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Riding with Luck
Mary Kit Caelsto
Riding with Luck © 2020 Mary Kit Caelsto
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This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
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Chapter 1
Whispers along the backside of the track remained as common as horse shit. Whether I helped warriors, like the great Boudicea, reach heights of glory or steeled the nerves of cavalry officers during battles from ancient Celtic lands to World War I, I’d been privy to the lives of horses and their people. A more colorful lot I had yet to find. Maybe that was why the ancient Romans adopted me as one of their goddesses, because regardless of language barriers or culture, the love of the horse united all equestrians around the globe. I leaned against the wooden fence surrounding the training oval at Lucky Lady Stables, watching a young stallion show his promise with the fractions. I glanced at my stop watch—some called me old fashioned for still using one in this age of smart phones—and clicked off the time. Not bad at all. We’d be pointing him toward the Kentucky Derby next year, though I wondered how sporting it really was to have a venture run by two goddesses play in the sport of Kings.
“Great work,” I told Betsy with a nod of my head. The older woman nodded curtly, about all the emotion she ever showed, then turned to catch up with the rider. She’d been my junior trainer for twenty-five years and in that time the whispers followed the female trainers with the keen eye and steady nerves who had come close or won all the major races. On this continent anyway. We refused to subject her horses to a flight overseas, and I didn’t blame her. Even traveling first class, I hated it.
“He’s looking good. Tyche called and said she found a rider who might be a good fit here. I suspect they’ll be here by the end of the week.” Forti, my business partner, also known as the goddess Fortuna, rested her hand on my shoulder. “She had quite a bit to say about her. Maybe in her thirties. Rides well with the feel that tells us you may have blessed her. Her name was… some kind of cheese.” Forti paused. “Brie. That was it. And the horse was Lady.”
I gasped. “Brie? Small world indeed. Yes, I know her. She’ll have a job as soon as she shows up. Thanks for letting me know.” Out of the corner of my eye two exercise riders led a pair of chestnut geldings onto the track. “I’ve got to talk to them. I think Flame may need to find a new job, but I’ve got some leads on that.”
“Not fast enough?” Forti turned and leaned one slender hip against the rail.
I admired it for a moment, before focusing on the horses. “He hasn’t found his spark yet. I’m not sure it’s on the race track. I know we claimed him, but that was mostly because Dean Atkins can’t train his way out of a paper bag. In fact, I doubt he could train a dog.” I snorted with disgust. I hated Dean and his training operation with a passion. He took the cheapest horses, beat them to within an inch of their life, but because they marched out onto the race track looking shiny and well kept, not to mention they somehow passed their drug tests every single time. I didn’t like it, and neither did a lot of trainers.
“With what’s happening in California, he won’t be able to hide what he’s doing for long.” Forti wiggled her long, slender fingers. She flipped her long sable braid over her shoulder.
I curled my hand around her fingers. “I think we need your help. He’ll sink or swim on his own merits. There are already some who whisper that we’re too lucky as it is.”
She laughed, the musical notes sending a bolt of Jupiter’s lightning down my spine. “They’re just jealous.” She leaned forward and kissed me on the cheek. “I’ve got to go. We’ll talk later. Rota’s calling.”
Her words sent chills down my spine. “Oysters for dinner?” They were her favorite.
“Perfect. Bye.” She hurried away, leaving me to make the difficult decision about the geldings. I appreciated her insight, and her way of seeing which way luck would go. I understood, though. If Rota was calling that meant she had far bigger things to worry about than my two geldings. It also meant I’d have less chances to see her, and she’d no doubt be away for a while. Then again, a few years, a decade, very little of it mattered when someone lived as long as I did. I’d seen civilizations rise and fall, pandemics and wars, still I was here and so were humans… and horses.
I met the two riders by the gate. “I’d like you to lightly breeze him for half a mile. Then when he reaches the pole, open him up. Let’s see what he has. Jake’s coming to get Dollar. If this guy doesn’t look like he’ll be competitive, I’d like to see Jake take him now,
