Raja, Story of a Racehorse

by Anne Hambleton

  Every street corner smelled of roasted chestnuts, my new obsession. I loved them almost as much as peppermints. Snowflakes finally came, gently drifting through the sparkly lights, hushing and softening the city, wrapping it in a clean white scarf. In Central Park, the ground was still springy underneath the snow. Yuri and I kept up our early morning dressage and Dee still came out to watch, now wearing an old blue parka with stains on the front. Like swarms of bees, more and more shoppers and tourists happily buzzed around the shops on Madison Avenue. The Plaza, especially, had an air of excitement as more limousines and celebrities arrived daily.

  “Good morning, Maurice, looks like there’s something going on.” More security guards than usual hovered around the entrance to the Plaza, where a small crowd of people had gathered to wait for someone important who was staying there. A group of photographers waited off to the side, blowing on their hands, drinking coffee out of paper cups and fiddling with their cameras. “Paparazzi. Must be a Hollywood star or maybe the President?”

  Maurice tipped his hat, bowing, “Good morning to you, Yuri, Sasha. We have special guests — Rod McCabe and his royal girlfriend. They arrived last night, over from London where Rod is filming.”

  “Ah, Rod McCabe, I loved him in his last movie. He deserved that Oscar. I’d better keep an extra eye on your crowd. It looks like it’ll get bigger.”

  The next morning, as brilliant fingers of pink reached across the early morning sky, Yuri and I worked on flying lead changes. A few remaining snowflakes drifted past. A man bundled up in a big puffy jacket and black wool hat threw a tennis ball for an enthusiastic German Shepherd in the southern corner of the field and a homeless woman with her hand on a shopping cart filled with stuff sat on a bench watching us.

  Halfway through a series of lead changes, I smelled it.

  Gardenias and peppermint!

  I stopped suddenly and pawed the ground impatiently.

  Where is that smell coming from?

  “Come on Sasha. What’s wrong?” Yuri was confused.

  A man on cross country skis worked his way across the snowy field. Across from him, two runners chatted as they ran along the path in stride with each other, their breath billowing up, steamy, in the cold air. Not that direction. I smelled another whiff of the familiar scent. It was coming from the east. I looked up and nickered.

  A woman wearing a snowflake-dusted winter coat was silhouetted against deeply blushing sky. She was coming this way with two large men following behind.

  Could it be?

  Another whiff of the delicious, glorious, scent. A joyful nicker escaped from deep inside me, louder this time.

  “I’m sorry to interrupt your session,” she apologized to Yuri as she approached, “It’s just so beautiful and unexpected. My name is Ayesha. I’m staying at the Plaza and find it very difficult to escape from the paparazzi unless I get up early in the morning. Imagine, wandering upon such a sight of sheer perfection. It’s breathtaking. Your horse is stunning. May I say hello?”

  I nickered again, tossing my head as she came closer.

  Here I am!

  Her eyes admired me, then widened, as they found the scars on my hind end and then travelled to my forehead. She traced the scimitar marking with a forefinger.

  “It couldn’t be,” she said quietly. I nickered again and put my nose toward her, overjoyed at seeing her again as she burst into tears, hugging and petting me.

  “I can’t believe it. Raja. I almost didn’t recognize you.”

  Princess Ayesha, I’ve found you.

  It was so wonderful to see her. She was grown up, a beautiful woman now. My heart felt like it would burst from joy. Princess Ayesha, my childhood special friend!

  We’re finally reunited!

  “I take it you’ve met Sasha?”

  “Sasha? Oh, yes. My father bred this horse and he was foaled at my family’s stud. He was a very good racehorse and could have won the Kentucky Derby if a starting gate accident hadn’t ended his career.”

  Ayesha scratched my tickly spot. “Oh, how I’ve missed you.” She turned to Yuri,“Sorry. This is just a bit overwhelming.”

