Raja, Story of a Racehorse

by Anne Hambleton

At the second, Hawker Hurricane, in front of me, jumped to the left, cutting me off. I couldn’t see the fence and didn’t have anywhere to go. I put in an extra stride before jumping and twisted in the air.

  That was awkward.

  After the fence I was even farther behind — six lengths now. Wyatt eased up and let me run faster, settling into a rhythm. By the fifth fence, I began to figure out how to jump at the quicker pace. It was like the day Oakley had galloped me to call the helicopter or chasing the loose horse when Paddy was an outrider at the point-to-point. I started pinging fences, flamboyantly, gaining ground over each fence.

  Gallop, gallop, gallop, jump! Gallop, gallop, jump!

  Different from show jumping, I felt as if I could use my power and speed to get into a rhythm and stay there. This felt better, less confining, freer.

  THIS is the sport I’ve been waiting to find. I love this. It feels great to run and jump.

  “Good boy, Raja, you’re a smart one.” Wyatt reached down to pat me as we thundered across the field, now third behind The Dynamiter and Hawker Hurricane.

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

  We passed the crowd and the cars, going out in the country for another circuit.

  Three miles is FAR!

  I took a deep breath, then picked my head up. The crowd was a field away. As we thundered around a beacon, leaning sideways, and headed back toward the crowd, the pace picked up and I felt the horses behind starting to come to me. The Dynamiter was still ahead but we were gaining. Hawker Hurricane dropped back, tired.

  Three more fences to go and I feel great.

  We waited. After the second to last fence the other jockeys started to ride harder, using their hands and bodies to urge their horses to go faster. The pace picked up. It still felt slow, compared to my races at Saratoga and Belmont and Gulfstream. Wyatt held me steady but kept up with the faster pace, easing me forward head-to-head with Hawker Hurricane as we jumped the last. The Dynamiter was five lengths ahead of us.

  What are we waiting for? Let’s go!

  Up, and over. The finish was now in view. Finally, when I couldn’t stand it any longer, Wyatt changed his hold and smooched to me, asking me to go. I exploded forward in a powerful burst, roaring past The Dynamiter.

  I won! I won! What a great feeling winning is!

  “Good boy!” Wyatt patted me on the neck as we pulled up and jogged back to the finish for our win picture.

  “Good boy, Raja! Yay, Wyatt!” I heard Dee screaming as she ran toward us, halter and wool cooler in hand. “You made that look easy.”

  March, Chester County, Pennsylvania

  “Right, Dee,” Paddy called, “Are you ready? We’re off to see if you can hold that wild animal. Today’s the big test. But there’s no pressure, none at all.” He grinned crazily. “Let’s go. Load ’em up.”

  I came off the trailer at an endless field with a strip of mowed grass running up the crest of a big hill. Rick, Jed, Wyatt and Sam waited with Inquisitor, To the Max, and Admiralty Bay.

  “Thanks for letting us work Raja with your horses.”

  “No problem, Paddy. I’m glad for the company,” Rick replied, tipping his faded red baseball cap.

  “You know how I like the work to go. Single file until you pass the orange cone two thirds of the way up the hill, then finish head-to-head.”

  Dee listened intently and nodded at Rick before leading me to a post-and-rail fence, stepping on the bottom rail, gathering her reins in her left hand and hopping on.

  “Keep Raja covered up behind Admiralty Bay until the cone. Then you can show him some daylight,” Paddy instructed, “but don’t let him pass Inquisitor.”

  I let out a playful buck.

  I feel FIT.

  “Settle, Raja,” Dee admonished. I could tell she was nervous. If she didn’t ride well today, there would be no Ladies’ race for her. In single file, with Inquisitor and Jed leading, then Wyatt and Sam, we jogged, then cantered, around the big field before heading to the bottom of the work strip.

  “All tied on?” shouted Wyatt.

  “Ready,” Dee and Sam both replied.

  Dee gathered her reins, made a double bridge and firmly jammed her hands into my neck.

  “Let’s go,” Wyatt called to Jed.

