Felix Francis - Triple Crown

‘Surely the semen sample is all the proof we need,’ Tony said.

‘But would it stand up as evidence in court? Raworth would deny that it had ever been his. Indeed, the sample might not even be admissible as evidence in a trial because I stole it in the first place. We need something more.’

‘And how are we going to get that?’ Tony asked.

‘I’m working on it,’ I replied.

‘That’s what you said about my emails.’

‘Yeah, well, I’m still working on that too.’

‘Can’t we stop Raworth running his horses in the Preakness? Surely it isn’t right that he can nobble the opposition and still be allowed to participate.’

‘I agree that it doesn’t seem fair,’ I said, ‘but if we make a move now, all we would be doing is forewarning Raworth and any remaining evidence would disappear faster than jelly beans at a children’s party.’

‘So what do we do?’

‘Nothing for the moment,’ I said. ‘And we don’t tell anyone. Not a soul. Does your professor know where the semen came from?’

‘No.’

‘Then let’s keep it that way,’ I said. ‘Ask him to keep everything confidential unless we tell him otherwise.’

‘OK. Is there anything else?’ Tony asked.

‘Yes,’ I said. ‘Find out what you can about the Raworth family ranch in Texas. In particular, are there any veterinary records of an EVA outbreak?’

‘I’ll see what I can manage.’ He didn’t sound too confident. ‘What will you do?’

‘Continue with my job as a groom,’ I said. ‘We have three runners in the Preakness tomorrow.’

‘I thought you looked very professional with the winner of the Black-Eyed Susan Stakes this afternoon. I was watching you through my binoculars.’

‘Thank you,’ I said.

‘If anything you looked rather too adept and alert, compared to some of the other grooms.’

‘I’ll be more careful,’ I said, making a mental note. ‘I saw a number of your racing team here today. I walked right past Trudi Harding and she didn’t recognise me. She didn’t even look at me twice.’

‘I’ll have to have words with her,’ Tony said.

‘Not yet,’ I said with a laugh. ‘I don’t want her shooting me.’

Tony didn’t think it funny and, I suppose, neither did I.

Preakness morning dawned bright and warm without a cloud in the sky, not that I had waited for the sunrise before starting my day’s work. I’d been hard at it for two hours by the time the fiery globe made its appearance in the east.

I had risen earlier than usual to give Debenture his breakfast. His race, the Maryland Sprint Handicap, was due off at half past one in the afternoon and George Raworth had told me that he didn’t want the horse eating within eight hours of race time.

I arrived at the barn at 3.30 a.m. to find Debenture standing upright in the corner of the stall with his eyes closed, gently snoring. I stood silently watching him, marvelling at the fact that such a large bulk could be fast asleep and yet not fall over, especially as he was actually using only three of his legs to stand on, the fourth being slightly bent up with only the toe of the hoof resting on the floor.

Horses are not the only creatures able to sleep standing up. Elephants can also nap on their feet, and flamingos famously do it on only one leg.

In horses, it is due to what is called the ‘stay apparatus’, a natural locking of the limbs that keeps the animal upright while also allowing the muscles to relax. It is thought the ability evolved because early equines were prey, as zebras still are, and the time taken to get up from a lying position before running could mean the difference between life and death.

Not that horses always sleep standing up. They occasionally lie down for deep body sleep, so comfy bedding and enough space are essential.

I waited. I didn’t want to wake Debenture. He was going to have a tiring enough day as it was.

I knew that horses do not normally sleep for very long at a time. In all, they need only about three hours’ sleep in any twenty-four, mostly taken in short naps. And, sure enough, the horse soon woke on its own, snorting twice and shaking his head from side to side.

I gave him his regular breakfast of horse nuts plus feed supplements, and then refilled his bucket with fresh water.

Next I brushed Debenture’s coat, starting with a stiff dandy brush and then finishing with the softer body brush, working backwards and downwards from his head to his feet on each side until his hide was polished to perfection.

Over the past ten days, I had discovered that there was something quite therapeutic about grooming a horse. All of one’s troubles faded away with the strong rhythmic motion of the brushes over the animal’s skin. Even the horses seemed to love it.

I began to understand how a mother could spend so long brushing her daughter’s hair. It probably wasn’t so much for the shine it created but for the relaxing sensation the movement generated in herself.

For a while in the quiet I was even able to forget my ongoing troubles with Diego.

True, we hadn’t had a face-to-face confrontation since I’d spoken to him on Tuesday afternoon, but that hadn’t stopped him trying to disrupt my life at every available opportunity, sometimes in the most childish of ways. I had no proof, but I was quite certain that it had been he who had squeezed my toothpaste out of its tube and smeared it all over my bed.

Sadly, there was no lockable space in our cramped bedroom, so my phone and wallet never left my side, residing inside my boxers even when I was asleep.

The rest of the barn came to life about four-thirty as other grooms came to start work.

The Preakness Barn itself was already a hive of activity when I went over to collect some bedding. I took the chance to walk up the shedrow.

‘Morning, Tyler,’ I said. ‘How’s Crackshot today?’

‘Never better,’ he said, showing me the gold molars.

The big bay colt certainly looked fine, sticking his head out towards me with a sparkle in his eyes.

‘He’s eaten up really well,’ Tyler said. ‘I reckon he’ll win easy.’

Was I wrong about the EVA?

I thought back to Churchill Downs.

Three horses had become sick early on the morning of the Derby, with another showing signs of illness some five days later, most likely as a secondary infection.

If five days was the incubation period, and if Raworth had indeed squirted large quantities of the EVA virus up Crackshot’s nose only fifty or so hours ago, then it would be quite likely that the horse would still look healthy. Whether he would be able to run full pelt for a mile and three-sixteenths in fourteen hours’ time was quite a different matter.

I took the new bedding back to the other barn.

Debenture had also eaten up well, so I prepared him for his light exercise.

Jerry Fernando was due to ride the horse in the race that afternoon and he arrived to give Debenture a warm-up jog, once round the track with a lead pony in attendance. It was more to accustom the horse to his rider, and vice versa, than any serious training.

Ladybird, meanwhile, was having a day off after her efforts of the previous day. So I walked across and stood next to the track to watch the others at exercise.

Eight of the Preakness horses had opted to go out in what was an abbreviated training session. All of Raworth’s three were there, with Jerry Fernando having swapped his saddle from Debenture to Fire Point for a steady half-mile trot followed by a brisk but conservative gallop over three furlongs to open the pipes and expand the lungs.

Crackshot was noticeable by his absence, but there was nothing sinister in that. Some trainers chose not to give their horses track exercise on the morning of a race, wishing to keep them fresh for when it mattered later in the day, while others might be walked for an hour or so to loosen any stiffness in the legs.