  “It’s nice to meet you, Ayesha. My name is Yuri Belanov. A starting gate, eh? So that’s what the scars are from. I suspected that there was a story behind them. My friend found him at the auction. He came close to being sold for horse meat. She had to outbid the killers.”

  She gasped and started at him, horrified.

  “Horse meat!”

  “He was in rough shape, must have fallen into the wrong hands. We looked up his race record but couldn’t find anything after his last race and tried to contact the Sheikh, but he had sold the farm. You must be his daughter?”

  Ayesha pressed her face into my neck. “Yes. My father sold the farm when we left the country a few years ago.” She threw her arms around my neck. “I found you, Raja. I can’t believe it! He loves peppermints. Don’t you my love?” She turned her tear streaked face to Yuri, pushing her long hair out of her face.“He looks wonderful — shiny coat, beautifully groomed, happy expression and muscled-up. And what lovely flatwork. He’s incredible — poetry in motion. Belanov… Belanov… that name sounds familiar. You’re not related to—”

  “Princess.” One of the bodyguards moved closer.

  At that exact moment, Dee rode her bike toward us ferociously, skidding to a dramatic stop before discarding it on the ground and running closer, eyes more on fire than usual, color high. She struggled for breath as her words spilled out in rapid succession in the general direction of Princess Ayesha.

  “Hi, my name’s Dee. I don’t want to rush you, but I thought that you’d want to know that a group of photographers is heading this way.”

  We all looked over in the direction Dee was pointing. A pack of about 20 men carrying large cameras was racing toward us.

  “I’ll create a distraction so that you can get away,” Dee cheerfully announced with a chip-toothed grin. “Be careful, there’s a big patch of black ice over there.” She pointed toward an area on the path next to a big boulder and then took off on her bike toward the photographers, pedaling as though she was possessed by an angry spirit. When she reached them, she fell dramatically, clutching her leg and screaming loudly. “OWWW. Help! My leg! AAHHHH. I think it’s broken! Please help me!”

  Several of the photographers stopped to help her. Yuri and I knew that she was faking, but we went over, adding to the confusion and allowing Princess Ayesha to escape. When we could no longer see her, or her bodyguards, Dee stood up, got on her bike and rode off, smiling and waving at the paparazzi, messy braids flying behind her.

  I can’t wait to see Princess Ayesha again!

  That night I thought of the afternoons at the farm in Florida under our tree with her sweet voice singing to me, “Don’t worry, ’bout a thing, ’cause every little thing’s gonna be alright.”

  The crowd outside the Plaza waiting to see Rod McCabe and Princess Ayesha swelled as people stopped to see what was going on. We were on afternoon patrol in front of the Plaza, special duty crowd control. The late afternoon shadows grew longer as the trickle of people walking home from work, heads tucked into their scarves and hats against the bitter north wind, strengthened into a torrent.

  “Rod McCabe! I love him. I’ve seen all his movies.”

  An excited hush came over the crowd as Maurice opened the door and the couple waded through the crowd toward the waiting big black car.

  “Over here, Rod.”

  “Rod, can I have an autograph?”

  People pushed and shoved, wanting to get closer to them. I kept willing Ayesha to look toward me, but I had to keep my focus on the crowd.

  I’m here! Over here!

  Finally, she looked up through the forest of people and saw me. A beautiful smile lit up her face as she caught my eye. She walked closer, trailing a pack of paparazzi. Oblivious to them, she focused completely on me as she gave me a kiss on the nose, fed me a peppermint and scratched my t
ickly spot. A warm glow came over me and it was just the two of us. The crowd faded.

  “You are the most perfect thing in the universe and I will always love you.”

  The crowd surged closer in the twilight and the paparazzi started taking pictures.

  Flash! Flash! Click! Pop!

  Hundreds of flashes of light blinded and confused me.

  LIGHTNING!

  My heart leapt into my throat and a loud roaring sound filled my ears.

  Run!

