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“Oh, I know it ain’t gonna happen, Rod. I can dream though, can’t I?”

I listened to them going back and forth. Hoping maybe Roderick would say something useful but not really expecting it.

We went into the clubhouse, heading for the second-floor bar. It wasn’t crowded. Most of the people hanging around were serious handicappers or low-end owners. A few heads turned when we walked in. I knew Lucinda came here fairly often to mingle with owners, trying to scrape her way back to working good horses. I didn’t think she was sleeping with anyone to attain this goal. She wasn’t really the type. Probably just talked to them a little, turning her big eyes on and making sure they got a good look at her ass when she walked away.

We took stools at the bar and we all ordered shots of Jack from Battle Annie, the brassy blonde who’d been tending bar at racetracks since Secretariat’s time. Battle Annie would be remembered long after most trainers, riders, and horses.

I put the shot glass to my lips, letting it rest there a fraction of a second, anticipating the warmth to come. I hadn’t even realized I’d felt badly until the shot hit and my mood improved. Lucinda drank hers and pink bloomed on her white cheeks. She looked pretty. Ruby crossed my mind. I ordered another shot. The eighth race was about to go off and we watched the post parade on the monitor. Roderick and Lucinda discussed one of the entries. A filly facing the boys. I ordered a third shot.

A man with a red face sat down next to Lucinda. He was overweight and looked rich. An owner. He was wearing a pink shirt that clashed with his skin. I could tell from Lucinda’s body language that she knew who the man was and had willed him to sit there. As the owner started talking to Lucinda, Rod and I sat in silence, half listening to Lucinda who was spending a few moments letting the owner think he was getting somewhere with her before steering the subject to his horses.

Eventually, Roderick announced that he had to get back to his shedrow. I said I ought to go feed my string too. Lucinda’s owner had taken off. It was unclear if she’d accomplished anything with him.

“Want some help?” Lucinda asked me. Roderick’s big face went a little slack. She hadn’t offered him her help.

“It doesn’t take long to feed three horses,” I told her.

“I don’t mind,” she insisted.

We all three headed back to the barn area. Lucinda and I bid Roderick farewell in front of Corso’s barn then made our way over to my spot in silence. The same old guy with a limp was still grazing that same chestnut not far from my barn. Lucinda greeted him. He smiled at her.

“Who’s that?” I asked her.

“Old Bill,” she said. “Hotwalker. Used to be an owner. His business went under and his wife left him. He showed up on the backside one morning going from barn to barn till he found someone who would hire him to walk hots. He was sixty-five then and this was a while back. Guy doesn’t have any sense about horses. He’s been stepped on and pinned against more walls than anyone I know, but he’s never let a horse get hurt or get away from him.”

I nodded in silent appreciation of Old Bill.

All three of my horses had their heads poking over their stall guards as they stared at me intently, ears forward, all of them too well mannered to bite at the air or kick the sides of their stalls.

“You got yourself three very polite horses,” Lucinda remarked.

“Yup. Figured if I’m gonna struggle along trying to keep claimers sound and feeling good, I might as well get some with nice manners.”

She laughed. She was sweet.

I gave the horses their dinner as Lucinda refilled their hay nets.

“I guess that’s it,” I said. “I’m gonna go home and do some paperwork.”

Lucinda stared at me with those strange blue eyes of hers. It made me nervous.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” I said. She nodded but didn’t move. “Okay?”

“Sure,” she said. She looked sad.

I turned and walked very quickly to the lot where I had my Honda parked. The shots of whiskey had already worn