Golden Filly Collection One Read Online Free PDF

patted the dog trotting beside her. “That’s what Dad would do.” She paused at the gate to the yearling pasture. Two of the colts raced back along the fence line. They plowed to a stop before her, then extended their muzzles to sniff her proffered hand.
    Trish laughed at their antics, but her attention zeroed in on the gray filly dozing against the back corner.
    “What is this?” she questioned herself. “Sleepy time. Cough time. It’s supposed to be training time. And I don’t have time for anything else.” Briefly she checked the filly for wheezing. She sounded fine. No mucus in her nostrils. But her eyes were droopy.
    “Lethargic is the word.” Trish closed her eyes to better recall symptoms she’d read in the medical dictionary. Only influenza came to mind. “I’ll keep a close eye on you two,” she promised with an extra pat. “We can’t afford any sick animals.”
    Like well-trained puppies, the two colts dogged her footsteps back to the gate. When Trish snapped a lead shank on the colt named Samba and led him out of the gate, the other tried to follow. Caesar drove him back with a sharp bark.
    “Thanks, old buddy.” She swung the gate closed. “I can always count on you.” Samba shook his head, then tried dancing in a circle. Playfully he struck out with a snowy forefoot.
    “Nope. I’ve had enough of that kind of behavior today.” Trish snapped on the rope. “You settle down right now.” The chestnut colt rolled his eyes in mock panic, then ambled along beside her to the stable.
    After Trish cross-tied him in an empty stall, she headed for the tack room to get an old soft bridle with a snaffle bit.
    “Need some help?” Brad wiped the sweat off his forehead. He parked the wheelbarrow in the breezeway. “That’s one job done.”
    “Thanks, Brad.” Trish rubbed the worn bit. “You can be his distraction.”
    “Great. First I’m a barrow-pushing slave and now I’m a distraction.
    When do we get to the fun stuff?”
    “Like?”
    “Oh, like racing two horses around the track. Eating cookies. Drinking Coke. You know, the important things in life.”
    “Yeah, I know. Your resident tapeworm is acting up again.”
    “Yup. I’ve gotta feed Fred at regular intervals.” Brad patted his flat stomach. “Poor Fred.”
    “You nut. Forget Fred. We’ve gotta put the bit in Samba’s mouth now.”
    The colt didn’t bat an eyelash as Trish showed him the bridle with the silvery bit. He sniffed the leather, then looked over at Brad. Trish held the bit carefully to keep it from jangling as she rubbed the chilly metal against the colt’s nose. He blinked and tried to shove his muzzle against her chest. Before he knew what happened, Trish had inserted a finger in the space behind his teeth, pried open his mouth, and slipped the bit in place. At the same time, Brad slid the headstall over the animal’s ears.
    The colt snorted. He rolled his eyes, then shook his head. The bit and bridle stayed in place. With a sigh, Samba lowered his head again and nuzzled Trish for the treats she always carried in her pockets.
    “Boy.” Trish let out the breath she’d been holding. “That was easy.”
    She palmed a sugar cube. “Here, you earned that, fella.”
    “Good job, partner.” She shook Brad’s hand as they left the stall. “We did it. We’ll come back later and take that off. Give him time to play with the bit for a while.”
    “Now for the cookies?” Brad gazed soulfully toward the house.
    “Nope. Now for the racetrack. You take Anderson’s filly and I’ll take the rowdy Gatesby.”
    “Maybe you should skip him today,” Brad suggested. “You’ve already had one round with the beast.”
    “Nah-h. He just needs the exercise. Besides, we were supposed to work him into the starting gate today.”
    “So?”
    “We’ll need extra hands to do that. Let’s just take him up to the gate.” Trish studied the colt, now pacing placidly around the ring. “That will give him a chance to look