They headed toward the stable lounge, a comfortable room with a large window looking out to the indoor arena. Turning a corner, there was the familiar scurry of paws from the DeWitts’ Jack Russells. From the way they raced around Sarah, it was obvious Taco and Spin wanted to play. She bent down to pat them. The DeWitts followed closely behind their terriers.
Mrs. DeWitt spoke in her usual cheery voice. “Our two boys are very glad you’re here, Sarah. They lobbied hard to come to the barn tonight in hopes they might see you.”
“They’re the cutest dogs!” Sarah replied, and for the first time that day she smiled. Taco raced away to pick up a small towel for playing tug-of-war and ran back to Sarah. “No time for fun and games tonight, Taco,” Sarah said, as she rubbed him behind his ears.
Mr. DeWitt extended his hand to Sarah’s parents, welcoming them to the farm. “I’m glad you could come on rather short notice.” He held the door open, inviting them into the cozy lounge where a large flagstone fireplace was centered on the far side of the room next to hickory-paneled walls decorated with English foxhunting scenes. Bookcases on both sides of the fireplace held a collection of equestrian books supported by hunting horn bookends. During the winter, a warming fire often blazed here. Parents could watch their young riders during lessons, or boarders could kick back to read the horsey magazines that were scattered on the coffee table.
Jack rose from a chair near the door and also extended his hand in greeting. Mrs. DeWitt gestured toward the leather chairs and sofa. “Please make yourselves comfortable,” she said. “Chandler and I are so pleased we can spend some time with Sarah’s parents. She’s one of our favorites, you know.”
Sarah’s mother placed her pronged cane in the corner before seating herself next to her husband on the sofa. When Sarah sank down on the braided rug at their feet, both Spin and Taco vied for space in her lap. She played with Spin’s ears after both of the dogs got comfortable. Mrs. DeWitt settled into the rocking chair before drawing her knitting from a basket.
Chandler DeWitt cleared his throat and immediately everyone turned their attention to him. “I appreciate your taking time from your busy schedules to come here tonight,” he began. “There’s a matter Dorothy and I have been considering, and the time has come for us to talk to you about it.”
Sarah felt her heart pounding. Here it comes. He’s trying to break it to us gently.
Mr. DeWitt focused his steady gaze on Martin and Alison Wagner. “All of us here at Brookmeade recognize the good qualities Sarah brings to our riding program. Her high work ethic is second to none, and when it comes to riding and overall horsemanship, she’s a natural. Normally we would reserve places in Jack’s Young Riders class for teens that have achieved a great deal of expertise and are either actively competing or about to start. But Jack recognized that Sarah is nearly at their level, even though she doesn’t have a horse. He urged me to make an exception to our standard policy, and you know the rest. Since she entered the class, she’s proven she belongs there. Jack tells me she’s fast becoming an accomplished rider.”
Sarah was puzzled by his words, but she began to breathe easier. Her eyes never left Mr. DeWitt as he continued.
“We’re all aware of something that happened yesterday, something that firmly backs up Jack’s recommendation. I happened to be at the stable when the school horse Sarah was riding was spooked by a sudden loud noise and bolted down the entry road. A terrified horse doesn’t think clearly and can be difficult to stop. It’s a dangerous situation for both horse and rider. Thank goodness Sarah rose to the occasion and was able to stop Gray Fox before he galloped right onto Ridge Road.”
Dorothy DeWitt rested her knitting on her lap. “I think what Chandler is leading up to is that Sarah is ready for a horse of her own. For her riding to improve, she should be riding something besides our school horses, and she needs to ride more than once a week. I’m often here at the stable when Jack is teaching her class, so I see how hard she works, and how well her horses perform. She obviously has the potential to do far more, but having her own horse is essential.”
Sarah looked up at her parents. She could anticipate what was coming next. The DeWitts would suggest her parents somehow come up with the money to buy her a horse, not realizing that it just wasn’t possible.
