FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Kelsey did exactly what I would have expected her to do. She had Carlos put a halter on Kevin and take him out to the pasture with the other four mares while she put a halter on me and brought me to the crossties. Hooking me up, she then got out her cellphone and took several pictures, then disconnected the crossties and took me to an empty stall that she'd already bedded in anticipation of the new horse I'd told her about. "You go in here, little girl," she said to me. "Can't have a million dollar horse getting scraped up."

I snorted, wondering what she'd think if she knew it was me. She misinterpreted it, thinking I was nervous. "It's all right," she said soothingly rubbing my mane. I followed her into the stall quietly. I wasn't going to give her a hard time, as this was not her fault, but rather that of Kevin's and my own bad judgment. Kelsey unclipped the halter, took it off my head and left the stall, latching the door shut.

The stalls had seemed very big when I was a human, but now seemed a bit cramped. I walked over to the window and peered through the bars- all the stalls in my barn had windows, for ventilation and light, plus so that horses that had to stay in like myself could at least see other horses. Kevin was out in the pasture, running up and down the fence line and whinnying out. The four mares were trotting around, not sure why he was agitated. I wanted to be out with the other horses and whinnied back to let them know where I was.

This startled me- I was already thinking of myself as a horse and without thinking reacting like one. I forced myself to turn away from the window and looked about the stall. It was one I'd seen a thousand times, one of the extra stalls I kept for visiting mares and in case I purchased additional ones for my breeding operation. Carlos and Kelsey had put in a fresh bucket of water and there was timothy hay stacked neatly in the corner for me. The door to the aisle was a dutch door, and the upper part was open, so I walked over and stuck my head out. It hadn't really struck me before, but I realized I could see both ways down the aisle without turning my head because of my much wider field of vision. This was a bit disconcerting when I thought about it, so I decided to just accept it and enjoy the new sensation. My hearing was also much sharper, and I turned my ears toward the office where I could hear Kelsey's voice and one side of a conversation.

"You got the pictures I texted, Mr. Cedius? Yeah, I put her in a stall. No, just some horse rescue in California that my boss deals with. This afternoon? Sure. This number is fine. Who? Sure. That's cool. See you then."

"So what did they say?" I heard Carlos ask.

"Fuckin' A!" Kelsey exclaimed. "The insurance guy is going to be here this afternoon, and he's bringing Matt Teno from Horse Racing Daily!"

"They think she's Spiteful?"

"Shit yeah. They're gonna do testing but how many horses have that fucking blaze on their face?" Kelsey exclaimed.

I turned back into the stall. No doubt the fell spirits Kevin had dealt with intended this so that I'd be sent away and his soul would be forfeit. I wondered for a moment what had happened to the real Spiteful, but was certain that the testing would indicated that I was 'her'.

My mood suddenly shifted. So what? I'd secretly wanted to be a horse, to experience a life free of human anxiety. Usually I'd fantasize about being some kind of a champion- an Olympics caliber jumper, the National Champion reining horse, or sometimes an undefeated race horse. Now here was the chance, thanks to Kevin's ill thought out contract. I had the bloodlines of legendary race horses, and an ambition to win that other horses wouldn't have. I'd not be retired to the stallion barn, but for me that hadn't been the great appeal of being an equine.

I looked down at the hay and started to munch on it while I considered the options. The only downside to me being Spiteful was that Kevin would be damned to hell for all eternity, as it seemed very unlikely that anyone would breed a three year old thoroughbred mare with such impeccable bloodlines to an Arabian stallion, no matter what cause. I knew enough about racing that I'd be on the track, barring injury, until I was five or six- quality mares will make more money racing than they will as a broodmare, and they generally run much longer than quality colts do as a result. I'd probably be with one of the top trainers, in a nice racing barn, so my future seemed bright. There wasn't much I could do for Kevin, I rationalized. Though I could probably reach out and unlatch my door, I'd designed the facility carefully so that horses couldn't unintentionally get loose and off the property. I'd then have to evade capture for an entire year, and somehow get back in- assuming I kept accurate track of the time- exactly a year later.

