Books by
Lauraine Snelling
Golden Filly Collection One*
Golden Filly Collection Two*
Secret Refuge (3 in 1)
DAKOTA TREASURES
Ruby • Pearl
Opal • Amethyst
DAUGHTERS OF BLESSING
A Promise for Ellie • Sophie’s Dilemma
A Touch of Grace • Rebecca’s Reward
HOME TO BLESSING
A Measure of Mercy
RED RIVER OF THE NORTH
An Untamed Land
A New Day Rising
A Land to Call Home
The Reaper’s Song
Tender Mercies
Blessing in Disguise
RETURN TO RED RIVER
A Dream to Follow • Believing the Dream
More Than a Dream
* 5 books in each volume
Golden Filly: Collection One
Copyright © 1990, 1991, 1992
Lauraine Snelling
Previously published in five separate volumes:
The Race Copyright © 1990
Eagle’s Wings Copyright ©1991
Go for the Glory Copyright © 1991
Kentucky Dreamer Copyright © 1991
Call for Courage Copyright © 1992
Cover design by Dan Pitts
Cover photography by Lauri Wade Higdon
Scripture quotations are from the New King James Version of the Bible. Copyright © 1979, 1980, 1982 by Thomas Nelson, Inc. Used by permission. All rights reserved.
Scripture quotations are from the Holy Bible, New International Version®. NIV®. Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984 by Biblica, Inc.™ Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved worldwide. www.zondervan.com
Scripture quotations are from the Good News Translation—Second Edition. Copyright © 1992 by American Bible Society. Used by permission.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise—without the prior written permission of the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.
Published by Bethany House Publishers
11400 Hampshire Avenue South
Bloomington, Minnesota 55438
www.bethanyhouse.com
Bethany House Publishers is a division of
Baker Publishing Group, Grand Rapids, Michigan.
E-book edition created 2011
ISBN 978-1-4412-7025-2
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is on file at the Library of Congress, Washington, DC.
Contents
About the Author
Editor’s Note
The Race Book One
Chapter 01
Chapter 02
Chapter 03
Chapter 04
Chapter 05
Chapter 06
Chapter 07
Chapter 08
Chapter 09
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Eagle’s Wings Book Two
Chapter 01
Chapter 02
Chapter 03
Chapter 04
Chapter 05
Chapter 06
Chapter 07
Chapter 08
Chapter 09
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Acknowledgments
Go for the Glory Book Three
Chapter 01
Chapter 02
Chapter 03
Chapter 04
Chapter 05
Chapter 06
Chapter 07
Chapter 08
Chapter 09
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Acknowledgments
Kentucky Dreamer Book Four
Chapter 01
Chapter 02
Chapter 03
Chapter 04
Chapter 05
Chapter 06
Chapter 07
Chapter 08
Chapter 09
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Acknowledgments
Call for Courage Book Five
Chapter 01
Chapter 02
Chapter 03
Chapter 04
Chapter 05
Chapter 06
Chapter 07
Chapter 08
Chapter 09
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Acknowledgments
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
LAURAINE SNELLING is an award-winning author of over sixty books, fiction and nonfiction, for adults and young adults. Her books have sold over two million copies. Besides writing books and articles, she teaches at writers’ conferences across the country. She and her husband, Wayne, have two grown sons, a basset named Chewy, and a cockatiel watch bird named Bidley. They make their home in California.
EDITOR’S NOTE
Originally published in the early 1990s, these books reflect the cultural and social aspects of that time. In order to maintain the integrity of the story, we opted not to impose today’s styles, technologies, laws, or other advancements upon the characters and events within. We believe the themes of love of God, love of family, and love of horses are timeless and can be enjoyed no matter the setting.
To my daughter,
Marie, who won her race and now wears her crown.
Chapter
01
The rising sun peeked through feathery mist.
Two Thoroughbreds rounded the far turn on the three-quarter mile track at Runnin’ On Farm. Side by side, both riders stood high in their stirrups to hold the surging animals under control.
“Now, Tricia!” Hal Evanston, the rider on the gray, shouted above the thunder of pounding hooves.
His daughter, Tricia, nodded, loosened the reins, and crouched back in the saddle, her face almost buried in two-year-old Spitfire’s black mane. “Okay, boy,” she whispered to the colt’s twitching ears. “Let’s see what you can do.”
The colt leaped forward. He snorted, then settled into ever-lengthening strides. The white fence blurred as Spitfire gained speed. Beside him, old gray Dan’l valiantly attempted to keep pace. Another furlong and the black was stretched out, running free. The gray dropped back, blowing hard.
Tricia urged the colt on, using her hands and feet. She thought about the whip in her hand but decided against it.
“Come on, baby,” she crooned. “Let it out. Let’s go all the way.” The horse gave a little more. His heavy breathing drowned out the thunder of his hooves. As they passed the entrance gate, Tricia remembered her father’s instructions. She eased back on the reins.