The room was quiet until Chandler DeWitt spoke again. “We’ve made the decision to go forward with something we’ve never done before at Brookmeade Farm. We’d like to support a sponsorship program for a student we consider to have a lot of potential. In this case it’s Sarah, and we want to help her get a horse.”
Sarah couldn’t believe her ears. The DeWitts were talking about something that for her had been an elusive dream. She had longed to have a horse of her own for as long as she could remember. What the DeWitts were saying now was almost too good to be true. Could this really be happening?
Mr. DeWitt began to tell them of an old college friend who some years before had gotten into Thoroughbred racing. He had retained a respected trainer who advised him on the purchase of a few well-bred broodmares at a Saratoga sale, most in foal to desirable stallions. He had also picked up some valuable bloodstock at a dispersal sale in Kentucky. Many of the colts and fillies from these mares became successful runners, and his racing stable grew by leaps and bounds.
“I had a call from Hank earlier this week,” Mr. DeWitt continued. “He wants to cut back. He’s decided to cull four horses currently in training at Raceland Park. All are geldings, so they wouldn’t have any value as breeding stock, and for various reasons they aren’t cut out to be racehorses. Hank and his wife Jean visited us here at Brookmeade last year, and they seem to think we know what we’re doing. Hank feels this would be an ideal place to send horses to be retrained for something besides racing, and he’d rather these four become sport horses than be carelessly tossed aside.”
Sarah sat mesmerized. What Mr. DeWitt was saying was almost more than she could comprehend. She looked up at her parents once more, and saw they were intently focused on the man before them.
Jack spoke up. “Unfortunately too many Thoroughbreds who fail to pay their way at the track don’t get another chance. Many are unsound, and are bought on the cheap by the killers. They go to a rendering plant. I know it doesn’t sound pretty, but the sad fact is that some perfectly good horses that can’t run fast end up at a slaughter house.” Sarah shuddered and hugged Taco a little closer.
“Your friend is doing a decent thing,” her father said to Mr. DeWitt.
“I couldn’t agree with you more,” Mr. DeWitt said. “These four horses are all well-bred and supposedly sound. Hank thinks they are fine sport horse prospects, and has offered me the whole bunch for free. But we have two off-the-track Thoroughbreds here for training right now, plus a large number of boarders, so we really don’t have stall space for four more.”
Dorothy DeWitt didn’t look up from her knitting when she spoke. “Of course we also have to consider there are only so many hours in the day Jack can devote to schooling green sales prospects.”
“I’m not in a position to take them,” her husband continued, “but this is where Sarah comes in. I’d like to offer her the opportunity to pick out one of the four horses and buy him for a dollar, just to make it a legitimate sale.”
Sarah could hardly believe what she was hearing. A horse for a dollar! But then her mother entered the conversation. “Chandler, what you’re proposing is kind and generous. But while I don’t claim to know much about the world of horses, I’m aware there’s a lot more than the purchase price to consider here. It must be incredibly expensive to support a horse, what with board bills on top of the cost of lessons. I regret that we must turn down your offer before you go any further. Our family can’t possibly take this on right now.”
Sarah hung her head and took a deep breath. She should have known this incredible idea of her getting a horse was totally off the charts. No way could it possibly happen. She’d reconciled herself to that reality a lon
g time ago—all this talk now was just a cruel tease.
Mr. DeWitt responded quickly. “Let’s talk this through, Alison. You see, if Sarah takes one of these horses, there will be a few conditions. First, the horse must be boarded here, at least for the first year. Now I’m aware a monthly board bill might be a stretch for your family’s budget, especially after your car accident. So I’d like to offer Sarah the opportunity to work at the farm to help pay for her horse’s board.”
Mr. DeWitt sat back and crossed his legs before continuing. “Lucas is leaving for the summer, and Gus will need some help with chores here. Sarah would be what is called a ‘working student.’ She might clean stalls, sweep the aisles, fill water buckets, bring horses in and out from the paddocks, or help with feeding. At some point she could even be an assistant to Kathleen or Lindsay, helping with their beginner students. That would free them up to work with others. In exchange for her help, we’re also prepared to offer Jack’s continuing instruction, as Sarah’s new horse learns what’s expected of him.” Mr. DeWitt paused and looked to his trainer. “Do you have any thoughts on this, Jack?”
