Jack looked at his watch. “It’s getting late, and we should be back on the road soon. So let’s do what has to be done.”
Rudy beckoned to Mr. Wagner. “I need you and Sarah to come back to my office while I make the changes to your paperwork. I’ll need your signature for Sarah, since she’s a minor. The trainer started down the shed row, but stopped after going a short distance and turned back to Jack. “After Sam puts the horse away, why don’t you guys go to the ingate and ask Smitty to let you bring your rig back to my barn. We’ll load him here.”
Back in Rudy’s office, Rudy offered some advice as he opened his file cabinet again. “You’ll want to have your black-smith or farrier replace Crown Prince’s aluminum plates with regular horseshoes, or perhaps just pull the racing plates and let him go barefoot for awhile. He’s got a decent foot, so that shouldn’t be a problem.” His face was serious as he spoke to Sarah. “If this is going to be your horse, you need to start thinking about these details.”
Sarah drew Chandler DeWitt’s letter from her pocket and gave it to the trainer. Rudy promptly pulled a pen from his desk drawer and signed the appropriate spaces. “He’s all yours now, Sarah,” he said, handing it to her father to witness. “I just hope he works out.”
Sarah beamed. The horse she had always dreamed about was hers! At least for now….
“There’s one thing we almost forgot,” Martin Wagner said, pulling his wallet from his back pocket. He pulled out a dollar bill and laid it on the desk. “We need to pay our way here, just to make it ‘legal.’” They both laughed, as Rudy took the letter back and made note of the payment.
Sarah and her father were almost back to Crown Prince’s stall when the Brookmeade truck and trailer pulled up in front. Sarah hurried to the truck and grabbed her tote bag from the back seat. Jack nodded at the wraparound shipping boots she pulled from the bag.
“Chances are he hasn’t worn anything like these before. At the track they use bandages and cottons for shipping, so the heavier material and velcro will seem a little strange to him. But they’ll provide good protection if he becomes rambunctious in the trailer. I’ll hold him while you put them on.”
Sarah looked up in surprise. “Are you sure? I’ve never done this before.” Jack took the lead shank. “Now that you have a horse, there will be many new things you’ll be doing. ’Tis time you’d be learning how.”
Under his watchful eye, Sarah wrapped a boot around each leg, making sure the Velcro straps were going in the right direction and the boots were taut but not too tight. Crown Prince was wary of the large shipping boots, sensing the difference in height and weight. He shook his head nervously and tried to move away.
“Whoa, son,” Jack said, holding the shank firmly.
When Sarah had finished, Jack held out the lead shank to her. “We’re ready to load—let’s go,” he said. “Take him up the ramp, and once he’s on we’ll close the bar behind.” Sarah gulped, but took the lead from Jack. It seemed as if he was testing her. Even though she had never loaded a horse on a trailer before, she was determined to do whatever he asked. Besides, she’d seen Kayla load Fanny tons of time.
The ramp was down and a full hay net hung in the front. They were ready for the journey back to Brookmeade Farm. Sarah spoke once more to her horse and gently stroked his neck. “Come Prince. We’re going home.” Her father swung the stall door open and she stepped onto the shed row, leading Crown Prince to the trailer. Feeling the weight of the heavier shipping boots, he hiked his hind legs high for a few steps and kicked out with one hind leg as he left the stall. A few steps later he was moving normally. Walking beside him, Sarah looked up at his withers. Crown Prince towered over her—by comparison, Lady Tate would seem like a cob!
Sarah remembered a few loading battles Fanny had waged when Kayla first got her. The mare had a deathly fear of horse trailers and refused to go on. Once, when Fanny dug her toes in and resisted going forward, Kayla turned to face the mare, but Mrs. Romano quickly corrected her. “Have you ever seen anyone backing their way up a ramp?” she’d asked Kayla. “Of course you haven’t—and this mare hasn’t either. When Fanny sees you turn to face her, she thinks you’re not going any farther.” Being trailered every week to the lessons at Brookmeade helped Fanny overcome her fear, and now she loaded onto the Romanos’ trailer as willingly as she walked into her stall.
