Horse Race

As she climbed painfully to her feet, Carole saw Garvey walking calmly toward her, a small smile on his wide, ruddy face.

“What happened?” she gasped, doing her best to brush the dirt off her jeans.

Garvey stopped in front of her, his hands on his hips. “I’ll tell you what happened,” he said in a dangerously cool voice. “A little girl got herself into a situation she shouldn’t have. And she almost got hurt. There are lots of ways to get yourself hurt around here. Gives you something to think about, doesn’t it?”

If the trainer would allow her to be thrown from a horse, what else would he be willing to do to shut her up if he thought it was necessary?

“H
OW DOES IT GO
?” Stevie Lake asked. “It’s something about a horse with a funny name. George Washington? Winston Churchill?”

Her two best friends, Carole Hanson and Lisa Atwood, ignored her. They were busy watching the lush, beautiful landscape rolling past the car windows.

“Look at that,” Carole said, sounding a little breathless.

Lisa didn’t have to ask what she meant. She, too, had seen the white-fenced field of bright green grass they were passing. Several Thoroughbred mares were grazing near the fence while their foals frolicked nearby, chasing and nipping at one another playfully.

“I can’t believe we’re really in Kentucky.” Lisa sighed happily.

The driver of the car, Deborah Hale, glanced over and
took in the sight. “Those are some big babies,” she commented. Deborah was a newspaper reporter. She was married to Max Regnery, the owner of Pine Hollow Stables in Willow Creek, Virginia. Pine Hollow was where Stevie, Carole, and Lisa had met and become best friends. It was also where they had formed The Saddle Club, which had only two rules: Members had to be horse-crazy, and they had to be willing to help each other out whenever and however it was necessary.

“They
are
big,” Carole agreed, turning to get a last glimpse of the foals as the car continued past the field. “Most of them are probably at least five months old. They’ll be ready for weaning in a month or so.” It was late August, and Carole knew that future racehorses were usually born early in the year and weaned sometime around October. Of the three horse-crazy girls, she was the horse-craziest. She liked to know everything there was to know about everything having to do with horses.

“Poor babies,” Lisa said. “I always feel sorry for them when they cry for their mothers.” Weaning was when a young horse was taken away from its mother and switched from mare’s milk to more adult feed. The weanlings usually cried and complained for a few days before settling down.

By now Stevie had stopped humming and was leaning forward to look over Carole’s shoulder at another field of mares and foals. All three girls were sitting in the backseat, which had made Deborah joke that she felt like a chauffeur.
“I know what you mean, Lisa,” Stevie said. “But weaning
is
necessary.” She grinned. “All those big, strong, fancy racehorses would look awfully funny heading out for the starting gate with their mommies trotting along next to them.”

The others laughed at the image. “Well, I’m still glad that Maxi and I won’t have to go through anything like that,” Deborah joked. Maxi, short for Maxine, was her three-month-old daughter.

Lisa gave her a sympathetic look. “It must be hard leaving her behind for this trip, isn’t it?”

“It is hard,” Deborah agreed. “It’s the first time I’ve been away for more than a few hours since she was born.” She shrugged. “But Max will be home to take care of her, and my editor really wanted me to come out here to research this story. I’ve been trying so long to get more experience reporting at the track that I didn’t want to turn her down.” She sighed. “Even though I miss my daughter like crazy already.”

Carole nodded understandingly. “I know what you mean. I miss Starlight already, too.”

Her friends laughed, and Carole gave them a surprised look. Maybe most people wouldn’t think that missing her horse could be compared to missing a new baby, but to Carole it made perfect sense. After all, Starlight was a very special horse.

Suddenly a strange look crossed Stevie’s face and she sat up as straight as her seat belt would allow.

“I’ve got it!” she shouted. “Paul Revere.”

Carole and Lisa turned to stare at her, and Deborah glanced in the rearview mirror.

“What?” Lisa asked for all of them.

Stevie grinned sheepishly. “Paul Revere,” she said. “That’s the name of the horse in the song I was trying to think of.” She hummed a few bars. “It’s from the musical
Guys and Dolls
. The whole song is about betting on horses. It’s very funny.”

“I’ve seen that,” Carole said. “My dad loves the movie.”

Lisa just rolled her eyes. “That’s very interesting, Stevie,” she said dryly. “But can’t we end the sing-along for now? I, for one, am dying to hear more about the story Deborah’s going to be researching while we’re here.” They had left home very early that morning, so the three girls had spent the first part of the trip sleeping. Then, when they woke up, they spent the next part of the ride talking about the wonderful summer they had just spent riding and having fun. That, of course, had reminded them that school would be starting in just a couple of weeks, and they had spent some time discussing that. Then Stevie had started trying to come up with racing-themed songs. The upshot was that in all the hours they had been traveling, The Saddle Club had hardly had time to talk about the reason for their trip. Deborah was going to a racetrack in Kentucky called Bluegrass Park to research her latest assignment, and she had invited The Saddle Club to come along with her.

Stevie quieted down, and Deborah nodded agreeably.
“Well, you all know it’s a feature story on up-and-coming young trainers,” she began.

“Right,” Carole said. “And one of them works for Mr. McLeod, right?” David McLeod owned a racing stable not far from Willow Creek called Maskee Farms. The girls had gotten to know him and his beautiful Thoroughbreds during several previous visits. They had also taken a trip to Maryland to see one of his fastest horses, Monkeyshines, race in the famous Preakness Stakes.

“Right,” Deborah confirmed. “You’ve all met Mr. McLeod’s regular trainer, but this weekend I’m going to be interviewing his assistant trainer. His name is Garvey Cannon, and he’s only been working at Maskee for a couple of months. But he’s supposed to be awfully good. Mr. McLeod let him bring some of his most promising two-year-olds to Bluegrass while he and the head trainer are out in California.”

Carole shook her head. “I still can’t believe Thoroughbreds start racing when they’re only two,” she said. “That makes Starlight seem practically ancient, doesn’t it?” Starlight had been only four years old when Carole first got him. And she had thought
that
was young!

“I guess it’s a good thing Starlight’s not a racehorse,” Stevie joked. “Otherwise his career would probably be nearly over by now.”

“Not necessarily,” Lisa protested. “He might just be ready to start his
second
career.” The others laughed. They knew Lisa was thinking about Prancer, the horse she usually rode
at Pine Hollow. Prancer had been one of Mr. McLeod’s racehorses, but a weak bone in her foot had ended her career on the track. Now she had a new career as a lesson horse.

Carole glanced out the window as they passed another field, where a lone horse gazed out over the fence at them. “It’s too bad our friends won’t be at the racetrack this time,” she said. Then, realizing that she might sound ungrateful, she glanced at Deborah. “But this trip is going to be great anyway,” she added quickly.