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Daybreak in New Orleans - Part 4

Original article written by The Steward posted 14 years 3 weeks ago

WEEEEEOOOOP.

WEEEEEOOOOOOP.

“What is that?” Stormy Peak asked her pillow groggily. She turned over and read the alarm clock: 2:40 am.

WEEEEEOOOOOOPP!

Gradually, Stormy realized that the sound was the fire alarm. Instantly she was fully awake, and pulled a sweatshirt on over her pajamas before grabbing a room key and fleeing downstairs.

Sleepy owners and trainers emerged from doors all down the hall. Lights flashed as the alarm deafened those trying to escape.

“Is there really a fire?” Miryam Cornwall asked, her eyes darting to the drawn faces as they all crowded down the stairs. Once through the lobby, they met horsemen from other floors outside, shivering in the late night air.

Jolene Danner stood back from the others, wearing an oversized red sleeping T-shirt that read “DOUBLE FISTING THE TURF!” across the front. On the back were two horse head silhouettes, with MOYA and TATTERED printed underneath. She appeared to be one of the few that weren’t affected by the cold. Amanda Kessler leaned against a pole a few paces away, talking animatedly on her cell phone.

Two fire engines turned into the small hotel parking lot, their red lights flashing violently. Susie Raisher crossed her arms and complained about the inconvenience to Ali LaDuke and Robin Tan. Ali looked nearly purple with cold, her teeth chattering.

Five uniformed firefighters charged through the lobby, catching the eye of some of the younger female trainers. Robin Tan tossed her long dark hair over her shoulder, and Katy Turner grinned despite the rude awakening.

“Ladies and gentlemen, may I have your attention please?” called a tall man, presumably the hotel owner. The chit-chat died down, and people turned their eyes on the man in charge. “Thank you so much for assembling quickly, I am relieved to report that it was just a kitchen fire. The New Orleans Fire Department has put it out, and you may all return to your rooms.”

“I’m going back to bed,” Jolene said, bursting through the gathered crowd and heading for the lobby.

“We all have to get up in an hour,” Callie Anderson said reasonably, consulting her cell phone for the time. “Shouldn’t we just go to the track and finish our training early?”

“No way,” Ali argued. “Bed for me!” She followed Jolene inside.

Norman Architecture yawned and stretched. “I’ll go get changed, there’s no reason to go back to bed now,” he said. Matt Wilson also voiced his agreement, and he and Madeline Gilbert were both dressed enough to head straight to the racetrack.

Stormy Peak ended up decided to go to the track as well. It would be a long wait, as her only Steward’s Cup contender was scheduled to blow out on the grass, but she would rather spend time at the track than tossing and turning in her hotel room. She, too, changed and prepared for the day.

**

Still hidden by the cover of darkness, Bill Oelrich waited patiently just inside the gap with his burly dark bay, Beyond the Stars. The handsome bay, whose long, heavy mane cascaded down his neck and between his eyes, was twitching with anticipation. Nostrils flaring, Beyond the Stars watched as Greentree Racing’s Astro Rocket, the only other horse on the track, galloped past. Almost involuntarily, the colt stepped forward, desperate to compete.

“Easy, big fella,” Bill murmured, jiggling the shank to distract his mighty runner. Beyond the Stars would be going for his eighth win in twice as many starts. His 2 3/4 length Steward’s Cup Juvenile win of two years ago was a highlight in Bill’s life.

Bill released Beyond the Stars and let the colt burst away from the gap, his ears flattening as Caleb Andersen immediately took hold. Fire seemed to spew from the colt’s nostrils – a spitting image of his brilliant sire, Sun Raider.

“Looks good, Bill,” Amy Schmidt said conversationally, settling along the rail after walking her filly to the track.

“Thanks,” Bill smiled. “I kind of like the filly a little more than him this weekend, but what was I supposed to do with him?”

Amy didn’t answer, but watched the sky turn suddenly from purple to pink. “Are you going to the party tonight?” she asked Bill.

“Of course, I wouldn’t miss it!” he exclaimed.

“Me either,” she agreed. “What time is it?”

“Seven, I believe,” Bill answered.

Amy grinned as Mucho Gusto galloped past up the backstretch and cornered into the far turn. “Can’t wait.”

**

“My, what big feet you have,” Larry Burndorf muttered, leaning over the leg of his gray filly, Guardian Angel. He felt immediately stupid and chastised himself for remembering a nursery poem. Guardian Angel stood patiently, ignoring his probing along her hoof walls. “Alright, you look good,” he said finally, straightening and dropping her leg to the ground. Guardian Angel shifted her weight and bobbed her head, nudging his pockets for carrots.

“You wish,” Larry said, stepping out of the stall and moving down the aisle to where his massive black colt, Prestige, stood leaning against the webbing. “What about you?” Larry asked the colt, letting himself into the stall. “Are you going to run on Friday? Or are you going to scratch?”

Prestige stared hard at his trainer, then looked back out over the webbing, watching horses pass by on their way to the track for exercise. He whinnied shrilly at a filly – Iggy Timeeczch’s Rewrite the Past – and Larry slapped the colt on the shoulder. “Shut up!” he grumbled. “My ear is right there!”

Prestige fell silent, his piercing eyes still watchful. In turn, Larry examined the colt, mulling his options. On one hand, winning the Classic would probably give Prestige the Three Year Old Championship, not to mention millions of dollars in stud fees. A good performance would pad Larry’s bank account. On the other hand, the addition of a few more speed horses in the race made it a difficult one to win, and set it up for rival Literature to steal the show.

Plus, Prestige was bred to be a standout four and five year old, so this wouldn’t be his only Steward’s Cup chance. However, it was conceivable that the colt was in the best form of his life, coming off a big win in the Awesome Derby over favored Pacific Classic.

“Tell me,” Larry demanded of the colt. “Do I run you, or not?”

As if on cue, Alyse Schuver’s burly black monster War Daddy strutted into view, headed for the track. The $1.4 million earner arched his neck and marched onwards, his long black tail flowing behind him. The colt looked unreal, dappled and muscular. Like Prestige, he was considered somewhat of an outsider in the race, but had every chance to win.

“That doesn’t help,” Larry grumbled at War Daddy, before letting himself out of the stall and moving down the aisle to check on his Juvenile colt, Rancho.


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