How to pronounce Defi Du Seuil in French

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datatime: 2022-09-29 21:22:35 Author:OWYbPZaf

'I'd like to know more about the stable hand,' Marino said, taking notes.

'Well, Windsong may have gotten out somehow,' I said again. 'And was spared.'

Sparkes picked up speed and thundered toward us, and the guinea hens lifted up their feathery skirts to hurry out of the way.

'A filly or a colt?' she asked.

We picked plastic chairs and sat with our backs to the arena, overlooking woods.

'What about a star-strip-snip?' she asked, referring to the white stripe on the horse's forehead.

'And he has no stable hand?' I asked.

'It's a foal, I guess. Black,' I went on.

'There are chairs outside.' She pointed. 'Or you can use my office.'

'I'd like to know more about the stable hand,' Marino said, taking notes.

'A filly or a colt?' she asked.

'But Lord knows, Kenny's had girlfriends before, and I don't always know about them,' Foster said, turning around in her chair to look back inside the ring. 'Unless you're right about Windsong, the horse Kenny's on now is the only one he has left. Black Opal. We call him Pal for short.'

'He would bring his horses to you?' I asked.

'A lovely old guy with a very bad heart,' she said.

'Well, Kenny had a foal named Windsong,' Foster said. 'The mother, Wind, ran the Derby and came in last, but just being in it was enough. Plus the father had won a few big stake races. So Windsong was probably the most valuable horse in Kenny's stables.'

'No,' Foster said.

She didn't comment at first, and we drew nearer to a big red barn and a Beware of Dog sign on a fence post.

'I'd like to know more about the stable hand,' Marino said, taking notes.

'It may be that one horse survived the fire,' I told her.

'No,' Foster said.

'Sometimes he did that. Sometimes it was yearlings he would buy from me and just leave them here to be trained for two years. Then he'd add them to his stable. Or he'd breed racehorses and sell them when they were old enough to be trained for the track. And I also went up there to his farm, sometimes two or three times a week. Basically, I supervised.'

'It's a foal, I guess. Black,' I went on.

Marino was not particularly interested in the surviving horse, and as we entered the indoor ring, we were greeted by the sound of hooves and the clucking of bantam roosters and guinea hens that wandered about freely. Marino coughed and squinted because red dust was thick in the air, kicked up by the cantering of a chestnut Morgan mare. Horses in their stalls neighed and whinnied as horse and rider went by, and although I recognized Kenneth Sparkes in his English saddle, I had never seen him in dirty denim and boots. He was an excellent equestrian, and when he met my eyes as he went by, .he showed no sign of recognition or relief. I knew right then he did not want us here.

'Is there someplace we can talk to him?' I asked Foster.

'What about a star-strip-snip?' she asked, referring to the white stripe on the horse's forehead.

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