Golden Filly Collection One by Lauraine Snelling

a load of dirty jeans and stuffed them into the washing machine. “No one ever tells me anything around here.” She poured a glass of milk, stared longingly at the empty cookie jar, and grabbed an apple. Slamming the sliding glass door took skill, but she managed.
    Clouds covered the sun, the gray light matching her mood. Even the horses seemed subdued as she and Caesar approached the barn. Spitfire only nickered. She missed the sound of his hoof slamming the wall.
    What if they’re all coming down with the virus? She stalked from stall to stall, checking each of the horses in training. They all seemed fine, just dozing. Relief, like water from a hose, washed over her.
    She hugged Dan’l, comfort stealing into her bones as he nibbled at her hair. “You guys are all just lazy.” She rubbed his ears and smoothed the coarse gray mane. “Wish I had time to ride you today. But you can play teacher with Brad or David to our trainees. How about showing them all you know?”
    By the time she had Dan’l and Spitfire groomed and saddled, David and Brad drove up one after the other. Trish left the two animals crosstied and began on Anderson’s three-year-old. Gatesby would have to wait for her. She patted his nose as she went by, only to get a wall-eyed snort in response.
    “On second thought.” She grabbed a lead rope and snapped it to his halter. “I’ll let you work off some of that orneriness on the hot walker.”
    “Good idea.” Brad watched with her a moment as the colt struck out at imaginary shadows with his forefeet, shaking his head at the confining rope.
    “How’s Dad?” Trish asked as David loped up. “Is he coming home today?”
    David shook his head. “Maybe tomorrow. He was sleeping when I left.”
    “I’ll call him as soon as we get back to the house.”
    David stared at her. “I told Mom I’d bring you in for a visit tonight.”
    “Well, you should have checked with me before you made any promises.” Trish chewed her bottom lip. “I have too much to do.”
    “I don’t understand you.” David shook his head. His jawline matched his mother’s now. “Well, let’s get these guys going. I mucked out and brushed them all down this morning.”
    “How are the sickies?” Tricia asked as David boosted her into the saddle on Spitfire.
    David left the stirrups long on Dan’l’s saddle. “Here, Brad, boost me up and then you take Dan’l,” he said, settling himself on his horse before answering Tricia’s question. “I think they’re better. At least no worse, and the filly is eating again.” Together they trotted toward the track. “Dad said to give these guys a good workout first, before we try the gate. We may put blinders on Gatesby and maybe even Spitfire.”
    Trish felt her low mood blowing away with the breeze in her face. Nothing gave her the high that working the Thoroughbreds did. And if working them was this good, what would an actual race be like? Anticipation shivered down her spine.

    “I can’t believe it.” Trish patted Spitfire’s steaming black neck. “Good boy, you’re fantastic.” She felt like hugging the horse who had just walked flat-footed through the open starting gate. It was like playing Follow the Leader. Whatever Dan’l did, so did the others. They walked the horses through a couple more times before Brad dismounted and tied Dan’l to the track rail.
    David gave him instructions as Trish brought Spitfire back to stop in the open gates. The colt rolled his eyes and tossed his head but remained standing as her comforting voice rippled past his ears.
    When horse and rider entered the stall again, Brad had closed the front gate. Spitfire walked into the open-air stall and snorted at David’s mount beside him.
    “Okay,” David said. “Let’s put these two away and bring out the others. Brad, how about if you wash ’em down while Trish and I work Firefly and Gatesby? Then we’ll use Dan’l again to teach them their lessons.”
    Trish felt an