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datatime: 2022-12-01 01:59:12 Author:XXwwmzUF

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

'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.'

'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.'

'If he is, I doubt he will be for long. The police know about him.'

'I wasn't that close,' I told her.

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

'Did you know anything about a lady maybe staying with him in Warrenton?' I asked as we headed back outside again. 'Did you ever see anyone when you went to work with his horses?'

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

'Did you know anything about a lady maybe staying with him in Warrenton?' I asked as we headed back outside again. 'Did you ever see anyone when you went to work with his horses?'

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

'If he is, I doubt he will be for long. The police know about him.'

'A filly or a colt?' she asked.

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

'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.'

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

'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.

'I wasn't that close,' I told her.

'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.'

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

'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.'

'If he is, I doubt he will be for long. The police know about him.'

'Did you know anything about a lady maybe staying with him in Warrenton?' I asked as we headed back outside again. 'Did you ever see anyone when you went to work with his horses?'

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

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