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Rated: E · Short Story · Animal · #1337809
A short story about a woman who gambles everything on a horse.
                                                  Easy Win
                                             
The place was busy, the line at the betting booths long. Money is passed in and white slips are passed back. It was loud in the building and the stands but down at the paddock near silence fell as the animals were paraded in. A well dressed lady peered out from under her large hat and watched each horse walk by. A black with a white stripe led them, prancing impatiently. Behind him was a bay with a single white sock. Then two chestnuts, one dark the other light, passed the woman next. Then came the grey. He was a huge stallion for his age, nearing 17 hands high. The wind picked up and whipped his black mane and tail around. He was an even, dark steel grey. The white number 5 was easily seen on the side of his bridle. He was bouncing forward, pulling along his nervous handler. The racehorse felt the frantic pull of the bit and reared angrily.

The woman nodded pleasurably. Fingering her purse she strode towards the upper class betting stand. Dropping a large wad of bills in front of the impassive attendant she got her slip and entered her box. She was in time. The horses were still being led past the grandstands, saddled and ridden by their jockeys. The announcer called out their names one after another as the horses were urged into a swift canter towards the gate. Slowly, the handlers battling with the excited stallions, the gate was filled.

This was it, the moment before the gate opened dragged on as a tense silence fell over the grandstands. The woman sat, showing none of the nervousness that raged in side of her like a flooding river. She had done it, everything was on that grey. Now it was up to the horse and his jockey.

The gate sprung open! The horses were off! The bay took an early lead as the first furlong flew past. He couldn’t hold it, everyone in the stands knew it. Sure enough, as they were half way down the second stretch he was passed, first by the steel grey stallion, then the dark chestnut. The grey and the chestnut pulled away from the pack when the next marker flashed by. They held their position, two lengths in front of the next horse, the long legged black. As they neared the mile marker the race was still between horses five and three. Then it happened, the grey gained. He left the chestnut, making it look easy.

The woman stood up, her eyes, like all others, were fixed upon the stallion. It was an easy win, only a quarter of a mile to go. The announcer was rambling something about the grey when suddenly a streak of black blocked out the lighter horse for a short moment. A length, then two he gained on the home stretch. Her knuckles grew white on the rail, her cry never left her throat as panic filled her. Loudly the announcer yelled out the black victory for every one to hear. As the crowd roared in thunderous applause the woman collapsed into her seat, pale, her life ruined.
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