Daybreak on Long Island - Part 6

Original article written by The Steward posted 13 years 0 weeks ago

At 5:00 am on Thursday morning, Barn 20 was already fluttering with activity. Unlike most of the trainers shipping in for the Steward’s Cup, Susie Raisher trained out of Long Island Park year round, and called Barn 20 home.

Her 35 horses stabled at the track all needed to be exercised, not just her two Steward’s Cup entrants. The lovely filly Boann, who got upset with too much crowd noise, would go in the first set, along with Wow, a goof of a colt with a big heart but questionable head.

“Same as yesterday, okay?” Susie said to Boann’s exercise rider. “Back them up to the turn and then go one and a half.”

“Sounds good, boss,” the rider nodded.

Wow stopped on his way out and shoved Susie with his nose. “I love you too, you enormous child,” she said affectionately. “Go get them.” She slapped his neck and Wow snorted excitedly and skittered out of the barn.

In the Barn 20 annex, Jarrod Brush kept his four runners away from prying eyes. The most valuable of them, The Secret Wedding, leaned towards her fan already, enjoying the breeze lifting her mane and forelock. Using Thursday’s weather as an indication, the Steward’s Cup would not be held on a pleasant fall day; it would be blazing hot.

Jarrod led the compact gray filly Movin On Up out of her stall and into the aisle. “You ready for your last little spin before the big day, little girl?” he asked her kindly, holding her steady while the exercise rider adjusted his stirrups. Movin On Up bobbed her head obediently in answer.

He followed her out to the track, keeping his eyes open for any of her competition. Jack Heissenbuttel’s Right Lady was headed to the training track, and Jarrod swiftly sized her up.

“Morning,” Jack called, a little sharply, as if to warn Jarrod that he, too, was watching the competition.

“Yep,” Jarrod replied.

Mike Bryant lingered by the gap to the main track; his horse A Lot of Lost had been the first one on that morning after the outriders and their horses. The colt came off blowing, his nostrils flared wide. Mike caught his rein above the bit and had to jog to keep up with the colt back to the barn.

Because of the heat, trainers were sending their runners out early. Jesper Kraepool’s lone starter, Crack the Vault, finished up his gallop by 5:08 am, and Benny James’ dazzling filly Look Intelligent jogged off the track by 5:12.

Movin On Up finished by 5:18 and Jarrod followed behind her back to Barn 20. He liked what he saw, and smiled to himself.

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During the break, horses gathered outside of the gap awaiting the signal that the tractors had cleared. Four horses stood patiently, including the massive bay Big Gamble from the Donnie Hidalgo barn. Big Gamble tugged impatiently at the bit, his muscles twitching away the flies.

Joel Schwartz’s Shoot Out and Mark Geuken’s massive colt Fast Freddy seemed oblivious to each other’s presence. They were both scheduled to start in the Juvenile Sprint in about 30 hours.

A strapping gray filly, Flat Out Weapon, stood nearby watching the boys. Her trained, Murray McNickle, jiggled her shank to keep her interested and not falling asleep.

Not a single photographer crowded them. Instead, they were pressed against the rails of the horse path, snapping away at a 17-hand high dark bay filly. The filly’s white stripe and glowing dapples reminded onlookers of another famous racehorse of old, Zenyatta.

Trainer Sarah Chase posed proudly with her undefeated filly, looking up at her in admiration. Sparkle Factor’s head towered several feet above Sarah’s, but the filly dropped her nose to nudge Sarah’s chest.

“Awww!” the crowd exclaimed. Sarah laughed inwardly, knowing that Sparkle Factor only wanted to get onto the track and run.
--

On Thursday afternoon, the reporters and horsemen had migrated to the front side to watch the day’s races. Most barns finished their stakes horses by 3 pm, and it was after 4. The lone exception was Jeb Clampett, standing in a fenced in grassy yard outside of her barn. At her side grazed a muscular bay colt, his long neck extended towards the strands of grass.

It was a perfect moment, one Jeb would like to time capsule. The undefeated Heroes, on the brink of superstardom, looked fantastic, like a champion in his prime. The pressure of the media and the upcoming race had drifted away with the end of morning training. There was nothing, just Jeb and her horse.

Heroes raised his head quietly and watched the leaves dancing on the trees before returning to grazing.

--

Sometime around midnight, Sara Kendall laid in bed with the sheets pulled up to her neck, but she didn’t sleep. Twenty long years, and not once had she found herself in the Steward’s Cup winner’s circle. She stared up at the speckled ceiling and tried to imagine what it would feel like, but couldn’t.

Will this be my year? she wondered.

In the very next room, sitting up against the window with her forehead crushed into the glass, Hope Bentley tried to imagine her filly Valued crossing the line safely. She didn’t worry about winning or losing, she was merely too excited to sleep. She couldn’t hear Sara tossing and turning one wall away.

--

Art Vandelay opened his eyes slowly. Muted lights hit his vision, and for an instant he was confused. He sat up cautiously and realized he was on a cot with a horse blanket draped over his body.

Suddenly, the night came rushing back. Art remembered feeling sick in his hotel, and worrying about whether his colt Highly Regarded was cast in his stall, sick with colic, or hung up on a hook. He’d jumped into his car, drove to the barn at 1:25 in the morning, and upon seeing that Highly Regarded was dozing happily, Art had gone to sleep in the stall next door.

He didn’t hear any movement from his beloved colt, and bolted to his feet. “Are you okay, bud?” he asked frantically, rushing to the stall door. Highly Regarded popped his head out and nickered cheerfully, as if to say, “Happy Steward’s Cup day!”

--

Emma Lochran entered the shedrow, her mind already on the order of race day. Sofie would have to be walked for about an hour, bathed, and then done up in bandages and put away. In a few hours, they would remove her food and water, and then…

She stopped dead upon seeing Sofie leaning out over the webbing. The gray filly had her head stretched towards the tack trunk, and she was working the lid. Several times, she slipped her strong upper lip under the edge of the trunk’s lid and lifted it, and it fell back onto her nose and she retreated. On the fourth attempt, the filly shoved her head forward, and then she was in.

Sofie carefully nosed around the trunk, then tugged back suddenly, trying to dislodge something from inside.

“Are you serious!?” Emma cried, incredulous. She rushed forward, spooking Sofie and causing her to back up quickly. Emma entered the stall, tied Sofie to the back wall, and then went to the feed room to grab a wheelbarrow. She systematically removed every inch of straw from the stall floor, much to the filly’s dismay. She still didn’t see anything, but Emma knew it had to be around.

After fifteen minutes of examining the floor and walls, Emma saw a metallic flash out of the corner of her eye. She got down on her hands and knees and examined a crevice in between the wall of the stall and the baseboard holding the rubber mat flooring. With her brand new hoof pick, Emma carefully dislodged the offending piece of metal.

After a few minutes, she retrieved the missing hoof pick.

**The End**

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