Victory At A Price

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Victory at a Price

I ran my small pale hand shaking in the bitter winter wind, gently down his left hind leg.  It felt smooth and strong, there was no sign of the recent injury.  I felt a great sense of relief.  It was going to be alright. Luxembourg turned his head with a white blaze down it to his mouth, towards me and gently moved his big hooves out of my way. He seemed to sense that I was nervous and touchy. It was the night before the big race. I sighed deeply; I stood to lose everything, the stables, the horses and the staff.  We had not made any money for such a long time. Our lives depended on winning the second race tomorrow at Kempton Park.

I woke up to the early morning sun streaming through my upstairs bedroom window. I was eager and excited but I still had some concerns that in a couple of hours, when the race finishes, he would come back safe and sound but I would be over the moon if Luxembourg was to win.  

It was not to long before I drove the enormous horse box, fifty - five miles up to Kempton Park Racecourse on the outskirts of London, where he would be having his first run on the Racecourse just approaching two years Monday week.

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I was just going through the gate which said ‘Horseboxes’ in big, bold and black writing engraved on the white board next to the gate. I had to show the security pass to get through. Every part of my body was trembling and shivering with anxiety and hope that Luxembourg the cute and chocolate coloured would come back safely and we would get a big run out. I was hoping in a few hours time all my hard work with staff with this horse would pay off today with a place or a win. I was shivering, I was growing ...

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