Jack rose from his chair and moved slowly toward the fireplace, carefully choosing his words. He leaned his elbow on the mantle as he spoke. “Just this. We know a horse right off the racetrack will be green as grass, and ’twill take a bit of time for him to catch up with the others. But Sarah has done a good job when she’s ridden French Twist, and I think she can ride another horse fresh from the track. For her age and experience, she has a good seat and excellent hands. But a lot will depend on the individual horse, so ’tis important she gets one that’s levelheaded. She’ll need some private lessons for a while, but eventually I can see her returning to my Young Riders class.”
Chandler DeWitt nodded in agreement. “I’m glad to hear that. We’ll figure out how many hours Sarah can work throughout the week over the summer, and of course she’ll need to shift much of her schedule to the weekends once school is in session in the fall. We’ll make allowances for times when she can’t work, as long as she can make it up later.”
Sarah listened carefully to every word being spoken, but she was becoming increasingly irritated by the conversation. Her mother had made it perfectly clear she wouldn’t be getting a horse. Sarah didn’t see her mother changing her mind any time soon. It wasn’t going to happen. Why were they raising her hopes like this?
“Excuse me,” Martin Wagner interrupted. “There’s something else to think about here. Alison and I can only do so much chauffeuring. How is a high school student without a driver’s license, or the wherewithal to support an automobile when she eventually does get a license, supposed to make frequent trips between the barn and home? I’m afraid transportation is a legitimate problem for us.”
Mr. DeWitt’s gaze shifted to Sarah. “Sarah, you live a few miles from Brookmeade Farm, not including the long farm road. Even when you get a driver’s license, it sounds like having access to a car is not in the cards. How would you feel about riding a bicycle to Brookmeade and back home on a regular basis? It’s a transportation choice that doesn’t require fuel, and there’s a bike lane on Ridge Road, so you wouldn’t be at risk. We’ll find a spot in the boarders’ tack room for you to stash some things you otherwise would have to carry back and forth.”
Without hesitation Sarah responded, “Mr. DeWitt, if I could have a horse of my own, I would ride my bike to the moon and back every day.”
It was a relief to hear everyone laugh before Mrs. DeWitt interjected softly, “When Chandler proposed this wonderful idea, I began thinking about how Sarah could possibly ride her new horse if she has no tack or other equipment. So I decided to get into the act.” Turning directly to Sarah, she continued, “In hopes you and your family would agree to this plan, I purchased a gift card for you from Atlantic Saddlery, the new tack shop that’s going to open tomorrow down near the beach. You’ll be able to get a saddle, bridle, and all the other things we riders need for our horses.” She smiled warmly at Sarah.
Sarah was too stunned to speak—a shopping spree at a tack shop! But her father broke in again.
“I think we need to slow down here,” he said. “This sounds like a fairytale come true for our daughter. It would add a wonderful new dimension to her life, one her mother and I cannot possibly provide on our own. But I’m afraid the plan won’t work because Alison and I couldn’t possibly repay you. Even with my school’s health insurance plan, I have to admit we have a great deal of medical debt. And if the day ever comes we catch up with those bills, our next priority will be college for the girls. What you’ve proposed in terms of sponsorship will be costly, more than we could ever repay. I know it will break Sarah’s heart to hear me say no, but I have to be realistic.”
Sarah slumped and blinked furiously to keep the tears at bay. She had known all along it was too good to be true. Sensing something was wrong, Spin stretched to lick Sarah’s cheek. The room was quiet.
Then Sarah heard Mrs. DeWitt’s reassuring voice again. “Martin and Alison, you need to understand that Chandler and I are not expecting to be repaid. We’re not offering to loan you a sum of money for Sarah to buy and maintain a horse. Rather, we’re providing her with a horse along with a reasonable plan to support him and learn the skills she’ll need to ride him. We feel it’s important she work to pay for board and lessons. It will be more meaningful that way, and a little hard work never hurt anyone.” Mrs. DeWitt looked at the Wagners almost pleadingly. “We want to do this for Sarah’s sake. A young dedicated rider with lots of potential shouldn’t be deprived of the opportunity to develop her skills. Let’s not let money stand in the way.”
