“That’s it, boy,” she urged, “go! Show them all what a true runner you are!”
With another jolt of speed, Valiant managed to stay ahead of the others for a second lap. Briefly, Marjorie worried about the possibility of him winning. Should she pull back? Would appearing out of nowhere and winning the race call too much attention to her? What if an angry gambler followed her from the track and sought revenge on both her and her horse? There was no time to consider the correct choice. The finish line came into view while she still struggled with whether or not it would be wise to win, and to do so in such an obvious way.
She eased back only slightly and was relieved when another horse and rider appeared from the corner of her eye. Valiant might still best the other horse, but it wouldn’t be such a display as to draw attention. She flicked the reins once again and Valiant surged forward, winning by a fair margin but not by a ludicrous amount.
“That’s my good boy,” Marjorie whispered, leaning down to speak softly to her horse. She rubbed his neck soothingly and gave him several pats as she steered him away from the track. Intent on avoiding any disgruntled riders or spectators, she rode Valiant all the way back around to the stable, making sure to keep herself in plain sight.
“We haven’t ridden that way in so long, I’m pleased we both remembered how!” she said to Valiant, but then felt the familiar twinge of sadness. The memory of the very first time she’d raced so hard never went away, relentlessly marring any of the joy she felt when she and Valiant flew across the ground as though floating above it.
“Whoa there, lad! Jonathan, was it?” the registrar called out, intruding on her thoughts and causing her to freeze. She dismounted quickly so the approaching man wouldn’t be looking up at her face. Instinctively, she felt for her cap and made sure it was still secure while she wondered what offense she might have committed now.
“Where are ya off to?” he demanded, his hands on his hips.
“My race… it’s over,” she stammered, confused.
“Aye, and you did’na wish to take yer purse with ya?” he said, laughing somewhat in disbelief. He shook a small bag of coins in one hand, then held it out to her. She took the bag, surprised by the weight of it. “Yer also eligible now for the final race, each race’s winner competes at the end for the entire purse.”
“Um, does he have to? To race again, I mean. Or can we just… take our leave?”
The man scoffed. “I suppose there’s no rule against it, we only need drop yer horse’s name from the bets, but what would be the point? The whole purpose of the undercard is to get to be in the final race. It’s all any rider hopes for! And after that performance there, I’m assured there’s plenty of spectators who plan to bet on yer horse here.”
She considered it for a moment. “When is the last race? Are there many more ahead of it?”
“I say, ya truly do’na know how the races work? Naw, only five more before the last. There be seven races per day to decide who is in the final, the winner of each ahead of it. But make yer choice, betting on the final race opens after the last of the seven races, then closes one minute before the start.”
He sauntered off, leaving Marjorie to recover from all that had happened. From the decision to escape the house to the final win, it had all been one new experience after another. She looked around at some of the glaring faces, shrinking slightly when some of the men angrily tore their betting tickets and flung them to the ground, and decided this may have been more than enough excitement… for now.
She looked down at the bag he’d dropped into her palm, then peeked inside. It was certainly no fortune, but it was also nothing to turn up one’s nose at. A quick glance showed her it was certainly a worthwhile sum.
“And to think, Valiant,” she whispered to him with a smile, “you’ve earned more money in two minutes than I’ve produced in my entire life!”
With a disappointed heart, Marjorie sent word to the registrar that Valiant would not be in the final race, ignoring the surprised look on the stable hand’s face. If she was gone from home too long, surely someone would notice her absence. She’d called plenty of attention to herself for one day, so there were only two outcomes should Valiant race again: either he would be injured while running against a crowd of proven winners, or he would win again and Marjorie had to answer for it to curious onlookers.
It was best to relish the freedom she’d so dearly sought and take her leave now, at least before any harm could come to either of them.
She did not notice the man watching her leave, nor notice the somewhat finer cut of his clothes or the worth of the fabric. She kept her head down as she led her victor away, yet the man could sense something was out of the ordinary.
* * *
“Donohue, who is that rider there?” the man asked, pointing with his walking stick to where Valiant was strolling.
“Hmmm, I know not, My Lord. I can inquire, if you wish,” he replied, watching Marjorie with interest as well.
“No, it’s all right. We’ll see him again, most likely. No one who can ride such as that on their first race gives up so easily. He’ll be back, I’ll have a word with him then.”
“Is something the matter, My Lord?” Donohue asked with a concerned frown.
“Oh, not at all. But it never hurts to know the name of a capable rider who could win for us should the need arise. Talent such as that shouldn’t be wasted, but most certainly shouldn’t be riding for our competition!” the Earl said with a cheerful laugh.
“Too true!” Donohue agreed, then he turned and strolled back to watch the rest of the races.
Evan, for his part, stared after the rider, a thought forming in his mind.He looks so similar to the young lady I met in the wood! That must be the brother she spoke of!
“You there! Sir!” Evan called out as he came closer to the rider. He frowned when the rider glanced over his shoulder, looked at Evan, then began to walk faster.
“I say, I’d like a word with you!” Evan called. Several people between Evan and the rider looked up in confusion, so Evan softened his tone lest they think the worst.
Ahead of him, the rider took one more glance back and seemed to shrink in fear. Evan watched in awe as the young man began to trot alongside his horse then somehow leapt into the saddle without slowing the animal in the least.
