Dagger's Point

Chapter Four

They are breathing loud as they fly around the track, their hooves beating out thunder, while their heads bob, determined to out race each other. I don't know anything about racing, but the sight is enough that my heart skips a beat, awed by the power and drive they have. I stand next to Fred, having arrived earlier than she had wanted me to, so she asked me to watch the morning works with her. I am not complaining though, completely taken aback by being so close to them. I know that all horses are powerful, but dressage fails to get someone's heart racing as a pack of horses pounding around a track at top speed do.

"Tell me your opinion on the chestnut with the yellow leg wraps."

I know which one she is talking about, he had just taken part in the mock race, his coat glistening though he seems to be barely winded.

"I don't know anything about Thoroughbreds or racing."

"It doesn't matter. Just tell me what you think."

"He's fast, but they all are. He has a really nice stride, but he never seems fully engaged all the way through, it's like he's playing around and not being serious about it."

I am shocked by what I say, not having realized what I had gotten from a simple race, one that wasn't even official, with two horses I had never seen before.

"You have a good eye. Maybe I'll train you into an assistant trainer." I glance at her to make sure that she is joking as her voice gives nothing away, but her face is also a mask, not showing me any hint as to whether or not she is. I don't want to ask, so I just assume that her words mean nothing, it's not like I want to look after Thoroughbred's anyways, they're just living race cars.

"Watch this grey and tell me what you think about him." My eyes lock onto a dapple grey as he breezes past us, I remember him from the barn; Thunder Bird. I watch everything about him, from the easy way he takes the bit in his mouth and pushes forward, without the jockey seeming to urge him. Then it is like a switch flips, as the rider waves his crop and suddenly the reins grow short as he stretches out into an even faster gallop, taking it up a notch. Then I see it, the small hitch in his gait, if he had been mine I would've had a heart attack, and set him on stall rest with ice and bute, with the vet there in an instant. But how she asks me, I feel like she already knew and wants me to point it out to her.

"What's wrong with his left hind?"

"Good catch. As a colt he broke it out in the field, so ever since then when he really gets moving you can see it. The vet said that it is perfectly healed and he is clear to run. It doesn't seem to hold him back at all."

I watch as the jockey pulls him up now, circling to head back in our direction, the gelding trotting with his head down and resembling a hunter horse, instantly impressing me. Though something about it saddens me, knowing that most likely after his racing career he's not going to be sound enough to do anything. It is a shame, but there is nothing I can do about it, just like with Dagger.

"Have you ever thought about getting up on one of them?" She asks, watching wistfully as a horse gallops slowly past us, the jockey having to fight him to keep him steady.

"You mean racing?"

"Not even that. Just merely exercising one."

"Not really. It's not exactly my cup of tea."

"Well if you ever want, I have an older gelding that we send out with the youngsters that you can exercise any morning, unless of course, you're too scared."

I hear the challenge in her tone, a way to test my courage, or something like that. Her way of trying to see what the dressage girl is made out of. I don't feel anything holding be back when I think about it, because it isn't breaking my own rules. I am not competing and I am not riding under the reign of my father.