Bloodless Day

We Have a Plan

"Yeah, so... oh, I gotta dash! Loose horse!"

"'Bye," I responded, and hung up the phone. My arms folded over the top of the fence and my body leaned against it as I stared absentmindedly across the pasture.

Bloodless Day was the only horse outside, enjoying the crisp December air. It was too cold for the clipped and clean Thoroughbreds to be out, but BD was neither clipped nor clean, so now he ruled as king of the paddocks. Rearing, he twisted and spun, slamming his hooves into the ground. Snow rose up and splattered his body. Shocked, the stallion bolted, tail lifted high as he leaped across the pasture.

Spinning, he caught sight of me and tossed his head, swinging his forelock away from his expressive eyes. Then, neck arched, he floated across the pasture, his lovely neigh echoing ahead of him. "Beautiful boy," I called to him. "You look like a shaggy pony."

It was true. BD's refusal for even me to clip him had resulted in a positive floof of a Kentucky Derby nominee. And now he looked even more like a shaggy pony as he halted stubbornly, ears flattened at my voice. He knew when he was being teased. Continuing to poke fun at him, I said, sing-songy, "You better not be like that in the starting gate, else your half brother will beat you."

My phone vibrated as if a reminder, but I didn't bother checking it as I contemplated Lilac's call. So it was official. Both sons of DoomsDay would be running in the 2016 Kentucky Derby. Idly, I wondered if there were any other colts from the same sire nominated. Now that would be a race to watch. A race of Bloodless Days.

No. I'm the only one, Bloodless Day seemed to say, as he reared slightly with no provocation and struck out at invisible demons. He whirled and cantered through the snowy field, a dark speck dashed against white.

Laughing to myself, I turned and started back up the hill towards the stables. Under the dreary gray sky, the buildings looked warm and cozy as elegant Thoroughbreds peered out over their stall doors, blanketed and clipped and peaceful on their week off. It was a Piperson tradition to give the horses a mini-Christmas break.

"And a merry Christmas it was," I murmured, casting a look towards a candy cane given to BD and subsequently trampled. Time off work did not suit the energetic colt well. And he was still a colt, though it was hard to think of it that way- his official third birthday was only three days away.

He wasn't getting a candy cane as a present.

Somebody was silhouetted next to the training barn. Judging by the height and annoyed pose, it was Willifred.

"Hey," I panted as I finally reached the top of the hill. "How's it going?"

His expression didn't change. One eyebrow raised and mouth incredulous, he said, "we called you four times. Did your phone not ring?"

"Um..." dimly, I remembered it vibrating furiously as I kept up a monologue with BD. "I was on the phone with Lilac."

"So you heard?"

"Heard what? About the cute stable hand, or the new bridle, or the parties she's hitting every night?" I asked.

Willifred didn't catch my sarcasm. "No, the Derby."

"Ohh, she might have mentioned that. Very briefly, though." As if Lilac could shut up about the Derby. Or her last race. Or the Derby. Or the race before her last race. Or the Derby. Or the race before the race before the last one she ran. Or the Derby.

The eyebrow raised even further, but luckily the trainer didn't make any comments. "We're meeting in Jack's apartment- one of the wheels on his chair is wobbling and he doesn't trust it in this snow, so he's staying in until he gets it fixed."