As he approached the Brookmeade trailer, Crown Prince hesitated. In the past he’d been transported on huge horse vans more like barns on wheels. He looked warily at the trailer and stopped abruptly, planting his feet in front of the ramp. Sarah waited a few moments, giving him time to lower his head to sniff the ramp, while she continued to face the inside of the trailer and apply tension to the lead shank. As she clucked loudly and began moving up the ramp again, Jack placed a hand on the horse’s hindquarters to urge him forward. Crown Prince took a few tentative steps and then strode up the ramp. Jack snapped the butt bar in place behind him. “Well done, Sarah,” he said, as he and Rudy lifted up the ramp and fastened it securely.
“Good boy, Prince,” she murmured, stroking his neck and attaching the trailer tie to his halter. She offered him her last peppermint, but he was too distracted to have any interest in the candy. He looked nervously out the trailer’s side door, tossed his head, and pawed the trailer floor a few times. Jack read her anxious mind. “Don’t be worrying, now. He’ll be all right. But the sooner we get started the better, to be sure.”
Sarah dug in her pocket for her cell phone and quickly took a picture of Crown Prince as he looked out the trailer door toward her. Once they started down the road, she’d send the pic to Kayla. Sarah could hardly wait to show her friend what her new horse looked like.
“I’d like to ride with him in the trailer,” Sarah said. “Maybe he won’t be so nervous with me beside him.”
“Absolutely not!” her father exclaimed. “I don’t like that idea one bit.”
“Furthermore, it’s against the law,” Jack added, as he closed the side door to the trailer. Sarah sighed and dropped her head as she resigned herself to riding in the pickup. What if he got upset in the trailer on the ride back?
“I have to leave you now,” Rudy said. “I have a horse running in the first race this afternoon, and we need to get him ready. But I want to wish you luck with Crown Prince.”
Jack reached out to shake the trainer’s hand.
“Thanks for giving us a big part of your morning, Rudy. We’ll be in touch to let you know how the vet exam goes and how we make out with the horse.”
“Yes,” Mr. Wagner said. “And I appreciate your willingness to take him back if he doesn’t work out. You’ll be hearing from us in a month, one way or the other. Maybe sooner.”
As the truck made its way out of the stable area and toward the main highway, they met a steady stream of traffic funneling its way through entry roads to the parking area in front of the grandstand. On a day that featured a stakes race, the lot was filling up with racing fans and those with money to bet.
Sarah sat in the back, twisting against the seat belt to watch Crown Prince. She was grateful there was a window in the front of the trailer that allowed her to see his every move. His head was up and his ears pricked, apparently watching the cars and tractor trailer trucks through the front window. He showed no interest in the hay in the net.
Sarah’s mind raced. So much had happened in the last few hours, things that would change her life forever. Or so she hoped. She knew her father would return Prince to the track in a heartbeat if he thought the horse would prove to be dangerous. And her mom would nix the arrangement if she suspected Sarah was over-mounted. She might even veto the decision to let Sarah have Crown Prince in the first place, even if it was only a trial.
Sarah clenched her fists. Now that Crown Prince was hers, she was determined to keep him.
CHAPTER 8
The Homecoming
THE MORNING FOG HAD burned off completely by the time the Yardley exit from the interst
ate came into view, and it had become warm and humid. From the exit ramp the truck bringing Crown Prince to Brookmeade Farm headed north on Ridge Road toward the rural part of town. The truck slowed considerably after turning onto the farm road, as Jack maneuvered around the road’s rough spots.
Sarah had hardly taken her eyes off her horse during the ride back to the farm. But as they drove along the road, she turned to watch the antics of the three foals turned out with their dams. She noticed how fast the babies were growing, especially the black colt, a striking contrast next to his dam. This was Ice Sculpture’s sixth foal, and over the years the once dappled gray mare had turned almost white. As they passed, the colt reared before galloping in a big circle around the pasture.
The men in the front seat also turned their attention to the foals as they passed. “I suspect the black colt is going to be a standout,” Jack said. “And as dark as he is now, it looks like he’ll be gray like his dam. I noticed a few white hairs on his forehead the other day.”