“That’s enough for now, fella.” She chuckled as Spitfire shook his head. She pulled the reins tighter, rising in the stirrups to gain more control. Gobs of lather splashed past her as he shook his head again. Tricia ducked her face into his sweaty mane for protection.
“Come on, Spitfire,” she coaxed him. “You gotta slow down. We’re in cool-down time now. You’ll get to race again. I promise.”
The feisty colt slowed to a canter, tossing his head and playfully fighting the snaffle bit. The desire to race on around the track screamed from every taut muscle. His blue-black coat was lather-flecked and dripping wet, but he’d finally tasted real racing. Centuries of selective breeding had led to this event. He was a Thoroughbred in every line and hair of his seventeen-hand, long-legged body.
Tricia settled back in her short-stirruped racing saddle as the horse slowed to a trot, then a walk. Man, oh man, she thought, Dan’l’s never been this fast. Maybe, no, not maybe. For sure this horse is going to do it for us. She pushed her goggles up on her head and dreamed ahead. Only one month to go before the season opens. Twenty-eight days until my birthday. Then I’ll be sixteen and old enough to ride at the Portland Meadows Racetrack. To win!
I know we can do it. Spitfire and me.
She stroked the animal’s arched neck. “We’ll do it, won’t we, fella?”
Spitfire danced faster when he felt the reins loosen. His ears pricked forward as he recognized the gray walking ahead of them. The black blew. He tossed his head. He tried to take the bit in his teeth, but Trish foiled his attempt when she tightened the reins.
“Thought you’d try something, didn’t you?” She gentled him with her voice. As they came up on Dan’l, Spitfire jogged sideways. His front legs crossed one another, like a dancer in a pas de deux.
“Well? What’d you think? Wasn’t he fantastic? Oh, Dad, I’ve never ridden so fast in my whole life. He’ll do it for us, won’t he?”
“Wait a minute.” Hal laughed as he held up a gloved hand. “Give me a chance to answer. Which question is most important?”
Trish chuckled. “He was so good!”
“Better than just good.” Hal nodded. “Makes me more sure than ever that Spitfire’s the one we’ve been waiting for. I think he has the speed to win.”
Trish grinned at her father, but her grin turned to a frown as she watched him bend over Dan’l’s gray neck. He coughed until he gasped.
“You okay?” She reined the side-stepping black down.
Hal nodded. “Just too much dust.” He wheezed as he spat the choking phlegm at the ground. “I’m fine now.”
“You sure?”
“Of course I’m sure,” he snapped. “Don’t start cross-examining me, babe.”
Trying to hide her hurt feelings, Tricia jerked the reins. Spitfire reared in surprise, then crowhopped in place. “Sorry, fella,” she muttered as she straightened him out into a slow trot again.
“Sorry I barked at you.” Hal trotted the gray even with Tricia and her sweating mount.
“That’s okay.” Tricia shrugged. “But Dad—”
“No buts. Let’s talk about something else.” Hal tapped her gloved hands with his whip. “How did Spitfire feel when you pulled him up? Did he have more to give?”
“I think so.” Trish settled back in her saddle. “But he was tiring.”
“That’s just conditioning. Did he want to keep running?”
“Did he ever! With another horse pushing him, I think he’d really have gone.”
“Well, poor old Dan’l just wasn’t in shape to give that youngster a real run for his money.” Hal patted his mount’s sweaty neck. Dan’l twitched his ears, then tossed his head. As he side-stepped, pulling against the reins, Hal laughed. “I know, old man. You love to run too.”
Trish wanted to reach over and hug the old horse. He was her favorite the horse who had helped her learn to be a jockey. She’d been exercising him for the last five years, getting ready for her first race at Portland Meadows Racetrack.
“We’re getting close, huh?” She smiled at her father.
Hal nodded, his understanding immediate. So often they read each other’s minds, not needing to finish their comments.
“We’ve got a lot to do.” Hal loosened his reins to bring Dan’l into a canter. “Not the least of which, you’ll be late for school if we don’t hustle.”
At that moment she noticed her mother, Marge, and nineteen-year-old brother, David, leaning on the fence by the gate. Caesar, their purebred sable collie, sat obediently at their feet, never taking his eyes off the moving animals.
“David!” Trish trotted up to the gate. “Did you see us? What’s the time?”
“Fantastic!” David grinned and held up the stopwatch. “It looks like he did four furlongs in forty-eight and two, and that’s with no one pushing him.”
Tricia leaned forward as David waved the shiny gold watch on its chain.
At the sight of the unfamiliar glinting object, Spitfire half-reared and whirled to get away. Caught off-balance, Tricia grabbed instinctively around the animal’s neck and dug in with her knees. Like a slow-motion picture, she catapulted from the horse’s back and thumped onto the loose dirt of the track. Even as she hit the ground, Trish clutched one rein in her hand to keep Spitfire from backing away.
