They moved off the shed row to give plenty of space to a horse prancing toward them, pulling against his hot walker. Sam moved to the outer wall of the feedroom as he picked up the threads of the story. “I remember what he looked like when he came back as a three-year-old,” he said. “He was close to seventeen hands, big and strong, and he knew it. When I tried to do slow gallops to gradually condition him for faster work, the horse wouldn’t buy it. He fought me constantly. The way he leaped and whirled in the air, it’s a wonder I could stay on him.”
“Yes,” Rudy agreed. “His antics continued to get worse, and we knew we were getting nowhere. Finally I told Mr. Bolton I thought the horse should be gelded, even with his impeccable breeding. He could have been one heck of a valuable stud prospect, but gelding usually calms down male horses. It looked like this was the only way to salvage him as a racehorse. We hoped that as a four-year-old, he would have matured and be more trainable. So again he went back to the farm.” “Did it make a difference?” Jack asked.
“I’m afraid when he returned to me last February he was even bigger and his attitude hadn’t improved.” He gestured to his exercise rider. “Sam, tell them what he was like when you were on his back.”
“It’s hard to believe, but the last time I rode him, he was worse than before. A few times I thought he was going to take me through the rail. Funny thing, though, in the stall and walking on the shed row, he’s always been a puppy dog, quiet, although at times a little spooky. It will always be a mystery to me.”
“Finally Mr. Bolton agreed he just wasn’t going to be the racehorse we’d hoped for,” Rudy said. “It was time to punt. In this game you have to be prepared for disappointment. But as I said, I’m surprised he added him to this list. Crown Prince certainly isn’t a quiet ride for a young girl.”
“From what you’ve told us, I would agree,” Jack said. “The chestnut horse, Code of Honor, looks to be our best choice, so let’s get back to him. Does that sound like a plan to you, Sarah?”
Sarah nodded, although she couldn’t help being curious about Crown Prince. Where was he? What did he look like? She wished she could see him.
“Okay,” answered Rudy. “I understand you have a letter from Chandler DeWitt I need to sign, and I have a folder of information on Cody to give you, medical records and such. I’ll also write up what we’ve been feeding him, so you can gradually change him over to whatever your farm uses for grain and hay. Let’s go to my office to take care of the paperwork.”
CHAPTER 7
The Choice
SARAH WISHED SHE COULD go back to Cody’s stall, but she grudgingly followed the men down the shed row to the trainer’s office. She really didn’t want to be cooped up inside “doing business” when there were so many beautiful horses here to see.
Rudy opened the door and gestured for them to enter. For someone who had been a longtime leading trainer at Raceland Park, his office was surprisingly “no-frills.” The room was sparsely furnished with a desk and an older computer. A few straight-backed chairs sat beside two metal file cabinets, and the only other piece of furniture was a drop-leaf table near the door, where a bulging scrapbook was displayed. Except for a large chart mapping out the training program for each horse in his string, the paneled walls were bare.
Rudy began looking for Code of Honor’s file in one of the cabinets. One Thoroughbred racehorse could accumulate a lot of paperwork, with a record kept of every shoeing, every visit from the vet, and a lifetime of training schedules. The successful horses’ files also included listings of their racing wins, any newspaper clippings, and printouts from websites and racing blogs.
“His Jockey Club registration papers are over in the Racing Secretary’s office, and I’ll forward them to you once he’s passed the vet exam. They verify his age, breeding, and ownership history. Unfortunately, you won’t find anything in the races won column.”
Jack opened the scrapbook on the table to a newspaper article, faded and yellowed over time, with the headline, “Best Beau First in Raceland Handicap.” The scrapbook was filled with other clippings and magazine articles about some of the notable horses Rudy had trained and the important races they’d won. Sarah’s father joined Jack, and soon the two men had tempted Rudy to regale them with the highlights of his impressive career and the horses he’d trained. Rudy seemed to have story after story to tell.
