itle>
Cover
Dedication
To those who find the
courage to move forward,
who choose not to remain mired
in the disappointments of the past.
The Caledon Horse Race
“Riders up!”
Evangeline Gibb swallowed hard. We shouldn’t be here, she thought. If her father had any idea.…
Today was the eleventh of June, the day of the Caledon Horse Race. The biggest event in town. It’d seemed like it would never arrive. But here it was, with a bright blue sky and a slight breeze sent from above to relieve the climbing temperature.
Evie took the reins in her left hand and prepared to mount the nervous black horse she’d renamed Kazzam. He was the smallest horse entered — at fifteen hands, barely taller than a pony — but he was fit and muscled and ready to run.
Kazzam pawed the ground and shook his head. He flattened his ears and pranced with anticipation, then shook his silky, short black mane impatiently. Every time she almost got her foot in the stirrup he moved away. “Settle down, Mister Racehorse,” she cooed as she scratched his withers and again tried to climb on, again without success. “You’re making me look stupid.”
Kazzam stopped skittering for a split second and Evie seized the opportunity. She slipped her left boot into the stirrup and scrambled up into the saddle with speed, if not grace. “Thanks for your help,” she muttered.
Evie sat as quietly as she could, waiting for Kazzam, and for herself, to calm down. His body trembled underneath her as she stroked his neck. “You’re the fastest horse here and we’re going to prove it.” Electricity coursed through his tensed muscles and into her hands and legs.
All around them, fired-up horses snorted and jigged and jogged. Riders in multicoloured shirts controlled their mounts with grim faces, shouting out competitive jibes to one another. Evie tried to keep her distance, at least out of kicking range. She wondered if this was what it was like to be in the eye of a storm. She shivered in spite of the heat.
Folks had travelled for miles to cheer for their favour-ites, and the old wooden stands were packed with chattering people in bright summer clothes. The air virtually vibrated with noise and suspense.
Evie had drawn slot seven. There’d been fourteen riders lined up at the registration desk to enter, and she was the only female. And at sixteen, the youngest by five or ten years.
This is such a bad idea. If her father found out what she was doing, he’d skin her alive. But ... the prize money. One thousand dollars plus ten percent of the purse. It could add up to a lot of money. Money that Evie needed to find her mother.
At the thought, a tingle of excitement travelled up her arms and ended with a ping in her chest. Her mother. Angela. She might be alive, after all.
Evie tightened her legs as Kazzam reared, lifting both front hooves high off the ground. She reached forward and stroked his gleaming black neck. She loved how the sunlight made his coat look almost purple. “Take it easy, boy. It won’t be long.”
She sure hoped that was true. Horses and riders were gathered at the starting gate, and everyone, human and equine alike, was getting tenser by the second. If she was going to follow through with her plan and not lose her nerve, this race had better start soon.
“Daddy buy you a pony, little girl?”
Evie looked up to see a smirking man on a tall, tucked-up Thoroughbred. He looked like a professional jockey in his red-and-purple racing silks with matching cap and saddle cloth. She glanced around. Is he talking to me?
“Yes, you, freckle-face red ponytail.” He laughed a forced hahaha, and checked with the man beside him.
His friend was riding a horse that could have been a twin to his own. This man wore blue-and-green silks. “Hey!” he guffawed. “Get a look at the headgear on baby’s pony!”
Evie had customized Kazzam’s bridle with a face guard to hide his distinctive, heart-shaped white star, and she’d done a half-decent sewing job. Kazzam liked it just fine.
“The kiddie race was last week!” the man in blue and green continued, as though he hadn’t made his point.
Evie thought she should respond. “Nice horses.” She didn’t add, I hope they like looking at my horse’s butt.
A third man, clad in bright yellow, trotted over to join his friends. It seemed he had news. “There’s a registration problem.”
Evie blushed and pretended not to listen. She hoped that the problem had nothing to do with her fake name or her “borrowed” horse.
“Crap.” The man wearing red-and-purple silks frowned. “This horse is ready to run.”
“How’s the betting?” blue-and-green asked.
“Flying Pan’s the odds-on favourite.”
Blue-and-green scoffed. “Out of the Flying Pan into the fire?”
Purple-and-red laughed his hahaha and said, “He’ll be back in the dust with pony-girl here.” He gestured at Evie dismissively. The three men snickered.
Evie lifted an eyebrow slightly. They didn’t know anything and were about to find out.
In the last couple of minutes the crowd had become restless. One section started stamping in unison. Evie was worried. If the race was delayed much longer, there’d be trouble.
The public-address system abruptly transmitted high-pitched feedback at full volume, startling the horses. Red-and-purple’s horse bucked and the man was tossed off. He landed on his feet, but when he finally managed to remount the terrified horse, he whipped him hard.
Evie didn’t like that at all. This beating was totally unproductive. If you don’t react within a couple of seconds, a horse has no idea what he did wrong. Now his beautiful Thoroughbred was confused and rattled.
Under her breath she said, “Daddy buy you a new one,” in the same condescending tone that he’d used earlier to her.
“Eat my dust, kid!” Red-and-purple seethed.
Evie had not meant him to hear her, and was frightened by the intensity of the man’s anger. She moved
