’s swinging back and forth.”

Henry looked out the window. “He doesn’t remember collapsing after the race, either.”

She wiped the tears off her cheeks. “When should we hear?”

“In the morning. Early, as soon as the doc comes in. He said he’d check this first thing and talk to us.” Henry looked at her with sympathy. “Did you get a room for yourself?”
She shook her head, no one had thought about it. “Alec and I were sharing a room over by the track but I’ll see what I can find for you closer. I’ll just ask the nurses if they can recommend a place.” He walked over to the nurse’s station, returning in a couple of minutes. “They said that you could use the empty bed in his room, so long as another patient doesn’t come it. If one does then you’ll have to move over to the chair—is that okay with you? I figured that you’d rather be with him.”

Belle nodded. It was late now and she was exhausted from the long day, the strain and the worry. “Thank you—will you be all right?”

“Me? I’m always good, don’t you worry about me, you just worry about him, you hear me? I’ll be back in a few hours—just have to check up on the horses and do my job. You get some rest.” He paused for a second. “Don’t you worry none—Alec will be fine. He’s tough, he always come out of things with a smile on his face. You’ll see.”

Belle stretched out on the bed a few feet away from Alec. He hadn’t woken since she’d been there, he looked terrible and she was terrified. He was never sick; he always looked healthy, even when he was a small child he was almost never sick—even a cold was rare. To see him stretched out like this, connected to tubes and monitors frightened her more than she thought would be possible. There was so much for him to do and so much to look forward to; one of these days he’d meet some one and settle down, give them grandchildren…

Something woke her around four in the morning and she looked around, finally seeing Alec’s eyes open and watching her.

“Mom?”

She crossed the few feet between them and took his hand. “Are you okay? Do you need anything?”

“Why are you here? Who called you?”

“Henry called. You had him worried.”

“I’m okay, just tired. I’ll be all right as soon as I can get some rest. I’m fine.” His eyes were closing, his voice slowing. “They shouldn’t have worried you, there was no reason.”

“I’ll stay with you.” She leaned closer to him, kissing his forehead and staying beside him while he fell back asleep. Watching him in the semi-darkened room, she thought that he still looked so young, nowhere old enough to have done everything he had in the last few short years since he’d come home with the Black. They’d thought they’d lost him that time; the ship sank, the authorities said there were no survivors and so they’d held a service for him. Almost four months later they’d gotten a call that he’d be coming home and she thought that nothing could be as bad as that had been, thinking him dead.

Around eight that morning Henry arrived with coffee and a sweet roll for Belle ten he gestured for her to follow him out to a waiting area so they wouldn’t wake Alec. The doctor was on the floor and would be joining them in a few minutes.

“Mr. Daily and…”

“I’m Belle Ramsay, Alec’s mother.”

He nodded to her. “Mrs. Ramsay. I’ve gone over the test results and looked at both the X-rays and the MRI. It looks like what I mentioned to Mr. Daily here is what’s happened. Evidently an old injury has become aggravated and caused a bleed under the skull, causing pressure on his brain.”

She went pale. “And that’s what’s causing his symptoms?” The doctor nodded. “What do you suggest?”

“My recommendation is that we schedule an operation to relieve the pressure.”

Belle looked terrified and Henry was struck silent for a few long seconds. “You mean brain surgery?” She needed Bill here, he’d be calm, he’d be strong and not get too upset the way she was about to.

“I know it sounds frightening, but I believe it’s the best thing for him at this point. In essence, we drill a hole in his skull and allow the excess blood to drain, removing the pressure on his brain which has been causing the mood changes and seizures. After we get the bleed stopped we should be able to control it with drugs until it’s able to heal.”

She went dead calm. “When would you like to do this?”

“As soon as we can schedule it—I have an opening this afternoon. The sooner it’s done, the less danger of additional damage.”

Her eyes were fixed on the man’s face. “He may have brain damage?”

“Jesus.” Henry stood up, too upset to sit still.

“I know how it sounds, but the bleed is slow enough that there should be a good chance of reversing the symptoms.”

“And if you don’t operate?”

The doctor shook his head. “The symptoms will get progressively worse.”

“How much of this does Alec know?” Belle looked the surgeon in the eyes. Alec was too smart not to know something was seriously wrong, no matter what he said. He’d been around enough hospitals and been injured enough to know when he was in for something real or just under observation. He had to have figured it out.

“I spoke to him yesterday afternoon and explained the possibilities. He agreed with me. Of course, if you’d like a second opinion, I understand and would be happy to introduce you to some good people here in the area. However, I think you’ll find that with the scans we have, they will agree with my diagnosis.”

She looked over at Henry, looking suddenly very old. She moved closer and slipped her arm around him. “I want to talk with Alec about this, if that’s all right.”

The doctor nodded. “Of course. When you make a decision—and I wouldn’t delay—just have the nurse’s station page me. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have rounds.”

Belle and Henry avoided looking at one another. Without Alec…if something went wrong, if the operation wasn’t a success…Then nothing would matter any more. There’d be no point to the farm, the racing, the breeding program, none of it. Alec was the lynchpin; he was what it all revolved around. Alec was what everyone at Hopeful Farm revolved around and if he weren’t there there’d be no reason for his parents to live there. Henry wouldn’t care about the racing and training the youngsters like he did now and without Alec he’d have trouble finding a reason to continue. Alec was the point for all of them.

She made her way back to his room to find him sitting up against the pillows and looking out the window. Hearing her footsteps, he turned towards her. “The doctor told you?” She nodded. “It sounds pretty straightforward, Mom. They’ll do the operation, I’ll have to stay here for a couple of days and then can go back up to the farm to recover. With any luck at all I’ll be riding again in a month or so.”

She just stood a few feet from his bed, staring at him, not believing how calm he was about this. “Did the doctor tell you when he wants to do this?” He was like his father in this kind of thing—face the problem and deal with it, no muss, no fuss.

