In the Brief Eternal Silence Read Free Page A

the horse
hurled out into the middle of the track.
    Lizzie controlled her, kept her steady as her
feet slid around in the mud with her great effort to find her
stride. Then she had it and her legs were extending and sailing
about the track, and Lizzie half laughed with the wind stinging her
eyes and the mud flying into her face. Her father and the other
three men were forgotten. She only saw the faded grey of the rail
as it flashed by, the overgrown infield of the track. Leaf was
pulling hard at the reins and Lizzie's arms ached from the effort
of holding her to a less reckless pace. The filly's feet hit the
slop with more and more confidence and Lizzie relented and allowed
more rein.
    They swept around the first turn and in to
the back stretch. The last quarter was coming up and Lizzie settled
down tighter in the saddle. Now her concentration was total as she
gauged every flying step of the filly. She was holding in the mud
well now, but would she in the final turn? But the final quarter,
which included part of the final turn, was where the man, St. James
had allowed she could extend her. It was banked, Lizzie reminded
herself, but it hadn't been graded for years. Still, she knew this
track well, had spent innumerable hours out here with her father,
and the filly knew it well also. There should be no problem.
    She loosened the reins more, concentrating,
wanting the filly up to her utmost speed as she entered the last
quarter. They were half through the turn and the filly was still
going easily through the heavy slop. Lizzie felt a burst of pride
at how well her horse was doing. “Easy now, I'm going to let you
out a little more.” The track showed pristine in front of them, the
mud unchurned and untouched. There was a puddle in their line but
Lizzie could not think it was any more than surface water and
should not be any deeper than the surrounding mud.
    Leaf came up on the puddle, fully extended,
running with grace and power. Her sudden spook to the side caught
Lizzie unawares.
    In mid-stride the horse attempted a sudden
shy away from the water. The jump was awkward and bone-jarring and
when her feet landed, they no longer were placed surely but
skittered out from beneath her. Lizzie had kept the filly hugging
the rail to make the best time and with a piercing shriek of panic,
the horse slid into the fence.
    The old boards splintered and broke. Lizzie
flew from her mount and landed in the infield. Leaf went down into
the midst of the broken fence and wallowed in an agony of
confusion, her legs scrabbling as she tried to roll to her feet but
was hemmed in on all sides with broken boards.
    Lizzie was jarred hard in her landing. Her
cap was half knocked from her head and the straps that were meant
to hold it in place dug into the flesh beneath her chin. She rolled
to her back, the mud seeping through her jacket and breeches to
freeze her skin, and swiped at her eyes in an attempt to clear them
of the mud that was ruining her vision.
    She made an effort to get to her feet but her
body refused to do more than allow her to sit up and that with a
great deal of regret. Lizzie gathered herself, tried again and
wasn't sure if all the pain she was feeling were coming from
injuries or simply from the freezing mud that enveloped her.
    “Lizzie! Are you all right?”
    It was her father, running as quickly toward
her as his stout figure would manage. With him, in front of him,
was the man, St. James, and between he and her father were the two
Tempton brothers, the younger one, Ryan, and then Bertie.
    “Leaf,” Lizzie called. “Get her before she
does anything further to herself.” And she was amazed to hear her
voice so close to tears. She wasn't crying, was she? But with all
the mud in her eyes, she couldn't tell.
    “Ryan, get the bloody horse,” St. James said.
“You,” he said as he came to her. “Stay still. I'm sure the horse
will be all right and you needn't risk your neck trying to get to
her when there are others that