Raja, Story of a Racehorse Read Online Free Page A

you’re just a puppy dog.”

    Ta-da-da-dum, ta-da-da-dum, ta-da-da-dum.
    I felt Pedro’s joy, like warm sunlight, as we galloped together, the two of us chasing down the dirt training track on the mist-filled mornings, with his steady hold and light and even balance floating over my back. By now, I was strong and getting fitter and I wanted to go, go, go.
    Sometimes we had a little “conversacion,” as Pedro called it, about how fast we should be going. He always made sure that I came around to his point of view sooner or later. When I saw Pedro, I took a deep breath and relaxed. He was interesting, the way he was so calm and easy, but with fire and steel inside, ready if I acted tough, which was often. Mostly, he tried to teach me that the two of us were a team, better together than separate.

    Working! Breezing!
    If you really want to understand me, you have to know about working. There’s nothing, I mean nothing, better, except maybe actually racing. Most days we galloped or jogged, but on Saturdays, we got to turn it on! First, gallop a turn, around the middle of the track at a two-minute lick. Then, drop to the inside rail — the signal to GO! The wide-open dirt track coming faster and faster until it turns into a blur, no sound but the wind rushing by my ears; Pedro’s hold is strong and tight as he crouches lower, moving in rhythm with my longer and longer strides until we begin to fly, skimming the ground.
    Then, with a shift of his weight, Pedro stands in his stirrups and the moment is over. Hearts pounding and catching our breath, Pedro laughing, the colors more intense, sounds sharper, I feel happy, more alive, somehow. I know Pedro felt it too. That’s why we got on so well. We both loved, I mean, loved, speed.
    It was a Monday, our day off, and Pedro and Bob were off with the horse van, leaving Chris and Ken, the second-string exercise rider. Chris moved a little more slowly than usual, cleaning the tack and folding saddle towels as he sang along with the radio. When he finished the tack, he started making his way down the shed row, taking off stable bandages and leading horses out one at a time to hand walk and graze.
    â€œLooks like we might get some weather,” Chris pointed to the grey clouds that had taken over the sky.Ken, muttered something angrily to Chris in response.
    Ken always seemed ready to explode. He stomped around the barn and got all of us horses riled up when he came to ride. Thankfully, I didn’t have much to do with him.
    â€œFigures they’d pick a rainy day to leave us to do all the barn work. Typical. That Pedro thinks he’s god’s gift to horses. Well, he ain’t. I’m just as good as Pedro. Better, in fact. He’s a tired old man. These people are stupid. I’ll show ’em, I’ll show everyone.”
    A wild, cloudy look swept across Ken’s darting eyes as he ranted, nervously scratching his scraggly beard, then spitting out his chewing tobacco juice in a long brown spurt aimed at the cat. He walked over to my stall.
    I lifted my head suddenly and backed up as Ken jerkily raised his arm toward me, then slapped my neck, thinking he was patting me. I flinched, holding my breath. I stood still, watching him warily out of the corner of my eye.
    â€œPut my saddle on Raja. Ain’t no horse I can’t ride. What’s the big deal ’bout him, anyway?”
    â€œIt’s the horses’ day off. Besides, only Pedro rides Raja, you know that.”
    Ken glared at Chris. “I said tack him up.”
    As he put the saddle on, I could tell Chris was worried.
    I felt the electricity in the air as the wind picked up, rustling through the bushes lining the stable yard. The sky was greyer than it had been just a few hours ago.
    This doesn’t feel right. It feels very wrong.
    When Ken and I reached the track, we were alone. My skin tingled as the heavy feeling in the pit of my stomach began to grow. I