I stopped chewing, feeling slightly guilty. Kevin was still whinnying, screaming out in his stallion voice at the top of his lungs, and I was planning my future. He was worrying about me, and I was eating my breakfast like a ... well, like a mare, totally indifferent to his concern or his fate. I went over to the window, stuck my muzzle through the bars and whinnied back. I would have to at least try, though it seemed unlikely. Turning around- it was an odd sensation, to be able to see my back, and I stood and contemplated my tail for a moment- then walked back over to the door and leaned out.

Carlos was still down by the office- usually he didn't stay this late, but today was going to be pretty exciting with the insurance guy and a national media figure coming out. I turned my head slightly, tilting it to the side so I could see the latch. They were designed to make it easy for a human to open and also so they didn't stick out and possibly gouge a horse in the side. There was a place to put a clip to keep a horse from lifting the latch, but no one had put one through the eyebolt, which was good. It still was challenging for a horse to open, but the other horses had done it once or twice so I was confident that with my knowledge of how the latch worked I'd be able to do so as well. The key was going to be timing- I'd wait until one of our visitors was about to arrive, then when Carlos or Kelsey 'buzzed' the electric gate to open dash out of the stall, out of the barn and down the driveway. I walked over to my bucket and got a big drink of water, then went back to the door. I just had to listen to when someone called to the office on the intercom for the gate to be opened. It was a half mile down the road to the forest preserve, I'd run through there then out into the farmland on the other side. The corn was tall enough that I'd be able to hide, or so I hoped, then run off at night to try to hide in the forests and evade capture for a year. It wasn't much of a plan, but all I could come up with.

It immediately failed, for not ten minutes later I looked up from the hay to find a bald black man in a business suit looking over the stall door at me. "Miss Hayes," he called out.

Kelsey came out of the office, surprised. "Mr. Cedius- I didn't hear you call from the gate," she asked. "How did you get in?"

The man smiled. "I don't know- the gate just opened. Thank you for calling us so quickly- here, let's take a look." I felt a bit uncomfortable. He had a cold, predatory air about him. "She certainly looks like Spiteful. My company is extremely grateful for you for recovering her, but we will have to do some DNA testing- hers is of course on file, from when she was born. Her markings are unique, but it isn't impossible to have near lookalike horses."

"No prob, Rog did DNA tests all the time," she replied.

"You do understand- in case this is in fact Spiteful my company will want to take custody of her immediately," he said. "If the test results should come back otherwise, we will of course return her to you, along with a reasonable fee for your troubles." He smiled, reminding me of a shark in a cartoon. "Meanwhile, forgive me for being excessively cautions, but could you put a clip on her door latch and shut the top of the dutch doors?"

"Sure," Kelsey beamed, shutting the top door. "I'll go get a clip."

She walked off toward the office and the insurance man looked at me. "Sorry to foil your plans," he said. "But we can't be too careful with so much at stake."

It was an odd thing to say, almost as if he knew what I'd been thinking. I didn't have much time to ponder this, or how he'd gotten in without someone buzzing him through the main gate. Kelsey came back with the clip, and about the same time Carlos called out from the office "Matt Teno is here, he's at the gate!"

I recognized Matt Teno when he walked into the barn a few minutes later. I'd seen him dozens of times on television, and a couple of times in person. He was wearing his trademark yellow and green checkered suit. "Mr. Cedius- thanks for calling. Ms. Hayes, thank you for allowing me this interview." He came and looked through the now closed bars of the dutch door. "Wow. Back from the dead, and into the race for next year's triple crown. Unbelievable."

"We will have to check with her last owner- the policy states that they have the right to purchase her back," Cedius said. "Otherwise, our company will put her up for auction. Of course, she has to go through DNA testing first to confirm that it is in fact Spiteful, though the unusual and unique markings convince me that she is."

