Bloodless Day

American Pharoah

We watched history happen.

And then Jack and I threw ourselves into making it happen again.

I was at the barn by five in the morning, every morning, and out usually by six or seven, only because my parents dragged me home by then. Sometimes, though, I managed to sleep over at Lilac's. And we did sleep- Goodie kept Lilac almost as busy as BD kept me.

Goodie continued working steadily. He was a good horse; he knew his job. His endurance improved, his times improved, and his muscular frame filled up even more.

BD was.... well, he was BD.

"Anna!" Jack snarled. "Get that horse under control!"

I glowered at him from the back of the prancing, constantly shifting Thoroughbred. BD had his head tucked to his chest, cleverly evading the bit, so no matter how hard I pulled it wouldn't matter. "Can't. He has his tongue over-"

Cursing, Jack exploded over the rail and landed on the track next to BD, whacking the stallion in the nose. Instantly he froze, head high and eyes bugged out, wary. My stomach rocked as though he were still moving while Jack worked to probe BD's tongue back under the bit. Finally the task was complete and the jockey wiped slimed hands off on his jeans, raising an eyebrow at me. "What do we do when a horse is trying to get his tongue over the bit?"

"Soften your hands. Push him forwards so he has nothing to grab," I dully answered. BD had been coming along brilliantly- and then one day discovered that if his tongue got over the bit, that was it. He could run for as long and as fast as he wanted and nobody could stop him.

"Right! So why aren't you doing that?"

I fiddled with the reins as BD softened his neck and turned his head to nudge my boot. "It seems counterintuitive."

"So does cleaning a stall or making a bed when it's just going to be a mess right afterwards."

Instead of replying, I placed a gloved hand against BD's mane and took in the day. It was electrical- the sky was a startling, vivid blue that refused to give evidence to the heavy, dark feeling I had that a storm was on it's way. We hadn't had those often in California, but here I'd already experienced numerous storms and the summer was only beginning. Inside me brewed another storm, one of frustration. I was going to ride this horse if it killed me.

"Anna?" Jack's suddenly gentle tone brought me back to the task at hand. I met his gaze warily, unable to explain the turmoil inside of me. I wanted to gallop; I was already galloping. "You ready to try again?"

I didn't waste words in response. Instead, I whirled BD around and pushed him into a lengthened trot, letting him curl counterclockwise around the track. The world was swimming up and down as I posted, BD's mane bobbing cheerily against his neck. I pressed my fists into his neck, tracing a circle with my thumbs. His ears flicked back, appreciating the contact, and his trot steadied. Balanced. Powerful.

We reached the backside of the track, the spot where we were supposed to start the gallop. "Just a working gallop. Nothing to break the sound barrier, okay?" Jack's voice sounded in my mind as I recalled the instructions we'd reviewed prior workout. I knew what we were doing. BD did too. It shouldn't be so hard.

With a playful head toss, BD made a bid for the bit as I asked him to turn. I instinctively snatched at the reins, but remembered myself and softened my hands instead. He stretched out for a moment, rubbed his head against an outstretched leg even as he trotted, rolled into a canter, waited for me to collect my reins, and then we charged into a gallop.

BD's power was tangible through the reins. He didn't fight me, but he arched his neck and held the contact solidly. His hind legs reached beneath him, propelling us forwards, lifting his forehand up and up and up. Slender forelegs grabbed at the soft dirt, lifting up and up and up. We were climbing to the sky, we were sailing towards our dreams, we were flashing past Jack.