Raja, Story of a Racehorse
“Every once in a while a huge truck whizzed by, inches from me. Oliver had told me that the farm was seven hours away. We drove for two.
As we turned into the yard of a run-down farm, I saw three skinny horses huddling together for warmth in a small paddock surrounded by rusted barbed wire tied to crooked fence posts with baling twine. A large pile of frozen manure and rusted metal farm equipment sat in the center of the paddock and an old, tired bathtub leaned precariously against a corner, anc...hored in place by the yellow-and-brown ice that covered the rutted, tire-scarred ground.
I planted my feet firmly while Rob’s friend pulled and jerked a chain he had put over my nose and clipped to my halter.
No way am I going into that paddock.
The chain hurt, but I didn’t care. Rob’s friend tied me to the trailer and went into the truck, pulling out a metal stick, too thick for a whip.
What is it? What does he plan to do?
“Earl, git yer fat butt off the couch and help me,” he yelled to someone in the house.MoreLess
As we turned into the yard of a run-down farm, I saw three skinny horses huddling together for warmth in a small paddock surrounded by rusted barbed wire tied to crooked fence posts with baling twine. A large pile of frozen manure and rusted metal farm equipment sat in the center of the paddock and an old, tired bathtub leaned precariously against a corner, anc...hored in place by the yellow-and-brown ice that covered the rutted, tire-scarred ground.
I planted my feet firmly while Rob’s friend pulled and jerked a chain he had put over my nose and clipped to my halter.
No way am I going into that paddock.
The chain hurt, but I didn’t care. Rob’s friend tied me to the trailer and went into the truck, pulling out a metal stick, too thick for a whip.
What is it? What does he plan to do?
“Earl, git yer fat butt off the couch and help me,” he yelled to someone in the house.MoreLess
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