Secretariat Reborn Read Online Free PDF

the barn lights. Christian hustled down the drive to the distant barking of dogs, an owl hooting its final goodbye to the night, and the whinny of the old stallion. When he reached the barn, Juan emerged riding the chestnut colt.
    “Good morning, Mr. Christian,” he said. “Come to watch him work?”
    “Yeah, I wanna see all this speed you and Dad are talking about.”
    “Oh, not today,” said Juan. “He ran hard yesterday. Today we slowly gallop.”
    Christian stared at the lean-muscled colt with the white star that tossed his head in anticipation of the ride. Under saddle, Glade Hunter seemed totally different from the horse Christian had petted in the stall. His red coat shimmered in the floodlights as he pranced, his hoofs barely grazing the ground. He had the dazzling look of a champion.
    “He’s awesome,” Christian said, a word he never thought he’d apply to a horse.
    “Come,” said Juan. “Watch your boy move.”
    Juan took the colt to the track and loped him under the lights. Christian stood by the rail, a cool predawn breeze bearing the scent of orange blossoms blowing against his face. The powerful animalseemed to glide over the dirt and only the rhythm of pounding hooves conveyed that the creature was still earthbound.
    The colt was no normal horse; it was
his
horse, and he felt the excitement of possibilities. It didn’t matter if Hunter came from a rundown farm, a dying trainer, and an old stallion with an mediocre pedigree. Hadn’t he heard his father say that every Thoroughbred enters a race as an equal, ready to prove he has the most speed, stamina, and heart? Plenty of long shots had won the Derby.
    Christian pondered that his father had stood at this very spot by the rail, probably having the same thoughts. Was he following in his father’s footsteps? “No, I’m not,” he said firmly. “I’m just dealing with this one horse, and only to make Dad happy. I won’t get caught up in horses and racing.” As the gorgeous colt galloped past, Christian’s determination weakened, and he felt the thrill pulling him in.
    After Juan brought the colt back to the barn, he removed the tack and hosed the colt down. “Mr. Christian, would you like to walk him until he is cool?”
    Christian shrugged. “I haven’t handled a horse since I was ten.”
    “It is something you do not forget.” With a grin, Juan handed Christian the lead, a stud chain laced through the halter over the colt’s nose. “Take him around the barn under the shed row ten times while I clean and feed.”
    “Come on, boy.” Christian tugged slightly on the lead and briskly walked the horse beneath a roof that extended from the barn, recalling a lecture his father had given him when a boy. “Patience is a must when handling horses that are bigger and stronger than you,” his father had said. “If you’re not patient, you’ll end up as a hospital patient.”
    When they had finished ten rounds, he stopped the colt at his stall, and the horse nuzzled his arm. “Good boy.” He chuckled and led Hunter into his clean stall and unsnapped the lead. Hunter nibbled some hay while Christian stroked his neck.
    His father strolled toward them, a lighter gait in his step.
    “Dad, what are you doing down here?”
    “The pain isn’t too bad today, and this will probably be the last time I see this colt.” He stood in the stall doorway and gazed at Christian and Hunter.
    The colt stopped eating and playfully nudged Christian. He rubbed Hunter’s head. “He likes being messed with.”
    “I was watching you lead him,” Hank said. “You got the gift. Very few can look into a horse’s mind and sense how they’re thinking. And horses instinctively trust such a person. As a little kid, you were always in here and crawling around the horses. You never got kicked, bit, or stomped. Even the rankest mare dropped her head and let you pet her. I knew you had the makings of a great trainer.”
    Hank lowered his gaze. “I’ve been such