Some of the other riders were having trouble getting their mounts into their posts, but Kazzam stood still, waiting for his gate to open.
Evie hugged his neck. She closed her eyes and quietly whispered a little prayer. “Dear Lord of creatures great and small, please please please help Kazzam run fast today. Give his feet wings, and if he wins I promise to be good for the rest of my life. Amen.” Kazzam flicked his delicately pointed ears and nickered as if he understood.
Evie opened her eyes. Somewhere down the blurred row of horses on her right, the rear door clanked shut behind the last horse.
The bell rang and the gates flew open. “And they’re off!”
Kazzam didn’t move.
Evie watched thirteen horses surge out of the starting gate and tear down the track in a dense cloud of dust.
It was a spectacular sight.
Evie waited. She desperately longed to urge him to run, but knew well the fate of the jockeys who’d kicked him on.
Three long seconds later, Kazzam jolted forward in a giant leap that lifted Evie up into the air with only his mane in her hands. With a huge effort and a whole lot of luck, she landed in the saddle and held on to the racing animal like a scared monkey. Her stirrups were lost and the reins were out of reach. Her helmet had slipped over her eyes. It was impossible to see anything except the ground beneath her, and it was moving awfully fast.
Kazzam thundered on. Evie bent her head down and used his neck to push her helmet back so she could see. Dust. Dust was all she could see. Don’t panic, she told herself. Kazzam knows where his feet go. Seconds passed before a solid form emerged from the hazy cloud ahead. The rump of a horse.
They were catching up rapidly, but her legs were tiring just as fast. She needed the stirrups. Even one would help. She felt for the left one blindly with her foot as Kazzam sped past the horse running last and came up on the outside of another. Bingo! The left stirrup. She cast about on her right side, located the other, and slid in her boot. Still no reins, but things were much improved.
Kazzam ran smoothly. He felt eager as they passed three more horses on the outside. But there was trouble just ahead — a traffic jam with half a dozen animals running as a herd, tight to the inside of the track. She needed reins to get around them.
She grabbed his mane with her right fist and crept her left hand farther and farther up his mane all the way to his ears until she was finally able to clutch the flapping reins. She forced herself to breathe. Steady on. Now she was ready to ride.
Evie and Kazzam veered to the outside of the group. She felt him accelerate as they sailed past, down the stretch. She smiled and almost laughed out loud. She loved his crazy power! But Kazzam had more speed in him yet.
They were closing the distance to the two frontrunners. Kazzam moved inside and Evie looked for an opening. Kazzam began to crowd the horses from behind to create a space for himself, but Evie second-guessed him. She pulled him back to go around. Just as Kazzam slowed, three from the group they’d just passed galloped by on their right and overtook them all.
Evie could feel the tension explode in Kazzam’s body.
His ears flattened. Jamming her heels down in case of a buck, she let the reins go slack, crouched forward on his back and kept still. As soon as she gave him his head, Kazzam circled wide around the former leaders on the outside and then made a charge to catch the three horses that had just passed. The wind of their speed forced tears down Evie’s cheeks as they narrowed the gap. She sat as small as she could and let her horse run. The rumps of the three ahead got bigger and bigger. Through the dust she noticed the silks. Purple and red, blue and green, and bright yellow. Her tormentors were running as a team, three abreast.
Her horse was flying. Evie couldn’t fathom how fast. This was the speed she’d been waiting for. She was riding an avalanche! A tsunami! A runaway train!
Time slowed in her imagination. It seemed as though the purple-and-red and blue-and-green and yellow silks on her left were running on the spot. They disappeared behind her. The three perfect Os of the surprised men’s gaping mouths became imprinted in her mind as she looked ahead at clear track. Kazzam was the one making dust now.
The little horse’s strides got longer and longer. His neck stretched further and further. The only noise Evie heard was Kazzam’s steady breathing in rhythm with his front hooves as they hit the track. She felt lighter than air as they passed the finish line riding dead centre down the middle of the empty track.
“Whoa, boy.” Evie pulled on his reins. On he galloped. Kazzam wasn’t finished his race. “Steady, boy!” She wondered how much more he had to prove.
Evie looked back to see the second, third, and fourth horses finish together. They were far behind. She guessed that Kazzam had won by ten horse-lengths. Maybe more.
Kazzam began to listen to Evie as they got to the turn. He slowed a little and then slowed some more, but he was so fit and keen that he threw a happy buck up in the air. Evie laughed and crowed. “We did it, Kazzam! We won!” She stood up in the stirrups and shot a fist into the air.
They trotted back to the finish line, waving to the cheering crowds. She’d never felt so good. All these people were witnesses to Kazzam’s upset victory. You respect this tough little horse now, she thought. And you think I’m worth something, too. Evie took a mental snapshot of the moment so she could remember it for the rest of her life.
Her elation was cut short by a group of people who came running onto the track with cameras. They motioned eagerly for her to come closer.
Evie hadn’t expected this. She thought fast. She’d love to disappear into thin air but had no choice if she wanted to get the prize money. She pasted a big smile on her face and hoped the dust and streaks of sweat and tears would disguise her face. She trotted Kazzam over and let them snap away.
“How long have you been riding?” asked a young-looking unshaven man, who she assumed was a reporter.
Before she could answer, several others crowded around. “Is this your horse?”
“Who’s your trainer?”
“What’s Kazzam’s breeding?”
“Is this your first race?”
“Where do you live?”
Evie was tongue-tied. She had no idea how to answer the questions without giving away her identity and getting herself in big trouble.
With perfect timing once again, the speakers blared.
“Attention, folks! We have a winner. Young Molly Peebles riding Kazzam. They won by a record eight lengths!”
The crowd erupted again into cheers and hoots and stamping feet. Evie thought they’d won by more, but she wasn’t about to complain.
“She’s the youngest person to win in the ten years we’ve held the race. Molly takes away one thousand dollars in prize money, plus five hundred and eighty dollars as her share of the purse! She’s a lucky, lucky girl!”
A stout man in a Homburg hat stepped forward. He wore old-fashioned English country clothes with a plaid vest. Evie imagined that he thought it hid his fat belly. He waved a large white envelope high in the air and turned around to show it to the crowd in the stands.
The announcer introduced him, bellowing over the sound system, “Cast your eyes over to the track, folks. You’ll recognize Murray Planno, our esteemed judge — he’s a racing steward at Woodbine Race Track. He’ll now present our winner with the prize money.”
Murray Planno took his cue. He pivoted on his heel and handed Evie the envelope with a grand flourish. “Well done, Molly Peebles. The little lady on the little black horse!” he said loudly. “Nicely done!”
Evie continued to smile broadly. She accepted the envelope