  I forgot about Yuri, Princess Ayesha and the crowd as I wheeled around and bolted as fast as I could down the sidewalk into the park. I passed the row of carriages and the frozen duck pond and went into the park, blind to the runners, bicyclists and baby strollers in my way, blind to Yuri trying to stop me, blind to everything except the need to escape. The only thing that existed was my body, my breath and heart and the sound of my hooves on the pavement.

  Ta-da-da-dum, ta-da-da-dum, ta-da-da-dum.

  I looked up rounding a turn next to a big boulder.

  SLAM!

  My feet went out from underneath me.

  Black ice!

  Yuri, underneath me, cushioned my fall as the reins came over my head. Still possessed by the flight instinct, I scrambled up, hysterical, leaving Yuri on the ground. I began to run again, reins dangling in front of me. Rounding another corner, I found my way blocked by an enormous crowd barrier, taller than a man.

  There was no way around it and I was moving fast. It was too late to stop. I had too much momentum. If I tried, I would slip and fall. I couldn’t see the other side, but it was too late. I would either make it or crash in a terrible fall. Five strides out, I measured the distance, rebalanced, gathered myself up, and jumped over it in a giant leap.

  As I landed, I swerved, extending my forelegs and picking up my hind legs to avoid a tractor parked on the other side of the barrier, then kept galloping.

  “Sasha,” I heard a voice. It was Dee. I began to slow down, the possession fading as I pulled to a trot and then trotted back to Dee, still heaving and blowing and catching my breath. “Easy buddy, relax, settle.” I jigged sideways.

  Dee grabbed my reins and vaulted on using a Cossack move she had seen Yuri do, then steered me back down a path through some trees around the barrier to a man wearing a battered old tweed cap and a weathered green parka with silver duct tape over a tear.

  He smells like the country. Like alfalfa and wood smoke.

  “Uncle Paddy,” she said excitedly, “This is the horse I told you about — Sasha.” Paddy’s brown forelock fell over twinkling grey eyes, now aflame with excitement. He looked familiar.

  I’ve seen him before, where?

  “Holy Mother Mary! Did you see that? I haven’t seen a horse jump like that since I saw Nick Skelton and Everest Lastic win the high jump at Olympia. That fence was almost seven feet high. Incredible! And he jumped a tractor on the other side! That was one of the greatest jumps I’ve ever seen. And I’ve seen lots of top international jumpers in my day.”

  He walked over to me with a slight bowlegged hitch to his gait, energetically, yet smoothly, so as not to startle me, and gave me a friendly pat on the neck with un-gloved, callused, knowing hands as his eyes scanned my body.

  The horse dentist! Paddy Murphy! I could tell by his movement, his touch.

  “You can trust me,” he said with his hands and his movement. I was still breathing heavily, hot and excited from the run. Almost unconsciously, I nudged him, rubbing my head on his shoulder and letting out a big rumbling sigh.

  “Uncle Paddy! He likes you!”

  “Keep him walking. He’s still blowing. ’Tis a very handsome horse. Well bred, judging by the look of him. He looks familiar. I feel like I’ve met him before. I never forget a horse. I know I’ve seen him. Ah well, I’ll probably remember in the middle of the night.”

  He reached into his pocket, found a roll of Polo mints, unrolled a strip and offered one to me, patting me on the forehead. “Hullo, lovely boy.” He turned to Dee. “He’s certainly not your typical police horse. I see why you are infatuated with him. Did you see him jump that barrier? Incredible! He made it look like nothing. Ah, Dee-girl, you reminded me of your mother just then. That was quite a bit of riding — where did you learn that move? You looked like a Valkyrie, jumping on like that! You have your mother’s blood, there’s no doubt about that. She was the best horsewoman in County Limerick, God bless her soul. She’d have been proud of you. Now, then, shall we take this horse back and find out what happened?”

