IRISH FIRE Read Online Free Page A
shining hair, of pink pantsuits, cut-off shorts, straw hats, lycra skirts, t-shirts, and bared backs moved to the sound of rock music, cheers, and hawkers. Inside expensive box seats, men in white suits and bucks lounged beside ladies in tasteful linen, strappy sandals, and wide-brimmed hats.
Caitlin tapped her foot impatiently. If Sam didnt arrive soon with Annie, she would be too late to speak with the jockey.
Beside her, Ben spotted his father and leaped from his seat. There they are, he shouted, waving his arms. Daddy, Annie.
Sam Claiborne grinned, shaded his eyes, and waved back to his son. Holding Annies hand, he picked his way through the crowd, entered the box and sat down. Wheres Mother? he asked.
Caitlin stood. Shes in the Sommers box, she answered briefly. Ill be back in a minute.
The horsell win with or without you, Caitlin, Sam drawled running a hand through his gilt-colored hair. I doubt if Carlsons waiting on pins and needles for you to cheer him on.
Caitlin felt the blood rise in her cheeks.
Ben spoke up. Can I come with you, Mama?
Caitlin held out her hand but Sam spoke first. Stay here with me, son. Mamall be right back. This is something she likes to do alone.
Without a word to her husband, Caitlin kissed her children and left the box, dismissing Sams rudeness from her mind. Horses were already coming through the tunnel one at a time. Television cameras focused on the tanbark ring. Owners and trainers converged on the paddock, locating their colors, calling out names, shaking hands. Crowds of onlookers lined the fence. Jockeys in colorful silks moved down the stairs.
Caitlin caught up with Tom Carlson when he was nearly in the mounting circle. Her eyes warmed and she held out her hand. You know the horse, Tom, and youre the best jockey in this race. Ride it as it comes and dont worry.
Carlson, his eyes level with Caitlins, grinned. This ones ours, Caitie. Dont you worry.
She smiled. Good luck.
Mount up, an official called out. Tom mounted. Strains of My Old Kentucky Home from the brass band lifted the crowd to its feet. The riders led their mounts around the clubhouse making their way back down the long stretch to the starting gate. Caitlin watched as Carlson let the horse out in a slow gallop to warm him up before returning to the green and white starting gate. The jockey pulled plastic goggles over his eyes.
Night Journey
stepped into the gate and the doors slammed shut behind him. Carlson reached down, grabbed a handful of the colts mane, and bent forward.
Caitlin held her breath. This moment, before the break, was always the worst. Then it happened. The horses surged forward. Seven tons of hard-breathing animals shot toward the straight and the first turn. Caitlin inhaled, waiting.
Carlson allowed
Night Journey
his space while maneuvering for a stronger position.
Silver Flag
, from the Burlington Stables, ran head-to-head with
Baby Rose
, a California horse, who had been in the lead.
Royal Flush
, another Burlington colt, went from fourth to fifth around the bend.
The line was thinning now with Carlson biding his time. Caitlin clenched her fists. If he didnt make his move soon, it would be too late. Then she saw it.
Night Journey
took the bit in his mouth and leaned forward. She sighed in relief as the horse moved ahead, passing
Seventh Cavalry
and
Royal
Flush
, leaving the two horses in the dust.
Slowly, with the precision of an artist, Carlson urged
Night Journey
to pick up speed, to accelerate around the bend, moving faster and faster. The horse never missed a beat. Swinging out he switched leads, left to right, as if he were flying through the air. Propelling with his forelegs, he ate up the ground. The race was half over. Only two horses were ahead of him and the time was forty-nine and one-fifth seconds, a record, so far.
Effortlessly, Carlson advanced his horse, swallowing up the lengths that separated him from
Baby Rose
. Caitlin removed her sunglasses, narrowed her eyes and
Caitlin tapped her foot impatiently. If Sam didnt arrive soon with Annie, she would be too late to speak with the jockey.
Beside her, Ben spotted his father and leaped from his seat. There they are, he shouted, waving his arms. Daddy, Annie.
Sam Claiborne grinned, shaded his eyes, and waved back to his son. Holding Annies hand, he picked his way through the crowd, entered the box and sat down. Wheres Mother? he asked.
Caitlin stood. Shes in the Sommers box, she answered briefly. Ill be back in a minute.
The horsell win with or without you, Caitlin, Sam drawled running a hand through his gilt-colored hair. I doubt if Carlsons waiting on pins and needles for you to cheer him on.
Caitlin felt the blood rise in her cheeks.
Ben spoke up. Can I come with you, Mama?
Caitlin held out her hand but Sam spoke first. Stay here with me, son. Mamall be right back. This is something she likes to do alone.
Without a word to her husband, Caitlin kissed her children and left the box, dismissing Sams rudeness from her mind. Horses were already coming through the tunnel one at a time. Television cameras focused on the tanbark ring. Owners and trainers converged on the paddock, locating their colors, calling out names, shaking hands. Crowds of onlookers lined the fence. Jockeys in colorful silks moved down the stairs.
Caitlin caught up with Tom Carlson when he was nearly in the mounting circle. Her eyes warmed and she held out her hand. You know the horse, Tom, and youre the best jockey in this race. Ride it as it comes and dont worry.
Carlson, his eyes level with Caitlins, grinned. This ones ours, Caitie. Dont you worry.
She smiled. Good luck.
Mount up, an official called out. Tom mounted. Strains of My Old Kentucky Home from the brass band lifted the crowd to its feet. The riders led their mounts around the clubhouse making their way back down the long stretch to the starting gate. Caitlin watched as Carlson let the horse out in a slow gallop to warm him up before returning to the green and white starting gate. The jockey pulled plastic goggles over his eyes.
Night Journey
stepped into the gate and the doors slammed shut behind him. Carlson reached down, grabbed a handful of the colts mane, and bent forward.
Caitlin held her breath. This moment, before the break, was always the worst. Then it happened. The horses surged forward. Seven tons of hard-breathing animals shot toward the straight and the first turn. Caitlin inhaled, waiting.
Carlson allowed
Night Journey
his space while maneuvering for a stronger position.
Silver Flag
, from the Burlington Stables, ran head-to-head with
Baby Rose
, a California horse, who had been in the lead.
Royal Flush
, another Burlington colt, went from fourth to fifth around the bend.
The line was thinning now with Carlson biding his time. Caitlin clenched her fists. If he didnt make his move soon, it would be too late. Then she saw it.
Night Journey
took the bit in his mouth and leaned forward. She sighed in relief as the horse moved ahead, passing
Seventh Cavalry
and
Royal
Flush
, leaving the two horses in the dust.
Slowly, with the precision of an artist, Carlson urged
Night Journey
to pick up speed, to accelerate around the bend, moving faster and faster. The horse never missed a beat. Swinging out he switched leads, left to right, as if he were flying through the air. Propelling with his forelegs, he ate up the ground. The race was half over. Only two horses were ahead of him and the time was forty-nine and one-fifth seconds, a record, so far.
Effortlessly, Carlson advanced his horse, swallowing up the lengths that separated him from
Baby Rose
. Caitlin removed her sunglasses, narrowed her eyes and