“The sooner they get it over with, the better.” He held played with the light blanket a little, his fingers smoothing the wrinkles. “He’s a good surgeon and this isn’t as dangerous as it sounds. Race riding is more dangerous and I do that every day.” He managed a half smile for her. “You know me, I’m a fast healer.” Her lip trembled and he knew how frightened she was. “Mom, c’mon, don’t do this, okay? I’ll be okay, I promise. The operation should only take a couple of hours, then I’ll be in recovery for a while and then I’ll probably have to go to ICU for a day or so but that’s it—as soon as they get this done, the sooner I’ll be back to normal.”

She nodded, squaring her shoulders slightly and clearly scared to death. “I’ll be waiting.”

 

* * *
 

The next few hours passed slowly, Alec forbidden to eat or drink anything and his mother refusing to leave his side. Finally a nurse came in with a razor, shaving Alec’s head. “It will grow back before you know it and this will be cooler for summer, anyway.” She was just a bit too cheerful and Alec wasn’t in the mood. As soon as the woman left Belle kissed the top of his head, “It doesn’t matter, getting better is what matters.”

Another hour went by and the doctor walked in. “Okay, they’ll be taking you down soon but first you’ll get something to relax you. I’ve got my associate with me today and you’re in good hands, Alec. It looks like it should be pretty straightforward and, with any luck, this will take care of everything for you. Any questions?”

“How long a recovery should I expect?”

“A month, maybe two is normal but that can vary.”

“And then I’ll be able to race again, right?”

“Let’s see what happens, Alec, okay? One step at a time. Now try to relax and we’ll be getting started pretty soon now.”

A moment later a nurse came in and added something to Alec’s IV, the relaxant that he’d been told about. Alec looked out the window, purposely not meeting his mother’s eyes, nor did she try to force him. A few minutes went by and then he spoke quietly, the drugs starting to take effect. “I’m sorry. ‘That you and Dad have to go through this—I’m sorry.”

She clenched her teeth for a second, making sure she was in control of her voice. “It’s not your fault and you’ll be fine in a few weeks, you heard what the doctor said.”

“Look, if this doesn’t work, I mean if something goes wrong I want…”

“Nothing’s going to go wrong.” She spoke a little too fast.

He went on as if she hadn’t spoken. “If something goes wrong I want you all—you, Dad, Henry—to accept it, get past this and move on.”

“I…”

“I mean it. I was talking to the nurse last night and she told me some of the things that can happen and if any of them do…I want you to get on with your life and dwell on this. Things happen; I want you to deal with it and keep going.”

She grabbed his hand, the one that didn’t have the IV in it, held it a little too tightly. “I don’t want to hear this—nothing’s going wrong and you’re going to be fine. You’re going to get better and you’re going to ride again and live a long life. You’re stronger than anyone I know and you’re going to get over this, we’re all going to help you—you’re going to be all right.”

 

* * *
 

The OR waiting room was small, not brightly lit and held one other family group along with a priest they seemed to have brought with them. Alec’s parents were there; Bill had driven down as soon as he heard the operation was scheduled. Henry insisting that he’d do more good at Belmont’s barns than sitting there watching the clock, though they knew he was simply too upset to wait with them. The two groups didn’t interact much, both caught up in their own concerns and fears.

Two hours went by.

The operation was supposed to last a couple of hours, maybe three. The hands on the clock barely moved, no one left to get food or a cup of coffee; they just sat. Once in a while Belle would try to lighten things up a little, mention how Alec had survived things that should have killed him over and over, how he was always landing on his feet and always won when it mattered.

Three hours.

She mentioned again how he’d been in equally difficult and dangerous situations before and had always come through with flying colors.

She even talked about how he’d been declared dead twice, how they’d even held services for him, yet he’d still come through just fine. He’d be all right. Of course he would.

Four hours.

Bill, Alec’s father, went to the local market for sandwiches and bottled water that no one touched.

Four and a half hours. The priest from the other family group came over and asked why they were there, who they were waiting for, what the medical problem was and then prayed for them, offering to escort them down to the hospital chapel.

Belle accepted the offer, the others chose to wait where they were.

At just shy of five hours after the operation began, it ended. The family, now reassembled in the waiting area looked up as the surgeon came through the door wearing blue scrubs.

The man spoke without preamble, verging on being blunt though his voice was kind. “He came through the surgery well and is in post-op. In a few hours, or the morning he’ll be moved to ICU for observation—that’s standard in cases like this. His vitals are strong and it looks like we managed to stop the blood seepage.”

“And?” Bill Ramsay wanted to hear the rest; would his son recover or not?

“And we’ll know more in a day or two when the analgesic is out of his system and he has some of his strength back. So far it’s looking good, though. There was no obvious damage, the pressure has been removed and he has youth and general good heath on his side.”

“But…are you pleased with how it went?” Bill seemed at something of a loss as how to phrase what he wanted to know; would his son live and thrive or not.

“I’m cautiously optimistic but it’s too early for much more than that. He did as well as I hoped he would.”

There was a sense of relief in the room, though the tension was still there and would remain until Alec was back to normal—if he ever was back to normal.

Belle was sitting on the plastic couch, her eyes unfocused. “He just turned twenty-one.” It was a softly spoken comment and needed no answer.

Alec was moved up to ICU the next day where he’d receive round the clock care. His parents took turns sitting with him and by the first evening he was awake enough to talk for short periods before falling back asleep. His head was bandaged with a drain, he had an IV in his hand, there was an oxygen tube in his nose. He was wearing a hospital gown and his tan had faded, leaving the pallor that had frightened Belle so much when she’d first seen him a couple of days ago.

But—and it was a big but—his vitals were strong, he was responding well to verbal and physical stimulus and when he was awake he was alert. The initial signs were good.

Then, inevitably, word of his surgery reached the tracks and the press. The second morning Alec was in ICU a social worker came in, asking if the family wished to release a statement to the press since they were getting calls.

