Thoroughbred Angel, part 2

Roxie, a small chestnut filly who wasn't sure she could trust humans, went to the track in Wyoming with us, another thoroughbred, and two quarter horses, a pygmy goat named Frisky, and our two boys ages 8 and 10. At the time our living quarters consisted of an old Bluebird school bus, capacity 54, which had been crudely converted to a motor home, but had no water, and the only heat and electricity came with a gas generator. Money was very tight.

Roxie trained well, didn't require or want a pony horse with her, and was definitely a sprinter. We entered her in her first race, and she came out of the gate and ran in front, but got passed just before the wire going 5 1/2 furlongs. I picked her up after the race and took her to the barn to cool out, washed her off and put her on the walker. She was tense and it took a while before she was relaxed and cool, but finally put her in her stall with fresh water and feed. About five minutes later, my husband (who was also working track maintenance) came by to check on her. He went by her stall and then came and chewed me up one side and down the other for putting up a hot horse. I told him she was fine when I put her up, and he proceeded to haul me to her stall - she was huddled in the farthest corner, soaking wet with sweat, shaking like a leaf, waiting for someone to come in and beat her because she didn't win. We both stood there and cried, and, of course, got her back out and spent the next 2 hours alternately hosing, walking, letting her graze and putting her in the stall till she realized she wasn't going to get a beating.