“That’s cool,” Sarah said. “I wish the foals didn’t have to leave here. They don’t come back, and we never see them again.”
“Yes,” Jack said, “after they’ve been weaned from their mothers, they go to Hyperion Farm, Hank Bolton’s place in Florida. Horses can be turned out year-round down there, and bad weather doesn’t hold them back. The farm has a training track where they begin to learn to become racehorses.”
“Who knows,” Sarah’s father said, with a grin, “perhaps someday we’ll see one of them on television running in a big race for the glory of Brookmeade Farm. But seriously, Jack, it sounds like somewhere along the line you’ve been involved with horse racing. Actually, it seems there’s not much about horses that you don’t know.”
Jack laughed. “Horses are almost sacred in Ireland. I was on the back of a horse from the time I was a wee lad. Later on I trained them and rode in all sorts of competitions. Throw in a little foxhunting, and I even rode in some steeplechase races—plus my father always had a few broodmares on the farm.”
He slowed as they approached two riders headed in their direction, probably going to the trails on the other side of Ridge Road. The riders guided their horses into the meadow, giving the truck a wide berth. When Sarah saw it was Tim and Paige, she waved and gave them a thumbs up as they passed. They waved back. Sarah was glad they were around—they could come see Crown Prince after their ride.
When the truck rolled to a stop in the parking area next to the barn, Gus Kelso came out to meet them. The barn manager’s burly frame was slightly bent from a lifetime of lifting bales and pushing wheelbarrows, and as usual his face was shaded by a red baseball cap that covered much of his disheveled gray hair. Gus wasn’t particularly friendly, and no one at the barn warmed up to him right away. But most boarders felt blessed to have him in charge of their horses once they saw the excellent care he gave them. Now Gus approached the truck, his face stern and unsmiling.
Jack climbed out of the cab and called to him. “We’ve got Sarah’s horse, Gus. Do you know where he’s going?”
“He’ll have Medina’s stall for now. Mrs. DeWitt said we should move her mare to the carriage shed for a few days. Medina will bunk down with the broodmares until the carpenters finish the new stalls here.”
Sarah’s father shook his head in amazement as he, too, exited the truck. “Incredible! Mrs. DeWitt is letting Sarah’s new horse have her own horse’s stall?”
“Yes, but she’s not just being generous,” Jack said. “There’s more to it than that. A new horse could carry viruses that might cause the mares to abort the foals they’re carrying. We don’t want Crown Prince anywhere near them for a while.”
Sarah grabbed her lead shank from the seat beside her and hurried to the trailer’s side door. When she pulled it open, Crown Prince thrust his head out, his ears flicking in all directions as he took in his new surroundings. His eyes were wide, showing the whites, and when Sarah climbed up to run her hand along his neck, she noticed it was damp with perspiration. He must have been nervous on the trip, or maybe it was just the warm day. “It’s okay, boy,” she said softly as she stroked him.
Jack moved to the rear of the trailer. “When you’re ready, Sarah, we’ll let the ramp down and you can back him off. Don’t let him come too fast, though. Take him right into the barn to Medina’s stall.”
Sarah once again tried to remember everything she had learned from watching Kayla unload Fanny. She ran the lead shank through the rings on Prince’s halter, and after unsnapping the trailer tie, released the breastplate. She tried to sound confident as she called out, “I’m ready.”
Jack let the ramp down slowly and unhooked the butt bar before stepping to the side. “Okay, back him out.”
Sarah pressed her hand against Prince’s chest and clucked softly, asking the horse to move away from her. He began backing slowly, but as he started down the ramp, Prince suddenly rushed backward, an alarmed look in his eyes. Sarah, gripping the lead shank tightly, was pulled off the ramp. She fought to keep her balance when Prince whirled to face two horses being led across the parking area. He whinnied loudly to them, his nostrils quivering, his noble head held high.
Gus was leaning on the barn door, watching. He whistled softly. “It’s a good thing he’s got the end stall. It’s plenty big, and it looks like he’s gonna need it.”
“Come on, boy,” Sarah urged, putting pressure on the shank as she started for the entrance. Prince turned to walk beside her with quick mincing steps, but at the doorway he again balked, not sure what was inside.
