Total pages in book: 132
Estimated words: 123171 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 616(@200wpm)___ 493(@250wpm)___ 411(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 123171 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 616(@200wpm)___ 493(@250wpm)___ 411(@300wpm)
Horses are big and can easily hurt you. Thinking you can treat them like oversized dogs is a mistake I’ve seen people make—and it’s a mistake that can be deadly. You can’t let a horse challenge you and think they’re the boss—but there are ways to go about correcting behavior that doesn’t involve smacking a horse as hard as you can.
“Hey,” I say as I approach the pen. The auction employee steps out, closing the gate behind him. The horse is visibly upset, which is more than understandable. This place is chaotic, filled with negative energy, and, by the way this horse is whinnying and madly looking around, it’s safe to assume it was separated from a buddy he was bonded with. “What’s the deal with this horse?” I tip my head, looking under the horse, and see that it’s a gelding.
“Don’t waste your time with that one,” the employee tells me. “He’s dangerous.”
“Do you have any info on him?” I stop next to the pen, watching the horse pace back and forth. The horse isn’t in the best condition, but he’s still strikingly gorgeous. Tall, jet black, with only a tiny band of white around his back hooves, he reminds me of Phoenix. “He’s a thoroughbred?”
“Yes, ma’am. Came in with that mare.” He motions to a bay mare who ran through the sale already and has been purchased. I was right to say this poor guy is suffering from separation anxiety. I remember the stats of that mare when I looked at some of the “higher-end” horses who were listed online. She wasn’t a good racehorse but has decent bloodlines and was sold as a broodmare, who can be breed and have expensive babies.
This gelding, though, I don’t remember seeing anything about. I write down his tag number and hurry out of the auction building, needing to pull out my phone so I can log onto the auction’s site and see if he’s listed.
I put in my AirPods and call Everly while I try to log on. There’s no wifi here and my connection is super slow.
“Hey, Mom,” she answers.
“Hey, pumpkin. How’s everything at home?”
“Good,” she replies. “Maria and I got everyone brushed while her mom and sister cleaned stalls. We’re getting ready to give Freya a bath now. And yes, we’ll be careful. Maria got that purple shampoo for gray horses!”
“Take before and after pictures for me.” The website finally loads, and I click on the link to view available horses.
“You really think I wouldn’t?” She laughs. “We’re live streaming her bath while doing some Q and A. People are really interested in the auction. I already posted a little vid from what you’ve sent so far.”
“I’ve said it once, but I’ll say it again. I am proud of how business-savvy you are, Pumpkin.”
“Stop calling me that,” she says with a laugh. “Have you bid on anyone yet?”
“I’m trying to find info on a thoroughbred,” I tell her, still looking at my phone. “He was separated from the buddy he came in with, but is inside the main barn, so I think he’s going to get run through later,” I say.
When a horse is run through, they’re taken into a little chute where people seated in bleachers can bid. Most of those horses are ridden through, with the younger ones lead back and forth to show off their movement. The horses in the loose sale aren’t considered enough to go through like that, and are kept loose in a pasture. You can bid on them by writing down their tag numbers and going directly to the sale office.
“The loose sale happens after the main auction is over, but I was talking to another rescue group here and they said I might be able to buy anyone from that pen beforehand.”
“The more pics you send, the more we can post and ask for donations. Keep sneaking those pics, Mom!”
I laugh. “I’ll send you a few more.” I scroll through the tag numbers of horses and find my black gelding. All that’s listed about him is his age and name. “Righteous Flight…that sounds like a registered name, doesn’t it?”
“Definitely.”
“Can you log onto the Jockey Club site and look him up for me?” I ask Everly. “The connection here is super slow.”
“Yeah, give me a second.”
I lean back against a fencepost while I wait, looking up at the sky. It’s been threatening to rain all day, and I got a weather alert, warning me of the possibility of a severe thunderstorm later this evening.
“Got it,” Ev says a moment later. “I texted you some screenshots, but he’s six, raced eleven times and did decent, but obviously not decent enough to keep racing. He has decent bloodlines but, as a gelding, that doesn’t matter.”
Everly’s text pops up and I click on the image she sent of the gelding’s pedigree.