Full Mortality by Sasscer Hill Read Free Book Online Page A

acceleration we drew alongside the colt in no time. I grabbed the dangling rein, then stood in my stirrups, leaning back slightly to get leverage on both horses’ bits. We’d rocked and careened a little, but eventually I’d pulled the horses down to a jig.
    “Wonder Dude, you saved my life,” the girl said after struggling for her breath. Lorna’d been a loyal buddy ever since.
    Now she grinned up from her chair and held out the bag of doughnuts. I peeked inside. Fresh, fragrant, and chocolate-covered. Oh boy.
    “Can I pull the past performances on a horse?” I asked, taking a bite of doughnut.
    The way her brow ring rose up I could tell she was curious, so I told her about Helen’s Dream.
    “This sounds like a karma thing,” she said, licking chocolate from her fingers and firing up the computer. The filly’s life history materialized on the monitor, and we got busy tracing Helen’s story in Daily Racing Form charts listing information like breeding, racing dates, speed figures, and order of finish.
    “Dude, this filly’s bred like a queen.” Lorna’s finger pointed to the sire, Dream Boat Special. “Like, he’s a Kentucky Derby winner. And look here, your Dream’s dam earned over three hundred grand. Whoa dudarina, the dam’s name is “Helen’s Last Wish”
    I got blind-sided again, emotion welling up.
    “Nikki, baby dude, you crying?” Lorna’s voice quivered with concern. “You want more chocolate?”
    I shook my head and fingered away tears. Lorna stared at me, curious. “I was thinking about Gildy,” I lied. No, we weren’t going to ponder my mother’s dying wish. Not going there with Lorna. Instead, I pointed to the monitor, hoping to distract.
    “Look how they treated her,” I said. Helen’s first trainer had run her three times in five weeks, maybe too much for a two-year-old. She’d had a second, a third, and gotten her first win. Nine days later, she was entered in a stakes race. At Belmont.
    “Ignorant trainer,” Lorna said, indignant. “Why not just shoot her?”
    We stared at the page. In the stake the filly led most of the way around, then died in the stretch. After that, a long layoff.
    “Bet she cracked a cannon bone,” I said.
    “Pulled a suspensory ligament,” Lorna offered. “Some of these guys’ll cut off their own foot to make an extra buck.”
    We shook our heads, thinking about greed and stupidity. Fortunately, many trainers lived for their horses, lavishing them with the best feed, conditioning and love.
    Helen’s next start listed a new owner and a cheaper purse. We read comments like “unruly at the gate” and “fractious at the start.” Her story went downhill through the claiming ranks, where one trainer after another bought her, then ran her back for a cheaper price. Finally she hit bottom, claimed by Clements.

Chapter 8
    Carla’s black Mercedes sped over the Potomac River on the I-95 bridge, while Cheryl Crow sang “My Favorite Mistake” on the radio. We’d left the capital city’s marble testimonials to our forefathers behind in a haze of heat and pollution. Ahead lay the air-conditioned shopping-extravaganza of the Pentagon City Mall. I’d never been there, but I’d heard about Nordstrom’s, our apparent destination.
    Carla eased back the volume and pointed her Gucci sunglasses at me. “Nikki, I’m curious about something.”
    When wasn’t she?
    “You’ve never talked about a family or how you got into horses.”
    I paused, glancing outside. To the right, the Pentagon stood in a huge parking lot, encircled by looping highways. I stared at the spot where terrorists had crashed a plane, and took a breath. Life was so short. I’d locked up my past, letting it fester. Maybe it was time to crack a window.
    “I grew up in inner-city Baltimore,” I said. “In one of those narrow rowhouses.”
    “And?”
    I sighed and the words tumbled out, an unhappy list. “My father died when I was two. Heart attack. No brothers or sisters, just