They Said I Did Not Belong, So I Won Anyway novel · Chapter 1 of 5
Chapter 1: The Win They Never Meant to Give Me
Victor gives Mara the injured rider's mount in front of the Blackthorn staff, she wins the emergency race, and then overhears Celeste arranging for the next injured horse to be blamed on her.
Victor Blackthorne thrust the reins into my hand in front of the whole stable yard.
The gelding tossed his head, foam drying white along his bit. His regular rider had gone down before breakfast, and Victor had already given the mount to a man with half my record.
"You ride him," Victor said.
The man beside the trailer still held the saddle cloth with his name stitched across it. He looked at me, then at Victor.
"She isn't on the card."
"She is now."
Victor did not look at me when he said it. He looked at the clock above the office door.
I had my bag packed at my feet. My license papers were folded inside the front pocket, along with Dani's tuition notice and the check I had not yet earned.
Six weeks.
That was how long my sister had before the veterinary college closed her account.
"The horse doesn't know your name," Victor said. "Get on."
He had called me too small to carry Blackthorn colors less than an hour earlier.
Rory Keane stood behind him with a clipboard pressed to his chest. He had personally vouched for my application in writing, telling Victor I had the cleanest safety record of any rider he had reviewed in a decade.
Now Rory kept his eyes on the dirt.
"Mara," Julian said.
He stood near the wash rack in a charcoal suit, one hand resting on the silver watch at his wrist. His dark hair was slicked back, and his expression gave nothing away.
"You don't have to take this," he said.
It was a kind sentence. That made it worse.
The gelding stamped once. His left ear turned toward the track, then back toward the men around him.
He was scared of the trailer noise. He was not lame.
"I can ride him," I said.
Victor's thin mouth moved.
"Good. You can still hear."
One of the stable hands reached for my bag. He lifted it by the strap and set it beside the tack room door, away from the loading lane.
Nobody asked if I wanted it there.
The clerk at the entry table crossed out the other rider's name. She wrote mine beneath it in blue ink, then charged me the emergency entry fee before handing me the number cloth.
The fee was two hundred dollars.
My riding purse for the race was six hundred.
I counted the figures once and tucked the receipt into my pocket.
"You have five minutes," Victor said.
Celeste appeared from behind the office with a paper cup in one hand. Her camel dress was clean despite the mud around the trailers, and a small gold chain rested against her collarbone.
She smiled at me.
"You've done so well for yourself, Mara. It's a shame you had to be pushed into this."
"I wasn't pushed."
"Of course not."
She held out the cup.
"Coffee. You looked cold."
I took it because my fingers had started to stiffen around the reins.
The cup was empty.
Celeste's smile stayed in place.
Julian glanced at the cup, then at her.
"That was careless," he said.
"I assumed she had already had some."
The man who had been given my mount earlier snorted near the trailer. His name was printed on the saddle cloth in white thread.
"If she falls, Victor, don't put it on my record."
Victor handed me the number cloth.
"If she falls, it goes on hers."
The race secretary called for riders at the gate.
I tied my bag shut. The zipper had broken two teeth ago, and one of the grooms had fixed it with baling twine.
Pete had taught me that trick when I was sixteen.
He had also taught me how to sit a horse that wanted to throw me.
The gelding tried once before we reached the paddock. I kept my hands low, gave him room, and waited until he found the ground again.
Julian watched from the rail.
"His right rein is stiff," I said.
"The horse is sound. The question is whether you are."
"Ask the horse."
His gaze held mine for a moment longer than it needed to.
Then Victor called his name, and Julian turned away.
The paddock announcer read the field. My name came last, pronounced wrong by one syllable.
A man near the rail laughed.
"Blackthorn's using a barn girl now?"
The race secretary checked my license twice before letting me through the gate.
She did not check the men ahead of me.
My boots were too wide for the irons. The saddle had been set for the other rider, who was taller and heavier through the thigh.
I shortened the stirrups by one hole while the horse walked past the grandstand.
A photographer lifted his camera toward me, then lowered it when he saw Victor's colors.
They wanted the injured rider's story.
They would take mine if I gave them one.
At the start, the gelding threw his head again. The horses beside us crowded the rail, and his shoulder struck the gate.
The starter raised a hand.
"Hold her back. She doesn't belong in this field."
I looked at the horse's left eye. The white showed at the corner.
He needed space.
I moved him half a step from the rail before the gates opened.
The field broke hard. Two horses crossed in front of us, and the rider on the outside yelled that I had caused it.
I stayed down over the gelding's neck.
The first turn came fast. The horse found his stride on the outside, where there was clean dirt and no elbows.
I let him run.
The grandstand noise rose behind us. Victor's horse was six lengths back, and the favorites were fighting each other along the rail.
The gelding's ears came forward.
He had stopped looking for the gate.
I gave him the reins.
He answered.
At the final turn, the favorite broke inward and clipped the heels of the horse ahead. Three riders went wide. The opening came between them and the rail.
I took it.
The gelding drove through the gap, dirt striking my cheek and teeth. My left boot slipped, and I caught the saddle cloth with one hand.
For half a second, the horse ran without my weight centered over him.
Then I found the iron and lowered my body again.
The finish post came up.
I crossed first.
The announcer said my name correctly this time.
The crowd did not cheer at once. They waited for the board to confirm it.
The numbers lit above the track.
Blackthorn's colors stood at the top.
A photographer climbed over the rail and shoved a microphone toward my face.
