Raja, Story of a Racehorse Read Online Free PDF Page A

with alarm. I tried to lift my head, then put it down again as the stall started to spin. I was burning up and terribly thirsty and by now my leg was swollen double its normal size. He pinched the skin on my neck. “See how dehydrated he is. Chris, get him some water with electrolytes. Hurry!”
    After I had a drink, several long sips at a time, Bob put something under my tail and held it for a few minutes. “One hundred and three degrees.” Bob shook his head, “He’s in shock.”
    He gently sponged off my sweat and dried me with soft towels before urging me to my feet and leading me to the wash stall, where he cleaned my cut and ran cold water from a hose on it for a long time before giving me a shot and putting a bandage on.
    â€œPuncture wounds like this are the worst. If you don’t clean ’em out good, infection gets in and the whole leg swells up,” he shook his head grimly.
    â€œIt’ll be a few weeks before this heals enough for Raja to train again. We’ll put him on antibiotics right away so the infection doesn’t get worse. Chris, make sure he gets cold-hosed and hand grazed at least four times a day.”
    â€œYes, boss.” Chris hung his head, dejected. He looked down at his dusty boots, hiding the tears now running down his cheeks. He sniffed.
    â€œChris, I don’t understand how you let this happen. I’m disappointed in you.”
    â€œI’m so sorry. It won’t happen again.”
    â€œBecause you’re young, I’ll give you one more chance, but that’s it. One chance. If ANYTHING like this happens again, I’m afraid we can’t allow you to work with these horses. It’s not just about allowing a nice animal, any animal, to be needlessly hurt, which is bad enough in itself. Do you have any idea how valuable these horses are? Raja, here, is worth millions. I can’t take the risk of something else happening. I told Ken to leave and never set foot on this farm again. Good riddance, I say.” He shook his head in disgust.

3
Road to the Roses
    July, Ocala, Florida and Saratoga Springs, New York
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    â€œThe Spa. There’s nothin’ like Saratoga in August.” Bob nodded his head dreamily as he and Chris watched a big shiny van pull into the driveway. “You’re lucky to have this opportunity to work for Alex MacLaren. He’s a Hall-of-Fame trainer, you know.”
    We’re going racing! It’s all we had talked about and dreamed of.
    Even Shaddy seemed excited. A tickle of anticipation made me shiver. The thick cotton shipping bandages tickled my legs. I walked and hopped, stiff-legged, for the first few steps before figuring them out.
    â€œHow’s the big horse training?” Bob’s friend, Michelle, was there for the sendoff. She smiled, turning her gaze toward me. I could feel the warm glow of her energy. Her intensity took me by surprise as her green eyes held my gaze. She blew softly on my nose in greeting. I blew back and sighed, rumbling air past my lips, then nickered.
    How can she be a person but communicate like a horse?
    Pulling a sugar cube out of her pocket, she pressed it to my lips.
    Mmmm! As good as a peppermint.
    â€œLike a champ, as always,” Bob replied. “He’s going to create a buzz up north, although there are a couple of nice young horses out there. Flash Jackson just paid five million dollars for a Derby prospect, Annapurna, at Keeneland. He’ll be tough to beat. Wait until they see our “secret weapon.” I think Raja will make that horse look like a Shetland pony.”
    He led me into the van where Shaddy, Max and the others were waiting.
    I don’t remember much about the journey. Just that it was long — almost two days — and that we slept and nibbled hay nets while the van swayed under our feet.

    Shadowy horses and riders and muffled sounds of breakfast — whinnying, nickering and buckets banging —