Griffen
wiped the sweat off his brow with a handkerchief. He was getting too old for this. Amelio,
his assistant would have done well enough here. High Chances was talented enough to do well
on the turf without his presence. He had been hoping to be sent to Del Mar to help saddle
and work with the two block-headed fillies–Daddys Pride and Final Tour.
Mares.
But Amelio was at Del Mar and Stella was holed
in at Calder with the two year olds.
He sighed and walked down shed row, his eyes
scanning over the nameplates of the horses. The australian horses looked content, ripping
mouthfuls from their haynets.
Perhaps High Chances didn’t have a chance.
A
phone rang somewhere nearby. It took Griffen a moment to realize it was coming from his
pocket. He’d forgotten to turn off his cell phone after talking with Amelio. They’d
decided to run Final Tour without any equipment again.
He glanced at the caller ID
before reluctantly opening it and putting it to his ear.
“Elliott.”
"Oh. I
didn’t think you’d pick up," the female voice sounded vaguely disappointed.
"Well, I
did. What do you want?"
"A lot of things, you know. I’m calling to see what sort of
runners you want."
“None.”
"Come on, Griffen. You’ve got a barn full of 2yos,
a bunch of 3yos and only a couple older horses. Don’t you think it’d be fun to have a
couple more old timers?"
"No. If you want to waste your money, go buy some pleasure
horse."
“I’ll buy you some nice colts. You like colts, right?”
"Better than
mares."
“Great! They’ll be here when you return. Good luck on Saturday! Bye!”
click
Griffen looked at his phone in vague
disbelief before turning it off and returning it to his pocket.
Women. They were
even worse than mares.