They don’t need me here, Sarah thought. She wanted to get back to the horses. Quietly she slipped out the door and went to Code of Honor’s stall, where the chestnut gelding was still eating hay from his net. Sarah brought out her last carrot, and as before, let the horse have small bites. She stroked his face as he chomped on the carrot. When it was gone, he strained over his stall’s webbing to nudge her with his nose, asking for more. “Sorry, Cody, that’s it,” Sarah said, showing him empty palms.
A groom walked by carrying a bale of golden straw that he plunked down by the next stall. He paused to look at Code of Honor and Sarah. “Cody’s a nice horse,” he said. “I’ve been his groom all year, and he’s been a peach. I’ve never had to watch my back with that one. You’re going to like him a lot.”
“Will you miss him?” Sarah asked.
The man shrugged. “Horses come and go. I rub four horses and that keeps me too busy to notice, really. I hear there’s a nice two-year-old coming from the farm to take the first open stall. Maybe he’ll be the ‘big horse,’ with speed to burn. You never know. It’s great to groom a horse with class, if you’re lucky enough.”
“How about Crown Prince?” she asked. “Can you tell me where he is?”
“Oh, that one?” He looked at her curiously. “You’re interested in him? Well, he’s around here somewhere. Maybe on the other side,” he said, gesturing down the shed row. With that he cut the twine on the straw bale and went to work in the stall next to Cody’s, shaking the straw out with a pitchfork.
Sarah looked up and down the aisle. Somehow she couldn’t get Crown Prince out of her mind. Rudy had painted the horse as a hard-to-manage rogue. Could he really be that bad? She wanted to see for herself. Slowly she worked her way along the shed row, looking at each horse as she passed. Most had returned to their stalls, and grooms were busy filling water buckets, doing up legs with support bandages, and carrying off muck baskets to the manure bin. Many of the horses wore halters with name-plates. She checked the names on each one, but saw no sign of Crown Prince. Rudy Dominic hadn’t given any clues to his whereabouts. Where was the mystery horse?
At the end of the shed row Sarah neared the darker area by the barn’s feedroom, where the extended roof blocked the sunlight. As she started past what appeared to be an unused stall with both its top and bottom doors shut, she heard a faint noise. She stopped in her tracks and stood still, listening. There it was again, the sound of a rustle in straw that seemed to come from inside the stall.
Turning back, Sarah cautiously opened the stall’s top door and peered inside. When her eyes grew accustomed to the darkness, she could make out the silhouette of a horse against the far wall. He was like a giant statue, his head high and alert. Maybe this was Crown Prince! It was strange to find him shut up in his stall like this when all the other horses’ top stall doors were open. Had Rudy hoped to keep them from seeing him? She couldn’t imagine why else the big horse would be kept in the dark.
Sarah stood quietly watching the horse. There was no movement as he stood facing the far corner, ignoring her. She clucked softly, but there was no response. Her hand dug deep in her pocket in hopes of finding one more carrot, but it was empty. Nothing was left, except perhaps…yes, in her other pocket she felt a peppermint candy, which she withdrew and slowly unwrapped. In response to the crinkling of the cellophane, a slim finely chiseled head turned her way, his ears pricked forward. He wore a halter, but was too far away for her to read the nameplate. She placed her outstretched hand with the peppermint over the stall door and spoke softly, “Prince, come Prince.”
Slowly the horse turned
from the rear wall and cautiously moved toward her. As he got closer, she felt delicate nostrils blow gently on her hand and then the slender muzzle lifted the peppermint away. He studied her as he chewed the candy slowly and deliberately.
He was big. Except for the enormous draft horses she had seen in pulling competitions at the state fair, this horse was larger than any Sarah had ever seen, including Chancellor. The only horse who might possibly match his size was Donegal Lad. But this horse possessed such refinement his size wasn’t readily evident until he was close. In the dimly lit stall his dark bay coat looked almost black, and his only marking was a small white star in the center of his forehead. The deep straw bedding hid any possible white markings on his legs.
