Page 67 of Property of Legend

We roll in late.Oaks, Bullet, Rye, and me.Scored some grandstand tickets, so we were slummin’ in the infield.Some folks stiffen when they see our cuts, like we’re draggin’ hell with us.But for once, Hell came to cheer.

The race is already underway, hooves thundering down the track like the sky’s about to split.Sophie’s horse, leads the pack.Jet-black and mean-lookin’ muscle stretchin’ smooth under that glossy coat.Ribbons Undonea filly has a rare chance to win.

She’s the underdog, and when crosses the line first, the crowd loses their collective shit.

The place explodes.Hats fly.Rich assholes toss their mint juleps.It’s a win straight outta a Bluegrass fairytale.

And there she is, in the winner’s circle.

Sophie Montgomery, damn near glowing in her red silk dress and that ridiculous feathered hat with the matching roses.Girl knew she’d win that garland of roses.

She’s still bruised, pale in places that oughta be pink, but she’s standin’ tall.

But fuck me.Sam’s got his arm around her.

And she lets him like he deserves any of the credit.

I stand in the dust at the edge of the crowd, a nobody in black leather while she gets crowned queen of the Commonwealth.Her farm’s safe.Her name’s now golden.And I ain’t in the picture.

I turn around and walk out before they hang the roses.

Back at the clubhouse, everything’s quiet.Too quiet.Oaks and Bullet peel off to the bar.Rye mutters somethin’ about checkin’ the perimeter, but I know what he’s really doin’, givin’ me space.

Becki finds me at the bar.

She slides onto the stool beside me.

“You went,” she says softly.“I watched the race.Your girl’s filly won.She made history.Or herstory.Or Horsetory.”Becki always rambles when she’s on edge.

“Had to make sure she made it through.”

“She looked real good.”

“She always does.”

“She’s the pride of Paradise,” she says, and means it.

We sit there in silence a minute.She reaches for my hand.I let her, even though it feels like holdin’ on to a life I already burned down.

“You don’t have to be alone, you know,” she whispers.

I close my eyes.

Maybe I don’t.

But Sophie’s still in my blood like bourbon in my veins.And I ain’t sure I got the strength to bleed her out.

Chapter 40

Sophie

The Kentucky Derby doesn’t wait for wounds to heal.

It barrels forward, brass bands and bourbon, camera flashes and six-figure betting slips.You show up or you get trampled.By the horses, by the headlines, or by your own damn legacy.

I’m standing here, barely pieced back together, wearing a red silk dress and a matching feathered hat I had custom-dyed to match the roses I prayed we’d win.It’s bold, maybe arrogant, but I needed something that made me feel like I still belonged.

I’ve walked this track a thousand times, but this time it’s different.It’s not Daddy’s voice in my ear.It’s mine.And Ribbons Undone, my jet-black filly, is everything I ever wanted to believe about myself, fast, mean, overlooked.We both carry scars no one sees.

---