Bridge of Clay

Next was something Petey said, more ember than cigarette:

“He ready for the Queen, you think?” and McAndrew grimaced and left.

The last note, though, belonged to Carey.

She’d somehow put a dollar on, and given the winnings to Clay—well spent on the way back home:

Two dollars and change put together.

Hot chips and a mound of salt.

* * *

—

As it turned out, it would be Matador’s last year of racing, and he won everything he ran in, except the ones that counted.

The Group Ones.

In each Group One he was up against one of the greatest horses of this or any era, and she was big and dark and stately, and all of the country loved her. They called her every everything, and compared her to the lot of them:

Kingston Town to Lonhro.

Black Caviar to Phar Lap.

Her stable name was Jackie.

At the track she was Queen of Hearts.

* * *

—

Sure, Matador was an exceptional horse, but he was likened to another one: a powerhouse bay called Hay List, who lost all the time to Black Caviar.

For Ennis McAndrew and the owner, they had no choice but to run him. There were only so many Group Ones at the right distance, and Queen of Hearts would always be in them. She, too, was unbeaten, and unbeatable. She’d conquer other horses by six or seven lengths—two if she was eased to the line. Matador she would beat by a single length, or once, by half a head.

Her colors were like a card game:

White with red and black hearts.

Up close, she made Matador look boy-like, or at best, an ungainly young adult; she was the darkest brown you could imagine, you could be fooled she was actually black.

On TV there were close-ups in the barriers.

She towered over other horses.

She was ever-alert and wakeful.

Then the jump, and she was gone.

* * *

—

The second time they raced that autumn, in the T. J. Smith, it looked like he might have had her. The jockey let him out well before the turn, and the lead looked insurmountable. But Queen of Hearts had eaten him up. In five or six gigantic strides, she hit the front and kept it.

Back at the stables, a giant crowd surrounded slot fourteen.