Alessia Cara: Scars to Your Beautiful (arr. Mac Huff)

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datatime: 2022-09-26 20:19:07 Author:zqdvyryK

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

'I don't know. I couldn't tell the gender.'

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

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

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

'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.'

'No,' Foster said.

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

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

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

'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.'

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

'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.'

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

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

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

'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.'

'A filly or a colt?' she asked.

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

'I don't know. I couldn't tell the gender.'

'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.'

'A filly or a colt?' she asked.

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.

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.

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