Daybreak at The Spa - Part 1

Original article written by The Steward posted 6 years 1 week ago

The sun was still below the horizon, but already faint splashes of color banded across the sky. Purple, red, pink, and just a hint of daybreak gold could be seen from the side window of Emily Shields’s rental car. Ahead, the sky was still tauntingly dark.

She eased the accelerator down a little more, automatically reaching over to steady the pile on the passenger seat as she buzzed around a sharper curb. The grandstand ahead suddenly swelled up from the dark horizon, swallowing the skyline behind.

Her cell phone buzzed from somewhere within the pile. Emily pawed blindly through the poncho, camera bag, and turquoise bridle she had stashed to reach the phone, her mind darting about. Who was hurt? Who was scratched? Was it Zero?

Ali Hedgestone’s characteristically sunburnt face lit up her call screen. Something about the saved photo of Ali grinning on the beach made Emily roll her eyes with relief; surely nothing could be wrong if it was Ali.

“It’s 4:30!” Emily exclaimed in her typically bright morning voice. “I’m the only person perky right now!”

“True, but you’re not the only person up,” Ali said. “We’re all here waiting.”

“Waiting… why?” Emily cast about, frantic. What else had she forgotten? Besides the pizza she burned last night in the AirBnB’s small oven, and her passport on the plane last week, and Laura’s 15,000th Win Celebration…

“Ahh,” she said.

“You got there finally?” Ali teased. “Laura is at her barn, the Larsons are going to walk her over.”

“Nice of them.” Emily throttled the brake and eased into a parking spot outside a line of low slung barns at the top of the far turn. “Good news, I’m actually here already.”

Ali hung up without saying goodbye, and Emily gathered the bridle and poncho and trotted awkwardly towards the third barn on the right. “Hey Shields!” someone shouted across the darkness. It was Mike Springer, leaning casually against one of the monster sized green tractors that waited to harrow the track later in the morning. He had sunglasses propped on his head despite the hour.

“What’s up?” Emily asked, pulling up slightly. She glanced anxiously towards the barn. “Aren’t you coming to this?”

“Just waiting for Mike Bryant,” Springer said. “Aka, the other Mike. We are working on a stallion deal.”

“Sounds like always,” Emily nodded. “Get in here soon! I think I barely made it.”

She ducked inside the main aisle of the barn, which had bales of hay piled on a palette upon which people were perched. An unfurled card table sported a chocolate-iced cake that simply bore the number 15,000.

“Breakfast of champions!” Ali declared, flitting over from where she had been leaning against the wall. “We have bagels too, of course.”

“Of course,” Emily agreed. The light outside was growing with the rising sun; she could see three figures heading over from another barn.

“We thought you might forget,” said Rebecca Rose Hepburn, who was draped across a hay bale with her head propped up by a second one. “It was getting late.” Blonde-haired Vincent Barratt perched up one level higher, his legs dangling over the side. He flashed Emily a crooked grin.

“Late?” Emily echoed, spinning back to Rebecca. “Speaking of late, how on earth are you awake?”

“The question is, why haven’t I slept?” Rose answered. “The answer is, everything is dumb.”

There were at least 20 other people crowded into the barn aisle, either leaning sleepily against hay bales and bags of grain, or eying the plates of food on the table. “Stop salivating,” Ali snapped at Glenn Escobar, who had crept closer to the table. “They’ll be here any…”

“Well, well, well, what do we have here?” Glenn Larson’s voice boomed. He stood in the doorway with his brother, Mike. Together they blocked the frame so that Laura Ferguson couldn’t immediately see the spread, but then parted when Mike announced, “Here she is, Laura Ferguson, Queen of 15,000 Wins!”

Laura smiled appropriately as everyone else burst into applause and congratulations. But Emily frowned, eying the scene. “Wait one second here,” she cut in, stopping the cheers. “How did you know?”

“What do you mean?” Laura asked innocently, but her grin gave her away.

“You knew we were having a party!” Ali agreed. “You aren’t surprised!”

“Well…” Laura unapologetically held up a yellow post it note that read ‘Order Passport, Pizza Tonight, Laura Party in Morning.’

“Emily!” Rose shouted. By the familiar writing, it was obvious who was guilty. Emily dipped her head sheepishly; the Larsons were groaning and Vincent could only shake his head at her silently.

“Sorry, guys. I’ve been a bit scatter-brained lately.”

“Cake!” Laura cried, diverting the attention back to the party. “Thanks so much to everyone who organized this!”

