Do you recognize the breed of racehorse in this picture?
If you don't recognize the breed of horse that races pulling a sulky and driver, keep reading below. The excerpt of my novel Ringer has the answer.
Never bet on an imposter!
“How do you suggest we get your horse off the track? Someone is going to see you and the horse walking out.”
“Drive up to Barn Three. I’ll duck down so no one sees me. Are the cops still there?”
“I can’t see them. They parked on the other side by the grandstand and walked over, so they might still be in the barns.”
Holly glanced at her passenger who was trying to crumple his large frame sideways, his head nearly in her lap. “Which side of Barn Three?”
“Left side and stop at the middle door.”
Holly drove through the unguarded gates. “The guy who manages the racetrack, his car is still here.”
“Johnson’s a jerk.”
She pulled the truck up to the barn’s side entrance, turned off the engine, and looked down at Matt.
“Okay, when you go in, turn to your right. She’s in the second stall down and wearing a halter with ‘Meadow Prancer’ engraved on it. Grab any lead shank. I’ve got them hanging all over the place.”
“What do you mean, I’m getting your horse? You want to bring her, you go on in there and get her yourself.”
“Holly, someone tried to kill me. What if they’re hanging around waiting for me to come back?”
“Why don’t you just tell the police who they are? And I doubt they’re hanging around with the cops crawling all over the place.”
“Please? I don’t want anyone to see me and know I’m out of the hospital.”
“What if someone sees me and I get arrested for attempted horse theft?”
“Not going to happen. Trust me. Please, just go on and get my mare.”
The man could talk a dog out of a big, meaty soup bone. He had a gentle persuasion that was impossible for horses and women to resist. Holly rolled her eyes and strode to the back of the trailer to let down the tailgate ramp. Scooby nickered softly and turned to look at her.
“Sorry, boy, you’re not coming out. You’re getting a passenger in a minute.”
Holly entered the dim barn, lit with only a couple of low-watt bulbs. She saw the main light switch but didn’t flick it on. If the police were still on the backstretch, she didn’t want to attract attention to herself and the removal of one Standardbred racehorse. Holly smelled the sweet aroma of alfalfa and listened to crackling straw as horses rustled softly in the stalls and poked their heads out to see the late visitor. She moved quickly to the second stall, read the horse’s name, Meadow Prancer, snapped on the lead shank, and unlatched the stall door.
“Come on girl,” she whispered, and the sleek, bay horse willingly followed. She walked the horse out the barn door and turned to her trailer.
“Stop right there!”
This is a picture of a Standardbred horse warming up before a race at Fraser Downs racetrack in Cloverdale, British Columbia. The same breed as featured in my novel Ringer.
Ringer is available as an electronic book. To purchase a copy of Ringer, click on one of the buy links below. Its also available on the iTunes bookstore and other online booksellers that might not be listed here. The Amazon link has a sneak peek at the first chapter and part of the second chapter.
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