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turned to see a dark-haired young man approaching. He was wearing blue jeans and a T-shirt, and his face was stretched wide in a big grin.
    “Hi, Eddie,” Judy said. “Everyone, this is Eddie Hernandez. He’s Monkeyshines’s groom. Eddie, this is Lisa, Stevie, Carole, and Max—Deborah’s fiancé.”
    Eddie nodded at the introductions. “I see you’ve alreadymet my better half,” he said, nodding toward the stall behind them.
    “You mean Blackie?” Stevie joked.
    Eddie laughed. “Very funny,” he said. “I can see I’ll have to keep an eye on you—Stevie, was it?”
    “Nope,” Stevie replied promptly. “My name is Carole.”
    “I think Eddie was referring to Monkeyshines—
Stevie
,” Judy said pointedly. “Come on, girls. Let’s get out of the way. I suspect Eddie has some work to do.”
    “Always,” Eddie replied. “But that’s okay. You don’t have to leave. Blackie and Monk can entertain you.”
    “You call Monkeyshines Monk?” Lisa asked. “That’s cute!”
    Eddie laughed again. “I guess you could say that. It’s also short. A lot of racers have nicknames. Makes things easier around the stable.”
    “That’s right,” Judy said. “Tell them Hold Fast’s nickname.”
    “He’s called Stretch,” Eddie said. “That’s because in his very first race, he came from behind in the homestretch—that’s what we call the final straightaway before the finish line—and took home first-prize money.”
    “Wow,” Stevie said. “That’s wild.”
    “Well, most of the names aren’t so interesting,” Eddie admitted. He walked over to a mare in the next stall. “For instance, this is Ladyfingers. We call her Missy. Andright next door to her is a gelding named Chestnut Cal. His stable name is Red.”
    Just then someone called for Eddie from farther down the shed row. “Whoops. That’s the trainer,” Eddie said. “Gotta go. But you’ll be here for the big race tomorrow, right?”
    “Definitely,” the three girls said in one voice.
    “Good,” Eddie said with a grin. He gave Monkeyshines an affectionate pat. “You’ll have fun watching old Monk walk away with it, then. He’s a shoo-in to win, you know.”
    The three girls glanced at the tall colt, then grinned back at Eddie. “Definitely!” they all said again.
    Carole watched Eddie hurry away. “I like him,” she declared. “You can tell he really loves horses. Especially Monk.”
    “He’s a good guy,” Judy said. “Now, come on, I’ll show you around the rest of this place.”
    “Great,” Carole said. She’d been glancing curiously around the stable. At Mr. McLeod’s stable, Maskee Farms, she’d been amazed at the spotlessness and order she’d seen. Now, even in this temporary home, the same sort of cleanliness and organization reigned. The path in front of the stalls was swept clean. The straw on the stall floors was fresh and new. There was a place for everything, and everything was in its place.
    She mentioned this to Judy.
    Judy laughed. “It’s true,” she agreed. “Mr. McLeod ispractically fanatical about that stuff, and it’s a good thing. Like most horses, Thoroughbreds are delicate creatures despite their size and power. One loose nail lying around in their path or one stray bit of a food they’re not used to can keep them off the track for days, weeks, even months. In the late 1970s a horse named Spectacular Bid had to be scratched from the Belmont after stepping on an open safety pin—and that was after he had already won the Derby and the Preakness. Mr. McLeod wants to do everything he can to avoid that kind of thing, so he’s careful to take every precaution.”
    “Wow,” Lisa said. “There seems to be so much to worry about with racehorses.”
    “That’s for sure,” Judy agreed, leading the girls down the shed row. “It’s just like it is with any stable, except that in terms of money, the stakes are a lot higher.”
    “Speaking of high stakes, can we check out the competition