Daybreak at Inglewood Park

Original article written by The Steward posted 11 years 3 weeks ago

Meep! Meep! Meep! Meep!

Emily Shields bolted upright, hitting the snooze by slapping the top of the alarm once before reaching around to turn off the retched device completely. Her husband grumbled beside her and gave her a confused pat on the back as she stumbled gracelessly out of bed. The clock glared a harsh green 3:30.

Every day during the Southern California racing season, from December 26 until the end of July, Emily would roll out of bed, hop in the car, and drive the either 53 or 63 miles to Arcadia or Inglewood Parks. Then from July until the fall she would relocate to her Kentucky stable, and spent the early winter at the site of the Steward’s Cup. It just so happened that the Steward’s Cup was held in California this year, which was both a blessing and a curse: instead of staying at a nearby hotel with the leeway to wake up ten minutes before training began, she was at home an hour away.

Once on the road, however, Emily found herself wide-awake and in a good mood. The black sky was already giving way grudgingly to light; recently, daylight savings time had ended, making the mornings brighter. Now that it was the Tuesday before the big races, all the horses had to be on the grounds, which would make for an interesting morning. She expected to see friends she hadn’t seen since her annual trip to Louisville for the Derby. And lastly, she couldn’t wait to spend time with her trusty outrider pony, Cookie.

Cookie was a new purchase, her first horse since her old pony Atlantis had been turned out at the Old Friends Retirement Foundation in Kentucky. Although she still visited him often, he hadn’t been ridden in years. After trying out a few temporary ponies, especially a testy Quarter Horse named Red, Emily had settled on Cookie, a durable chestnut gelding.

A few minutes after four thirty, Emily pulled into her reserved parking spot on the backside at Inglewood Park. The spot was just outside the racing office, and quite a hike to the pony barn located at the far end of the backside against the training track. She didn’t mind the hike, it allowed her to peer around at the barns of various trainers, especially the early birds who were already cold-walking horses around the tow rings outside the shed rows.

“Morning!” she called cheerfully to Brandon McClellan, who looked somewhat miserable in the cool air. He merely lifted his coffee cup in mute reply.

“You’re perky,” Juli Stettler said while falling into step beside Emily. Her voice was rough with sleep.

“I am, actually,” Emily agreed as they headed together towards the pony barn. “I am looking forward to seeing everyone today. The horses, I mean,” she added with a wink.

They reached the tarp-covered pipe corrals that the ponies occupied during the busy season. Juli’s pony nickered eagerly at her, while Cookie pinned his ears and backed away two paces.

“Snot,” Emily told him affectionately, ignoring his behavior and rummaging through her tack trunk for some carrots. “Obviously I do plan to feed you!”

Then she stopped short, her eyes growing wide. Buried under the first layer of lead shanks, vet wrap and fly spray bottles was a small red envelope with her name written on the front and nothing else. Emily stared at it momentarily, then gingerly removed it from the mess and stared at it some more. It definitely said her name.

Taking that as permission to open it, she lifted the flap to discover a greeting card adorned by a sleeping kitten. Inside was an iTunes gift card for $25, a Starbucks card worth $15, and two VIP tickets to the opening of the brand new penguin exhibit in Long Beach on Saturday night.

“What the heck?” Emily said aloud, her hand shaking.

“What’s wrong? Is Cookie okay?” Juli asked, sticking her head out from behind her pony’s spotted neck.

“Did you do this?” Emily asked, holding up the card and its contents.

Juli stared at them briefly, then shook her head. “No. I don’t have that kind of cash.”

Emily rolled her eyes. “Lies. Shikilu has made like a million bucks.”

“Yes, but I have to breed her this year!” Juli protested. “Seriously though, I don’t know who did that.”

“There’s no name,” Emily complained. “How am I supposed to thank whoever did it?”

“Can’t you just let it be anonymous and move on?” Juli asked, disappearing back behind her horse.

“I guess…” Emily’s voice trailed off. She already knew she planned on getting to the bottom of this mystery. She didn’t “do” mysterious.

