The Race That Created Champions

Kindled

Sunlight began pouring onto the dew-laden grass as morning crept across the jagged Montana mountain valleys. Birds twittered at each other; flowers nodded in the gently flowing breeze; a peaceful hush quivered in the air, and yet-- a sense of danger still lurked from within the large red barn. Horses shifted uneasily in their stalls. Buckets clattered. Angry voices finally broke through and shattered the calm of the burgeoning day. 

"Chase, I said that you were mucking stalls out today, so you ARE mucking stalls out today!"

"That's not what you hired me to do, Mr. Dales. It's in the contract we signed; I'm the official stable rider and these guys are the hands." The kid gestured wildly at the grim-faced, bowlegged men who worked quietly around him. "So, does that mean we need to revoke it? Because I know my rights and what I signed." The kid brazenly took a step forward and leaned against a wooden pillar, staring at the man across from him with a decidedly smug look on his face. 

Mr. Dales stared right back. He could not back down now. He WOULD not back down now. 

"Pick up that pitchfork, Woods. And muck out the filly's stall, now," the man breathed, furious once again at this show of defiance. No longer would he put up with this behavior, not after he had finally gotten the kid to give his word! 

Chase slowly grabbed the pitchfork, rustling the soiled straw in the stall. "Fine, Mr. Dales. Have it your way," he mumbled testily. Then he flung the straw across the aisle, tossing it so that it landed perfectly on the trainer's freshly-oiled leather boots. The man kicked the offensive material aside, seemingly unbothered, but the kid knew differently. In Mr. Dales's eyes, murder lay hidden within-- death to his career as a professional jockey and everything he had worked for at this stable! Yes, the kid knew he was being used. He didn't know how. But he resolved to live in a way that nothing, NO ONE,  would dare snatch his career from him. With a clenched jaw and quivering muscles, he continued down the aisle, meekly mucking out the stalls yet planning for the day that he would rise up above everyone who had chained him down.