Belle and William looked at one another, this hadn’t even occurred to them but now that it was mentioned it wasn’t really all that surprising. Alec was a public figure, much as he hated the fact. Ever since he’d returned from the shipwreck he’d been in the press, his every move followed and every success—or failure—noted. He received fan letters at every track he rode and it wasn’t uncommon for people to come up to him asking for autographs. The tracks counted on his for publicity and two unauthorized biographies were in print.

“I suppose we should. Do you have any suggestions?”

The social worker sat down with her laptop and started writing. The Ramsay’s looked over her shoulder and made comments. After about half an hour they had something for the press:

“Alec Ramsay, winning jockey of the Triple Crown aboard Satan, two time winner of the Kentucky Derby and best known as the rider of The Black was hospitalized this week suffering from aggravation to an old head injury, causing internal bleeding and pressure on his brain. Surgery was performed at NYU Medical Center yesterday afternoon.

He is reported to be doing well and is resting comfortably.

While it’s still early, hope is high for a full recovery and his return to racing within the next few months.”

“Are you sure that isn’t too—optimistic?”

Bill looked a question at his wife.

“What if he doesn’t recover? What if he has a relapse; you know it could happen, the doctor said he was doing well but he’s still in ICU and he isn’t better yet.” Belle was an intelligent woman and she knew what was between the lines of what they’d been told by the professionals. Alec could have brain damage, the weakened veins could still break and leak blood, he could still die. It was too soon to know what was going to happen and she didn’t like tempting fate.

The press release was rewritten to leave out the last sentence.

He stayed in ICU for four more days, gaining strength slowly and able to stay awake for longer periods. He asked for and was brought books to read, though this gave him a headache he didn’t admit to. He followed the evening news on TV. He was also talking more and clearly getting tired of being in a hospital. Finally, after almost a week, he was moved down to a normal room, his roommate a high school football player who’d suffered a severe concussion during a practice. The kid was quiet, his mother a constant presence and the two families largely left one another alone.

“What’s going on with the races Henry had scheduled?”

“I’m not sure, Alec—don’t worry about that now, rest.”

“Mom, please knock it off. Who’s riding in my place and how are the horses doing?”

She kept knitting and sighed. “I’m not completely sure, I know Henry found some other jockey to ride and I think they won a couple of them and finished well in three others. I’m not sure which horses won and which didn’t, though.”

“Could you find out?”

“Alec, you know you’re not supposed to be getting upset about things.”

“I need to know what’s going on—when’s Henry coming by again or should I just call him?”

“He said that he’d try to come by later but you need to be quiet and rest so that you can…”

“Mom, just stop, all right? What I need is to find out what’s happening. I’m getting better and I need to know what I’ll be walking into when I get back to work.”

“I know that but you also know that the doctors are saying that you have to give it time so there’s no chance of a relapse; please, Alec, listen to them.”

He was getting angry, chafing to get out of the hospital and do some real work. He’d had enough of being treated like he was about to break and he craved exercise and being useful. The initial tests were good, he was alert and talking, asking about everything he was missing. There was some double vision, but he was hoping that would go away on its own and hadn’t admitted anything about it to the hospital staff.

He’d been out of his bed since the third day; the physical therapist working with him and impressed how his balance was good and his coordination was almost back to where it should be. He still needed to gain strength but, assuming that he continued to improve the way he had been, he should be released by the end of the week. He was warned about pushing too hard, but that seemed to him the only way to recovery—no pain, no gain, right? With tremendous relief his father picked him up and drove him back up to the farm to recover in peace and quiet.

A week or so after that, assuming that all went well, he was told that he could go back down to the tracks to watch so long as he didn’t get overly excited. The doctor wouldn’t commit to when he could get on a horse, but he was hoping for a month or so, which would allow him to help prep and maybe ride if they entered one of the colts in the Kentucky Derby. He had seven weeks till then and he was determined to be in Louisville on the first Saturday in May, hopefully wearing silks…something he didn’t discuss with his parents, though he and Henry had talked about it a couple of times. Henry was cautious and doubtful about Alec being ready and had spoken to a couple other top jocks, just in case, but Alec was adamant and it seemed like a good idea for him to have a definite goal.

Meanwhile he was spending his days catching up on paperwork that had been let slide while he was in the hospital, making calls, dealing with the stud schedule and overseeing the horses at the farm. But, as a nod to his parents, he was sleeping a bit more that he usually did and he stayed off the horses—it was the longest he’d gone without riding since he’d been on that island almost eight years before. He could feel his leg muscles getting a little slack and he privately wondered if he’d be as sore as a newbie when he put a leg up again.

And he dealt with the reaction to his illness when the word went out to the industry. They’d kept it as quiet as they could for a while but inevitably, people found out. Alec was a popular member of the racing community and he had a lot of friends. There were cards, calls arriving at the farm. Jockeys and trainers, as well as stable hands and owners stopped by the Hopeful Farm stalls down at Aqueduct to ask Henry how things were going, when he’d be back. Henry told them that it was just a matter of time but they didn’t want to rush anything. Alec was doing well—he looked good and was up and about; they were just waiting for the go-ahead from the doctors for him to start riding again.

Finally, finally, six weeks after his release from the hospital he drove himself down to the track for the first time in almost two months. His father had offered to drive him and then his mother had as well, but Alec insisted he was fine and perfectly able to make the drive himself. They’d finally relented—against their better judgement—when he promised he’d call as soon as he got there. Two hours later he stopped his jeep at the gate to show his pass into the horseman’s parking lot back by the barns, the guard smiling with recognition and waving him through with a ‘welcome back’. It was a warm, sunny spring day and he headed over to the rail as soon as he got out of the car, knowing that Henry would still be watching the workouts. He was wearing his usual jeans and a tee shirt, his head covered by a baseball cap, the edge of the scar visible. No matter, it would be covered soon enough, as soon as his hair grew out.

It took him longer to get to the track that normal; he was stopped by at least a dozen people asking if he was okay, how he as feeling, when was he going to be back for good and all the rest of it. It was nice and made him feel like he was home in a way and that he’d been missed. It was a good feeling and made him want to get back even more than he’d wanted even yesterday. It was all he could do to not grab a saddle and ride onto the track.

