A Thoroughbred's Dream by Myers MaryAnn

Author:Myers, MaryAnn [Myers, MaryAnn]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Sunrise Horse Farm
Published: 2012-10-18T16:00:00+00:00

Favored to Win

Bestselling Winning Odds Series

Chapter One

"Hold it, where's your pass?"

Dawn turned, barely awake, and faced an armed guard. She hesitated. It was too early in the morning for this. It was too early in the morning for anything. "My name is Dawn Fioritto, and I write for The Herald. I'm here to do a story about the racetrack."

"That's nice." The guard glanced down to her legs then back up at all five feet ten inches of her. She had eyes the color of her olive-green shirt, and thick auburn hair braided neatly in a single braid down her back, waist length. Classy looking. "You still need a pass."

She had a press pass.

"That won't do."

"No?"

"No. You need to go to the secretary's office."

Dawn sighed, hoping to be spared the bother, and made several attempts to dissuade the man. "Timing," she pointed out, "is so very crucial." She even tried that old line about holding up the presses. But in the end, it all proved a waste of time. "The secretary's office…?”

The guard eased a pipe out of his pocket and pointed over her shoulder. "If you follow that path, it'll take you to it," he said. And sure enough she found it, but unfortunately right at scratch time. Everyone there was huddled around a middle-aged cowboy, who was shaking a jar and calling out numbers.

She walked up behind them and observed for a few minutes. "What are they doing?" she asked a man next to her.

"Drawing the also-eligibles," he said, leaning back then and looking her over.

"What for?"

The man probably would have ignored her at this point, since he was waiting anxiously to see if his horse drew in, but she was too pretty to ignore. "Today's racing lineup."

Dawn nodded as if that explained everything, and watched as this process gave way to another, "Picking up mounts." As horses' names were called out, so then were the names of "available jocks."

"They don't look like jockeys," Dawn said. Most were of average height or taller, and had what looked like hefty beer bellies.

"They're not. They're agents."

"I see."

"My boy'll ride him for you," one shouted, followed by another, "Billy's open that race. We'll ride him. We know the horse." Then another, "Give Jimmy a try, you get the weight." And another, "Hey, John, what about Visquel?"

Dawn lost interest as this went on and on, and looked around the room. Spotting a woman at a desk in the corner, she thanked the man for his time, and approached her. From there, she was directed down the hall, where she obtained her pass. An hour later, she was back at the stable gate, complaining to the guard.

"They made me wait forever, and then they interrogated me. I'm surprised they didn't fingerprint me!"

The guard laughed. "Well, they would have for a permanent pass. Yes, they would."

"Wonderful," Dawn said to herself, "rule number one." Waving over her shoulder, she headed down through the barn area to the racetrack amid a flurry of activity, and learned rather quickly to not only watch where she was going, but precisely where she was stepping along the way.

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