"Mara Quinn, were you surprised to win?"
"No."
He blinked.
"You weren't?"
"The horse ran well."
That was all he got.
Victor met me beside the winner's circle. He removed the number cloth himself, then handed it to a groom without looking at me.
"Don't confuse one ride with a career."
"I won't."
The racing official offered me a black ribbon for the winner's photograph. She had refused to pin one on me before the race because my name had been added too late.
Celeste reached me before Julian did.
She touched my elbow for the cameras.
"I'm so happy for you," she said.
Her fingers pressed hard enough to leave marks through my jacket.
"You must be exhausted."
"I am."
"Then try to look grateful."
I faced the camera.
Celeste's hand stayed on my arm.
The photographer caught her smiling beside me. He caught me holding the empty coffee cup too.
A stable boy took it from my hand and asked whether I needed to return it to the hospitality tent.
"It isn't mine," I said.
Celeste laughed for him.
"Mara has always been very literal."
Julian came from the rail. Mud marked the knee of his trousers, and he had a cut across one knuckle.
He looked at my face first, then at Celeste's hand on my arm.
"The horse should be cooled down," he said.
"Rory is handling it," Celeste replied.
"I wasn't speaking to you."
Her smile did not move.
Rory led the gelding toward the wash stalls. A groom called after him that the horse needed ice on the near hind leg.
Rory kept walking.
I followed with Julian beside me.
The stable corridor smelled of wet leather, linseed oil, and horses warming themselves after work. My cheek stung where the dirt had cut it.
Julian took a clean towel from a hook and held it out.
"You are bleeding."
"It'll stop."
"That wasn't the point."
I took the towel.
He walked on without waiting for thanks.
The corridor narrowed near the medicine cabinet. Its metal door was locked, and a red access tag hung from the latch.
Celeste stopped beside it.
Her phone rang once.
She glanced at the screen and stepped behind the partition wall. Julian kept moving toward the wash stalls.
I stopped where the corridor bent.
Celeste's voice carried through the gap.
"No. Use the left foreleg. The old strain will make it believable."
I held the towel against my cheek.
The person on the other end said something too low for me to hear.
Celeste gave a small laugh.
"The new girl has already made herself useful. Everyone saw her take the emergency mount."
The medicine cabinet remained locked beside her.
She leaned close to it while she listened, her fingers resting against the red access tag.
"Don't touch the favorite. Victor will notice. Choose one of the lower horses. Make the injury look careless."
The stable corridor seemed to shrink around the sound of her voice.
I could hear water running at the wash stalls. Julian said something to Rory, but the words blurred under Celeste's next sentence.
"By morning, they'll ask why Mara was the last rider near him."
My hand tightened around the towel.
I thought of the entry fee. Dani's tuition notice. The bag waiting by the tack room door.
I thought of Celeste's empty coffee cup and the way she had pressed her fingers into my arm for the photograph.
Every kindness had been placed where it could be used against me.
Celeste lowered her voice.
"I don't care whether she stays after that. If Victor wants her gone, he can call it procedure."
The call ended.
She remained beside the locked cabinet, phone in hand, while I stepped back from the partition.
Julian appeared at the far end of the corridor.
"Mara."
I turned toward him.
He looked at the towel, then at my face.
"You should let the medic clean that cut."
"It's small."
"You say that about everything."
"It saves time."
His mouth almost changed. He looked away before it did.
"Victor wants you at supper tonight."
"Why?"
"He wants the race discussed."
"That sounds painful for everyone."
Julian looked back at me.
"You are tired."
"Yeah."
"You don't have to stay for the season."
The offer sat between us. He meant it as protection, or thought he did.
I had spent fourteen years in the saddle getting offered exits by men who had never opened a gate for me.
"I know," I said.
Celeste stepped out from behind the partition.
"There you are," she said. "I was beginning to worry."
She moved to Julian's side and slipped her hand through his arm.
"Mara has had a difficult day. We should let her rest before she embarrasses herself by trying to prove something again."
Julian's arm stayed at his side.
Celeste's hand remained linked through it.
"She won," he said.
"A fortunate accident can still be celebrated."
I looked at the red tag beside the cabinet.
Its number was printed beneath the seal. I read it once and kept it.
Celeste noticed where I was looking.
Her smile sharpened by a fraction.
"You should be careful around restricted areas," she said. "People here are protective of the horses."
"So am I."
"How reassuring."
Julian studied me.
He expected gratitude. Maybe suspicion. Something he could answer.
I gave him neither.
"I'll be at supper," I said.
Celeste tilted her head.
"How admirable."
She turned toward the office, still holding Julian's arm.
I walked the other way, past the locked cabinet and the row of occupied stalls.
Behind me, Celeste made another call.
Her voice followed me through the corridor.
"The next horse will be hurt before dawn."
Want to keep talking to characters like these? Chat with AI romance characters: AI Boyfriend · AI Girlfriend · Dark Romance · Fantasy Romance · BL (Boys’ Love) · Billionaire Boyfriend · Mafia Boyfriend · Possessive Boyfriend · Hockey Boyfriend · Older Boyfriend · K-Drama Boyfriend · Anime Boyfriend · Vampire Boyfriend · Werewolf Boyfriend · Demon Boyfriend · Fae Romance · GL (Girls’ Love) · Anime Girlfriend · Goth & Alt Girlfriend · Gamer Girlfriend · Tsundere Girlfriend · Fantasy Girlfriend