"Her last owner was Armore Farms," Teno replied.

"Didn't they just file for chapter 11?" Carlos said. "Some kind of financial scandal?"

Without realizing it I pinned my ears back. I'd followed the story somewhat, but didn't know the connection. "Yes," Teno explained. "The owners were cooking the books. All the money was going into their nose. Cocaine."

"They still have first right of refusal," Cedius beamed. "In the meantime, though, my company will take possession of the horse until their attorneys provide us a decision." He turned to face Kelsey. "This is an excellent facility, Ms. Hayes, but I hope you understand- insurance company regulations. We'll be taking her to one of our approved commercial racing facilities until her disposition is settled."

I saw a moment of doubt on Kelsey's face. If I'd been one of the other mares, she might have made some objection, but I'd only been around for a few hours and there was no emotional attachment yet. "Sure," she said.

"Would you have time for an interview?" Teno asked her.

"Wow. Come on in the office." She, Teno and Carlos disappeared to the office, leaving me with the insurance man.

"The truck should be here in about an hour to pick you up. You'll eventually enjoy your new life," he said to me, as if he expected me to understand. He reached into his pocket and put on a pair of dark sunglasses, then walked out of the barn toward the pasture.

I turned and walked to the back of the stall, somewhat dejected. Looking out the window, I could see the insurance man approaching the pasture, where Kevin was standing, staring at him with his nostrils flared and his ears up. I wondered idly why he was so alarmed, then turned back to the feed bucket. Noting it was empty, I pushed it with my nose, listening to it rattle and hoping that someone might come to feed me some grain, then looked down to the hay. I could hear Kelsey and Carlos talking with the newsman, but wasn't interested enough to pay attention. I'd have to find some other opportunity to escape.

Or should I? Kevin had known the risk and I was certain he'd have sold his soul with no chance of redemption, he'd been so obsessed with being a horse. For myself, as a two year old horse, I probably had twenty or thirty years ahead of me of a low stress life that I'd always dreamed of. It wasn't quite what I would have planned, but I had been sixty years old and not in the best health as a human- now I was fit and young, and a famous horse to boot. I lifted my head and turned it, looking at my sleek legs and body, then flipped my tail. I was also a really good looking horse. I'd never really considered the possibility of being a mare instead of a stallion, but it seemed okay. I was a horse! I snorted and bucked in the stall, breathing in deeply in excitement. I was a horse!

Outside, I could hear Kevin's screaming whinny almost in panic. This only annoyed me. He should be enjoying himself, he was outside and I was stuck in a stall. I slammed the feed bucket again in annoyance, wondering why it was empty still, and only idly paid attention when I heard a truck grinding up the gravel driveway.

Two odd looking guys came in, along with the insurance man. They were dressed in coveralls as most horse haulers do but there was something a bit wrong about them- I wasn't sure what. Kelsey, Carlos and Teno came back out of the office. "They sure got here fast," Carlos said.

"We were in the neighborhood already for another pickup," one of the haulers replied. The other one was smiling so hard he almost giggled.

Kelsey unlatched the stall door, holding up a halter and I slid my head into it. "She's really easy to handle," she said as she snapped the halter's throat latch. Kelsey led me to the crossties again, and the haulers started to work on me.

"Wrap her legs carefully," the insurance man said.

"I know what I'm doing, but not sure Bing does," one of the two said as he started to wind a standing bandage around my leg.

The other giggled out loud this time. "I've only been doing this for four hundred years," he said. I could feel the bandage on my cannon- he was doing a good job, wrapping it tight but not so tight that the circulation would be impaired. It was a strange feeling; I'd done this to horses hundreds of times but never expected to have someone preparing me for a trailer ride.

The two finished the wraps, then put on bell boots to protect my heels. "All done," the giggler said.

"Well done, Bong," the insurance man approved. "Their nicknames," he explained to Kelsey. "We work together frequently."

Kelsey nodded approval. "So where is she going?"

