Crown Prince (13 page)

The small crowd listened as Sarah told them about the racetrack, describing the backstretch and the other three horses they'd looked at. She caught herself as she was about to tell them more about Crown Prince's background. Maybe best
not
to mention his checkered past. There was no need to influence their opinions so soon, before he had a chance to make a favorable impression. And besides, coming to Brookmeade Farm was going to be a new beginning for Prince. Now he was
her
horse, and things would be different.

“It's so cool you had your choice of four horses,” Paige said. “And Cody sounds like he's amazing. What made you pick this one?”

“I believed I'd know my horse when I saw him. That I'd
know
he was
the one.
And that's what happened. He was the last horse I saw, and I knew he'd been waiting for me.”

Rita listened with a slight smirk on her face. “My dad had three equestrian agents looking for the right horse for me,” she said. “We didn't need to look into a crystal ball to know Chancellor was
the one.”

Just then Taco and Spin roared down the aisle, ushering in the DeWitts. Sarah reached down to pat Spin, rubbing his side and stroking his ears. Taco, not to be ignored, whimpered and pawed Sarah's arm.

“Oh, Sarah,” exclaimed Mrs. DeWitt, walking quickly toward them, “we just talked to Jack, and it appears you have found a horse. We can't wait to see him!” She and Mr. DeWitt joined the audience looking in at Crown Prince through the bars. “My goodness,” Mrs. DeWitt gasped, “he's a giant of a horse! And so beautiful, too! He almost takes my breath away!”

“Mrs. DeWitt, thanks for letting Crown Prince stay in Medina's stall,” Sarah said. “I hope Medina doesn't mind being in the carriage shed.”

Mrs. DeWitt laughed. “Don't give Medina another thought, my dear. She absolutely loves a change of scene once in awhile, and she seems quite taken with the foals. But tell us about this lovely creature.”

“Well, he's a four-year-old Thoroughbred who never raced. He's very well bred. His mother, Northern Princess, was a stakes winner, and his father is Emperor's Gold—he won the Kentucky Derby. I guess Prince just didn't want to be a racehorse.”

Chandler DeWitt stood quietly observing the horse before him, noting his quality and excellent conformation. Over the years he had cultivated a keen eye for a well-put-together horse, going back to his foxhunting days with Hank Bolton in Virginia. They'd both relished the sound of the huntsman's horn and the baying of hounds as they raced over the countryside, jumping everything in their path. As their friendship deepened, Bolton had taught him a great deal about good conformation and what to look for in a horse.

Mr. DeWitt found much to admire in this newcomer to his barn. He also knew that Northern Princess was Bolton's best broodmare, a great producer from an outstanding female family. And Crown Prince was sired by a Secretariat-line stallion, the Derby winner Emperor's Gold. With that breeding, it was hard to believe that this horse hadn't been tried on the track. Chandler DeWitt wondered why Prince was offered as part of Hank Bolton's plan to cull the losers from his stable. Something had to be wrong—either the horse was unsound, or there were behavior problems. Mr. DeWitt resolved to talk to Jack. If that didn't shed some light on the matter, he'd get in touch with Hank Bolton directly.

Dorothy DeWitt continued her conversation with the group of young riders, wanting to hear how all their horses were performing. She always delighted in any progress they reported. She noted how she hoped they would all be able to compete in a few local shows or events close enough so she and Chandler would have a chance to watch them ride. “I will be very disappointed if you don't keep me abreast of all your competitions, girls. And that goes for you, too, Tim,” she added with a smile.

While the group chatted, Chandler DeWitt walked back to the office where Jack, Kathleen, and Lindsay were discussing the day's lessons. “Jack, I'm sorry to interrupt, but I wonder if I could have a few words with you,” Mr. DeWitt said. “Let's go to my office.”

“We were just finishing up,” Kathleen said. “We've been hearing about the terrific horse Sarah picked out, and Lindsay and I are about to go take a look for ourselves.”

The men walked to Chandler DeWitt's private office. It was decorated much like the lounge but looked out on the hunt course rather than the indoor. Mr. DeWitt flicked on the overhead lights and motioned to Jack to sit down in the straight-backed chair opposite his desk. He didn't waste any time getting to the point.

