Taking Chances: Kayla's Chance

The day of the race my father was worse than he had been for the first race. Centerfold was the same mellow, even seeming bored colt. He passed the vet check again with flying colors and this time, I walked with Jaime up to the paddock.
The horses in this field weren't near Off the Record's caliber. It was a mixed bag of two, three, and four-year-old colts and fillies. Out of twelve, Centerfold had once again pulled the number eight slot.
The big colt was calm as we saddled him and Jaime led him around. I stood with my father watching him. He was being led behind the favorite, Pretty Lady, a dark bay filly that didn't walk, she pranced. Her tail was flagged out behind her, her head tossed up. She was defiantly and eye-catcher.
When the jockeys came out, Jaime led Centerfold over to Felipe. As soon as the colt saw the jockey, he baulked. Jamie tried again and the colt dug in his heels.
Felipe walked to him. As my father tried to give him a leg up, the colt backed rapidly, snorting.
Unsure of why I was doing it, I walked over to help. Centerfold rubbed his head on my shirt.
"Buck him off boy," I whispered to him as my father boosted Felipe into the saddle. In response, the colt snorted and kicked out with a hind foot.
"Good luck Felipe," my father said.
"I don't need it," Felipe responded.
The colt's temperament changed dramatically as the field was led to the track. He was snorting unhappily with his ears flat on his head. I watched from the stairs to the grandstand. The colt still took the time to paw the track for his first few steps. But when he pawed with a back hoof, Felipe obviously thought he was misbehaving. His reaction was unforgivable.
The whip cracked against the colt's black him and part of the crowd went silent and turned. Centerfold snorted loudly, shying from the outrider that tried to grab him, and snaked his head around to take hold of Felipe's boot. The jockey retaliated, smacking the colt across the face.
Blood appeared on his broad forehead as he whipped his head back around.
"Dad-" I began. I turned to see my father was watching, so mad smoke was almost coming out of his nose.
The outrider grabbed hold of the colt's bridle and led him onto the track.
"He'll be lucky if I don't sue him for that," my father said through clenched teeth.
The pack warmed up. Centerfold was obviously unhappy. Felipe kept him in a choke hold and the colt fought furiously, the cut on his forehead standing out against his black fur. I clenched my fists.
"What happened?" Mik asked, taking a seat next to me.
"He whipped him," I said through clenched teeth.
"On the face?" Mik exclaimed.
"Yeah," I mumbled.
"Remind me to never let Dad use him again."
I saw my own father wince.
I didn't try to make my father feel better. If he had listened to me in the first place...
"Nothing we can do now," I said as they horses were led towards the gate.
"I'll make sure he never gets a ride at this track again," my father vowed.
This time around, Centerfold was hesitant to go into the gate. He probably would have walked in with a little urging, but Felipe, true to form, pulled out the whip.
At the first strike, the colt reared and gate attendants rushed towards him. Felipe held on and whipped again. This had Centerfold ripping the reins through the jockey's hands and bucking, nearly sending Felipe flying.
With his jockey’s loss of control, I knew the colt was going to bolt. But a gate attendant grabbed him and they shoved him into his slot.
The rest of the horses loaded and the track when quiet. I sat on the edge of my seat anxiously, watching my father’s black silks in the eight slot.
The silence was broken by the starting bell as the gates came open and twelve thoroughbreds surged onto the track.
Centerfold broke cleanly and as soon as they were clear of the gate, Felipe brought his whip down on the colt’s flank. With an unhappy toss of his head, the colt pulled ahead.
“Out of the gate it’s Centerfold followed by Double or Nothing and Atomic. Two lengths back its Pretty Lady and Dealbreaker-.”
I tuned the announcer out as the field came down the backstretch with Centerfold leading. Double or Nothing, a dark bay three-year-old was the second favorite. He fought Centerfold for the lead. Felipe would have been better to let the other colt have the lead, but he flashed the whip again and Centerfold drew ahead.
“Centerfold and Double or Nothing setting blazing fractions as they come down the stretch. Back two lengths is Atomic then Dealbreaker followed by the favorite, Pretty Lady.
“What the hell is he doing?” my father practically snarled.
“Riding his way?” I guessed.
The colts pulled three lengths ahead of Dealbreaker who’d overtaken Atomic. Pretty Lady was holding as they hit the final turn. I knew Double or Nothing was tired, as was Centerfold. But the colt was still fighting Felipe’s hold. Off his own accord, the black colt pulled ahead, still fighting his jockey’s hold.
They came out of the turn and Felipe flashed the whip by the colt’s eye. He gave a tug with his outside rein to make sure the horse saw it. Centerfold faltered having the whip so close to his eye. Then, to my shock, the colt snaked his head around and grabbed the whip as it flashed again. He yanked it from Felipe’s hand and threw it to the track.
With his whip gone and his reins loose, Felipe lost his balance. Centerfold took advantage, veering towards the inside rail and letting gout a massive buck. Felipe went flying into the infield.
It took the big colt a few seconds to find his stride, and then he charged the last furlong and flew under the wire, four lengths ahead of Pretty Lady, who had overtaken the other colts.
None of us moved for a moment as an outrider galloped after the loose horse.
Mik was the first to speak: “If only that counted.”