"We'll be taking her to Halcia Del Mar. It's been rebuilt, and our company has a contract with the owners," the insurance man explained.

Outside, I could hear Kevin freaking out, then a crash as a board broke on the paddock fence. One of the haulers- Bing- snapped a lead rope to my halter and disconnected the crossties. "Come on, pretty baby," he said to me and pulled gently on the lead rope.

I quietly followed him down the aisle and out the barn door. A brisk, cool breeze was blowing, promising rain and I felt the gravel of the drive beneath my hooves- MY hooves!- as he led me to a silver gooseneck trailer hitched to a one ton pickup truck. The insurance man, Kelsey, Carlos and Teno watched from the door while Bing led me to the back of the trailer. He stepped in- I hesitated for a moment, not wanting to leave, knowing that despite my plans I'd probably never make it back here again. Kevin was running up and down the fence line, dripping with sweat. The other mares had settled down and were eating hay and watching him. "Come on, baby," Bing said again.

His partner was behind me and giggled again- we were far enough away from the barn that no one there could see where he pushed on my rear. It was not an appropriate spot, but I felt a jolt of pleasure and almost pushed back, but remembered that I was being watched by others and instead quietly stepped into the trailer. Bong shut the door, Bing attached my halter to a trailer-tie and removed the lead rope, then stepped out the small escape door. I whinnied a last farewell to Kevin, then heard the truck engine start and felt the trailer being to move.

---

The trailer was big enough for four horses and smelled new. I doubted it had ever been used before. The windows were heavily tinted green, so I really couldn't see much outside, so I concentrated on balancing. The movement of the trailer was disconcerting, especially when it went around a corner or slowed down. There was no warning, the floor just suddenly moved in a different way.

The other thing that started to bother me was noise. There were cars or trucks on the road behind us; I could hear as they got closer to pass but couldn't see, even when turning my head- the trailer had full storm doors, and the two transporters had closed them. This began to worry me, as I started to think that each truck would come up and hit the back of the trailer. Combined with the swaying floor, my discomfort and worry started to turn to panic. I snorted, my nostrils flaring, and pulled at the trailer tie, but it was nylon and wasn't about to break.

Halcia Del Mar was only about two hours from my stable, but it felt like forever getting there. I was still upset and dripping sweat when the truck finally stopped, and pushed impatiently at the closed window, waiting for the haulers to come release me. I could hear other horses and whinnied out, and was relieved when one called back to me. Finally, someone came and opened the back door of the trailer. Forgetting I was tied, I pulled back and almost fell, resulting in a cold laugh.

"Hey, stupid, you're still tied," the one named Bong said. He stepped into the trailer, put a lead rope onto my halter and unsnapped the trailer tie. "Don't even think of biting me, I don't taste very good," he said as if reading my mind.

I carefully backed out of the trailer without him urging me. Getting to the edge, I hesitated before stepping down since I couldn't see the ground where my hoof would land, even when turning my head. Bong shoved me, and I almost fell backward.

"Be careful." It was the insurance man, Cedius. He walked over and looked at me with a sharklike smile. I looked back at him with my left eye- it seemed somehow natural, rather than looking directly at him. I knew that with my right eye I was instinctively looking for a path to escape if I needed to run- though with Bong's hold of the lead rope I knew I couldn't. "This promises to be a very profitable venture," he said to me as if he expected me to understand. "With all the notoriety of your being missing and the publicity, we should get more for you at auction that the company paid out."

The sudden realization came that I was to be sold as property like a horse...well, I was a horse. So it was part and parcel of the situation. Bong pulled on my lead rope, and I began to follow him toward one of the barns.

