Raja, Story of a Racehorse (27 page)

December, Chester County, Pennsylvania

Dee flew into my stall one dark, frost-rimmed afternoon, throwing her arms around me.

“Raja, I missed you so much. I can't wait to live here and ride you every day!” She fed me a handful of peppermints. “I bought a big bag of them for you, my beautiful.”

A big bag of peppermints? Things are looking up.

Everyone busied themselves getting ready for the Murphy's annual Christmas party. The barn smelled of pine from a huge wreath the Murphy boys spent two hours hoisting up the side of the barn through a small window in the hayloft and the apple tree by the barn twinkled with white sparkles of light. As the cars started to roll in the driveway the afternoon of the party, a car drew to a stop by the barn while Dee was feeding.

“Merry Christmas, Dee. Welcome back. I saw that the light was on, so though I'd stop in. I always think that a barn is the best place to be during a party.”

“Thanks, Mr. Dunlop. I'm happy to be back. Merry Christmas to you.”

“How's Raja? He's a very good horse. I looked up his race record. He won a very tough Grade One stakes race impressively, beating a horse that won the Belmont Stakes. I'm guessing he could have been a serious Triple Crown contender if he hadn't had that starting-gate accident.”

You bet I would have!

“Have you thought about racing him? I think he'd be tough to beat over timber. There's a Ladies' race at the hunt point-to-point the end of March. You should consider it. You need to be 16 and the race committee has to approve your entry.”

“I'll be 16 on March 15th!”

“Give it a thought before you talk to your uncle about it. I can help you train if he doesn't kill me for encouraging you. I'd better get down to the party and butter him up.”

“Absolutely not. It's too dangerous. How would I answer to your father if you got hurt? Everyone does, you know. It is a matter of when, not if, in jump racing, I know that first hand. The matter is closed. You can event, or even do the jumpers if you want, but I will not allow you to ride races.” Paddy climbed up the ladder next to my stall and threw down three hay bales from the hayloft with a little more force than usual.

“But Rick said…

“End of story. I won't talk about it anymore.”

“I think Sam is sweet on you,” teased Tricia.

Dee's face turned red. “He's just a friend.”

Tricia smiled slyly. “Uh-huh, yep, he's a friend all right, poor guy.”

Sam appeared every day after the party to ride with Dee. “You're so lucky your birthday is in March. I don't turn 16 until November. I won't be able to ride anything other than the junior races until next year.”

All Sam talked about was the horses that would be running over timber in the spring. His favorite topic was who would run in the Maryland Hunt Cup.

“Uncle Paddy isn't going to let me race. He says it's too dangerous — but he rode when he was my age. You're so lucky that Rick is your uncle! It's too bad Holzmann isn't younger. He'd have been a great timber horse.”

I'm with Sam on this one. I want to race over jumps!

I need a goal. Badly.

January, Chester County, Pennsylvania

 

“New Year's Day,” announced Paddy, “…time to get going if we're going to win that point-to-point.”

“Uncle Paddy! I thought you weren't going to let me ride races.”

“I might change my mind again, but you're catching me on a good day. After all, I started when I was your age. It was all because someone gave me a chance. I dreamt of your mother last night and thought it must be a sign. I'll bet you didn't know that when she was your age, your mother rode all the rogues no one else dared to. I realized then that it's in your blood, so why fight it?”

He stopped to look at her, a serious expression taking over his face.

“Raja's a good jumper and if you can hold him when he's fit, you should be all right. But you need to take it seriously. Steeplechasing isn't a game; it's a very dangerous sport. I'm willing to help you, but you need to commit to train hard. The two of you must be properly prepared.”

He held her gaze, looking serious and intense.

“I want you to gallop as many horses as you can. You need to get experience, get galloping-fit and learn ‘feel.' And you'll need to train Raja. This week you'll start a fitness program to build your strength and your wind — weights, squats, lunges, wall sits, running — 20 miles a week, minimum. The boys can help you; they're getting ready for lacrosse, so you can train with them. There'll be no time for a social life. I expect you to keep your grades up or we'll stop.”

Wow, he's intense. Now I see why he won so much.

His steely eyes flashed as he looked firmly at Dee, wanting to make sure that every word was understood. “For Raja's first start, an experienced jockey will ride him. Then we'll make the decision about whether you go to the race. It's never a good idea to have a green rider and first-time starter together.”

“It's a deal,” replied Dee with a big smile on her face. “I'll call Rick this morning.”

Every morning after that, no matter the weather, the headlights of the car swung out of the driveway while it was still dark, following Dee as she ran or rode her bike up the big hill on the dirt road behind the farm. After school, we trained, often when the daylight was beginning to fade. We spent hours jogging up the big hay field hill in the grey-and-orange winter dusk and when the ground froze, we jogged up the dirt road, sometimes in the dark, with Paddy following us again in the car with his headlights.

I was so happy to be training again that I didn't care about the cold.

“Uncle Paddy, how did you get into riding races?”

Paddy blew on his hands to warm them as he sat on a hay bale, picked up a clean bandage out of the laundry basket and started rolling it, pressing it straight along his thigh. “I was your age when I started. I left school at 15 to be an apprentice at a big racing yard in Ireland. I rode one very good horse, Black Adder. It was sheer luck, really, but we got on famously and won a lot of races. People started calling me and I was very lucky again to get on some good horses and win more races. It's a tough business, you know, especially in Ireland. Plenty of jockeys are breathing down your neck, ready to replace you. Success comes from luck and perseverance and ability. In that order. Perseverance, especially. Keeping trying and always hoping.”

He stood up, dramatically, gesturing with his hands. “Winston Churchill was right: ‘Nevah give in. Nevah, nevah, nevah.'”

At the end of January the days were so cold it felt as if they would crack and shatter. The ground was frozen — locked up and rutted — and Dee and I could only jog up the dirt road hill with a biting wind in our faces, burning our lungs with every breath.

“Thanks for the ski pants and ski mask from the boys. I think I have six layers on! I don't know what we would do without the dirt road hill. What do other people do?”

Paddy paused, thinking. “Most trainers go to the training track if the ground freezes. I was thinking that we should. I'll call one of my clients there and see if we can come and have a gallop.”

February, Fair Hill, Maryland

Steamy-breathed horses wearing colorful quarter sheets jogged next to the outside rail of the big dirt track, surrounded by open fields and long wooden barns. Others galloped in the middle of the track and one horse breezed next to the inside rail.

A track!

I couldn't stop jigging and letting out excited bucks.

I'm ready to go, go, go!

“Jog once around next to the outside rail clockwise, then turn and gallop SLOWLY once around and pull up at the wire. Stay in the middle of the track. Remember, he hasn't been galloping, so we don't want to do too much too soon. That's a sure way to break down a horse,” Paddy instructed.

Ta-da-da-dum, ta-da-da-dum, ta-da-da-dum.

It feels so good to gallop! I'm so happy to be galloping again. What a great day!