Sarah looked up at her parents, who appeared deep in thought. She could see her dad was torn. He was a proud man who would hate to take a large handout from the DeWitts, but at the same time he knew what this opportunity would mean for her. He looked at his wife, who only nodded her head. Finally, he spoke.
“For some time Alison and I have wished Sarah could have a horse. Horses mean a great deal to her, and she’ll only be a teenager for a few short years. Before we know it she’ll be going off to college. You two have carefully thought through many angles of this proposal. On the condition she can defray a good portion of the horse’s expense by working at the farm, we’ll allow Sarah to accept your offer.” He paused, looking at his wife and Sarah before turning back to the DeWitts. “And we want you to know we are profoundly grateful.”
Sarah couldn’t believe her ears. She had been so sure all the talk would be for nothing, that it would all come down to the Wagners’ inability to come up with the money having a horse required. Now her father was accepting the DeWitts’ offer!
Mrs. Wagner shifted uncomfortably on the sofa. “There’s something else I feel must be said. As excited and happy as I am for Sarah, I also have some reservations. Sarah was run away with by a horse yesterday, a dangerous incident that could have had a tragic ending. And now she’s going to be getting a horse from the racetrack? I need to be sure she’ll be safe.”
Chandler DeWitt fielded the question, glancing at Jack and Sarah as he did so. “Undoubtedly all of us in this room have the highest respect for Jack’s equestrian knowledge and common sense. I think it’s important that he help Sarah choose her horse. With his counsel, I don’t believe she’ll come home with a horse that’s an accident about to happen. We care too much about Sarah’s well-being and the reputation of Brookmeade Farm to let her get a horse that’s not appropriate.”
Sarah continued to sit quietly, daring to hope against hope that her lifelong dream might actually be coming true. Her mother didn’t appear completely convinced, but she said, “We’ll go along with your plan, although Martin and I will need to keep close tabs on what’s happening.”
The DeWitts looked very pleased. “We should get moving on this as soon as possible,” Mr. DeWitt said. “Hank’s trainer would like all the horses to find new homes this month to make room for other young prospects from the farm.
We need to get Sarah to Raceland Park within the next few days so she can make her selection and bring the horse back to Brookmeade. We’re a little cramped for space until the crew finishes building the two new stalls, but we’ll manage to find a place for him somewhere.”
“Saturday is good for me,” Jack volunteered. “Kathleen and Lindsay teach all the lessons in the morning, and I can arrange to reschedule the two I usually have in the afternoon.”
Mr. DeWitt turned to Sarah’s father.
“Does that work for the Wagner family?”
Sarah’s father nodded. “I’m not working Saturday, and I think I can find a replacement for Sarah.”
“Excellent,” Mr. DeWitt said. “Hank’s trainer suggested you arrive about nine, when most of the horses in his string will have galloped and cooled out. By then he’ll have time to show you the available horses. Of course you’re welcome to take the farm’s pickup and horse trailer.”
Mr. DeWitt stood up, signaling the meeting had come to a close, and everyone else rose with him except Sarah. She continued to sit with the DeWitt’s two dogs, in a state of shock, as she tried to fully comprehend what had just happened. What had been impossible for years had become a reality in what felt like no time at all! She was actually going to have a horse of her own, a horse to ride, to care for, and to love. Finally, she got a grip on her emotions and gently pushed Spin and Taco aside as she rose to her feet, not knowing who to thank first—the DeWitts, for their outstanding generosity, or her parents, for agreeing to the plan.
As they were leaving the lounge, the adults shaking hands and Sarah floating along on a bubble of happiness, Mrs. DeWitt slipped something into Sarah’s jeans’ pocket.
“Here’s the gift card, dear,” Mrs. DeWitt whispered. “You have a lot of shopping to do!”
Crown Prince Page 5