Finally he stood next to the trainer, Onyx, one of their three-year-old string, just going by in a speed trial. “What’s his time?”

Henry smiled but kept his voice calm and didn’t bother to turn to look him over; it was just good to have Alec back where he belonged. “One thirty four, flat for a mile.”

“Decent. He looked like he was pulling.”

“He wants to go faster, no question.”

The exercise rider came over, his face a mixture of happiness and wariness at seeing Alec standing there. He liked Alec as much as anyone, but if he was back his job doing the morning works for Hopeful Farm was in danger. “Hey, you’re looking good—you feeling all right?”

“Never better, Mario. How’s he going the last few weeks?”

“Onyx here? He’s a chip off the old block, he runs a lot like his old man; not that I’ve ever ridden Black, I mean…” He trailed off, afraid he’d overstepped or somehow insulted Alec by implying he knew how the champion ran his workouts. Damn; Alec was a good guy, had a reputation as one of the best and could do a lot for someone if he took an interest but if he decided he didn’t like you it could all go the other way. No way he wanted to get on Alec’s bad side. No way, no how.

“No problem. You’re right, Black pulls every chance he gets, ’just likes to go fast all the time.”

“Take him back to the barn for me Mario, give him to Mike to cool down and I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Whatever you say, Mr. Daily.” He rode off at a walk, glad to have escaped from scrutiny.

Alec leaned against the rail, “You planning of running him in the Derby?”

“I’m thinking about it, no decision yet. ‘You sure you’re okay to be down here? I thought the docs told you to take it easy up at the farm for a while yet.”

“They just said not to over do, I’m fine. So—is Onyx starting in the Derby or not?”

Henry turned back to the horses going by on the track. “I think if he stays sound we may have a chance.” He took off his hat; the day was getting warm already, even though it was still mid-May. “I was figuring on heading to the Downs next week.”

“’Sounds good. That will give me time to get back to the farm for a few days and get my kit.”

You’d have thought someone had slapped Henry by his reaction. “’You think you’re riding?” Alec didn’t answer, just stood there, his face set. “Any other year, sure but not this time.” Alec just stared at him, biding his time. “I mean it—you just got outta the hospital, you haven’t ridden in almost two months. You don’t even have the docs okay and we’re talking about the Derby here.”

“So who are you planning on?”

“I’m leaning towards toward Mitch but Carlos, Mitch, Gary—any one of them. They’re all top jocks, you know that.”

“You don’t think I can handle it?”

“C’mon, Alec, don’t try that with me. I know you can handle it just like I know you have two Derby wins under your belt but this isn’t your year to ride and you know it as well as I do. Don’t be stupid—you’re still not a hundred percent yet, you’re not in shape for the Derby, even I thought you were healed up enough.”

“But you’re willing to flip a coin to decide on a Derby rider—that’s not the way we work, Henry. I’ve been Onyx’s rider since he had his first saddle on his back, I know him better than anyone does—I can get the best out of him, better than those other guys.”

“You’re still recovering from major surgery and you haven’t ridden in two months. You’re not Derby ready.”

Alec knew there was no way he’d win this argument without help. “All right, I’ll prove to you I can do this…and if I do you’ll agree to my riding?”

“Not if I think that it’s going to get you or anyone hurt, including the horse.”

“Fair enough. Let’s do it now, then.” Without waiting for Henry’s reply he turned on his heel and headed back to their stalls, returning within about ten minutes with Black Tide, a promising three year old filly in their stable. She was tacked and ready to go, Alec was wearing his boots, helmet and vest. It was about what Henry had come to expect from Alec the last couple of years; he wasn’t an eager to please kid anymore, he was a young man with a will of his own, and a stubborn streak he wasn’t above indulging when the mood struck him.

“I don’t like this.”

Ignoring Henry’s comment, Alec just said “Speed drill at a mile and an eighth—same length as the Oaks, time me.”

“Alec…!” But he was gone down the track at a quick trot, out of earshot or pretending to be. Turning the horse at the start point for the chosen distance, he stayed close to the rail as he kicked Black Tide into high gear, Henry’s stop watch in hand as they flashed by a tick more than a minute and fifty seconds later. They were two seconds off the Oaks record, but Alec was on a young horse that hadn’t been completely warmed up that had yet to reach her peak and who was being ridden by a jock who hadn’t been on a horse in months. It was an impressive performance. Alec jogged the horse over to where Henry was standing; the old man took a close look at the young man, noting his heightened color and breathing. The race had taken more out of the rider than it had from the horse.

“Well?”

“Not bad but you’re more winded than the filly is.”

“I can ride the races, Henry.”

“Cool out your ride and we’ll talk when I finish what I’m doing.” When Alec had headed back to the stalls Henry took out his cell phone, pushing the button for the farm.

“Bill? Tell me the truth, how’s Alec doing? I mean how’s he really doing, I know what he’s telling me….Are you sure about that?…Well, what did the doc say about his riding?…No side effects at all, are they sure? No permanent damage, no lasting problems?…What does Belle say about all of this?…You know he’s after me to let him ride at the Downs, don’t you? The Derby is coming up and we have two possibles, though I may start the filly in the Oaks instead. I’m pretty sure we’ll have at least entry and he’s determined to be there on the back of a horse…Of course I’ll keep a close eye on him, but are you all right with this? You’ve been with him more than I have since all this started…Well, if you’re sure, I suppose…I’ll see how the next few days go and decide then but he just rode for me and did just fine, no problems at all that I could see.”

Ten minutes later he saw Alec sitting on a hay bale outside Black Tide’s stall while Jinx walked her, talking with a couple of the other jocks, laughing, relaxed. He looked healthy, vital and ready to ride the Derby or anything else.

With any luck and knock wood…

“If you can show me this week what you just showed me, all right. I’m willing to mount you on Black Tide.”

Alec had a small smile on his face, surprised that this had gone his way. He’d expected to be shot down with no appeal but if Henry was okay with this, then…besides, he really was okay.

