WHAT IT IS
On a privately owned left handed dirt track some eight and a half furlongs long, just outside Greensburg Indiana was where the magic happened for a second time in as many races. On a hazy, lazy Sunday morning in August, eight thoroughbreds lined up at the starting gate, their owners mulling around the infield in nervous anticipation. As soon as the last horse was gated, the starting pistol sounded, the gates flew open and five stallions, two geldings and one mare bolted down the track.
Molly’s Turn was by far and away the favorite. The previous year she ran the Indiana Derby, coming in second behind the state champion by a quarter length and she had only grown stronger since then. The three year old’s forte was to break early, run hard and let the other horses eat her dust. On this day the pattern did not deviate, but when the pack was coming out of the back stretch, the two nearly identical grey/white geldings made their move. Molly’s Turn pounded the track hard, her head dropped slightly and she dug deep, but as the home stretch loomed before them she could see the pair inching steadily toward her, one on the inside, the other a couple of feet to the outside. Down the home stretch the three warriors battled hard and with a furlong to go, no distance separated the three. Cheers and laughter erupted among the owners as the finish line revealed the geldings’ neck and neck with one another and Molly’s Turn a close second. It would be the second neck and neck finish by the pair in the last two weeks.
Slim Clemons walked up to the two winners and stroked each under the chin while congratulating the jockeys. He could see the potential in these two and was formulating big plans to get them on the larger horse racing circuit in Indianapolis and perhaps even on to Kentucky. As he mused out loud to the jockeys, he was approached by the man who gave him the horses, Miles Hobbson dropped by to see how the geldings made out.
WHAT IT IS NOT
Basil McCormik drove from Charlottetown to Panmure Island in a couple of hours, with a tedious stop in Cardigan to perform some dental work on Silly, Mrs. Henry’s prize winning Maine Coon. The purpose of McCormik’s trip was to pick up two horses, whose elderly owners could no longer take care of them, and bring the horses back to the stable where he worked.
Trailering the geldings went smoothly and McCormik couldn’t help but admire their shinny coats and strong, muscular legs; he would see to it they found a good home. McCormik had a quick stop at Murry River to visit his cousin who worked at the general store and was hell bent on getting McCormik to supply the store with a line of veterinarian products so folks didn’t have to travel all the way to Charlottetown whenever a minor ailment befell an animal.
McCormik left the general store with a commitment to further look into his cousin’s plans and when he climbed into his truck, saw the doors to the horse trailer flung open. An old man, his voice weak and hands shaking, pointed at McCormik and mumbled inaudibly in his direction. He tried to stand, but immediately fell back into his cream colored wicker chair. McCormik starred into the empty trailer, then approached the old man. “ Never seen such a thing, two women and two little teddy bears…rode off on those horses!” He pointed down a red dirt ATV trail.
McCormik, a bit dazed by the events, slowly walked back to the truck and this time when he climbed back inside, noticed a note on the driver’s seat.
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BELLA & DIZZY—ANTI-TOURIST LEAGUE