It was new, beautiful, and state of the art. The stalls were big, it was brightly lit and well ventilated. He put me into one of the stalls, and I looked around approvingly. The stall was at least 14 by 14 feet, I could feel soft rubber matting beneath my hooves, and the pine flake bedding was covered with clean straw. In one corner was an automatic waterer, in the other a feed tub mounted so it could be filled through a small door. The front of the stall had aluminum bars above the four foot high wood sides and a sliding door with a safety latch. It was what I'd use if I could have afforded it; though in this case the safety latch was designed so that the horse- me- couldn't reach and unlatch it no matter how clever I was. The sides of the stall were wood about five feet up, then aluminum bars so I could see the horse in the next stall if I was to raise my head. However, if I was eating hay or from the feed bin, my head would be too low; this was to prevent bickering at meal times. The back wall was solid up to the ceiling, which had a large fan and light high enough that I couldn't reach either. There was another horse in the stall to my right, the one to my left was empty.

I wondered when we would be fed. After a few minutes, the insurance man came up, along with Billy Buckman- one of the legendary thoroughbred trainers. His horses had won the triple crown a record four times, and his trademark plaid yellow and blue jacket was expected to be seen on television in the winner's circle virtually every time there was a major stakes race.

He seemed a bit unhappy, though. "Fillies never do well in the Derby," he said.

The insurance man again had that sharklike smile. "We do have a contract, Mr. Buckman. A very clear contract with very specific clauses, and very...serious...consequences should they not be met."

Buckman peered at me through the bars. "Still...there was a lot of back stretch talk about this horse," he said. "That she couldn't outrun a dead turtle, and that Armore killed her for the insurance money." He looked at Cedius. "You wouldn't know anything about that, would you?"

"It is not appropriate for me to discuss my other clients or my contracts with them," the insurance man replied. "At least, not at the present moment."

The discussion seemed strange and it continued, but I lost interest as a short fat man appeared with a metal bucket. Opening the feed door he poured it into my tub. I immediately came over and sniffed, then took a big bite of the oats. Delicious. I pinned my ears as the horse in the next stall fidgeted, waiting for her meal, and kicked at the wall in warning. These were MY oats, and...

She had no way to get them. What was I thinking- or was I? I was starting to behave and think like a young mare. I stopped eating and began to fret. What if I mentally became a horse as well; forgetting all my human experiences or unable to understand speech? Kevin would most certainly be doomed, I would never be human again. But what of it? I was young, a horse, and felt more alive than I had in decades. The memories would be gone, but most were painful. Wanting to be a horse had been impossible and now here I was.

My contemplation was interruped as Cedius walked away, his discussion with Buckman apparently over. The trainer was staring at me through the bars and I wondered what I had missed. He spoke to me but what he said was confusing. "For both our sake, you'd better be faster than she was," he said, then he turned and followed the insurance man.

I spent the night in my comfortable stall enjoying my first experiences of being a horse. After a bit, I tried lying in the straw, then rolling. It was marvelous, and I found that I could wiggle and it would scratch my back. But after a bit, I began to realize my bladder was full and I had to 'go'. I didn't want my stall to be messy, but no one was going to let me out. Backing into a corner, I resolved to leave a pile just there, remembered to lift my tail and put it to the side, spread my legs like I'd seen my own mares do, and let fly. If nothing else, a neat pile in the corner would make me very popular with the stall cleaner. I also experimented with locking my legs and dozing while standing; this was restful but I preferred lying on my belly, then relaxing. I knew that horses only needed to sleep about four hours a day, but I was exhausted and slept most of the night.

The next morning brought more oats and fresh hay. It was nice, soft, a mix of timothy and some other grass. Despite the big stalls, I started to fidget about, as I would have preferred to be outside in a field, but knew that at the track this wasn't likely. Most of the horses would be in all day, some not even getting out to work or be exercised, but I soon saw the trainer Buckman approaching with a smaller woman and they came to my stall. She was wiry, I guessed about forty six, with dirty blonde hair and a scar on her face. I guessed she was an exercise rider or a jockey, as she was wearing riding boots, breeches, and a polo shirt.

She looked at me critically, touching the scar on her face. "This bitch has a bad reputation, Mr. Buckman. Word is that she put a couple riders in the hospital."

