“Any one. You decide.”
Her eyes were happy, and she wore a white dress with a transparent lavender material around her shoulders, and she had on one of those big white summer hats with the wide brim that Southern ladies used to wear to church on Sunday.
“Let’s bet on that one,” she said. The black one. Look how his coat shines. Isn’t he handsome?”
Avery left the stands and bet her money and two dollars of his own at the window.
“I bet it across the board,” he said.
“What does that mean?”
“You collect if he wins, places, or shows, but your odds go down.”
“I know he’s going to win. Look at him. He’s beautiful. Watch how the muscles move in his flanks when he walks.”
They were taking the horses down to the starting gate.
“I wish I could paint him,” she said. “Have you ever seen anything so handsome? Does a horse like that cost much?”
“Yes.”
“I wonder if Daddy would buy one for my birthday.”
“What would you do with him?”
“I don’t know. But God he’s gorgeous. I’d love to own him.”
The horses were in the gate now. The black one tried to rear in the stall and the jockey had trouble keeping him calm until the start.
“What’s the matter with that man? Doesn’t he know how to handle horses?” Suzanne said. “Why are you laughing?”
“It’s nothing.”
“There they go. Oh, they’re pushing him into the rail.”
“It just looks that way from here.”
“It’s unfair. He’s getting behind,” she said.
“He’s no good on a wet track. Watch how his legs work.”
“What’s wrong with his legs?”
“He doesn’t have his stride.”
“That’s silly,” she said. “What does a wet track have to do with anything?”
“Some horses can’t run in the mud.”
“He’s dropped
back to fourth.”
The horses crossed the finish line in front of them. Suzanne looked disappointed.
“He’d do all right on a good track,” Avery said.
“I’d still love to own him. How much would he cost?”