My father came from the dark under the stands, and I told him I’d put Rocky in the eighth, with the girl up. He reached for the program in his back pocket.

“I think she’s crazy,” Connell said.

My father left the program where it was. “The eighth,” he said. “Then we’ve got time to kill.”

Connell turned on a heel and stalked off toward the paddock.

It was like any other day at the races from there, spent checking on the horses and talking to people who’d known me since I was two. People asked about the switch and I talked about the length of the race and Rocky’s lungs. My dad didn’t ask me anything at all. By afternoon, summer thunderheads had moved in from the Smith River valley over the far side of the track. My father and I found a seat in the open stands.

“Why’d you take her out?” he asked finally.

“The race was fixed,” I said.

“That’s no reason to quit.”

“It was fixed for us,” I said. “So I didn’t see it as quitting.”

He fell silent again. The stands were almost crowded; people had come out. A man teaching his waist-high son how to bet told him this was a good race for picking a trifecta because there were only four horses to choose from. At three minutes to post, Rocky was at even money, and the man explained to his boy that even money wasn’t worth your wager. At two minutes to post the announcer said Rocky had been claimed by someone whose name I didn’t recognize, for the set price.

My father looked at me. “Claimed,” he said.

I unrolled my program to look for the owner whose name had been announced. He was from Wyoming, with a Kentucky-bred filly in the ninth. “I didn’t think anyone was buying,” I said.

My father nodded.

“End of the summer,” I said.

It started to rain, settling the dust and packing it down one drop at a time, but I couldn’t bring myself to move. My father was wearing a warm jacket. When my face was good and wet with rain, I let the tears come. We watched the odds toss Rocky in and out of the favorite position until post time, when she loaded quietly into the gate on the other side of the track. The four-horse spun and shied, and then they were off. They came by the stands in a tight pack with Rocky moving in on the rail. The little boy’s father shouted for the three.