“Speaking of which,” Ali frowned. “Where is Bay?”

--

“Hello world!” Louise Bayou shouted, spooking Stars Align into the corner of her stall. The bay filly threw her head and kicked once, causing her groom to rush over, glaring daggers at his boss.

“There you are! What on earth have you been up to?” Izzy Rafferty asked. She straightened from running a hand down Behold Her’s right foreleg. “I thought you might forget to come back!”

“Bless your heart; I would never forget the Steward’s Cup,” Louise snorted. She twirled about in a characteristic display of sass. “Notice anything different about me?”

Izzy bit her lip, wary to answer. Her friend looked the same, except maybe more sunburned than normal. “You’re… sunburned?”

“You got it!”

“But,” Izzy grinned ruefully, “you’re always sunburned.”

“Hey there,” Louise shook her finger in Izzy’s direction. “I’m not usually sunburned like this. Because this is Caribbean sunburn!”

“I don’t get it?” Izzy had abandoned her morning leg check on Louise’s horses.

“I went to the Caribbean on a cruise!” Louise opened her bag and thrust a colorful shawl at Izzy. “And I got you a present!”

“You went on a cruise Steward’s Cup week?” Izzy repeated, dumbfounded. “You went on a cruise Steward’s Cup week… and LEFT ME HERE?”

“It was a once in a lifetime opportunity,” Louise explained, starting to check over her seven Steward’s Cup entrants herself. “And you will never believe who was on the cruise.”

“Graham Motion?” Izzy asked hopefully.

“I wish. Jake Toward!”

Izzy braced herself for an onslaught, but Louise just shrugged. “It was a total coincidence. I asked him about Nowitzki but he said he’s not shipping in until Wednesday at the deadline. And don’t give me that look, it’s only Monday. I wouldn’t have left you this week.”

“I still can’t believe you didn’t take me,” Izzy huffed. “Not cool. And you actually are always that sunburned. So.”

A screaming noise down the aisle made them both jerk about. A jet-black filly came streaking towards them, her mane billowing back and her nostrils flared to a hint of red. There was still a chain wrapped about her face, but her lead shank dangled uselessly at her side with no human attached, and she shrieked incessantly.

“Watch out, here she comes again!” Izzy called, diving sideways. Louise followed suit.

Stars Align’s groom reached out and caught the filly, who spun at the sudden contact and rewarded the brave man with a nasty bite to the forearm. He didn’t even flinch.

Danny Derby came down the shedrow aisle a moment later, looking slightly red but otherwise unhurried. He was so nonchalant that Louise felt annoyance bubbling up. “Try not to let your lunatic horse bother mine,” she snapped.

“This is only the fourth time she’s gotten away… since yesterday,” Danny replied. He took the shank from the groom and gave the filly a death stare. She glared right back. “One more race. And then a baby. And then I never want to see her again,” he said firmly. “I got the raw end of the deal with this one.”

Izzy recognized the filly as Like a Ghost, a daughter of Shahir’ra. She was a grade 1 winner worth tens of millions, but sported a wicked temper.

“Try to keep her locked up,” Louise growled. “I don’t want her bothering us.”

“I bet I can make you lighten up in five seconds,” Danny responded, giving the filly a short snap on the shank. He pulled out his cell phone and opened it immediately to a picture of three soft coated kittens curled up in a pile. “Did you know I have kittens?”

--

Brian Leavitt stood in the doorway of the shedrow, watching horses standing at attention on the tow ring outside. Each runner was sleek and fit, their legs adorned in perfect, matching white bandages.

Karl Smythe stood at the head of the set, clipboard in hand, inspecting each horse with a practiced eye. Brian was quietly jealous; he had only been training for 11 months less than Karl, but he had significantly less massive victories.

On the other side of the shedrow, Pete Vella’s three Thoroughbred runners were walking under light sheets. The New York fall was unseasonably warm and a little muggy, defying the rapidly approaching winter. Brian watched the parade of horses on either side of him and tried to focus.

He had his best Steward’s Cup contingent ever: five runners, each with a shot. The best of them, End of a Hero, stared out of his stall at the horses on the tow ring, his oversized roman nose pointed ahead. The millionaire colt had as much shot as anyone in the Steward’s Cup Turf, which would be hotly contested once again, as it nearly always was.

“Alright, Brian?” Karl asked, scooting past Brian on his way in to the office. “Just have to grab my binoculars.”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Brian said. And he meant it. Stop comparing yourself to everyone else, he thought firmly. Go out there, train your horses, and let them do the talking.

---

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