For several moments Sarah and the horse stood looking at each other. Then she lifted the stall door’s latch and let herself inside. As Crown Prince retreated to the corner, she reached back over the door to lower the latch back into position. Slowly she approached the horse, all the while talking softly. “Good boy, good Prince,” she repeated. Once by his side, she reached to touch his long neck and stroke it gently. His coat felt like sleek satin. He turned his head toward her, seeming to know she meant him no harm.
Now she was close enough to make out his halter plate. Sarah read the name in large block letters: CROWN PRINCE. Below it in smaller print his sire and dam were listed: Emperor’s Gold – Northern Princess. Yes! This definitely was the horse with the reputation of an untrainable rogue.
“You beautiful Prince,” she murmured. As Sarah stroked his neck and continued to speak in hushed tones, she felt the horse become more relaxed. His head dropped down to her and gradually his eyes softened, as he clearly enjoyed her touch and gentle voice. He offered no resistance as she gently pulled his head closer and rested her cheek on his muzzle. It was so soft. With his head lowered, she caressed his forehead, tracing the white star, and gently tugged on his ears. She felt as if she had known this horse forever.
Sarah had no idea how long she had been in the stall with Crown Prince when she became aware of a presence outside. “Sarah, what are you doing! We’ve been looking all over for you.” It was her father’s voice. She turned to see him looking in at her, along with Jack, Sam, and Rudy Dominic. Worry and concern were written all over their faces.
“I’m fine, Dad. Don’t worry. This is Crown Prince. And he’s the horse I want.”
Her father’s jaw tightened as his eyes met Jack’s before he turned back to Sarah and the dark bay horse standing beside her. Crown Prince surveyed them all curiously, the picture of refinement and nobility. Mr. Wagner observed the horse’s beautifully shaped head, which tapered from small ears to large intelligent eyes down to a refined muzzle. His white star contrasted sharply with his deep mahogany coat. Sarah’s father shook his head, acknowledging the horse’s beauty, but anxious for his daughter’s safety.
Rudy Dominic pointed to the horse. “Isn’t he just like I said?”
Jack was too absorbed to answer. He opened the stall door and joined Sarah to get a closer look. He had seen some impressive horseflesh in his life, but this one ranked up there with the best of them. His eyes traveled from the powerful hindquarters to the pleasing topline and nicely sloping shoulder.
“Have you got a shank right there, Rudy?” Jack asked. “I want to get a better look at this fellow outside the stall.”
Rudy nodded to Sam, who left, returning in a few minutes with a lead shank and let himself into the horse’s stall. “Come on, big horse. Let’s show off for these folks.” As he started to attach the lead to Crown Prince’s halter, the horse playfully grabbed the brass shank with his teeth. “Oh, no you don’t,” Sam said, as he pulled it away. He ran the chain through the halter’s side ring, over the horse’s nose, and attached it to the other side. Turning to Sarah, he said, “If he decided to put his head to the sky, as a short guy I’d be in trouble. But he knows me. He’s not a bad horse around the barn. It’s only when you sit on him he gets rank. I’ll bring him out so you can have a look-see at a real horse.”
Jack opened the stall door, and Sam led the horse to the open area between the barns. The backstretch was quieter now, since most grooms had finished caring for their horses and were having a late breakfast in the track kitchen. Crown Prince walked with a stately dignity and halted when asked, his coat gleaming in the sun’s rays.
Jack moved around him, thinking out loud. “Strong hindquarters, nice length of back, pronounced withers, good bone, and a lovely long neck.” He moved to stand directly in front of the horse before speaking to Rudy.
“His conformation is quite correct. No toeing in or out, good width of chest, nice head. They don’t come any better than this. But I’d like to see him move.”
Rudy motioned to Sam. “Walk away and then jog him back, Sam. But be careful. He hasn’t been to the track to gallop in awhile, so keep a tight hold on him.”
Rudy turned to Sarah and her father. “I’m always surprised at how well behaved he is except when there’s a rider up. Then he becomes a lunatic.”
Jack positioned himself to get a good view before Sam led the horse away from him. Coming back, Prince trotted agreeably beside Sam and stopped when they reached Jack. “He’s a good mover too, well balanced,” said Jack, “and his ground manners can’t be faulted.”