"She isn't the same horse she was a year ago," Buckman replied. "You want the ride or not?"

"Do I keep it all the way through?"

"No guarantees in this business," the trainer said. "But nobody's going to pull a rider that's a winner."

She looked defeated. "I'll do it."

"Good. I need you to breeze her this morning. Warm her up, then let her pick her own pace for five furlongs." He leaned against the stall. "This is real important, Kate. She hasn't been on the track in a long time. We need to win the Del Mar Stakes to qualify for the Kentucky Derby."

The rider looked astonished. "You're seriously going to try to get this horse in the Derby?"

"I have to," he replied. "I made a deal with the devil and he's called in his chips. Figuratively speaking, of course," he added before he turned and left.

I'd listened to this exchange and had a disquieting feeling at Buckman's last statement. Before all the nonsense with Kevin, I'd have just considered it a figure of speech. But Buckman's success had been unexpected and spectacular, a small track trainer from nowhere who had suddenly burst on the world scene with an unrivaled string of success.

The rider watched him walk off, then took the halter and lead rope from beside my stall. Opening the door, she slipped it onto my head. The lead had a chain shank on it; the haulers hadn't used it but she looped it through the halter and over my nose, then yanked down on it sharply. "Got your attention?" she asked as I snorted and pulled my head back.

The chain rested across the sensitive part of my nose and as she led me she would occasionally and unnecessarily yank on it. I tried to control my temper as we walked down the rows of stalls, finally coming to a set of crossties. She attached these to my halter, then went into a tackroom to retrieve a grooming kit.

This was one of the things I had looked forward to, and wasn't disappointed. Though the woman had been rather rough leading me, she was efficient and definitely knew how to groom a horse. It was pleasant, as she started at my neck, working her way back with firm pressure, and it was over all too soon. She then brushed my face with a softer brush, and I surprised her by picking my feet up as she came around to clean them.

She returned to the tack room with the grooming kit, I presumed to put it away. Emerging with a blue and yellow pad, exercise saddle and girth, she put the pad and saddle on my back, at least being careful now to place it precisely where it wouldn't interfere with my shoulder, then quickly tightened the girth. I pinned my ears back briefly at the girth's discomfort, which brought me a quick slap on the belly. "Don't make faces at me, bitch," she snapped, then pulled it a notch tighter. It was a bit uncomfortable, but I'd never worn a girth before and wasn't sure if it was too tight or not. As if to confirm, she stuck her fingers between the girth and my belly, then loosened it up a bit.

She went back into the tackroom, coming back out with a bridle and wearing a riding helmet. Not wanting to get hit again, I stood quietly as she wrapped the reins around my neck, disconnected the halter, shoved the bit into my mouth then pulled the headstall over my ears. Buckling the throatlatch, I did have to admit that she was quick and efficient.

Kate led me down the aisle to t he exit, then down a path toward the track. I wasn't sure what their routine was- usually, I would ask a horse to bend several times, recheck the girth, and 'pull' their forelegs to make sure that the girth wouldn't rub. But now I was the horse, and from my human experience knew that some riders would just get on and go.

Kate was one of them. She got to a small paddock near the entrance to the track where she asked me to stop. The stirrups on the exercise saddle were too short and Kate too small to put her foot into one, so she grabbed my mane and jumped up, pulling herself onto the saddle. I was impressed, she was quite agile and strong. She pushed her boots into the stirrups, her knees bent, and tugged gently on each rein to gauge how responsive I'd be.

I was almost giddy. This was something I'd dreamed about for most of my life, being a horse and having a rider. As soon as I felt the least pressure on the bit, I yielded and changed direction, anticipating that she'd be pleased at such a responsive horse.

"Shit," she said, the annoyance in her voice clear. "Buck gives me a horse that's twitchy as hell." She steered me toward a gap in the rail that led onto the main track, where several other horses were already working. She turned me then bumped me with her heels.

