Horse Race Read Online Free PDF Page A

the girls could see that he wasn’t much taller than they were. “He’s always kind of tense, and he’s been worse than ever since he got to Bluegrass. And if your friend mentioned his boxing career it probably didn’t help. He’s kind of sensitive about that topic.” He smiled. “He also seems to have forgottenwhatever manners his mama might have taught him. Who
are
you three, anyway? I know the woman with you is a newspaper reporter, but …”
    The Saddle Club laughed. Then, as all of them walked back toward the shed row with Cookie Cutter in tow, Carole quickly introduced the three of them and explained why they were there.
    “I see,” Toby said, stroking his chin thoughtfully. “Your riding instructor wanted to get you out of his hair, so he sent you out here to get in ours.”
    Stevie shot him a quick glance, but one look at his face assured her that he was kidding. “That’s right,” she retorted. “And we’re going to prove it by asking you a million questions about racing.”
    “I’m game,” Toby said. “Ask away.”
    “Okay,” Stevie said. “Why’s Garvey so sensitive about his boxing career?”
    Toby raised one eyebrow and glanced at her. “I don’t know him real well, but I hear he wasn’t too successful as a boxer, so he doesn’t like to be reminded of that part of his life.” He smiled. “Is that what you call a racing question?”
    “I’ve got one. A real racing question, I mean,” Lisa spoke up. “What on earth is a furlong?”
    Toby looked surprised for a second, then burst out laughing. “I guess that’s a fair question,” he said, pausing for a moment to let Cookie Cutter sniff at some low-hanging treebranches near the path. “We all get so used to hearing that term around here that it’s easy to forget people don’t use it all the time.”
    “It’s a unit of measurement, right?” Carole asked.
    Toby nodded. “Exactly right,” he said. “One furlong is equal to one-eighth of a mile, or two hundred and twenty yards.” He waved a hand behind him to indicate the track. “For instance, Bluegrass Park’s racetrack is a mile and a quarter around. But it would be the same thing to say it’s ten furlongs.”
    “So a six-furlong race is really … um … three-quarters of a mile,” Lisa said, calculating quickly in her head.
    “That’s right,” Toby replied. “That’s how far C.C. is running tomorrow.”
    “C.C. is a cute nickname,” Stevie said. “Have you been riding her long?”
    “Not that long,” Toby said. By this time they had reached the rows of stables and were walking toward their own. They paused again to allow the curious filly to watch a stable cat wander by. “She hasn’t raced yet, as you probably know. Garvey had an exercise boy riding her in the mornings until this week. But he wanted me to get used to her before race day, so here I am.”
    Carole noticed that he was frowning just a little as he spoke, and she suspected she knew why. She didn’t want to seem nosy, but the jockey seemed so down-to-earth that shecouldn’t resist asking. “What was all that stuff about the distance of the workout? You didn’t seem very happy about it.”
    Toby smiled ruefully. “Perceptive, aren’t you?” he said. “But you’re right. I was worried because the boss—the head trainer, that is—had laid out a rough training schedule for C.C. leading up to the race, and Garvey has been doing his own thing all week. He’s changed some of the distances of the workouts and adjusted the schedule in other ways.”
    “Is that bad?” Lisa asked.
    “Well, there’s more than one way to get a horse ready to run. But the boss usually knows what he’s doing.” Toby shrugged and sighed. “Maybe Garvey does, too. I hope so.”
    They walked into the barn with the filly in tow, and the girls quickly helped Toby remove her tack. “Shouldn’t you be hurrying back to the track?” Carole asked, feeling a little worried on the jockey’s behalf.