Raja, Story of a Racehorse (31 page)

Let's see what you've got, Inky. I'm with you.

By now we were galloping fast. There was no room for error. The jumps had to be right or someone was going down. Wyatt shifted his weight slightly to rebalance me. I locked on to the fence, saw a perfect distance six strides away, and opened my stride to meet it. Cove Warrior, next to me, struggled to stay with me. He met the fence wrong and put in a short, awkward stride before the fence, hitting his legs and pecking on landing and pitching his jockey clear of the oncoming horses. Riderless, he ran up next to me as we headed to the final two fences.

As we approached the next fence, I noticed an outrider out of the corner of my eye, heading toward Cove Warrior and pushing him back into the race.

There's no room. You're going to push him into me.

Inquisitor went faster. I stayed with him, all energy focused on the fence.

Bring it on, Inky. I've got plenty left!

One stride before I took off, Cove Warrior crossed in front of me.

BAM!

He bumped into me, knocking me sideways.

Oww!

Wyatt flew over my head and into the fence as the others jumped around him and headed toward the finish.

Darn! I could have won. I was certain that I could have outrun Inquisitor in a stretch duel. Darn Cove Warrior and darn that outrider.

I saw the lights of the ambulance weaving through the crowd and onto the course. An outrider on a big grey caught me and led me to Dee, who had my halter buckled across her chest and was out of breath from running.

“Good boy, Raja, you were amazing! You could have won that race.”

What about Wyatt? Is he OK?

As Paddy grazed me in the van area after the race, his cell phone rang. “How's he doing? Broken collarbone? Oh, no, that's unfortunate, but I'm glad it's not worse. He should be back riding before the end of the spring season. Great, thanks for the update, Trish. I'm sure he's glad you're at the hospital with him. Rick's on his way there now. He said he'd bring the two of you home. See you later. Love you. Bye.”

Legs poulticed and bandages on, we were about to load up and head home when the jockey who had ridden the winner of an earlier race swaggered up to Paddy.

“Tough luck. Your horse jumped well, I thought he had the win. If you're looking for a rider for the Maryland Hunt Cup, give me a call. My ride won't be going. Stupid trainer got him hurt.” He smiled at Dee. “Hello, darlin' what's your name?”

Dee turned red and stammered, “D-D-D-Dee.”

“We hadn't thought of going, but I'll give you a call if we do. Can you come up and school next week if we decide to go?” asked Paddy.

“Sure thing. You should send this horse. He has ‘Hunt Cup Horse' written all over him. Here's my number, Ben Kidd, great to meet you.”

April, Chester County, Pennsylvania

“He looked good out there today; jumped like a stag. I think Ben might be right. I think he could do the Hunt Cup. He seemed to like the bigger fences. What do you think, Tricia?”

“I agree,” Tricia admitted, “but I wish Wyatt could ride him. They get on so well. I'm not so sure about Ben.”

“He did a nice job on that winner today and he's been around the Hunt Cup course. Besides, Dee thinks he's cute, don't you, Dee?” Paddy teased.

“Oh, those jump jockeys are all charming when they want something, isn't that right, Paddy?” Tricia smiled, giving Paddy a playful shove.

“Let's get these horses turned out and go and have some supper. It's been a long day. I think it's a frozen pizza night. Sorry.”

“Where could he be?” complained Paddy. “He's over an hour late.”

It was four days before the Maryland Hunt Cup. I stayed in the barn while we waited…and waited. After another 30 minutes, a red sports car came roaring up the driveway and skidded to a stop, spraying gravel into the lawn. Ben sat for a moment in the car to finish a cell phone conversation. Paddy and Dee came out to greet him and waited some more. As he opened the car door, his Doberman Pinscher jumped out and started growling threateningly at Mac and Angus.

“Hiya, darlin'.” Ben flashed a smile at Dee and kissed her hello on the cheek. She turned red. Then he turned to Paddy. “I'm ready. Is he tacked up?”

Paddy just glared at him and handed him my saddle and bridle. Paddy rode Robbie and Dee came out on Snickers to watch.

“Gallop him once up the hill and then we'll jump,” Paddy instructed.

I hadn't galloped since the race and I was feeling sharp. At the bottom of the hill, I let out a big, happy buck.

I'm back! Ready to go, go, go!

Ben smacked me with his whip and snatched me in the mouth with the reins. “Stop it, you pig,” he cursed.

Whoa! What's THAT about?

I didn't know what to make of it. As he pointed me up the hill, I took off, ready to show off my speed.

I'm feeling GOOD.

“Hey, slow down, we're not working,” he yelled, as he stood up in his stirrups and pulled against me. I just pulled more; I wanted to run.

