Anthony was heavy on her mind, and her heart, but she couldn’t allow herself that now. She couldn’t think of anything except the race. She would talk to him afterward, and try to make peace with him. But for now there was only the track she’d be running, the race, and the horse she’d be riding. Nothing else in the world mattered. She spoke to no one in the last week except the breeder, the trainer, and the owner. And she trained on the horse all week, getting to know him.
She slept two hours the night before the race, and woke up at four in the morning. She took a long hot shower and went for a run to try to relax, and was in the horse’s stall and had a long conversation with him. She knew he could carry her to victory. The odds were thirty to one against her. No one thought a woman could do it in a race like this. It was a historic moment. There was one other woman registered to ride. She was riding a horse that had won numerous races in the States. He was a sure thing, and an easier ride than the horse Annie would be riding. Hers was named Ginger Boy, and no one was sure what he could do. Except Annie, who believed in him, and knew he could win.
She stood quietly stroking him, and talking to him. “We can do it, you know. I know I can, and so can you. Don’t let them spook you, Boy. Just take it nice and easy at first.” They weighed her, and she put on the colors of the owner she was riding for. Her helmet was secure, and the owner and trainer watched her as she mounted Ginger Boy. Her small white face was serious and her blue eyes looked huge.
“Good luck, Your Royal Highness,” the owner said, hoping he had done the right thing hiring her. She looked so delicate, and her hands looked so small compared to the huge horse she was riding. He was a powerful beast.
“Annie will do,” she said to the owner, and went to line up, as they watched her, and then the owner went to his box to watch the race. It was being televised around the world on sports channels everywhere. There were news crews all around the racetrack. Annie saw nothing as she lined up, except the track and the horse she was riding. She thought of nothing except what they had to do.
They got a slow start as she intended, and ran steadily, gathering momentum and speed as they went, passing horses, flying like the wind, pressing harder, going faster, and in the final stretch she pushed him as hard as she could, knowing what she needed from him, and Ginger Boy knew it too. “Give it to me now, come on, Boy, you can do it. We can do it!” He ran faster and harder than any other horse she’d ever been on. He flew over the ground, and she felt as though they were running above the ground in slow motion. She heard nothing except his breathing and her own, faster and faster. She heard people screaming and the roar of the crowd. She flew through the finish line with no sense of who or what was around her, or where the other horses were. All she knew and felt was Ginger Boy. She galloped him for a few minutes after the finish line to slow him down, and patted his neck with all her strength. “Good Boy, you did it! I’m proud of you,” she said and finally looked up. She had no idea how they had finished, and she saw the trainer running toward them, he was crying and waving his hands as she slowed Ginger Boy, and the trainer reached up and hugged her.
“You did it! Oh my God, you did it!”
“How did we do?” she asked him, as Ginger Boy danced and she gently led him in a walk off the track. She could still hear the crowd screaming and see people waving.
“Are you serious?” The trainer looked at her as though she had just landed from outer space. “You came in first, by five lengths. You made history.” She jumped down and he hugged her, and she led Ginger Boy off the track toward the winner’s circle. Her legs were shaking and she was in a daze, as the grooms took his lead away from her, and people hugged her and lifted her off the ground. Camera crews were in her face, and then the owner was hugging her and his wife was crying. The other female jockey had come in eighth.
“You were the most beautiful sight I’ve ever seen,” the owner said to her with tears running down his cheeks. At that moment, she wished she could share it with Anthony and Jonathan and all the people she loved. She couldn’t wait to see the footage of the race. But for that one moment in time, it had been just her and Ginger Boy, and nothing else in the world mattered. She was a born jockey and she knew it. She knew she had done the right thing coming to Kentucky. She couldn’t have given this up, and was glad she hadn’t. This was her moment. She wanted Anthony to be part of it, but he wasn’t.
She gave two TV interviews and one to the BBC before she left the racetrack in the owner’s Rolls. Her legs felt like rubber and her head was pounding. She had gone to see Ginger Boy and thanked him before she left.