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datatime: 2022-12-06 22:50:16 Author:ratVqNCo

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

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.

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

'A filly or a colt?' she asked.

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.

'A filly or a colt?' she 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.'

'A filly or a colt?' she asked.

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

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.

'No,' Foster said.

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

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

'The last one quit several months ago. Since then Kenny has been doing most of the work himself. It's not like he can hire just anyone. He has to be careful.'

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

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

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.

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

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

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.

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

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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