Bluegrass Dawn: Bluegrass Single #2 (Bluegrass Singles) by Kathleen Brooks Read Free Book Online Page A

are you doing?” Betsy asked as Marcy kicked the rug away.
    “I figure my money is safe under Bertha. She doesn’t move for anyone but me.” She loosened the floorboard and pulled out a cookie jar. “I saved one hundred dollars. That’s how much faith I have in your training ability.”
    Betsy laughed and pulled out her money. “It’s the same amount of faith as I have,” she laughed.
     
    A couple of hours later, they were sitting under the twin spires of Churchill Downs. The infield was filled with free-spirited men and women grooving to the music and cheering on the races. Men and women from every level of society and political beliefs crammed into the racetrack to share their love of horse racing. On this day, the war wasn’t discussed. Instead, it was who was going to win—a long shot from the mutuel field or one of the favorites? The flowers adorning the long hair of women were roses in honor of the Derby, instead of flowers of peace. The tension of the world stopped at the gates of Churchill for just one day.
    Marcy grabbed Betsy’s hand as they raced through the crowd and into the paddock. Meggy stood in his stall with his trainer and jockey. People walked by, taking pictures and cheering on their picks as the other races thundered on the nearby track.
    “There he is,” Betsy dragged Marcy through security and ran up to her horse to give him a hug. “Mrs. Wyatt has been helping me with the horses. She and Beauford have been so kind to me. They, along with William’s mother, have taught me all about racing, training, and breeding. I couldn’t have made it this far without them.”
    Meggy whinnied and tossed his head back as he nuzzled her hand for a sugar cube. “See, I told you you’d have the horses doing anything for you. And here he is getting ready to run in the biggest race of the year.”
    “Well, don’t get too excited yet. We are in the mutuel field.”
    “What does that mean?”
    Betsy rolled her eyes. “It means two things. One, it means they haven’t updated their betting machines. They can only take bets on a limited number of horses. And two, a committee picks which horses they think are the best and those are the ones you can bet individually on. The last extra horses are placed in the mutuel field and you bet on them as a group.”
    “But Meggy has been doing so well,” Marcy said as she worried about placing all her savings on a group of horses the committee had basically lumped together as the losers.
    “It’s because I’m a woman. I can’t tell you how much I’ve had to listen to them patronizing me. It took Beauford helping me to even get a reputable trainer. It’s enough to make a feminist out of me,” Betsy joked. “But I have faith in Meggy. He’ll do great.”
     
    The band played “My Old Kentucky Home” and Marcy sang along with the other 123,000 racing fans in attendance. Marcy felt foolish as silent tears fell from her eyes as she sang, “Weep no more my lady. Oh weep no more today; we will sing one song for My Old Kentucky Home. For My Old Kentucky Home, far away.”
    Betsy squeezed her hand and she didn’t have to tell her best friend that she was thinking of Jake so far away from his old Kentucky home. The song ended, the crowd cheered, and Marcy gripped Betsy’s hand as the field of twenty horses entered the starting gate.
    The bell sounded and the race was on. The horses in the mutuel field fell to the back of the race. Marcy groaned and closed her eyes. This was going to be the longest two minutes of her life.
    “It’s a battle for the lead a s they hit the first quarter in twenty-three seconds,” the announcer said excitedly.
    Marcy had her hand over her eyes. “Where’s Meggy?”
    “Er,” Betsy mumbled. Marcy had to strain to hear her friend over the announcer. “Sixteenth.”
    “Sixteenth!”
    “Wait! Fifteenth!” Betsy tightened her grip. “Fourteenth. They just hit the half-mile mark and he’s gaining on the outside. Go, Meggy!