Raja, Story of a Racehorse (26 page)

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Authors: Anne Hambleton

BOOK: Raja, Story of a Racehorse
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The second time around he started casually passing horses, one by one. Approaching the finish, he suddenly found another gear and powered into the lead.

“That was for you, Raja.” He jigged triumphantly next to me as we accompanied him back to the judge's stand for the win picture and trophy presentation.

“I'll bet you're just itching to do this. That was pretty easy compared to the races you're used to winning.” Shaddy smiled knowingly.

I just looked at him and nodded my head.

Yes, indeed. Steeplechasing looks perfect.

June, Chester County, Pennsylvania

One hot green-and-blue day, a couple months after the excitement of the point-to-point, Dee ran into the barn and flung her arms around my neck,

“Raja, I missed you so much. I can't wait to ride. I'm so psyched it's summer.”

Some summer days Sam and Harper and Prism and Holzmann came over.

“That's five foot three — I'll bet you can't do that bareback,” Dee challenged Sam, setting up the jump standards to the highest hole. She and Sam loved to jump big fences and practice Cossack tricks, egging each other on, even though Holzmann didn't much tolerate the trick riding and usually bucked Sam off when he tried them. Sam just climbed back on and tried again. Dee's favorite was heading me at the big post and rail fence next to the barn riding bareback with a lead rope tied to my halter.

I don't want this to sound ungrateful or spoiled or anything, because I was happier here than I had been since Michelle's. The Murphys were truly wonderful, caring and fun. And I WAS grateful. But...something was missing. I needed a goal, a big, ambitious goal. It's just me, I guess. Something kept gnawing at me. I felt….UNFINISHED.

Every evening after supper when we were waiting for the heat of the day to cool before going out for the night in the big field, Paddy brought me a dark, sweet drink.

“'Tis an old Irish secret — a Guinness a day helps with digestion. In Ireland we give it to the racehorses and broodmares,” Paddy nodded, pouring it into my feed tub.

Dee finished brushing me then put me in my stall and sat on a hay bale, her face dappled pink and yellow by the setting sun, while Angus dropped a slime-covered tennis ball at her feet and looked up at her, wagging his tail, wiggling and grunting.

“Red sky at night, sailor's delight,' Paddy mused. “What a beautiful sunset.”

Dee nodded and sat, thinking, then casually tossed the ball out the barn door. Mac and Angus bolted after it, Angus wrestling fiercely for it when Mac reached it first.

“‘Steeplechase,' that's a funny name. Why's it called that?”

Paddy wiped his forehead with a rub rag and stopped sweeping the aisle. “The first steeplechase race was in County Cork, Ireland, in 1752, between two friends, Cornelius O'Callaghan and Edmund Blake. To decide who had the best horse, they raced to the closest church steeple, St. Mary's in Doneraile. So they ‘chased the steeple,'” he smiled, “and they had so much fun, the idea spread. 'Tis still most popular in England and Ireland, but you'll find it all over the world. In this country, the oldest race still going is the Maryland Hunt Cup, first run in 1894. By the way,” he added, “Rick Dunlop's horse, Inquisitor, won the Hunt Cup for the second time this year. I wish you could have been there. It was quite a race.”

How good IS Inquisitor, really?

Paddy continued, “Rick called to see if you'd like a summer job galloping for him. Sam'll be riding for him, too. I'll bet you didn't know that he's a Hall-of-fame trainer. Last year he was leading trainer. His horses are very nice, and Jed and Wyatt, his stable jockeys, are the best jump jockeys around. It's a great opportunity.”

Dee crept into the barn hunched over, walking slowly, like the old ladies I used to see walking their poodles in Central Park.

What's wrong with her?

“It's only my second day riding out at Rick's, but my arms and legs are so sore,” Dee complained, “I can't lift these water buckets.”

“Galloping racehorses will get you fit,” Tricia smiled, “I was an exercise rider for years. That's how Paddy and I met. It's different from regular riding, isn't it? Once you get your strength and balance, it'll be easier to learn how to settle the strong ones and get them to relax, but it takes practice to learn.”

For our next few rides, Dee jacked up her stirrups and took me to the big hay field across the road. She was a good rider, but this was different. She tried, but she didn't have the right balance and she wasn't relaxed, like Pedro or Willie or Paddy. I remembered Prism's words and tried to be kind and a teacher and help her to learn.

It felt good to gallop but I wished I was training for something, something BIG.

August, Chester County, Pennsylvania

As we hacked through the misty cornfields to the meet, a glorious, red-streaked sky broke the steamy August day. I smelled a musky scent rising from the warm ground. A fox was around. We followed a worn path around the corn to the crest of the hill just in time to see a huge orange sun appear and paint a golden light over the rolling hills of hay fields and fieldstone barns.

“Wow! There's our reward for getting up at four o'clock. Makes you glad to be alive, doesn't it?” said Tricia, flicking her fly whisk on Robbie's flank. “It was so nice of Rick to invite us cubbing.”

Rick rode Inquisitor. This time, I took a good look. He was a big, powerful-looking dark bay. I noticed that he had a special presence — ‘the look of eagles,' Michelle had called it. My eyes were drawn to him and I noticed that other horses and people watched him, too.

How good is he, really?

“Dee, Tricia, ride up front with me,” Rick invited.

As I walked next to Inquisitor, he turned toward me.

“Shaddy tells me you won some good flat races.”

Was there a hint of arrogance in his tone? Competition?

He continued, “I won some races on the flat before I turned to jump racing. Flat racing is definitely a challenge, but I believe that the ultimate test of a great horse is the Maryland Hunt Cup. Not only do you need to be fast and a good jumper, you have to have stamina to make it over four miles and twenty-two of the stiffest timber fences in the world. Making it over the third fence of the Maryland Hunt Cup at speed and in company of a group really separates the real horses from the ponies.”

He strode confidently, almost as if he wanted to challenge me at the walk. I increased my pace, catching up to him then walking slightly ahead of him.

Oh, you want to play games? I can play, too.

November, Chester County, Pennsylvania

“Dee's father called me this morning,” Paddy announced one blustery, wet-leaved fall day as he and Tricia planted flower bulbs along the fence next to our field.

“Did you tell him how much we loved having Dee last summer? It's lonely now that she's back in New York. Poor Raja must be so bored.”

I am bored. Bored, bored, bored!

“His company is transferring him to London. He thinks it would be a great opportunity for Dee, but he's worried that he'd never see her. His work schedule is very demanding — he's always travelling to the Middle East for weeks at a time. He knows she hates New York and the only thing that keeps her happy is coming here to work with the horses during the holidays.”

A look of sadness transformed Tricia's normally cheerful blue eyes.

“Oh, no! Dee will be crushed if she has to leave Raja. She'll be 16 soon. That's a tough age to move to a new place, especially another city, without horses. She's had a hard enough go of it already with her mother's illness and then having to leave Ireland to move to New York.”

She jammed the shovel into the ground with a bit more force than usual. “I know her father has an important job and that he's a kind and decent man, but I wish he spent more time with her, poor girl. No wonder she loves Raja so much. He's her family.”

She paused, thinking. “Paddy, do you think Dee could come and live with us? She was so happy this summer. The boys love having their cousin around and so do I. It's nice to have another female around. I could use the help in the barn and the garden. She could spend holidays in England with her father.”

A smile crept across Paddy's face. “Sure I was hoping that would be your response, but didn't want to be the one to suggest it. Shall we call him?”

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