Johnny and Mario caught the gist of the subject; “Dude, you’ll be riding the Derby again? Awesome!”

“It’s looking like I’m probably on Black Tide in the Oaks which will free me up to ride her Friday and then Black Tide in the Derby the next day.”

“Well then, it looks like we’re all riding the Derby; winner buys dinner.”

Alec shook his head, “The winning team always ends up having dinner on the Down’s dime—not that either of you would have a reason to know that…”

“Bite me, Ramsay; that nag you’ll be on will be lucky to make to around the track. Besides, Johnny—didn’t the Racing Association pass a rule about only two wins per jock?”

“…I believe I did hear something about that, as a matter of fact now that you mention it…”

“Gentlemen, get used to humiliation.”

Henry laughed along with the three young men. It didn’t mean anything and he knew they’d all do their damnedest to beat each other then shake hands afterwards. It’s the way it was.

But he’d be keeping close eye on Alec the next two weeks and have another rider in reserve just in case. Sure, the Derby mattered, but Alec mattered more.

 

* * *
 

Up at the farm Alec’s parents were sitting on the porch after dinner. He’d come back late that afternoon, excited about going down to Kentucky in another week or so and going on during dinner about Onyx’s chances and the possibility of running two horses this year. Of course, Henry was also talking about Black Tide going in the Oaks, but he still had time to make a final decision. His mother was frightened, even more than she usually was when he rode a race and she’d made no secret a bout her feelings.

“You’re not fully recovered from the operation and you haven’t ridden in a race for over two months—Alec, be sensible, please.”

He’d just laughed off her concerns, assuring her that he was fine, Henry had watched him ride and agreed that he was as good as ever. Nothing would go wrong, the Triple Crown races were probably the safest ones he could ride in because of all the publicity. No jock would try anything, no one could get away with any dirty tricks and everyone was as pampered as it was possible to be in major racing. Nothing bad would happen.

She didn’t believe him, she knew him too well and when he went on and on about how everything was perfect, that was when he was hiding something. It had been the same with him since he was five years old.

The next few days Alec was busy making sure that everything was running smoothly so that he could leave without worry. Then, his bag packed, he headed off to New York to meet Henry. They’d van Onyx and Black Tide down to Louisville and settle in for the madness of Derby week. The decisions were made; Onyx was officially entered in the Derby and Black Tide would be running in the Oaks.

Then the day after they settled into their accommodations in Louisville it hit the fan; the story of Alec’s surgery broke in the press. Sure, the press release from the hospital a couple of months ago had gone out but it had been somehow ignored, despite Alec being a media darling and fair-haired boy in every publication from People to Sport’s Illustrated. Maybe it was deemed too minor, maybe it was simply overlooked or sent to the wrong outlets, whatever the reason, it seemed that almost no one had seen the thing and now the story was breaking like a monsoon.

It started out innocently enough; a reporter made some comment about Alec’s new short ‘do and a stable hand casually mentioned that it was growing out after his head was shaved by the doctors.

From that moment on Alec’s health became the story of the meeting.

A week before the Derby a reporter came up to Henry while he watched Alec breezing Onyx. “Hey Henry, any truth to the rumors about Alec’s health?”

The cat was out of the bag, or at least the press now knew there was a cat in a bag at this year’s Derby. There was no point in lying, it was too easy to check so, leaning his forearms on the rail and let out a deep sigh. “He had a problem a few months ago but you can see as well as anyone that he’s here, he’s riding and I wouldn’t let any jock—even Alec—on one of our horses if I didn’t think they could do the job.”

“So you’re not denying; can you tell me what the problem was?”

Just then Alec rode over. “He’s going well, running easily and wants to go. He should be right where we want him on Saturday. Hi, George.”

“Hey Alec, I’m just doing some checking about those stories about you having some health problems; can you spare a few minutes?”

Alec and Henry exchanged a look; there was nothing to be gained by lying or evading. “Yeah, sure. Let me put the horse away and I’ll answer some questions.” There wasn’t really much else he could do, it was obvious it was going to get out and he might as well make sure they got the facts straight. Twenty minutes he was sitting with George in the empty stands, horses galloping down on the track in front of them. Alec told him the bare bones of what he’d been dealing with the last few months.

“I had an old injury, probably from either one of the plane crashes or some riding falls and it finally caught up with me. I had some bleeding inside my skull, a slow bleed; the doctors drilled to release the pressure, the bleeding stopped and I’m pretty much back where I was.”

George took a beat, the rumors hadn’t said anything about this, they’d been more like he’d had a bad fall he was recovering from. But brain surgery? “I’m guessing that explains the haircut?” Alec nodded. “You’re really good to ride the Derby and the Oaks”

“Henry would replace me in a heartbeat if he didn’t think so, you know him.”

That was true. “How many people know about this?”

“Aside from my family and close friends? But you know what it’s like, racing is a small community, word gets around.”

“You look healthy—you’re feeling all right?” George was looking at Alec closely, looking for any signs that he might be tired or in any pain, be shaky or have any other symptoms or side effects. The jockey looked fine to his untrained eyes.

Alec gave him a half smile, “C’mon, I don’t have a death wish. If I didn’t think I could do the horse and the race justice without getting anyone killed, I’d be home watching the races on TV.”

That was the first interview, there were at least a dozen more, including opinion pieces making Alec out to be a martyr to the cause and other over the top things. The old nickname ‘Boy Wonder’ was back in force, annoying Alec and testing his patience. On the shed row and in the jockey room his friends made a point of making sure that he was protected from the less savory members of the fourth estate, shielding him from intrusive or exploitive questioners. Finally the track officials had to politely ask the media to not frighten or crowd the horses and though no stables were mentioned in particular, Hopeful Farm was the clear subject of the request.

The days ticked down, the races getting closer, the tension building.

