style="font-size:15px;"> Evie allowed herself to wallow a bit. It’d be nice to have a mother at a time like this. Someone whose shoulder she could cry on. A loving mother who would help her figure out what to do.
She patted Kazzam’s neck as they walked along the country road. “You are the only good thing in my life.”
Kazzam, a.k.a. No Justice, was a Thoroughbred of impeccable breeding and great speed, a descendant of some of the great sires. But he also had a problem. Twice he’d bucked jockeys off in a race, and twice was once too many. His future was now in question. But Evie loved Kazzam because of his problems, not in spite of them. It was like they recognized each other as misfits. He was a kindred spirit. She couldn’t explain it any other way.
He had spunk, and Evie admired that. He held his head with pride and he strutted like a champ. Of the thirty horses on the farm, it was Kazzam who caught Evie’s eye. She stroked his neck again as they ambled along.
Six months earlier, Kazzam kicked a groom across the aisle of the barn. The groom howled in anger and grabbed a broom to smack the horse. Something in Kazzam’s eye alerted her that the broom would only escalate to war, so she stepped between it and the horse and stopped the blow by grabbing the broom. The groom begged her not to report him. Evie assured him that she would not.
That was the day she’d nicknamed him Kazzam, because it was like they’d made a magical connection. From that moment on, Kazzam looked at her as his friend. He allowed her to handle him easily, unlike any other person.
After that incident, the exercise riders were only too happy to let her bathe him and cool him down after workouts. And she’d never forget the first time she got on his back. Never had she dreamed of such athleticism, such muscular tension. Even at an easy walk, she could feel his power!
Then, on June 1, her sixteenth birthday, several events coincided, causing a plan of action to form in her head. Her association with Kazzam became serious.
Firstly, that day he dumped a jockey at the starting gate for the second time in a stakes race, causing him to be banned from racing by the Ontario Jockey Club. His training schedule was immediately discontinued.
Secondly, she noticed a poster advertising the Caledon Horse Race at McCarron’s feed store, with a thousand-dollar prize. Come one, come all, it read. Register at the gate.
Thirdly, later that very same day, their housekeeper, Sella, delivered a very special birthday card to her. It was from an aunt she’d never known.
Until the moment she read the brief note written in her great-aunt Mary’s scrawling hand, she’d believed what her father had told her all her life — that her mother was dead.
Evie knew the words of the note by heart:
Dearest Evangeline,
I wish you a very happy birthday. Sweet sixteen already! How the time has flown. Your mother always tells me how very proud she is of you. Please send me a picture! I’m sure you’re a beautiful girl, since you were such a beautiful baby, and so much like Angela.
With much love, in hopes that this card will get to you,
your great-aunt Mary
Aunt Mary had written that Angela tells her, not told her how proud she is of her daughter. And that Evie’s mother is proud of her, not was. Present tense, not past!
Immediately, Evie had called the number that was on the bottom of the card. It had a Toronto area code. Aunt Mary instantly invited Evie to come for a visit. And she said she could lead her to Angela. Evie was thrilled.
She’d run to her father to tell him, expecting him to be happy to get rid of her for a weekend, but he’d shut her down. He’d called Aunt Mary “an interfering old trouble-making bat,” adding that she was “deranged and delusional.” According to Grayson Gibb, any relative of Angela’s was mentally ill.
To tell the truth, Evie had considered this possibility. She’d heard nothing good about her mother’s side of the family. Ever. Could Aunt Mary be in denial, unable to accept the fact of Angela’s death? Or could she be trying to cause trouble, like her father said?
Evie resolved to cast caution to the wind. Aunt Mary sounded very nice and perfectly sane. The way Evie saw the situation, she had nothing to lose and everything to gain. All she needed was the money to get herself to Toronto.
That’s where Kazzam came in, and the Caledon race.
That same night, on the evening of her sixteenth birthday, she’d started taking Kazzam out on the practice track, late, when nobody saw. She couldn’t ask for advice. Nobody must know what she was doing. So she’d watched how the experts did it and copied them as best she could.
And they’d won! Evie sat up in the saddle and straightened her shoulders with a full inhalation. Winning the Caledon Horse Race sure felt good. The money in Evie’s pocket felt good, too. She patted the large envelope to be sure it was still there. If her mother, Angela, was alive, Evie would find her, starting with a visit to Aunt Mary in Toronto. Kazzam had done his part already. And nobody would ever know.
A familiar voice broke into her reverie.
“Hey, Evie!”
She emerged from her daydreams and looked around.
The waving arm of Yolanda Schmits protruded from the open window of a royal-blue truck hauling a royal- blue horse trailer with the white lettering “Maple Mills Stables.”
Evie waved back. “Hey, Yoyo!” Yolanda had worked at Maple Mills ever since Evie could remember. She’d run away from home at fifteen and had worked at the track until she’d got the job with them.
“Need a lift? I got the rig safety-checked this morning and I’m heading home.”
“Great!” The truck’s air conditioning was a nice thought, and Kazzam would probably appreciate a ride back.
Yolanda stepped out and opened the back ramp of the trailer, while Evie slid to the ground and removed Kazzam’s saddle. Yolanda took it from her and put it in the tack section.
Evie led the tired horse onto the trailer, slid the bridle over his ears, and let him spit out the bit. Kazzam licked his mouth and rubbed his forehead on her arm.
“You’re a great horse. Nobody can say otherwise now.” Evie clipped on the halter, scratched his ears, and then gave his neck a hug. “See you at home.” His watchful right eye followed her out.
Once Evie had lifted the ramp and fastened the clamps, they were on their way.
“Soo, what are you doing so far from the farm?” asked Yolanda, casually looking her over.
Evie removed her helmet and shook out her sweaty, long red hair. “Thought I’d take No Justice for a hack. He never gets out.”
Yolanda made a phuh noise with her lips. “Only because he’s the spookiest horse on the planet.”
“Not always.”
Yolanda raised an eyebrow. “He never dumps you and races home. That’s why the jocks hate you.”
“Lucky me, I guess.”