This guy is annoying.

I ignored his pathetic pulling and went faster up the hill. Three buzzards sat on the fence at the top watching us. As we approached, one of them took off suddenly. I saw him, but spooked anyway, jumping first right, dislodging Ben, and then, for the fun of it, dropped my shoulder and ducked left, depositing him on the ground.

Ha! That should teach you!

Then I galloped across the field to Paddy and Dee and Robbie and Snickers.

“I don't think this is going to work,” Paddy hissed through clenched teeth when we all met up at the barn. It looked to me like he was going to hit Ben. “This horse will not be going to the Maryland Hunt Cup.”

Not going!

I couldn't eat my feed that night and didn't want to leave my stall.

It's true! I know it now. I'm destined for great despair, not great glory. It isn't fair!

I tried to sleep, but all night long I thought of all of the failures in my life: not running fast enough to save my mother; losing the Fountain of Youth Stakes; injuring myself at the Hampton Classic because of stupid lightning; hurting Yuri; hurting Mr. Smith; ruining things; being scared of a silly starting gate; allowing a loose horse to hit me in a race, and getting Wyatt hurt.

I'm never going to get a chance like this to prove myself. I'm old and a failure. It's probably a good thing I'm not going, I'd just get someone hurt.

 

The following morning as streaks of red reached across the sky and we banged and nickered for our breakfast, the purr of an approaching car engine grew louder, then stopped. A car door slammed, then footsteps crunched on the gravel.

Strange — no one usually visits this early in the morning.

I popped my head over the stall door, curious. It was Rick Dunlop.

“Good morning, Rick, what brings you out here so early? Is everything all right? No tooth problems for any of your runners, I hope?” Paddy asked, concerned, holding three small red, blue and green buckets filled with grain.

“No, no, nothing like that,” Rick smiled, “I've been up all night thinking. I wanted to catch you before you left for the day. I have something to say that can't wait.”

“Hang on a sec.” Paddy dumped the grain in each of our feed buckets and placed the small plastic buckets back in the big built-in wooden feed bin in the corner.

“Sorry,” Paddy smiled, “we'd have had a riot. I'm listening.”

Rick cleared his throat, ran his fingers through his shock of grey hair and drew in a large breath before beginning to speak.

“I think Dee should ride Raja in the hunt cup and I'm willing to vouch for her to get her jockey's license. I already spoke to the hunt cup committee and to the National Steeplechase Association. Paddy, you know he's a good horse and she rides him well. She's green, but she's a natural to a big fence, just like her uncle,” he winked. “She's capable and fearless, but not reckless, and she and Raja have a special bond. I know it's unusual to ride in the Hunt Cup as your first sanctioned race, but plenty of others have done it. Chris Gracie got the ride the week before, just after his 16th birthday, and he won on Swayo. Paddy Neilson won the Maryland Grand National at sixteen. Gene Weymouth, Jonathan Kiser, Henry Cochran and Mikey Smithwick all rode in the Hunt Cup at 16. You know as well as I that Hunt Cup horses don't come around often.”

He stopped to cough. “I don't know why I am saying all this. I just believe that everyone deserves the chance to shoot for the stars, especially if that chance is staring you in the face.”

Paddy looked at him thoughtfully. “Thank you, Rick. I'll have to admit that the idea crossed my mind, too. Of course, I'll have to discuss it with Dee and her father and get back to you and the committee. Oh my, I think we're all getting a touch of ‘Hunt Cup Fever.'”

Rick smiled. “It happens to the best of us this week.”

Really? Dee ride me? What a great idea! I think I have Hunt Cup Fever, too!

“Oh my god! A sling! Does it hurt?”

Two days before the race, Wyatt came over as Dee was finishing chores. “I'm fine. I'll be back riding in a couple weeks. It's the third time I've done my collarbone and it wasn't that bad. It's a common break for jump jockeys. Want to see the x-rays? I have them on my cell phone.”

Dee shook her head no, shocked. “That's gross.”

He grinned at her teasingly. “The question should be…how are you feeling?”

“I feel like I'm going to throw up! I can't do this; I must be insane.”

“Don't worry, you'll be fine. Paddy told me that you were going down to walk the course tomorrow. Try to walk it at least three times and once by yourself so that you can visualize your race.

He pulled out a map, motioning Dee closer.

“Seven horses are entered: Raja, Inquisitor, Silver Squire, Abracadabra, Admiralty Bay, TaserferTater, and Cove Warrior. Obviously, Inky is the horse to beat. I think Abracadabra will be tough as well. She's a good jumper. So is Silver Squire. Try to follow either one of them. Stay away from Cove Warrior; he's unpredictable.” He smiled, pointing at his sling.