Alec had been through it twice before and so knew the ropes, but this was almost out of control. Between his health problems which were now public property and the fact that they had two favorites to prep for the weekend, along with the Derby hype it was like living in a fishbowl, and a small fishbowl at that. It didn’t seem to matter that he kept saying that he felt fine, that he wouldn’t be riding if there was any question about his ability, the media was running with the story and wouldn’t be stopped or slowed.

In all truth, Alec knew that it was, from the press point of view, a good story, full of human drama and angst along with the whole ‘Boy Wonder’ fantasy he hated with all his heart and soul. He worked as hard as anyone did in racing and he knew how much of his career was based on flat out dumb luck but, be that as it may, publicity was publicity and the sport needed a boost right now. Besides, if he still had some double vision, it wasn’t that bad and no one had to know.

It was looking like they had a good shot at both of the races, both the Oaks and the Derby and might, maybe, even make the board in both if things went their way. If that happened it would be three Derbies for the farm and their first Oaks—a record that would make them look like gold at the next yearling sales.

Friday morning was sunny and clear, the track dry and fast the crowds looking large and Black Tide went through her morning work well and fast. She was ready and one of the betting leaders with five to one odds.

In the jockey room Alec did his best to relax with a hot shower and a massage then changed into his silks with time to spare. He chatted with some of the others and ignored the looks he always got from the riders he didn’t know well since they seemed to assume that he had some kind of magic wand or crop that he could wave and make everything go his way. ‘Would that he did.

Finally they got the call to weigh out for the race, every horse carrying one hundred and twenty-one pounds, five pounds less than the colts would carry tomorrow for the Derby. He stood up, ready to go to work but then suddenly sat back down, his face white. “Alec, you okay?” Mike was sitting on the bench beside him, whispering so the others wouldn’t hear.

“Yeah, fine, just stood up too fast, you know how it is.” He smiled without conviction but then gathered himself and stood without trouble. “I’m good. C’mon, let’s do this.”

Mike walked over to the scales with him, making sure he made it all right—he did with no one the wiser. So far, so good.

Weighed out, the riders walked out to the saddling area, hearing the crowd as they got closer, a few pausing to sign autographs along the way. Mike glanced over, but Alec seemed fine, going over his horse and tack and talking to Henry. Okay, the kid was on his own from here on.

“Riders up.”

The field of nine fillies made their way to the track, the noise growing the closer they got. There had been a crowd lining the way, making a pathway for the horses with people cheering an calling encouragement to their favorites. Banners were flying along the route, the sun was shining and the stands were almost full, despite the Oaks traditionally being run on a Friday. Alec and Black Tide loaded easily into gate number seven, waiting barely twenty seconds before the call… “And they’re off!”

They broke well, staying towards the outside to avoid bumping but holding steady in second place as they headed into the turn, Alec still keeping Black Tide towards the outside, playing it as safe as he could. Down the backstretch he saw a head coming up even with the filly’s flanks and let her out a notch, feeling her crank it up another gear, leaving the challenger behind and gaining a half length in the leader. The started the top of the turn as a two horse race, Alec gaining slowly until they were even heading out of the final turn. Both riders went for the whip, Alec sparingly, Ronny on the bay next to him hitting his horse with almost every stride but the horse, tired and unable to sustain the pace, started dropping back. Black Tide found a new level of speed and went ahead by a length, then two, two and a half, three and pulled away. Glancing back over his right and then his left shoulders, Alec saw no one within any kind of striking distance and as they passed the final furlong pole he started petting her neck in praise. They went under the wire clear winners, ahead of the number two horse by a dozen yards and a bare half-second behind the wold record for that distance, crossing the finish line in 1:49:40. He raised his left fist in the air, stood up in the stirrups and let her slow at her own pace, the crowd cheering, the officials waiting in the winner’s circle and his vision blurry and doubled. He saw the out-riders approach along with the usual mounted reporter to ask him a few softball questions and, for once, he was grateful to have them as unknowing guides back to the award ceremony.

Trotting into the winner’s circle, Henry took the filly’s bridle as the blanket of lilies were placed over her withers. Pictures were taken, and Alec finally got the nod to dismount and weigh out with his tack. There were the usual officials, the trophies, the flowers and crowds. He was used to cameras in his face and microphones, answering the same questions over and over again and he was glad when he saw Jinx take the filly back to the barn to cool down away from the commotion.

That was it, the race was official; Hopeful Farm had won it’s first Kentucky Oaks. One race down, one to go.

Hours later, after the excitement had settled back to almost normal, after the party and the press. After the congratulations and the celebrating, Alec was showered and changed back into his usual jeans and sitting on a hay bale by their stalls, talking with a couple lingering reporters.

Finally after another hour or so Henry and Alec were left alone to get themselves centered and calmed down for the next day’s Kentucky Derby, the big race and the main point of their being at the Downs. “Tell you what, I don’t know about you, but I haven’t had dinner aside from a couple of glasses of champagne—let’s get something to eat, go over the race, kick back a little and then hit the sack. Sound good?”

Alec nodded. “’Sounds good to me, it’s been a long day and tomorrow’s going to be longer.”

“Let’s hope.”

Twenty minutes later they were seated at the best table in the Granville Bar and Grill, the hostess insisting that they skip the Friday night line and take the next table. Embarrassed, they agreed to make things easy as a couple of people asked Alec for autographs. Then they exchanged a look; what the hell, they’d just won the Oaks, they had one of the favorites in tomorrow’s Derby and this was Louisville. Once in a while, once in a very great while they let the perks happen. Recognized as they followed the hostess to a table, the dining room erupted into applause, embarrassing them both but they smiled with good grace and shook the hands of the people who came up to offer their congratulations and good luck for the next day.

Left to their meal, Alec surprised Henry by asking for a beer, although a lite one. Looking at the menus, Alec closed his quickly and simply ordered a steak with salad on the side. All right, he wasn’t a picky eater, nor a big eater but he usually at least read through his choices. That seemed to confirm things, at least enough to ask… “You’re okay?”

“I’m fine, just tired is all.”

“Nothing wrong with your eyes?”