Sarah’s father was standing back but listening carefully. “He is a beautiful animal. It’s too bad his reputation takes him out of the running for being a horse for Sarah,” he said firmly.
Sarah, who up to now hadn’t taken her eyes off the horse, swung to face her father. “Dad—I don’t believe he can be as bad as Rudy says! He deserves a chance to be a different horse when he gets away from the racetrack and comes to Brookmeade Farm. Maybe he wasn’t meant to be a racehorse, but I think he will be a wonderful horse for me. I just know it!”
Mr. Wagner was quick to respond. “Sarah, this is a large and powerful animal. Above all else, I won’t let you be in harm’s way. From what I’ve heard today, this horse is dangerous. We mustn’t be so taken with his splendid appearance that we lose sight of the big picture. I can’t have you getting hurt by a horse.”
Sarah could see her father was totally serious. He was thinking only of potential disaster. She had to change his mind.
“We can start working with him on a longe line, Dad, until he knows what’s expected of him. I can turn him out in the big pasture where he can run off some energy. He’ll come to trust me. I promise I won’t even think about riding him until Jack gives the okay. You can see he’s well behaved. He’s a special horse, Dad, and he should have another chance.”
“But what about the handsome chestnut horse you like so much?” her father asked, motioning toward the other end of the shed row. “Don’t you think Code of Honor will be the perfect horse for you? And don’t you want a horse you can ride? Who knows how long it will be before you can get on this horse, if ever.”
Sarah looked at her father, her dark eyes pleading. “Dad, I know you want what’s best for me. But this is supposed to be my decision. Please don’t stand in the way. You’ve got to trust me. I want to take Crown Prince back to Brookmeade Farm more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my entire life. I know he’s the right horse for me. He’s the one I’ve been waiting for.”
Jack, who had been quietly studying Crown Prince, turned to them. “‘Tis for sure we have a grand animal here. Who knows the heights he and Sarah might reach if we can turn him around. Sometimes Thoroughbreds are completely different when they get away from the racetrack.” Jack walked over and placed a hand on Crown Prince’s shoulder. He stroked the horse, deep in thought.
After a few moments he turned back to Sarah’s father. “I tell you what, Martin. Perhaps we can give this horse a trial run. If we could arrange to take him for a month, I’ll pledge to be deeply involved in his handling, and I mean every part of his care and schooling, to make sure Sarah is safe. I won’t allow her to get on him until I’ve tested those waters myself. I’ll
know in thirty days if he will be a suitable mount for her. If by then we’ve made no headway and I decide he’s not the right horse, we’ll notify Hank Bolton and return him to you, Rudy,” Jack added, looking at the trainer. “If this trial scenario is acceptable to you and Hank Bolton, let’s give it a shot.” He paused and looked intently at Sarah’s father. “Martin, I’m willing to make this commitment to ensure your daughter’s safety.”
Sarah stood quietly, her gaze never leaving her father. He was solemn, as he stood deep in thought. She knew he was worried, that above all else, he didn’t want her hurt. Mr. Wagner looked hard at Jack for a few moments before speaking. “Without your encouragement, I would never even consider letting Sarah take a horse with the shady past this one has. But if you can assure me you’ll stay on top of things and manage everything that’s done with him, I’ll go along with your proposal. But remember, this is a trial. At some point in the next month I will look to you, Jack, for an answer. If Sarah is at risk at any time, the horse must go.”
Sarah threw her arms around her father. “Dad, you’re the greatest! I’ll always remember this, that you gave Crown Prince a chance.”
“And let’s not forget he will have to pass a vet exam,” her father said. “Depending on how it goes, the horse may be coming back here sooner rather than later. I want that to be clear.”
Jack wore a pleased expression, happy at the prospect of bringing such an exceptional horse back to the farm. Crown Prince might be difficult, but now the horse would be dealing with someone who had retrained many bad actors. And for such a striking animal, it certainly was worth a try. Jack was more than ready to give it his best go.
Crown Prince Page 8
