The clang of the bell and clatter of metal broke the tense
silence; and a whirlwind of energy burst forth. Muscles, taught and rippling, sweat
dripping, hoofs pounding, manes and tails flying, a blur of horse and rider,
browns, blacks, greys, reds, blues, and greens spread across the track like
paint splashed from a can.
Sarah was right in the middle of the pack, perched atop her
mare, Dustdevil. She smiled as she looked forward, through the horse’s grey
ears, at the track in front of her that was slowly clearing as the mare surged
forward around the first turn. There was a series of jumps next, hedges, and
Sarah wound her fingers through the taupe mane and held on, preparing to fly.
She could feel the mare’s muscles gather through the thin leather of the
saddle, and then they were soaring over the first jump.
Two more jumps and the track was empty, everyone was behind
them. Sarah hastened a glance back, peering through the pink silks framed gap
between her elbow and her waist. Yes, everyone else was back there, way back
there. Sarah smiled They were going to win. She wasn’t surprised. Dustdevil was
an amazing horse. Strong, and fast, though no one else thought so. She was sickly
when she was born, the fourth disappointment from her dam, Gracie, and Sarah’s
father had decided to sell the pair. Sarah couldn’t bear the thought, though.
Not because they were going to be sold somewhere bad, but because Sarah had
fallen in love the moment she looked into the foal’s big brown eyes. Sarah knew
she was special.
It took a lot of pleading, and begging, and use of her own
puppy-dog eyes, but Sarah convinced her father to let her keep Dustdevil. Nine
months later she was weaned, Gracie, was sold to a riding school, and Sarah
started Dustdevil under saddle. From the moment Sarah settled herself onto
Dustdevil’s back, two became one. They couldn’t be separated. Every day Sarah
and Dustdevil rode together across the fields and through the woods, running,
and jumping, and training for this moment.
When Sarah told her father she wanted to enter Dustdevil in the
yearling race at the State Fair, her father wasn’t sure, but her mother worked
her quite magic, and now here they were, racing quickly toward the finish line.
Dustdevil cleared the last jump like she had wings, and the pair
turned the corner and entered the final stretch. There was nothing but
Dustdevil and Sarah, moving together as if they were one. All Sarah could hear
was the pounding of hoofs, and the pounding of blood, and the deep, steady
breathing. Then she realized she could hear something else, her name. Someone
was yelling her name, and there was something else too, something about dinner.
Sarah stopped. Her mom was standing in front of her, holding
oven mitts.
“What are you doing honey?”
“Nothing.” Sarah replied sheepishly.
“Okay, well please put the patio furniture back where it
belongs and then come inside. Dinner’s ready.”