“’C’mon, Henry. You know my eyes are 20/20.”

“Uh-huh, sure I do and I also know that you seemed to have some trouble getting the filly in the gate this afternoon—almost headed her into the wrong stall and then had trouble finding the right hands to shake in the winner’s circle. You want to tell me the truth?”

“The truth is that I wasn’t paying attention after the race and I simply made a mistake at the gate. No big deal.”

“That’s not like you…”

“Drop it, Henry.”

“You have a headache?”

“No and drop it. I’m fine.”

The waitress brought their food and a bottle of champagne they hadn’t ordered “Compliments of the owner with his congratulations.” She gave them a big smile and started to open the bottle.

Henry had a polite smile on his face, knowing the protocol. “Please ask if he’d join us.” He turned back to Alec when she went to get the man and his wife. “This discussion isn’t over, Alec.”

“Mr. Daily, Mr. Ramsay, it’s a pleasure, an honor to have you here this evening and may I offer my congratulations on today’s race—please, Emma, no check for this table, it’s the least we can do for the men of the hour. Now Alec, are we looking for a repeat tomorrow in the Derby?” Almost every eye in the place was now back on their table and cell phones were out taking their pictures; so much for a relaxing meal…

Dinner finally over with them making their getaway by saying, in truth, that they needed their rest for the next day’s race, they left to a standing ovation from the rest of the diners, driving back to their motel room and falling into bed without any more discussion.

 

* * *
 

Derby day.

The biggest day in racing, not the most lucrative but the biggest. There was more ceremony, more circus, bigger crowds, more inspection, bigger celebrities and more reporters than in almost any other sporting event. It was the Olympics, Wimbledon, the World Series, Fashion week in Paris and Barnum and Bailey all rolled into one.

And they were at the center of the storm. Yesterday was just a warm up; this was the main event.

There were twenty entries with one scratch two hours before post making a field of nineteen. It would be crowded chaos going into the first turn and dangerous. It was the Derby.

Onyx warmed up well; he was healthy and ready for the race. He seemed calm, talking it all in stride and acting like it was just another day at the office. This was Alec’s third Derby and the press was asking if he could pull off the hat trick of three in a row—something no one had ever managed. And he was riding despite major surgery a couple of months ago and the day after a win—his first!—in the Oaks. Any was you cut it, this was shaping up to be quite a week for Ramsay and Hopeful Farm.

It was always the waiting around when everything that could be don to prep was finished that got to everyone, especially when they were followed everywhere by the press or fans or the track management. The race wasn’t going to start until six in the afternoon. There were seven other races that day but Alec wasn’t riding in any of them, just the big one. He gave a couple of interviews, talked with some fans who’s managed to somehow get backside passes, played some poker with his friends over in the jockey room, got lunch, warmed up Onyx again, had a shower… Time was dragging and the track was way too crowded to even think about going for a jog to clear his head and relax his muscles. And Henry was making him tense as well, ‘kept asking if he was all right, he felt sick or had a headache. It was getting on his nerves.

Finally, finally it was almost five and he could legitimately think about getting ready.

He was an experienced jock and had been around long enough that he knew just about everyone in the room from hall of famers to a few bugs. He knew the valets, the guy who ran the scale, the attendants who picked up the laundry and mopped the floor. He was popular, well liked and he had a lot of friends here today. Okay, he’d be riding against a few of them in a little while, but that was just the nature of the business. It wasn’t personal. He took a long shower, enjoying the feel of the hot water, liked the feeling of being clean instead of a little sweaty in the early spring heat and was glad that it was a nice day with clear skies. A few years ago, when he’d ridden Satan in the Belmont it had been pouring rain all day, the mud up to the horses fetlocks and flying in their faces when he brought the horse up from behind for the Triple Crown win, the last horse to score the Crown.

A couple of years later he’d ridden Black Minx to a Derby win, one of four fillies to ever beat the boys, joining Regret, Genuine Rick and Winning Colors in that small club. She’d gone track sour after that and had to be retired, but it had been a hell of a race.

He pulled on his breeches, this year the name of a delivery service embroidered along the fabric on the outer thighs of every jock riding. It was a little tacky, but they’d paid for the privilege and had made it mandatory. Whatever, it didn’t really matter.

He pulled on his boots, the safety vest over his tee shirt and his silks, the black and white checkerboard of the farm and idly wondered if they should go back to the solid black silks they’d started with.

“Hey, you okay?” Mike sat down beside him, also dressed for the race.

“Yeah, sure, why wouldn’t I be? It’s not like this is my first Derby or anything.”

“You still a little shaky? I saw you yesterday and you looked like you were having some trouble. Look, I just don’t want you getting hurt, Alec, you know me—we’ve been riding against each other for years now and I’d like to keep riding against you for a lot more, that’s all I’m saying.”

He was a good friend, a good guy. “Thanks Mike, but really, I’m fine. I just stood up a little fast yesterday; c’mon, I won the race, didn’t I?”

“You sure? We both know you’re as good a jock as they come but make sure you’re gonna be around for next year’s race too, okay?” Mike gave him along look, “I know this is the big one, but it’s not worth getting hurt over; not when your hair’s growing out.”

Alec laughed. “Thanks—really—but I’m okay. ‘You think Henry would let me put a leg up if he didn’t think so?” Mike nodded and moved away to finish getting ready, they only had a few minutes till weigh-out.

 

* * *
 

The carnival had come to town in Louisville but it was time to go to work. Alec made his way to the saddling area with the rest of the jocks, met up with Henry and got his instructions. “You’re starting in the middle of the pack so just do your best to stay clear, try to head for the outside going into the first turn and then see where you are. There are at least three rabbits, so don’t let them fool you, just run your race and save something for the end—he’s plenty game and he’ll do anything you ask him. The only real competition is that number twelve horse, Calculator—aside from him you’re on the class entry and they all know it. Stay out of trouble, give him as good a ride as you can and he’ll do his best for you.”

