Raja, Story of a Racehorse (8 page)

“Will do. He's on IV fluids and his vitals are stable, Doctor.”

“Good. I'll check in at the end of the day when I make final rounds. Thank you.”

Voices drifted in and out of the fog. People moved around me, touching me, but mainly, I slept. I woke up, groggy, in a strange white stall with padded, rubber covered walls. Bandages covered my hind legs, and rubber tubes, suspended from the ceiling, went into my neck as a big strap under my belly supported me.

Where am I? Where are the other horses?

All I could see was an expanse of white. I heard more voices. Was that Chris?

“Hello, I'm Chris. I work for Alex MacLaren. How is Raja doing?”

“I'm Liza, the vet tech. We had to stitch him up for three hours. He was badly cut around his hind legs and he has a fever. He'll need a long recovery, but he'll be OK.”

“Raja, you have a visitor,” called Liza, waking me, after another long sleep.

I almost didn't recognize her. Hair tucked under a baseball cap, with torn jeans and an old t-shirt. Only the sweet scent of gardenias and peppermint gave her away.

“Be sure to give us warning when the Sheikh or the Princess come,” Liza told Princess Ayesha. “We'll need to beef up security and alert the media.”

“Sure. Thanks for letting me come so early in the morning. I have to visit Raja before my job mucking out.” Princess Ayesha winked, mouthing the words, “jail break.” She came first thing every morning for a week. She sang to me and brushed me and even cleaned my stall.

“The paparazzi would have a field day with a picture of me shoveling manure,” she laughed. “Raja, you're going to get better, I know it.”

She hummed the tune to her favorite song and sang to me as I rubbed my head on her shoulde.,

“Don't worry, about a thing, cause every little thing is gonna be alright.”

But after a week, she had to leave to go to college.

“See how many fans you have, Raja?” Chris waded through the pile of flowers, carrots and cards from strangers outside my stall. “Everyone wants you to heal so you can come back and race Annapurna.”

Yes, I thought bitterly, I should have won. I could have been a Kentucky Derby contender.

I realized with a heavy, final feeling, that there would be no Kentucky Derby. I was washed up and I was only three.

A crowd of photographers crowded into the aisle, snapping pictures and holding microphones toward a tall, familiar looking man wearing a suit and a yellow tie.

The Sheikh!

Another tall man shook his hand as they posed for a picture in front of my stall with the crowd of photographers snapping away. As the people began to leave, the Sheikh leaned close to Alex, speaking quietly.

“Take him to the farm and give him time to heal. It's unfortunate that he had to be gelded and can't go to stud. That was a nasty injury, but I hope that we can bring him back to race again. No decisions until we see how he is after some time off.”

May, Ocala, Florida

Bob, Michelle and Chris seemed excited as they chatted outside my stall. It was late in the afternoon on the first Saturday in May.

Kentucky Derby day!

Michelle spoke excitedly, “I wish I were there. What are the odds on Max? I can't believe he's one of the favorites. We all have to watch. Bob, bring out the TV. Out here in the aisle — where there is more room so we can all see. I'll make a hay-bale sofa for us all.”

“Anything for you, Michelle.” Bob rolled his eyes good naturedly.

“Where's that extension cord? I just saw it the other day. Ah, yes, in the wash stall — the vet used it to ultrasound Raja yesterday. I hope this piece of junk will actually work if we move it.”

Bob brought the old television set out from the farm office into the aisle outside my stall where I was recovering. Pedro and some of the grooms gathered around and sat on the bales Michelle had set up while she perched on a stepladder, holding Piewacket and Muttley in her lap, absently caressing their ears.

“Oh my goodness, just LOOK at those hats. That's almost the best part. Sh! Shh! They're playing “My Old Kentucky Home.” This moment always gives me goose bumps. Who's got a mint julep for me?”

Bob just shook his head, amused.

“They're going to the post. Look, there they are, there's Alex and Max.”

As the horses went to the post, the crowd began to sing. Michelle sang along, “The sun shines bright on my old Kentucky home.”

We watched as, one by one, they were loaded into the starting gate. It was strange to be watching rather than going into the gate myself, but I felt my heart beat a little faster anyway.

Come on Max, you can do it!

And they were off! Max ran fourth for most of the way with Annapurna in second. Rounding the final turn, Max moved up to third, then, in the home stretch, he burst ahead to reach Annapurna, who had taken over the lead. They dueled it out, head to head, going under the wire together. Pedro and the grooms went wild, while Piewacket and Muttley ran around in circles in a barking frenzy. After a few tense minutes, we heard that Annapurna had won in a photo finish.

Annapurna! Max almost won the Kentucky Derby! I'm faster than Max. I could have been a Derby winner.

“Max isn't going to the Preakness. Alex wants to save him for the Belmont Stakes — thinks he'll do better with the distance. Have to say I agree. Max is a stayer. He's got one lick and that's it. The longer distance should suit him,” Bob told the vet a few days later when he came to check on me.

“Hey, Bob, you see the Preakness?” Pedro called as he walked into the shed row at the farm a few days later. “I didn't get back early enough from dropping off that broodmare. Dang. I heard it on the radio. I can't believe Annapurna won again. How'd he go? Good enough to win the Triple Crown? I can't believe that no one has won it since Affirmed, 30 years ago. Belmont Stakes gon' be exciting.”

The day of the Belmont Stakes, Bob pulled the old television out of the office, banging it with his fist. We could see the rain pouring down hard. I knew that Max would do well. The tougher the footing, the tougher he got. What he lacked in a final kick of speed, he made up for in endurance and grit.

And they were off! Max sat in Annapurna's pocket just off his hind end and close to the two front runners for most of the race. When they started really running after the final turn, he dug deep, keeping up head to head with Annapurna. It was a long and muddy stretch run. Then he looked Annapurna in the eye, the way I used to do with him. Annapurna began to falter. Max dug deeper. By now, even Bob and Michelle were screaming. And he did! He beat Annapurna by two lengths, denying him a Triple Crown victory.

“That was the best race ever!” Michelle raved, red in the face, glowing from the excitement. She hugged and kissed Bob, who turned to me and patted me on the neck.

“Raja, aren't you proud of Max? You'd have won the whole darn Triple Crown.”

I AM so proud of Max, but… I could have won the Triple Crown, I know it!

I fretted all night, crushed that my chance for greatness was gone.

August, Ocala, Florida

“Let's do a little gate schooling,” Bob instructed one day a couple months after the Preakness Stakes. By now, I was back in work, jogging and cantering on the track with Pedro in the steamy Florida mornings. We walked up to the starting gate, but when Pedro urged me in, all I could think of was the Florida Derby. Being trapped when I needed to escape, and the blackness.

I just can't go in.

Pedro and Bob worked patiently with me for two hours. Every day it was the same. They covered my eyes, even tried to lure me with grain, but I just couldn't go in.