Sarah spoke to him again. “It’s okay, Prince, it’s okay. This is your new home.” After hesitating a moment he followed her into the barn and down the aisle toward Medina’s stall. The horses along the way heard his aluminum racing shoes ringing on the cement and came to the front of their stalls to eye the newcomer. Two girls who boarded their horses at Brookmeade were carrying saddles out of the tack room and stopped in their tracks to watch the large stunning horse walk by.
Once in the stall, Sarah circled Prince back to the door and snapped a stall tie to his halter. Prince tossed his head fretfully, but otherwise he stood quietly as she removed his shipping boots and nested them near the door. Jack and her father stood outside, watching through the bars.
“He’ll settle down after a bit,” Jack said to Sarah, “and ’twill help if you stay calm. Take deep breaths. The horses near him are relaxed and that will help. But now he needs some time alone.”
Sarah sighed resignedly as she stretched up to remove Prince’s halter. She picked up the shipping boots and eased out of the stall. After hanging his halter and shank on the stall door, she stood by the bars watching her horse move uneasily around the stall, stopping occasionally to paw the deep bed of fresh shavings. The high side walls kept him from seeing Wichita in the next stall, but he paused a few times to listen when he heard his neighbor moving about.
“Do you suppose he’s always had straw bedding?” Sarah asked. “He acts like he doesn’t know what to make of the shavings.”
Jack turned to watch the horse. “You could be right. From his pawing, I expect he’ll be rolling soon. And don’t be surprised if he doesn’t clean up his grain tonight.” He gave Sarah a firm look. “But he’ll be fine. You needn’t be worrying. He can see other horses across the way, and that should steady him.”
Sarah’s father turned to leave. “I’ll be off now, Sarah. Call when you’re ready to come home. And be careful.” He looked intently at Jack. “I guess I don’t have to remind you that I have reservations about this horse, and Sarah’s mother certainly will, too. The only reason he’s here is that I know you’ll stay on top of things.” With that Mr. Wagner made his way down the aisle.
Jack watched him go, and then walked to where Gus was working his way from stall to stall using a long hose to fill water buckets. “Gus,” he said, “I don’t know if Mr. DeWitt has mentioned it, but Sarah’s going to start helping out here, taking Lucas’s place. Sh
e’s now a working student. Maybe you could show her the hay routine later today.”
Gus spun around to face Jack, the water from the hose spraying loudly against the side of the bucket. “What? It’s the first I’ve heard of it! I knew someone would be helping out after Lucas left, but a girl?”
Jack had learned to ignore Gus’s customary fuming when he first heard someone else’s plan. In time he always simmered down. “I think you’ll find Sarah’s a good worker. You’ll not be disappointed,” Jack said firmly.
Gus shut off the water spigot with a quick jerk. “What does she know about taking care of horses? Never had one of her own,” he grumbled.
Sarah couldn’t help overhearing the conversation, and she cringed at Gus’s words. It was obvious he didn’t like the idea of her working at the barn.
“She’ll be fine, Gus. Just give her a chance. I hope you’ll be having a few moments tomorrow morning to help set up her work schedule. Can you drop by the office, say at nine o’clock? It won’t take long.”
Gus shrugged his broad shoulders. “I guess so,” he muttered, as he went back to watering the horses. Jack left for the office.
A few minutes later, Tim and Paige arrived to see Prince, who was still moving nervously about the stall. “Wow!” Paige exclaimed. “He’s big and beautiful, Sarah. He makes Quarry look like a shrimp. What’s his name?”
“Crown Prince, but just Prince will do.”
“Well, whatever his name is, he’s awesome,” Tim said, moving away from the bars.
“I texted Kayla and Rita and told them where to find us,” Paige said. “Rita’s going to pick up Kayla and come right over. How long will you be staying?”
Before Sarah could answer, the sound of hooves crashing against the stall wall caused them to turn quickly. Crown Prince was down in his stall. He had rolled too close to the rear wall, and his hind legs had struck the sides with a loud crash. Startled by the noise, he leapt to his feet and shook himself. He nervously circled the stall a few times before finally dropping his head to nibble on some hay.
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