jar of hearts

The crisp and cold Washington air whipped through Attie’s hair. She leaned on the rail of the infield watching a couple young thoroughbreds gallop down the track. Even bundled with several layers of sweatshirts and jackets, the cold air still found it’s way into the cracks. It was cold enough to cause frost, and to freeze the water, but still no snow; it was good thing in the long run. It meant she could keep her horses in training for longer, even if it was only light workouts. She’d decided to stay home this year instead of taking a small string down south for the winter racing season. There weren’t many horses she’d seen monster potential in, and she was excited for the spring and the new crop.

“Hey.” She said cheerfully, “Did you see Khan?” Attie beckoned towards the track.

 "Mmmhmm. He was looking good.” Garrett responded, lowering his chin to Attie’s shoulder. His eyes drifted over the track, watching the few lone horses working on the neatly combed dirt.  There was something peaceful about watching the powerful thoroughbreds snort, and dance their way down the stretch. Each horse had a unique style, no two horses looked the same.  Garrett also missed the chestnut stallion, Lighthouse’s familiar style. He was a freight train, slow to start but eventually picking up speed.

The sale of the red stallion only reminded him that Cherry Hill’s racing string was pitiful at this point, three horses, all looking to start their four-year-old season. Lekka was the only exception.  Hopefully the new season would bring fresh blood to the farm, even a couple more horses. Perhaps a couple foals, or a few yearlings, only time would tell.


“Eat.” Attie said, sliding the large dish of homemade macaroni and cheese onto the hot pad in the center of the table. It was one of the few dishes she could cook that would actually turn out to be edible.  The small kitchen was crowded with bodies, and the heat from the oven made it warm, almost to a point that was unbearable. </code>

Libby Reynolds, Liam McGinn, two of CHF’s exercise riders and jockeys who lived on the farm, herself and Garrett were all crowded around the small table.  Plates appeared to be balanced precariously on the tabletop, each small available space had a water glass or silverware carefully tucked away. At this rate, they’d need a larger table. Between the food dish, a bowl for salad and another for the roasted broccoli, and all the dishes there was hardly room to move without the fear of sending someone’s plate to floor. 

As people helped themselves to the food, the room slowly filled with quiet buzz of conversation, Liam and Garrett in quiet discussion about some things that needed to be done around the barn, which left Attie to talk with Libby.

“So, what new horses are you bringing in?!” Libby asked excitedly, eager to call dibs before the other riders.

 “I’m not sure yet. I’ve had my eye on a couple, but I plan to bring in some two-year-olds.. And maybe some foals. “ Attie said frostily.  This wasn’t a complete fib; she was working out deals with some owners, though she really didn’t know, nor did she feel like sharing with the bubbly red-head.  Thankfully, Libby went back to eating her food, and butting in on the other conversation.

Attie picked through her food, not really all that hungry. Finally, she stood and put her plate in the sink, “I’m going to go check on the horses.” She announced, grabbing her jacket and quickly exiting the warm kitchen.  Her breath made white clouds in the night air, and her boots crunched over the frosty ground. Letting herself into the barn, she walked past the few horses that lined the aisle and paused outside Milo’s stall.

“Hey buddy,” She said, clicking her tongue softly. The white stallion poked his nose over the stall door and nosed her curiously.  His aging was starting to show for real now, the dips above his eyes were more prominent and the sway in his back showed nicely now. The thick pink scar down his chest stuck out against his soft white coat, and his already clouded blue eyes were close to white. The vet had confirmed that any shadows Milo had once seen, was gone.  The aging stallion now lived in complete and total darkness. 

“What do you think will happen to us Mi?” Attie asked, playing with the stallion’s furry ears. The constant threat of bankruptcy and depression always clouded her mind. The battle was too hard, and Attie was tired. Scratch that, exhausted.  Somehow, over the past couple years Cherry Hill had scraped by.  I miracle or just dumb luck, no one knew, and Attie had long since given up searching for answers.

Featured horse, Honor To Us All, three-year-old black colt.