Bloodless Day

The Santa Anita Derby

We didn't see him until he got onto the track.

That, I think, was our biggest mistake.

He danced under the bright California sun, muscles rippling under his dark, dark, seal bay coat. His hindquarters contracted and expanded as he trotted, head curved royally, mouthing the bit softly. He was huge, almost eighteen hands, but the scariest thing was his gaze. Though his body moved, his gaze stayed steady, unmoving. It focused entirely on what was in front of him, like a tiger watching it's prey.

Behind him, Bloodless Day puttered across the track as Jack fished against him, ears flipping everywhere and tiny and laughable compared to-

"Bloody Murder."

I looked at Willifred. "You didn't mention this to me, or to Jack."

He sighed heavily. The past few months, campaigning BD, Jack, Shamrock, had taken its toll on him. He looked older than ever, his hair hugging his head in a whirl of gray. "I didn't want to amp up your nerves. The drive was only half the damage. You and Jack- something's been bugging the two of you, and you need to talk it out before I added more worry."

Absolutely nothing was going on between me and Jack, though something was bugging me- memories. California. The closeness of a tombstone. We leaned against the railing, watching the parade of Thoroughbreds to the gate, even as Mr. Piperson lounged in his owner's box, catering to a host of other wealthy Thoroughbred owners. I swapped my gaze back to Bloody Murder. He had to be a DoomsDay colt. Only three horses that day gleamed with blackness-BD, Goodie, and now Bloody Murder.

Bloodless Day is doomed.

Wes's words flitted back through my mind, and unclicking puzzle pieces of the past few weeks met and fit together. I said, "he's Wes's horse. Lilac's mother."

Willifred sighed. "I know. Piperson planned this. He doesn't know that this is going to ultimately humiliate him."

"You didn't tell him about your racing plan?"

"Of course not."

There wasn't really a racing plan. Willifred decided that our main goal was too get BD out of this without using him up, so he could bounce back faster from the race and be ready and fresh for the Kentucky Derby.

I shivered and dove my hands into my jacket pocket.

It wasn't cold.

Despite the lack of expectations for BD on this track, I still felt more nervous then I ever had before for a race. When the announcer said, "the horses are loaded," my stomach flipped.

Silence.

They were off.

Two dark shadows shot to the front, leaping instant lengths ahead of the rest of the horses. I leaped with them, jumping on the railing, trying to determine which of the two DoomsDay horses were in the lead. Willifred said something, but I was beyond all listening.

Another streak of seal bay loped behind the front runners, settling neatly into the perfect position to overpower the leaders once they began to tire. That was Lilac's style, and sure enough I recognized her blue colors folded over Goodie's neck. They moved rhythmically, smoothly, the perfect racing team.

And then Bloodless Day.

Jack fought the stallion; I could see that much. His and Bloody Murder's heads were held high, fighting their jockeys in their speed duel. They flashed past mile markers, furlongs. Records shattered. Eyes rolled and legs pumped for faster, faster, faster.

They rounded the bend and bore on for home, my heart hammering against my chest as rapidly as their legs hammered the track. "Wow, I'm actually impressed. Your horse CAN move out a little."

Wes was at my shoulder, a smirk on her face. A sick feeling swooped down on me as I watched the two Thoroughbreds bear down on the finish line. Behind them, Goodie lengthened his stride, Lilac wove her hands up his neck, and he came flying towards his brothers, but it was too little, too late. "What's your game in this?" I snapped. From the other side of me, Willifred swore softly. BD was on fire, his legs mere pistons pulling him from the gate to the finish. His head remained high as he fought the bit, mouth agape.

Lilac's half sister smiled, but it wasn't a friendly one. "No game. Just racing."

Bloodless Day and Bloody Murder flashed past me in a sea of shining shadows. Goodie thundered after, closing the gap between them, the rest of the race hot on his heels. And then they were under the wire and I couldn't tell who'd won.

"And Bloody Murder proves himself-"

"It's a photo finish, but we have conceded that Bloodless Day wins by a head bob!" The announcer blared over the loudspeakers. Betters cheered and betters grumbled, my heart sank and Wes's smile froze on her face.

"What the-"

"No-"

We stared at each other for a long moment, my shock mirrored in Wes's face. Willifred's voice, behind me, said, "go get that horse. We have serious damage control to get under wraps."

My stomach dropped when I arrived at the winner's circle. BD stood, feet braced and head lowered as he sucked in air, sides heaving, ribs protruding. Jack, too, breathed hard, his legs out of his stirrups and face white. "This wasn't... I couldn't...." He tried apologizing to Willifred, but the trainer merely shook his head.

"What's done is done."

I went to BD and lifted my hand to catch his bridle. He started violently, tossing his head, staring at me with no recognition beyond his own exhaustion. My fingers finally snagged on his cheekpiece and he settled, closing his eyes. My heart broke. Never before had the colt been so defeated, though he'd just won another race in a long string of them. Lather dripped down his chest, foam from his mouth, and he couldn't spare the energy to shiver it off. The only person who seemed remotely happy was Mr. Piperson. I couldn't look at him as he claimed his prize and fame. Jack turned his face away; neither could he.

When the awards were exchanged for photos and quotes, Willifred approached us. "Go back to the shedrows now. A hot mash, long walk out and hosing- you know the works."

I nodded. Heads lowered, defeat written on Jack and I's faces, we led the broken horse away.