Over the next couple of days, Jorge and Pilar work together with Prince to get the horse—and his rider—accustomed to the track on the Vargas ranch. Since official races weren’t allowed prior to the main race, they took Prince out to the track when they were allowed, and walked him around to show him the smells and sounds, and to see the other horses. The length of the track ran about half the distance of the width of the ranch, and then looped back to the start. The official race would mean galloping around it twice, without getting disqualified. Or hurt.
The riders were required to wear a unique color, to distinguish them from each other during the race, and Elizabeth had decided to make Pilar’s jacket out of shiny red material she’d found at the general store back home. She’d bought the material several months earlier, and had nearly forgotten about it until she heard about this rule. The night before they left for the Vargas ranch, she ran to the trunk in which she stored it, pulled it out, and shoved it into one of her bags, along with her sewing kit. But she hadn’t told Pilar anything about it; she wanted it to be a surprise.
Two days after arriving at the Vargas ranch, Elizabeth called to her daughter. “Pilar, can you come here please? I want to show you something.”
“I will be right there, Mama!” Pilar shouted from the edge of the pasture, where she was watching some colts play.
Once the colts were finished, Elizabeth watched her daughter turn and run toward the house. The girls stepped right through the front door in her heavy boots, and stopped suddenly, lifting her hands to her mouth.
“What is that?” she gasped. “Mama, where did you get that?” She ran to her mother and touched the shiny material with reverence as Elizabeth held it up in front of her.
“I made it, Pilar, just for you, for your race. Do you like it?” Elizabeth smiled lightly and chuckled at the look on the girl’s face.
Just then, Jorge came inside, attracted by Pilar’s voice. When he saw the jacket Elizabeth had sown, he grinned with delight. “Oh, dios mio. Esta magnifico!”
Suddenly Elizabeth remembered something else. “Oh, I forgot. I also made this from the same material for Prince to wear on his head. Do you think he will like it?” She pulled a cover for the top of Prince’s head from behind her back, having sewn it so that it would fit snugly over his ears and eyes and blog his vision of any of the other horses around him.
“Mama, he will love this. I am going to try it on him now.” Pilar started to run out the room and then suddenly stopped, turned, and ran back to Elizabeth, to give her a big hug. “Gracias, Mama. Muchas gracias!”
“De nada, mi hija.” Elizabeth caught herself as she finished, and realized she’d spoken Spanish—which she never did with her daughter, who needed to work on her English. But she forgave herself, realizing that she’d gone to the language of her heart in the moment.
A moment later, Pilar was running out the door in search of her horse.
Jorge sat down next to Elizabeth, and quietly asked, “Señora, did you tell Pilar what the top prize is?”
Elizabeth fumbled with the jacket in her lap. “No, Jorge, I have not mentioned it. I don’t want to make her more nervous than she already is. I have to admit, initially I thought the prize was important. But being here and watching her get so excited about the race, I don’t care if she comes in last. I want her to be happy and safe. That is all.”
Jorge sat quietly for a couple of seconds, then said, “Well, Señora, I don’t want to make you nervous, but…” He stopped for a moment, as if thinking about his words, then continued. “Between you and me, I think we have a chance of winning this race.” He paused, letting the words sink in. “I think we have a real chance.”
With that, he got up and walked away, letting Elizabeth do what she wanted with what he’d just said.
Elizabeth allowed a slight smile to come across her face, watching him walk away. She thought so too, but she’d never said it aloud. Hearing it from someone else—especially Jorge, who knew horse racing better than any of other hands—made her shine with a deep pride. She only hoped he was right.
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