  He walked beside me, putting his hands on the reins to steady me as I jigged and snorted, still agitated from the run. A crowd of people had gathered around an ambulance at the patch of ice where I had slipped. Yuri lay on a metal bed, awake, joking with the EMTs as they loaded him into the vehicle.

  Oliver and Officer Mike were at the scene.

  “Thank you. Is Sasha OK?” Mike asked, taking the reins from Dee.

  “He’s fine as far as I can tell. No scrapes and he feels sound. What happened? Is Yuri OK?” Dee asked, with a worried expression.

  “It sounds like Sasha was scared by the photographers. He bolted and slipped on the ice going around a corner. Yuri has a pretty good concussion and he broke his leg — his femur. It’ll be a while before he rides again.”

  Yuri smiled at me through the pain as he was loaded into the ambulance. “It’s OK, Sasha, it wasn’t your fault. It was the ice. I’ll see you soon, I promise.”

  Oliver looked at me sadly and shook his head. “Ayuh, boltin’ ain’t looked on so good in the force, if ya know what I mean. Don’t know that I’ve evah known a bolter. Lucky ya ain’t huhrt with that fall an’ everythin.’”

  When would Yuri get out of the hospital? When will I see him?

  Officer Mike spoke again,“I’ll take him back. It looks as though Sasha may not be cut out for police work.”

  A freezing rain started to fall as I walked home through the grey and yellow rain-slicked streets of New York with Oliver and Officer Mike.

  January, Manhattan, New York

  The New Year came with me still in the stable, unridden, and Yuri still gone. The routine went on around me as usual, but I felt a heavy, uneasy, feeling. The stone in the pit of my stomach was growing. There was a lot of talk about what I would do now that I wasn’t cut out to be a police horse.

  Rob was speaking to Captain Rourke. “I think Sasha needs to go to the retirement farm. He’s too much of a liability for a riding school. I wouldn’t want anyone to get hurt riding such a dangerous horse.”

  Dangerous! So that’s what they think. But I’m not dangerous. I’m kind and and I always try my best.

  The stone in my stomach got heavier.

  Why don’t they understand me? Where’s Yuri? What’s going to happen to me?

  “My friend ships horses.” Rob snorted loudly before spitting a yellow glob onto the ground, staring blankly at me. “He can come and get Sasha tomorrow. I’ll take care of everything.”

  9

  The Ice Storm

  February, somewhere in New Jersey

  The icicles forming around my nose and whiskers made it hard to breathe as a bitter wind blew through the open-sided stock trailer. 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, anchored 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. While he waited, he took off my warm, heavy blanket and new leather halter, replacing it with an old, frayed nylon halter that smelled bad, like cat pee. Then he placed the chain under my lip and over my gums and gave it a sharp tug.

  Ow…that really hurts.

  I stood my ground. I was not going into the paddock.

  “See here, I mean business,” he snarled.

  A heavy, bearded man emerged from the house, lumbering down the porch steps as he pulled on a red checkered jacket.

  “You owe me one, bro. It’s freezing out here and the game is in overtime. Flash Jackson just scored to tie. Man, that guy is good, I tell ya.”

  Flash? Is he here? Things are getting strange.

  “Give me a hand. Hold him.”

  Earl held the chain while Rob’s friend walked behind me with the metal stick.

  Whoa!

  I jumped high in the air in surprise at the shock. It hurt — a lot. He did it again and I bolted into the paddock, trembling all over and snorting loudly, feeling violated. He nodded, smiling at Earl through brown-stained teeth, before spitting on the ground.

  “Cattle prod. Best investment I ever made.”

  I was so cold, so hungry, so thirsty. By now I knew I wasn’t going to the retirement farm. My heart began to pound and my stomach tightened as a feeling of cold dread came over me.

  Where am I going?

  Rob’s friend pricked me with a needle. I was sleepy, so sleepy. I could barely stay awake.

  I drifted off into a restless, troubled, dream-filled sleep.

  February, New Holland, Pennsylvania