  We picked up a gallop, rounding the bottom of the hill, and started to climb. Dee kept my head directly behind Admiralty Bay’s hindquarters even though I was pulling hard. She felt good: balanced, strong and tight. Tricia’s exercises must be getting her fit. At the plastic orange cone on the ground, she steered me to the side slightly, showing me daylight, and we opened up, moving up next to Admiralty Bay, who came with us to join To the Max. Then, stirrups clanking, hooves thundering, and breathing loudly in unison, the three of us moved up to Inquisitor, reaching the top of the hill together.

  “Perfect,” yelled Rick, “that should have us all tuned up. I almost forgot, Dee, Happy Birthday! It looks like you’re going racing. Nice job holding Raja.”

  March, Unionville, Pennsylvania

  Race day dawned grey, wet and raw: a sloppy, squishy-ground kind of raw that chilled the bones, stripped the apple blossoms, and bullied the sun into hiding.

  As Tricia led me up to the paddock before the race, cozy and warm in the fleece cooler that I had won at Blue Ridge, I was surprised to see Dee in her silks.

  She looks like a real jockey!

  “Riders up,” came the call. Dee put her reins in her left hand and hop-walked alongside me, bending her knee. With a hand under her ankle, Paddy hefted her easily onto my back while Tricia kept me walking.

  “You have three sets of goggles. The top set is covered with plastic wrap. Take the plastic off right as you are starting so that you can see. You’ll get muddy today. As the goggles get dirty, pull them down and use the next pair. Keep Raja covered up and try to get him to settle. Whatever you do, don’t let him see daylight until you’re ready to go. Follow Hallie on Silver Squire. He’s a great jumper and she has a good sense of pace. Stay close and don’t make your move until the end. You have a long finish, so make sure you have a good last fence before you ask him to run. Good luck! Remember to breathe!”

  They’re off!

  Two horses, Weybridge Hill and Tucktuckerman, went right to the front early, going fast. It looked as if their riders were getting run off with. They hooked up and battled it out for the first circuit, 15 lengths ahead of us.

  They’re definitely getting run off with!

  Dee, using all of her strength, strained to hold me, placing my nose directly behind Silver Squire, a little too close to his churning hooves, almost, but not quite, clipping heels. I was keen for the first two fences, jumping them huge and almost landing on Silver Squire the second time. Soon we settled into a rhythm.

  Gallop, gallop, gallop, jump. Gallop, gallop, jump.

  After the first turn the front runners began to tire and came back to us, then dropped back, their races already run. We galloped the second circuit easily, over the post-and-rail fences, up a big hill, then down, gaining speed as we rolled downhill. With four fences to go, the pace picked up. We jumped the second to last as a group.

  It’s time to go! What are we waiting for?

  “Steady, steady, not yet,” Dee panted, beginning to tire and standing up a little in her stirrups to hold me.

  She’s definitely getting tired. Should I be worried?

  Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed that Weybridge Hill was now riderless. As we rounded another beacon and started heading up the hill to the final fence, galloping faster now, Weybridge Hill suddenly cut in front of Silver Squire toward the horse vans. Hallie pulled on her right rein firmly to keep from missing the beacon, cursing loudly at the loose horse. Dee, seeing Hallie, jerked her rein as well. As she pulled, I slipped and stumbled in the soft going, losing momentum and almost going down. Dee lost her stirrups, then grabbed my mane, disorganized, but still on — barely. Silver Squire pulled ahead toward the spectators gathered next to
the last fence and the finish.

  There’s the finish! We’re running out of time!

  Ignoring Dee’s efforts to steady me, I galloped faster in pursuit of Silver Squire.

  I know what to do.

  Close to the fence, Dee, stirrups regained, reins reorganized and back in the tack, but still out of breath, urged me on between breaths.

  Just stay on. I’ll take care of everything.

  I sprang forward powerfully. Thundering to the last fence, we jumped together, head-to-head, stirrups clinking. In a final burst of speed, I surged forward, spraying mud in Silver Squire’s face with five lengths to spare.

  “Good boy, Raja!” Dee patted me after pulling me up. She slid to the ground, exhausted, and out of breath.

  Winning! I love it! I’m so happy, but it all seems EASY. Is that all there is to it?

  “Ugh, spring cleaning is so gross,” Tricia complained, wiping a cobweb out of her hair and leaning on a broom outside my stall. “I need elves to come and do this.”