I'd been cooped up in the stall for practically my entire life as a horse, and was ready to go. Buckman had told her to warm me up first, which in my world of Arabian show horses would have meant fifteen minutes of flexing, circling, walking and jogging, but I immediately broke into a canter. It was exhilarating, feeling the soft dirt of the track give beneath my hooves, stretching and breathing the cool morning air. I felt pressure on the bit as she pulled back and I dropped to an extended trot, but felt the sting of a crop on my rump. Confused, I jumped back to a canter, though she continued to hold the pressure on my mouth.

I cantered along, circling the track once. Except for her pulling on my mouth, she was a good rider and at least my back was comfortable. Hacia Del Mar's main course is about a mile, and as we went around the track several other horses overtook and passed us, and I waited for her to signal me to gallop. As we neared the quarter pole, I spotted Buckman and a few other people standing by the rail. "Let her go," Buckman called out, and I could see he had a stopwatch in his hand.

I didn't wait for Kate to cue me, but instead jumped straight to a gallop. She swore as she hadn't expected this, but kept her balance. The white poles of the rail and the rose bushes that lined the main track seemed to pass in a blur; I could feel my heart pounding and flared my nostrils, drinking the air. This was what I'd dreamed of; galloping with other horses...

From my right eye, I caught sight of another mare. Her rider was pushing her as well, and I was surprised as she overtook and passed us with ease. I was running fast, this didn't seem possible, but she blew on by. Her rider looked over his shoulder. "Hey, Kate, pick it up," he shouted.

"Fuck off," my rider shouted back. I felt the crop on my rump again, urging me on, but I was already running as fast as I could and felt confused. Kate let me run about another third of the way around the track- probably more than the five furlongs- then I felt her pulling even harder on the bit and settling her weight onto the saddle; my signal to slow down. I dropped to a canter, then a trot. She turned me around, trotting along the outside rail so that horses exercising could go along the inside rail and trotted me back to the gap in the rail and into the small paddock where Buckman was waiting.

He had an ashen look on his face. "Did you ask her to go?"

Kate pulled me to a stop next to him. "She doesn't even have third gear. What was our time?"

"A minute and six seconds for five furlongs," he replied.

"You sure you're gonna run this horse in the 'stakes? She couldn't win a claiming race at that time." Kate swung down off the saddle, holding my reins and led me back into the barn. Stopping again by the tackroom, she retrieved my halter, looped the reins around my neck and undid the throatlatch. As she slid the bridle from my head, I reluctantly let go of the bit- I'd have another in my mouth soon enough, but having a bit was one of the other odd horse experiences that I'd always wanted. She replaced the headstall with the halter, then attached it again to the crossties.

Before she removed the saddle, she surprised me by pulling a peppermint candy from her pocket and offering it to me. I carefully picked it out of her hands with my lips and began to chew it, savoring the intense flavor. She rubbed my neck, then loosened the girth and removed the saddle. After taking it and the pad back into the tack room, she emerged again with the grooming kit and began to brush me down. I hadn't worked up much of a sweat from the brief workout, but it felt good to be brushed.

Kate began to talk. "Looks like we're both losers, little girl," she said in a sorrowful voice. "I should'a known that Buck wouldn't give me a decent ride."

I turned my ear back to listen. I only had to turn my head a bit to watch her with my left eye. It was still a bit novel, having such a wide field of vision, and I could easily watch horses and grooms further down the aisle in the opposite direction. There was a radio blaring some news station, but it was easy enough to turn my other ear away to lower the intensity.

People tend to tell their deepest secrets to a horse. I suppose that in most cases the horse wouldn't understand, and that people need to talk things out with themselves. "I've been doing this for so long. It's like I never get the chance, the one good ride to make my name. Just crap claimers. Never a good stakes horse, or even allowance horse." She switched from the stiff brush she'd used to get the sweat out to a softer one that would shine my coat. "You were too good to be true. You'll be in the spotlight for sure. If you won the 'Stakes I'd be a name right away, like Steve Cauthen. But I'm just headed to be another washed up nobody." Kate began to brush my face. It was a strange experience, both pleasant and disquieting at the same time. I felt nervous about having a brush so close to my eyes, and could feel every stroke though my whiskers. It was an intense sensation, but she was very careful with the brush.