Alec had heard this before but knew Henry needed to talk, he just wish there wasn’t a camera and microphone three feet away catching everything they were saying. “All right. He’s feeling good today, he wanted to run during the warm up; we’ll be okay.”

Henry gave him a hard look. “I know you will, just be careful.”

Onyx was going to post as the number two favorite with seven to two odds.

It was a perfect day for a horse race, sunny and not too warm with a huge crowd all waiting for the main event. The horses finished the post parade past the packed stands and infield and lined up at the head of the stretch, one by one going into the stalls without trouble. Alec and Onyx, wearing number nine loaded and waited almost a full minute while the other horses were set. He poised, balanced and ready, his horse waited…

The bells clanged while the jockeys shouted, urging their mounts forward with their hands and legs, their weight all in position to give their animals as much help as possible. The break was clean for the first ten yards when, without warning, the number six horse bolted towards the rail, bumping the five horse and causing number six to careen back towards the outside. Alec had Onyx clear and a length ahead by then and was unaffected but he heard the shouting behind him and could only spare a moment to hope no one was down or hurt.

The field bunched into the first turn, Alec towards the front of the pack and fighting for racing room as they reached the head of the back stretch in fourth place. He was being forced close to the rail but there was enough room for him to inside and pass the outside horse trying to crowd him. At the beginning of the third turn he glanced back to see the three leaders a full three lengths ahead of the fourth horse, one of the rabbits Henry had warned him about who was out of steam and falling back quickly.

Coming out of the final turn and heading for the wire he could hear the field behind the three leaders, fighting for position and starting whatever moves they had planned. Going a yard or so further out from the rail he let Onyx have his head, urging him on as they gained on the two horses in front of them. With one furlong to go he was in a head to head duel for the lead, the number three horse falling back and at least six lengths opened up between them and the rest of the horses.

The noise from both the stands and the infield crowds was deafening; the horses giving everything they had in a primal instinct to be leader of the herd. The rail was flashing past, an endless white ribbon flying by. The crowd’s screams grew louder, the finish line closer and closer as Alec used his crop once, a well placed, hard smack on Onyx’s right haunch, pushing the tiring animal forward as he went ahead with thirty yards to the wire. Alec thought it was theirs when, out of nowhere he heard a horse come up on the outside, finally close enough to be heard over the deafening din from the stands, pulling even as the wire passed overhead.

They went under the wire like a team in harness; unable to hear their own hoof beats for the screams of the crowd. Standing in their stirrups, Alec and Mike slowed their mounts as they rounded the first turn again.

“I think you got it, Alec.”

“I thought you nipped us just at the end.”

The outriders reached them as they slowed to a walk. “Close race gentlemen, photo finish and it looks like a inquiry for some bumping at the start.”

“From either of us?”

“Nah, number six went wild after the break, you guys are okay.”

The rest of the field was loosely around them, the obvious losers headed back to the barns already, disappointed and knowing there was no reason to hang around since it was too soon for congratulations.

Alec and Mike made their way back to the homestretch to wait the official results; the words ‘Photo Finish’ still lit on the results board. Alec, saying nothing, was privately relieved that he could read the words without either straining or trouble with double vision. He also hadn’t been bothered with any serious headaches in a couple of days—knock wood, maybe they were behind him. The doctors had told him that he might still have some minor symptoms, that’s probably all it was—right?

“This is taking longer than usual.” Mike was as anxious as he was.

“Maybe the other protests are holding it up.”

“Maybe—wish they’d get it over with, though.” Mike was still looking for his first Derby win, despite over twenty years in the saddle, this might well be his best shot at it. The crowd was also getting restless, the noise getting louder with some rhythmic clapping breaking out here and there.

This was really taking too long. Usually the stewards would look over the tapes, make a decision and that was that but this was dragging on…

The results would change things for both men, whatever they were. If Hopeful farm managed another win then they’d be as firmly placed as a top breeder to almost be unassailable and their stock would command record prices at the sales. If Mike’s mount won then he’d have his first Derby win, a mark on his resume riders spent their lives trying for and would remain in demand for the top stables and trainers. His already solid career would reach a new level.

Finally, finally they heard a roar from the crowd, turning simultaneously they looked at the board.

‘OFFICIAL’             1st Number 9           TIME: 2:01.82

2nd Number 2

  3rd Number 17

 

Mike reached out to shake his hand then turned his horse back to the barn followed by another wave of cheering.

Alec felt the tension leave him as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders and turned Onyx towards the winner’s circle, knowing how tired he was he let the colt set his own pace. They’d done it. He’d done it. They’d won by the barest sliver of a nose but they’d won, Another yard, another stride and they may well have been beaten but today the luck was with them. He and Hopeful Farm had their third Kentucky Derby win in three tries, an almost impossible achievement and one that would be talked about for years.

And this one was the hardest by far. This was the one he’d wanted the most. This was the one that had scared him the most. This was the one that he had the most at stake at. This was the one where he was being questioned about his ability and fitness.

The crowd waiting for them was big and noisy, Henry in the front to take the horse’s bridle. “Good job, good job—you had me worried there, I don’t mind saying it but you two held them off.” His grin split his face and Alec knew Henry would put off his retirement for at least another year.

The garland of roses was placed over Onyx’s withers, causing him to throw his head at the added weight and heat. The cameras and reporters swarmed around them. The governor was there to present the trophies. Getting the nod, Alec jumped down to weigh out. Thirty seconds the results were final: Onyx, owned by Hopeful Farm, trained by Henry Daily and ridden by Alec Ramsay was the winner of this year’s Kentucky Derby.

They knew what would happen because they’d been through this before. They knew to stop and allow the pictures, to answer the questions, to be gracious and to ask that the cases of champagne they’d pay for and which was cooling be taken to their stalls for the after celebration in an hour of so. They knew because they’d been through it before. They knew the drill.

Smiling, he listened to the ABC sports reporter ask him about the race and set to do his job.

Alec, still feeling the incredible relief of the win and the lack of headache or double vision, dared to hope he really was all right.


6/3/09
 

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