  Paddy smiled as he wiped his grease-covered hands and concentrated on replacing the chain on the bars of his saw. “Right now, chain saw elves would be perfect. Hey, I forgot to tell you, Rick Dunlop called yesterday. He thinks we should take Raja to a sanctioned race, maybe to the My Lady’s Manor or the Grand National. He thinks that Raja’s jumping is good enough for the big Maryland timber races. I have to say I agree.”

  Tricia grunted as she knocked down another cobweb with her broom. “Dee’ll be spending her spring break with her father, so she’ll miss the My Lady’s Manor races. The maiden timber race there would have been the perfect spot for him. Too bad. The Maryland Grand National is a big step up. Do you think he can handle it?”

  Paddy thought for a while, absentmindedly leaning over to pick up and throw a dirty tennis ball that Angus had dropped on the ground in front of him. “You’re right. It is a big step up, but Raja isn’t your average horse. I’ve seen him jump a very big fence and I’ve galloped him over a pretty big four-railer myself. He’s talented, powerful and smart — and a very clever jumper. He seems to like jump racing and the point-to-points are very, very easy for him. Let’s see what Dee has to say about it. Wyatt gets along well with him and if he’s available to ride him, I think we should give it a try. I’ll see if Bob and Michelle can help us hunt down his papers.”

  April, Butler, Maryland

  “Most of these horses are going to the Maryland Hunt Cup next weekend,” Paddy told Dee as they saddled me before the Grand National. “See how solid they look. I always think of timber horses as the hockey players of the racing world. They’re just big, powerful, athletic bruisers you wouldn’t want to get in a fight with. Raja fits right in, only he‘s more beautiful than all of them. Have you noticed how everyone’s admiring him?”

  Dee led me past a river of waving daffodils to the crowd-lined paddock.

  Inquisitor strode by, big, dark and impressive, full of cocky confidence. Jed, in his green-and-yellow silks stood confidently next to Rick. Next was Admiralty Bay, his chestnut coat gleaming with a deep coppery sheen. Silver Squire, the shorter, stocky, steel grey horse I had beaten at the point-to-point was next, with Hallie smiling and joking with her trainer. She looked over at Dee and waved. The last horse, Cove Warrior, was a tall, lanky bay, whose red-silked rider was equally tall and lanky.

  “Riders to your horses,” came the call from the Paddock Judge.

  Da da da dum diggety dum diggety dum dum dum daaa.

  My heart started to spark.

  Let’s go, go, go!

  Red-coated outriders, manes braided and tack polished, cantered us down to the start past the rows of shiny cars and crowds of colorfully dressed spectators, then stopped for us to look at the first fence.

  It’s a lot bigger than the point-to-point fences. This is a whole different game. I began to worry. The other horses had been racing over timber for years.

  Am I experienced enough?

  Admiralty Bay, on my left, read my thoughts. “I hope you realize that this is a timber STAKES race.”

  Inquisitor, on my other side, looked over and said, condescendingly, “Aren’t you out of your league? Are you sure you’re ready for this, flat boy?”

  Wyatt patted me reassuringly. “Good boy, Raja. Let’s have some fun.”

  We were all in line, the flag was up, and we were off, heading for the first of 18 fences over three-and-a-quarter miles. Inquisitor burst to the lead, setting a quick pace. Every horse in the race was talented, competitive and out to win.

  This is a lot faster than the point-to-points.

  We crowded to the first fence as a pack, hooves thundering.

  It’s hard to see. Where is the fence?

  I flew it, hoping I wouldn’t land on anyone, and stumbled on landing. Wyatt helped me rebalance by shifting his weight back.

  “Easy, Raja, settle — we have a long way to go.”

  We jumped the second as a group, still jostling for position. After the fence, I relaxed. By now, I knew to save my energy for the real race: the last half-mile and last three fences. I galloped easily behind Inquisitor with Cove Warrior next to me and Admiralty Bay behind. I was surprised to notice that it was easier to jump the fences at the faster pace. The momentum from galloping made me feel as though we were flying when we jumped.

  Gallop, gallop, gallop, jump. Gallop, gallop, jump.

  Wyatt rode quietly, shifting his weight very slightly and squeezing his legs against my side, six strides before each fence. I rebalanced, opened my stride to the fence, and pinged each one perfectly, gaining ground on Cove Warrior every time. Another circuit, then out to the back fields on the course. As we rounded the far turn, Inquisitor picked up speed. I stayed with him as we headed to the fourth fence from home.

