Daybreak in Seattle Part 3

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

“Get out of there,” Todd Lucas snapped, his sharp warning tainted with fondness. He jerked back on the lead shank, startling his dark bay colt into obedience. Honest Bird pulled his head out of a large Sam’s Club-sized bag of carrots outside of the tack room door and continued behind his trainer.

“Let’s make a deal,” Todd chatted, as much to soothe his nervous colt as anything. “If you win the Steward’s Cup, I will let you eat as many carrots as you want.” Honest Bird ignored him and instead gazed out at the gap between barns.

Sarah and Skippy Bowen were up to their elbows in soap. Skippy was trying to steady his colt I Am Southdale, who jigged sideways, ears flat, while Sarah came at him with the sponge. “Every day!” Skippy growled aloud. “You get one of these every day! Just deal with it already!”

A few yards away, Florida Keys regarded the scene with mild concern. The white of his right eye showed while trainer Miryam Cornwall wiggled the shank, trying to regain the colt’s attention.

“You ready to go to the track, big guy?” Todd asked, spying his exercise rider leaning against the shedrow wall. Honest Bird skittered in response, arching his powerful neck. He fidgeted while Todd grasped the rider’s left leg and threw him up into the saddle.

“Gallop slow for two miles,” Todd said. “Don’t let him get away from you!”

“I know, boss, I know,” the rider said, gathering his reins and knotting them. “Hopefully he doesn’t see anyone going fast or he will want to go fast, too.”

As if to prove the point, Honest Bird spotted trainer Randy Booth leading his colt Bow to No One to the track. Todd had to grasp a hold of Honest Bird’s bit to stop him from jogging towards the younger, nobler colt.

“Yahoo!” Scott Pho called from the back of his filly The Baroness. “Watch out! Here comes Lucas!”

“Very funny,” Todd grumbled. They had reached the gap, an opening at the top of the far turn before the chute. “Go get ‘em, big guy.”

Honest Bird moved off, and Todd went to lean against the rail alongside trainers Justin Turner and Jonathan Bolt. They were deep in discussion about turf sprinters.

“The two-year-old season is when everything happens, though,” Justin argued. “Running as an older horse is merely for show.”

“With that new race in Dubai, a bunch of horses who were slow to mature are going to be adding their bloodlines to the gene pool. That horse who won this year will be getting a mare from me next year, even if he runs poorly this weekend,” Jonathan countered.

They quieted to watch Anna Leroux’s Humanitarian, a top turf sprinter, gallop past. The diminutive bay colt strained against his rider’s hands, always a handful on the track. “Take that horse’s sire, for instance, Break,” Jonathan continued. “I bred to him a few years ago…”

--

“Feature Race… anyone want a copy of today’s Feature Race?”

Kenzie Larkin moved through the crowd gathered outside of the track kitchen, handing out copies of the daily newspaper. “Anyone else want a Feature Race? Benny?”

Benny James shook his head, lifting his coffee mug in the air in acknowledgement. “Thanks though,” he offered.

“How about you, Ara?” Kenzie asked, spotting Ara Davies near the counter. Ara, always outrageously dressed for the Steward’s Cup events, wore a black and white checkered dress, a bright red scarf, and stylish silver flats.

“What is it?” Ara asked, glancing up from her plate of bacon.

“The Quibbler!” Alysse Jacobs joked from the front of the line.

“Ooo, give it to me, then!” Ara gasped, extending her hand.

Leaning against the back wall and lazily sipping coffee, Jarrod Brush took a break from studying an advertisement proof to observe the scene. He noted that at least three trainers – Hope Bentley, Kimberly Jean and Laura Smith – wore raincoats despite the fact that the day had dawned sunny and bright. Another, Sarah Chase, was dressed in shorts, a tank top and flip-flops.

He spotted Leonard Beagle dashing out of the kitchen, a mug in one hand and a plate in the other. “Leo!” Jarrod called, causing the other man to stop short. “You going to that Horsemens’ thing tomorrow night?”

“That Harbor Cruise thing?” Leo asked. He nodded his head even before Jarrod confirmed it. “I’m going, but I’m going to eat. No emceeing for me this year. I miss out on all the good stuff that way!”

Jarrod laughed and went back to studying the proof of Paralayo’s first stallion advertisement.

--

She looked deep into his golden-brown eyes, feeling their powerful connection. His stare made her squirm, as if she somehow wasn’t safe with him. She knew that at any moment, he might sink his teeth right into her.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” Michelle whispered. “It’s too dangerous. You might hurt someone.”

He threw his golden hair back, haughty as always.

“What if you can’t control yourself?” Michelle asked nervously. “What if you get away and I can’t be there to protect you? You’re supposed to wait until it’s later, when there aren’t so many people who could see you.”

Then she screamed. Faster than she would have thought possible, his teeth were buried in her right arm, a few inches above the wrist. Triumph gleamed in his wild eyes. She should have been more careful, she should not have tempted him by stalling…

“Edward! Get off of me! Edward!” she slugged him in the side of the nose with her free hand. “Edward Cullen! You let go of me this instant!!”

The colt let go, impish chagrin on his face.

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