The Sea Horse Trade by Sasscer Hill

Author:Sasscer Hill
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: horse racing, horse, dick francis, sue grafton, agatha christie
ISBN: 9781434443939
Publisher: Wildside Press LLC
Published: 2013-04-17T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 29

On the horse path leading to the track for her morning work, La Bruja spooked at a stable goat and shifted sideways under me. The goat was tethered outside the corner stall of a barn, and in the early morning sun, its hair and horns glared white. La Bruja froze and stared hard, snorting in alarm.

“You pass that stupid goat every day,” I said. “Now move.”

I squeezed her sides with my boot heels, and she moved forward. As we stepped onto the track, her walk became looser and her long gray legs covered the ground as we moved clockwise around the mile oval toward the green-and-white starting gate.

I eased her into a jog and we rolled along the track, passed the chute, and were almost to the clubhouse turn before I stopped and turned her around.

Once La Bruja headed counterclockwise in the direction horses race, her head came up, her legs dancing beneath her. I shortened her reins.

Not yet, wait for the gate.

A blue billboard with the words “Gulfstream Park” lettered in gold stood atop the starting gate. Beneath the sign and above each stall, numbered placards marked the post positions. Each card was a different color. A black numeral eight stamped on pink marked the eight hole, a black seven on sunset orange came next, followed by a black card with a yellow numeral six. These colors were standardized throughout most of North America. Twelve stalls, twelve cards, twelve color combinations. When the horses ran, their saddle towels would match the cards.

In the distance, palm trees waved against the sky and behind them, tall condos gleamed in the morning sun and hid the ocean beyond. But I could sense its presence in the salt air and the vastness of the horizon that stretched endlessly beyond.

I guided La Bruja to the gate, and without spooking, she loaded and broke like a charm. Five or six strides out, she was in high gear, her head lowered, her neck stretched long.

I didn’t whip or drive her, preferring to see what she could do on her own. When we hit the wire, I was out of breath and grinning, thinking about some of the claimers I’d ridden with nicknames like Chokey Pokey and Potted Plant. I could get used to riding horses like Diablo and La Bruja. Used to earning real money.

My filly’s walk remained loose and long-striding on our way back to the barn. The sun was warm on my back as I stroked her damp, gray neck. She should run well in five days.

Nearing our barn, my euphoria evaporated.

A security truck idled outside our shedrow, its yellow roof lights flashing. A uniformed guard and a tough-eyed man in a suit stood with Jim, who tapped his lip nervously with one forefinger.

As Orlando hurried to grab the reins, I booted La Bruja onto the shedrow, stopped short of the group, and kicked my feet from the stirrups.

At my unspoken question, he shook his head. “I don’ know. Is not good. They just come here.

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