“Sarah has picked out what appears to be a spectacular horse. His breeding is superb, and he's an exceptional individual. But I'm baffled why this horse wasn't tried on the racetrack. Do you know how he happened to be among the four horses Hank offered me?”

“Yes, there is rather more to the story than what Sarah is saying. Rudy Dominic gave us the scoop—and he didn't appear to be holding anything back.” Jack went on to relate the difficulties in training the horse, how he became unmanageable under saddle, even though he was otherwise well-mannered. He mentioned the decision to geld the horse, despite the likelihood that with his impressive pedigree he would be a valuable stallion prospect even if he didn't earn a superior race record.

“They finally had to admit that the horse was a rogue and they should give up on him,” Jack said. “I guess they figured that his bad behavior would eventually get him ruled off the track. So he was offered to you.” Jack thought back to their conversations with the trainer. “Rudy had definite reservations about the horse going to a teenage girl, and he talked down the horse when we asked about him. But Sarah found Crown Prince and immediately fell in love with him. He seems to respond well to her, too.”

“After hearing so much negative talk about the horse, I'm surprised Martin didn't put his foot down on her choice,” Mr. DeWitt said.

“Well, he did at first. But it didn't make sense to me that the horse could be a maniac under saddle and yet a cream puff in every other way. I suggested we take him on a one-month trial, so I could see just how bad an actor he is, and decide if there is hope we can turn him around. I assured Martin that at no time will I allow Sarah's safety to be at risk, so he reluctantly agreed.”

Chandler Dewitt sat deep in thought, considering the information. Finally he spoke. “There's something else to consider. I scheduled a pre-purchase exam with our vet for Monday morning. Wes Reynolds will be coming to give shots to a boarder's horse, and he said he could fit in the exam. We need to be sure this horse is sound before we go any further. Just because he's not off doesn't mean there's nothing wrong with him.”

“Right you are,” Jack replied. “I also need to set up a work schedule for Sarah. I mentioned to Gus that she would be helping out. He was surprised and far from happy that Lucas's replacement is a girl. But I think he'll come around once he sees her doing a good job. We'll have to find out when Sarah can be here and how she will be most useful. She can adjust her barn visits to go along with Gus's work plan. I just hope he won't be too difficult. Gus can be a wee bit cantankerous these days.”

“Time will tell,” Mr. DeWitt said, “and keep me posted. Particularly in regards to this horse.”

Jack nodded. “And I'll let Sarah know about the vet's visit. She'll need to be here.”

When the last of her friends and well-wishers had left, Sarah sighed in relief. Finally she had her horse to herself. She entered the stall where Prince was nibbling on some hay. He seemed to like it when she stood by his side, talking softly and stroking him. She pressed her face against his neck, breathing deeply and loving his distinctive horsey smell.

Sarah was so engrossed with Prince she didn't hear Gus's approach, and she was startled when he spoke to her from outside the stall. “It's time to feed the hay,” he said gruffly. “Come along, if I'm going to show you.” Without waiting for a response, he started down the aisle for the stairs to the loft.

Sarah hesitated for a moment before exiting the stall and following Gus down the aisle. She had often seen him doing farm chores when she came for lessons, but until now she hadn't had any occasion to speak with him. She climbed the stairs quickly, hurrying to catch up, and when Gus opened the door to the loft, they were met by the sweet aroma of the newly cut hay. The greener bales were stacked on the far side of the loft, with the seasoned hay pulled to the front.

“Over here,” Gus said in a clipped voice that clearly conveyed irritation. “If I have to train you, pay attention, and don't get things mixed up.”

After using a hay hook to pull out an older bale of the alfalfa and timothy mix the horses thrived on, Gus went to a shelf along the wall and picked up a pair of wire cutters. The sound of a bale being dragged overhead brought a chorus of nickers and deep-throated neighs from the horses below. They knew what was coming. Gus cut the wire on the bale, and then with his rugged hands he pulled the sections apart. He used a pitchfork to toss two flakes through the opening over Max's stall.

