Bloodless Day

the Belmont

Hooves flashed above me. A great, dark belly rose up like a wave, then twisted away to reveal crowds of people, all staring and gasping.

"Jesus Christ, Anna!" Willifred snapped as BD trotted a circle around me, tugging at his lead, tail flagged and nostrils flared as he held his head high, surveying his admirers, his track, and most of all, Bloody Murder on the other side of the saddling shedrow. "If you can't get that horse under control, I will."

"I got it!" Hauling on the lead rope and feeling like a fisherman reeling in a shark, I wheeled BD's head closer to me, heart hammering at the thought of what his silver-steel hooves could have done to my head when he reared. Then I cast the idea aside and concentrating on settling BD, on pressing a palm to his side and breathing in. I was getting good at this.

He was too amped up to listen. It was race day! But his energy was positive, he was raring to go. He didn't know the lengths he'd have to cover, the longest race of his career, the Belmont. And for that, his enthusiasm was not diminished.
The jockeys were crossing over to their horses. There was Lilac, stone-faced and serious as she made her way towards Goodie. There was Spain's jockey, slinking over to the stallion, looking professional. And.... there was Jack, limping over to us, his crooked grin matching his crooked walk. "Big crowd, eh?" He asked.

Willifred bent and took his leg, boosting him into the saddle. "Let me worry about the crowd. You worry about the horse."

"What's there to worry about? We're just going to break Secretariat's record, is all."

The sky, so endlessly blue, contrasted sharply against BD's head. A small shamrock dangled from his bridle, only highlighting his dark coat. His eyes gleamed, not paying attention to me or Jack or the crowd. I wondered if he was listening to something more, of the trumpets and cheers and cries and songs of his triumph. His eyes glinted with knowledge, his head that of a champion.

This exact day, this exact spot, had been owned before by so many others, their names still known, still spoken, long after they'd passed on

Despite the warm summer day, chills ran down my spine. I was walking with breathing history.

Willifred was patting Jack's leg when I jerked my attention back to him. "You'll do great out there."

And like that, they were gone, trotting onto the track.

Willifred and I followed aimlessly, conjoining with other lost-looking trainers and grooms. We'd all done everything we could do- now it was up to the horse.

Wes seemed to purposely bump into me. She looked nice- a creamy suit with blue flairs, clearly for her photo in the winner's circle, but the smile she wore was not one she would show the public. "Hey, Anna. How's Carrie?"

Carrie was dead.

"I'm not sure," I answered easily, "though one day I guess we'll all find out, don't you think? But for now, let's concentrate on the race."

Wes's face flashed with shock and dismay. Her mouth slackened, and this was only in a moment. Then she drew back into her own, cool self. "I'd wish you good luck, but Spain is the best long distance runner we have. Maybe you can settle for second or third."

Her words could not, would not get to me. This was BD's day. This was BD's year.

With a smile, I left Wes and followed Willifred to the rail, feeling lighter than I had in a long time. It was a great feeling.

Reporters and announcers fought for people's attention. The betting board flashed- BD was 3-1. And across the track, horses were loading, grays and chestnuts and bays and three seal bays, each dark and glittering under the sun. Like perfect little figurines, one rose to greet the sky, striking out at it with powerful legs. And then he was lead forwards and in the starting gate.

He was a spring. He was a hand on the trigger, a leaf quivering on a winter-dead tree, a coiled snake that tasted the air for danger when there was none. Ready to lash out at those that came too close. Any sudden movements could result in an explosion, and no one knew who would suffer.

And then...

Silence. The world took a breath.

The gates opened.

Flash

There was BD, unloading himself like a gun onto the track, muscles rippling, straining for speed.

Flash

There was an image of a tree, hurtling towards me, a sickening crunch, a sickening silence.

Flash

Two stallions, stained black like glass, surging to the front. Heads lifted, legs flashing, nostrils flared.

Flash

There was my house in California, with a sold sign stabbed into the ground, and my home in Kentucky, undecorated, a fresh page.

Flash

"Too fast, too fast," Willifred growled, gripping the railing as I stood limply next to it, watching Bloodless Day and Bloody Murder thunder down the track like kings- like gods.

Flash

A chestnut mare, falling, her mane spread across the track, her sweet chocolate eyes fading.

Flash

One of the dark horses pulling away from the other. Churning legs, flying dust. I couldn't tell which one it was. I didn't want to look- I couldn't look away.
Flash

Bloodless Day's hooves, flicking towards my head but never connecting. A bond forged of sweat and dust and blood and granola bars.

Flash

The second horse tried hard, but he was fading quickly. The third dark horse- Goodie- and a slimmer, lighter bay surged forwards, taking up the mantle of second and third place. The race was only halfway over.

Flash

BD running underneath me, every part of me connected to him, every muscle working in harmony with those of a creature who couldn't speak English, couldn't put a bandaid on, but healed me anyways.

Flash

The little horse was unstoppable. Every stride carried him further, his step lengthening, every stretch of his shoulder and hoof that touched the blessed dirt beneath him and his neck that drew back like a coil to surge forwards was dedicated to carrying himself just a little faster, a little farther, a little closer to that finish line.

Flash

Spain is the best long distance runner we have.

Flash

He was pulling away by two lengths. Five. Ten.

Flash

An unspoken promise, made under the stars.

Flash

It was BD.

The world rushed in on me, a tidal wave of blue and green and yellow and screams and energy electric. Splinters dug into my hands as I slammed them against the fence, and BD was a runaway train, bearing down on the finish line. His lead held by eleven lengths, twelve, thirteen, one of the biggest in history, and then he was under the wire and a scream rattled in my lungs, my heart.

We'd won, we'd won, we'd won, we'd won.