“Have a good morning, I’ll see you out there,” Juli said, leading her pony past.

“Have a good one,” Emily said vaguely. Then she shoved the overwhelming gift back into her trunk and grabbed a brush to start grooming her horse.

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Throughout the early morning hours, Emily scanned the faces of the trainers as they ponied their horses out onto the track or leaned over the railing of the trainer’s stand outside the track kitchen beside the chute. She pestered everyone on the existence of the gift, and ran into the proverbial brick wall every time.

“Hey, Art,” she said to Art Kage, who was leading his three-year-old colt Vishnu down the steep hill onto the course. “You wouldn’t happen to know anything about a gift for me, would you?”

He blinked at her several times, one eyebrow rising and the other eye scrunching. “Definitely not,” he said, before adding, “no offense.”

“None taken,” Emily promised, urging Cookie into a jog so she could catch up with Chris Reed, who had just turned Look At Me Now loose and was heading back up the hill. “Hey Chris…”

“I heard what you asked Kage,” he said swiftly. “I had nothing to do with it.”

Emily sighed and slumped her shoulders, slouching on Cookie’s broad back. Then she straightened up and brightened. Surely, Art Kage and Chris Reed weren’t the people to ask anyway. She would have to wait for some of the more notorious gift givers to arrive. She turned her gelding and jogged back to the three-quarter pole, allowing the morning action to unfold in its typical way.

Horses jogged by going the wrong way on the outer rail, their snorts sounding loudly across the peaceful, still air. Eddie Trent’s Alpaca skittered sideways as he passed, the whites of his eyes showing as his rider barked at him to behave. Alex Safka’s bouncing bay filly City of Stars jogged by, her neck arched and her tail swishing.

“This day is beautiful!” Ronnie Dee said loudly, leaning over the railing of the trainer’s stand.

“It is that!” Emily agreed. Even though the sun was still rising, the temperature was already a pleasant sixty-two degrees. “Where’s Jeb?”

“She’s at home with the weanlings,” he explained. “We have quite a few this year, including a nice Heroes filly.”

“Finally!” Emily grinned. “It’s about time he had a nice one!” They continued to exchange pleasantries while watching a pair of black-blinkered Jolene Danner fillies run by, cruising along so close to the rail they could have been working. “Little close to the race,” Emily murmured, frowning. “Hey, Ronnie, do you happen to know who would have left an extravagant gift in my tack trunk?”

“No, sorry,” he said, his eyes trained on his strapping chestnut horse Happy Racing. “You know who you might ask though? Try Norman Architecture.”

Obviously! Emily thought. She settled back in the saddle and waited for the first of Norman’s two Steward’s Cup entries to hit the track. While she waited she waved to Nikki Sherman, who tossed her undulating brown hair out of her face before waving back. Her filly Luna was already returning from a brief gallop, preparing for the Steward’s Cup Filly Turf Dash.

When Norman finally appeared, it was close to seven. He led his diminutive chestnut colt, Florida Stars, down the steep hill to the gap and then walked a few paces away, letting the colt stand and take in his surroundings. Almost as if he knew she would be waiting for him, Norman continued down the outside rail towards Emily.

“Good morning, I heard you wanted to talk to me,” he said in his bright English accent.

“I did, but who told you? Ronnie?”

“No, Rachel Sadler. We’re sharing a barn. Ronnie must have told her.”

“How is her filly doing?” Emily asked, distracted.

“She’s brilliant, of courses!” Norman joked. “But what did you want?”

“I discovered an amazing gift in my tack trunk this morning with no name. It was you, wasn’t it?”

Norman frowned, scrunching his eyes together. “I don’t think so. I would remember gifting something.”

“Are you pulling my leg?”

“No, really. I did not put anything in there. But you know who you should ask?”

“I’ve heard this before…” Emily interrupted sourly.

“Rebecca Rose Hepburn,” he finished. “Isn’t she a gifting type?”

“She is,” Emily confessed. “She wakes up so late though, she won’t even get out here until after the second break. AND she lives like five minutes away to boot!”

“Lucky,” Norman said, and they both laughed.

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