“Now be careful you don't fall through. I don't need to be dealing with that!” Sarah was taken aback by his unpleasantness and wasn't sure how to respond.

“Each horse gets two flakes morning and night,” Gus continued, “and one more at noon, in the paddock if they're turned out. I take care of that. The ponies get one flake three times a day.”

Sarah felt intimidated by his crotchety manner, and fought the urge to retreat back down the stairs to get away from him. But she knew she would have to prove herself over time, and she wanted to reassure Gus. “I'll work hard to do a good job,” she said. Gus didn't reply, but pulled another bale out of the pile in silence. “I'll try to do everything the way you show me.” Gus didn't acknowledge she had spoken, but continued his instructions.

“Remember, you won't be feeding any of the green hay until I tell you it's ready. Hay has got to cure for a while, or it'll make a horse sick. Now don't forget that!” His manner of speaking prompted Sarah to step back, putting some distance between them. Turning toward the end of the loft, he pointed to the opening over Prince's stall. “You can throw two flakes down to him now,” he said, as he thrust the pitchfork her way.

Under Gus's watchful eye Sarah continued to distribute the evening hay to all the horses. When necessary, she used hay hooks to drag a bale to a new location. The bales were heavy, but she tried not to let Gus see that moving them was hard work for her.

Sarah saw another chance to reassure Gus. “I'll come tomorrow morning to help feed, if you want me to.”

He eyed her. “All right, but you'd better be here by seven.” He turned abruptly and retreated down the stairs. Sarah put the tools away and hurried from the loft, glad to have the encounter with Gus Kelso over with. She knew there'd be hell to pay if she ever made a mistake!

When Sarah reached the foot of the stairs, she found Jack waiting for her. “Sarah, you know that your horse must be vetted soon. Mr. DeWitt made an appointment with Dr. Reynolds for Monday morning at nine. 'Tis important that you be here.”

“Sure. Of course. With school out, that's not a problem.”

“Good. As for tomorrow, I won't be doing anything with your horse. Hedgerow and French Twist both need a jumping school and I have lessons in the afternoon. But I'd like you to walk Prince in the indoor for a half hour or so in the morning and then again in the afternoon.”

Sarah brushed some hay chaff from her jeans. “How about putting him in one of the paddocks?” she asked.

“‘Tis been awhile since he was turned out. We don't want him being too rambunctious and doing something that might make him sore for the vet exam. 'Tis best to just hand-walk him. And be sure you have the shank's chain over his nose, so he won't pull you around.” As he turned to go, Sarah called after him.

“Jack. Wait.” He stopped, looking back. “Thanks for your help today,” Sarah said, trying to keep the emotion out of her voice. “My father wouldn't have let me take Prince if it hadn't been for you.”

Jack paused to choose his words carefully. “You've got a grand horse, Sarah. Now 'tis to be seen if you can keep him.” With that he walked away.

Sarah hurried back to Crown Prince. Slipping into his stall, she hugged his neck and felt his warmth as she thought about the events of the day. She could still see his image when she'd first opened his stall door at the track, a giant dark silhouette against the wall.

What would tomorrow bring? The thought of the pre-purchase exam on Monday brought up storm clouds in her mind. Her face sobered. What if the vet found something wrong? Unless it was very minor, she knew she wouldn't be able to keep Crown Prince. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. That was a possibility she didn't want to think about.

AFTER A NIGHT OF FITFUL SLEEP,
Sarah was up and out of the house early the next morning. She was anxious to check on Crown Prince after his first night at the farm. As she peddled fast down the bike lane on Ridge Road, bad scenarios ran through her mind. Could he have gotten cast in the stall? What if he had colicked in the night! She pedaled faster. Soon she was on the farm road, speeding by the fields dotted with patches of fog, and finally coasting down the last hill on her way to the barn.

Several cars were in the parking area when she arrived, surprising since it wasn't quite seven. But then Sunday was the day of the week when most of the Brookmeade Farm riders showed up at the barn, and at the beginning of summer quite a few liked to ride before the day got hot. She took the shortest route to Prince's stall in the back of the barn by riding her bike to the side door.