  OK, let’s go. I’m right there with you.

  I could tell that Cove Warrior was tiring. He was strung out and starting to stab at his fences. I picked up the pace, heading for the finish, hot on Inquisitor’s heels, head-to-head with Cove Warrior.

  Let’s see what you’ve got, Inky. I’m with you.

  By now we were galloping fast. There was no room for error. The jumps had to be right or someone was going down. Wyatt shifted his weight slightly to rebalance me. I locked on to the fence, saw a perfect distance six strides away, and opened my stride to meet it. Cove Warrior, next to me, struggled to stay with me. He met the fence wrong and put in a short, awkward stride before the fence, hitting his legs and pecking on landing and pitching his jockey clear of the oncoming horses. Riderless, he ran up next to me as we headed to the final two fences.

  As we approached the next fence, I noticed an outrider out of the corner of my eye, heading toward Cove Warrior and pushing him back into the race.

  There’s no room. You’re going to push him into me.

  Inquisitor went faster. I stayed with him, all energy focused on the fence.

  Bring it on, Inky. I’ve got plenty left!

  One stride before I took off, Cove Warrior crossed in front of me.

  BAM!

  He bumped into me, knocking me sideways.

  Oww!

  Wyatt flew over my head and into the fence as the others jumped around him and headed toward the finish.

  Darn! I could have won. I was certain that I could have outrun Inquisitor in a stretch duel. Darn Cove Warrior and darn that outrider.

  I saw the lights of the ambulance weaving through the crowd and onto the course. An outrider on a big grey caught me and led me to Dee, who had my halter buckled across her chest and was out of breath from running.

  “Good boy, Raja, you were amazing! You could have won that race.”

  What about Wyatt? Is he OK?

  As Paddy grazed me in the van area after the race, his cell phone rang. “How’s he doing? Broken collarbone? Oh, no, that’s unfortunate, but I’m glad it’s not worse. He should be back riding before the end of the spring season. Great, thanks for the update, Trish. I’m sure he’s glad you’re
at the hospital with him. Rick’s on his way there now. He said he’d bring the two of you home. See you later. Love you. Bye.”

  Legs poulticed and bandages on, we were about to load up and head home when the jockey who had ridden the winner of an earlier race swaggered up to Paddy.

  “Tough luck. Your horse jumped well, I thought he had the win. If you’re looking for a rider for the Maryland Hunt Cup, give me a call. My ride won’t be going. Stupid trainer got him hurt.” He smiled at Dee. “Hello, darlin’ what’s your name?”

  Dee turned red and stammered, “D-D-D-Dee.”

  “We hadn’t thought of going, but I’ll give you a call if we do. Can you come up and school next week if we decide to go?” asked Paddy.

  “Sure thing. You should send this horse. He has ‘Hunt Cup Horse’ written all over him. Here’s my number, Ben Kidd, great to meet you.”

  April, Chester County, Pennsylvania

  “He looked good out there today; jumped like a stag. I think Ben might be right. I think he could do the Hunt Cup. He seemed to like the bigger fences. What do you think, Tricia?”

  “I agree,” Tricia admitted, “but I wish Wyatt could ride him. They get on so well. I’m not so sure about Ben.”

  “He did a nice job on that winner today and he’s been around the Hunt Cup course. Besides, Dee thinks he’s cute, don’t you, Dee?” Paddy teased.

  “Oh, those jump jockeys are all charming when they want something, isn’t that right, Paddy?” Tricia smiled, giving Paddy a playful shove.

  “Let’s get these horses turned out and go and have some supper. It’s been a long day. I think it’s a frozen pizza night. Sorry.”

  “Where could he be?” complained Paddy. “He’s over an hour late.”

  It was four days before the Maryland Hunt Cup. I stayed in the barn while we waited…and waited. After another 30 minutes, a red sports car came roaring up the driveway and skidded to a stop, spraying gravel into the lawn. Ben sat for a moment in the car to finish a cell phone conversation. Paddy and Dee came out to greet him and waited some more. As he opened the car door, his Doberman Pinscher jumped out and started growling threateningly at Mac and Angus.