“Oof!” She grunted at the force of the impact. “Oh, no you don’t!”
She rolled to her feet to control the plunging horse. “Come on, Spitfire.
It’s only me. You’re okay.”
Hal swung Dan’l around to block the colt from taking off.
“Tricia…” David began.
“I’m fine.” She kept her eyes on her horse. “I’ve been dumped before.
Besides, my pride’s hurt worse than my rear—I think.”
“Well, if your pride’s as dirty as your rear, you’re in real trouble.”
“Thank you, big brother.” Tricia held the now-quiet horse’s bridle with one hand and dusted herself off with the other. “Hey, Mom. What’d you think?” She looked to the fence where Marge had been standing with David, then at David. “Where’d she go?”
Hal and David shrugged in unison.
Tricia shook her head. “Not a good time to take a flying lesson, huh?”
Hal shrugged again and stared toward the house, disappointment clear in the droop of his mouth and shoulders. “Come on, Tee. These guys are hungry and so am I.”
“But, Dad, I didn’t get hurt. And Spitfire didn’t mean to dump me. It was that stupid watch that scared him.”
“I know,” Hal answered as he walked his mount beside Tricia. “But you know your mother’s worried that you could really get hurt on the racetrack.”
“Sure. And a meteor could fall out of the sky and pound me into the dirt.”
Hal chuckled.
“Or the school bus could sprout wings and kidnap me…”
“Now, Tee.”
“Or I might get ptomaine poisoning from my cereal.” Trish delivered the last with all the dramatic flair of a seasoned actress.
Hal laughed again. “Well, falls have happened to better jocks than you, you know.” He nudged Dan’l into a trot. “But don’t worry, I’ll call the emergency wagon for you after I wash these horses down and feed them. Think you can hang on till then?”
“I’ll try.” Trish touched the back of her leather glove to her forehead. The wink her father gave her was all the applause she needed. “David?” she asked as he fell into step beside her. “How am I ever gonna convince Mom that I’m a careful rider?”
“Sure you are.” David reached behind her to pat Spitfire’s neck. “You just proved it.”
“D-a-v-i-d!” She dug into his ribs with her elbow. “That fall was no big deal.”
“To our mother it was. You know what a worrier she is. She’s always worried about Dad at the track, and now you add to it. Besides, in her mind, girls shouldn’t be racing horses, especially not her girl.”
“Yeah, I should take dancing lessons and wear a frilly tutu. Maybe I should smear makeup on an inch thick too, and chase every guy in sight.”
“Knock it off, little sister.” David draped an arm around her shoulders. “No one said growing up was easy.” He glanced at his watch. “You better move it or you’ll be late for school, and you know what happens—”
“Okay. Okay. Don’t remind me. I’ve already been late once and school
’s been going less than a week.” She trotted toward the stables, Spitfire dancing behind her. “David,” she called after him as he turned to the house. “You can muck out the stalls. It’ll be good for you. Someone once told me it builds muscles.”
“Got enough already.” David flexed an arm, then whistled for Caesar.
Together, they loped up the rise.
Tricia led Spitfire into his stall and cross-tied him. As she reached to loosen the saddle girth, she heard her father start to cough in the adjoining box stall. She pulled the racing saddle from Spitfire’s withers, paused, then called, “Dad?” As the coughing continued, she slung the saddle over the lower half of the stall door. In frustration, she jerked her goggles and helmet off her head, only to run trembling fingers through her thick ebony hair. If I could just go to him, she thought. But what if he yells at me again?
The rattle of her father’s struggling breath filled the stalls. Spitfire tossed his head, eyes rolling white at the strange sound.
Tricia crammed her gloves into her pocket and, green eyes flashing, stepped into the sunshine. She swung Dan’l’s stall door open. Her father leaned against the wall. His body sagged as he choked for breath.
“Dad…” Trish shook his arm. When he turned, she saw bright red bubbles frothing from the corner of her father’s mouth.
“Don’t worry, Tee.” The words rasped in his throat. “I’ll be all right.”
No you won’t, Tricia thought. Blood means more than allergies or a smoker’s cough, like you’ve always claimed.
Chapter
02
Dan’l snorted. He shoved his nose into Tricia’s back. When that didn’t get her attention, he blew in her hair. Feeling a burning in her eyes, she absently rubbed his soft nose.
“Oh, Dan’l,” she whispered. “What are we gonna do?”
Hal coughed again. After he spat the choking mucus out of his throat, he pulled a handkerchief from his back pocket and wiped his mouth. When he saw the blood stain, he stared at his daughter.
“Honest, Trish. There’s never been blood before.” He shook his head. “Guess I better see a doctor right away, spare time or no spare time.”
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