She put the soft brush down and picked up a hairbrush, then started on my mane. "Buck was nobody, too," she went on. "I thought maybe that was why he was giving me a chance, but I suppose he's big and famous now." Moving back to my tail, she began to comb it out. It was very pleasant, especially when she rubbed near the dock, and I wondered why so many horses disliked it. "All I need is a chance. Just one good ride and I know I'm good enough to win. I'd about sell my soul..."

Kate was startled as I stomped hard with my right hind foot. "Sensitive topic?" she asked me sarcastically. I couldn't answer verbally, so I pinned my ears and bobbed my head, making the crossties swing. She laughed. "Okay, let's talk about something else. You know any rich, cute, young guys? Even just rich would do." She ran her hand down each of my legs in turn. I knew that she was checking for any injuries or heat. Again, I felt an odd sensation as she did this, as it pushed some instinctual button, then remembered that stallions would do this when teasing a mare. She picked up each leg, checking my hooves to make sure that I hadn't picked up any stones in our workout, then disconnected the cross ties and reattached the lead rope to my halter. She put the chain over my nose again but was much easier, not yanking on it as she led me back to the stall.

As we walked, I looked at other horses in their stalls. Most seemed indifferent, a few pinned ears and threatened as we walked by their space, and some seemed interested, putting their heads and ears up and nickering to me as I walked by. I drank in the smells as well as the sights- I could see the horses on both sides of the aisle as we walked along without turning my head, I could use both ears to listen, and I could smell the comforting aroma of other horses. I was very pleased; it was much as I'd imagined it would be, and when she put me back into my stall there was a fresh pile of hay. I went and sniffed it- more of the timothy and grass- then went to get a drink of water. "See you later, little girl," Kate said as she slid the door shut. I wondered why her demeanor had changed so much from earlier, but pushed the though aside as I started on the hay.

After a while- measuring time in hours and minutes just didn't make a difference to me any more- Buckman came silently to the stall, staring in at me through the bars. I brought my head up from the hay and looked at him curiously, wondering at his presence. He said nothing, the only sound that of other horses, the radio, and a few people I could hear some distance away.

Cedius, the insurance man, came up and joined him. He surprised me, having come up totally silently. I was getting used to my acute equine hearing, and could hear other people's approaches distinctly, but Cedius moved silently as a cat. "Ah, Mr. Buckman," he said jovially. "And your newest prospect."

"This horse- it's not fair," Buckman said. "She's a loser. She doesn't want to run."

That wasn't true, but I couldn't tell Buckman that. "Really, Mr. Buckman," Cedius said smoothly. "What was it a young man said twenty years ago? That he could win the Derby with a turtle if he only had the chance?" Cedius gave the smile again, which chilled my blood. "You know the terms of our very simple agreement. You were given four horses over the years that would win the major stakes races and make you famous. You got all the top horses because of that success. Now it's the twentieth year. All you have to do is win the Derby with the horse I provide."

"But you promised that it would be a horse that could win," Buckman pleaded. "Not some slug that can't pass a bucket of feed." I pinned my ears and bobbed my head threateningly at the remark, but he didn't seem to notice.

"Anything can happen in racing," the insurance man replied. "It's why they run the races. She could win. Besides, you're the greatest trainer that ever lived. You've told me so yourself," he continued mockingly. "You merely need to win the Hacia Del Mar Stakes next week to qualify for the Derby, then win the Derby itself in a month and a half. Otherwise, I'll be collecting my payment from you."

Cedius turned away from Buckman and looked at me. "You've turned out to be an outstanding investment, for both of my businesses. Do remember, that most of my...collections...come from those that I don't have contracts with , that merely make bad life choices ."

---