Raja, Story of a Racehorse Read Free

I’m sooo happy to be out of school for summer. That boarding school is a prison! I can’t wait to spend time here. I’m only going back home for a little while this year because I have to take SATs here in the U.S., so you’ll see a lot of me. My mother and grandmother are coming next week and we’re going to the Belmont Stakes. I can’t wait!”
    â€œI think that you’ll be pleased with this year’s foals. That black colt, out of Roxanne, is quite special. Shall we go and see them?”
    The Sheikh nodded yes.
    Squinting into the sun and using both hands, Bob placed the cap on his head.
    â€œAfter you, sir,” he gestured as he began walking across the lush green lawn toward the white board fence at the edge of the field.

    â€œAh, the ‘youngbloods.’ I have great hopes for you.”
    The tall man, the Sheikh, is looking at me!
    â€œBob was right — you’re a handsome colt, and big, too. What a powerful hind end. You have the ‘look of eagles,’ just like your sire. That is an interesting marking on your forehead, like a scimitar, an Arabian sword. Are you ready to win the Kentucky Derby? Maybe the Triple Crown, eh? You’ll need a good name.
    â€œAyesha, any ideas, my girl? A good name for a Derby winner? The chestnut and the bay next to him already have names — Shadrach and Maximillian — after his sire, Millionaire. You were too young to remember, but Millionaire won the Derby ten years ago, when you were six. He’s been our best stallion ever since.”
    Ayesha turned toward me, her dark eyes sparkling with excitement. “They’re so cute! The black one is the most beautiful foal I’ve ever seen.” She sighed dramatically, tilting her head and frowning in concentration.
    â€œI hope he wins the Derby! I hope, I hope, I hope…” She thought for a moment. “How about Raja? Raja means ‘hope’ in Arabic,” she explained to Bob, “and in India, Raja means ‘king,’ or, ‘ruler,’ so the name has a double meaning.” Her eyes lit up as she drew a breath in and held it, waiting for her father’s response.
    â€œI like it! Raja, it is. Bob, will you see about registering that name?”
    â€œOf course, sir, I’d be happy to.”
    One of the men in dark glasses approached. “Sheikh, I’m sorry to interrupt, but the Senator is waiting for you. It’s time to leave.”
    â€œWe’ll be right there, thank you.”
    Princess Ayesha looked at me and smiled warmly, “Good bye, Raja.”
    The Sheikh, Bob, and the dark-clothed men followed her gaze. Surprised, I raised my head sharply. Pretending to be indifferent but secretly liking the attention, I looked off in the distance at a movement — a man trimming a hedge a field away. All eyes were on me. I stamped, spun and galloped away, causing a stampede of foals and mothers, long broodmare manes flying, hooves pounding the ground like a hundred hammers.

    Max, the big bay colt, and Shadrach — Shaddy, he liked to be called — were my best friends. But that didn’t mean we were always nice. That’s just the way it is in a herd. Someone has to be boss. If one of the other foals tried to butt in, I pinned my ears back and kicked them, or bit their neck — to let them know they were out of line.
    â€œCome here,” my mother called in a tone that meant NOW. “You weren’t bred to be a bully. Remember, class shows. Our relatives have won every major race in the world. You have greatness in you. It’s your destiny. Always remember that.”
    Her tone softened and her big brown eyes held me. “Always try your best. If you don’t, you could be sold.”
    SOLD?
    â€œEvery time you step into a horse van your life could change. You never know, you might be sold. We’re lucky, but bad owners and trainers can hurt you. People punish you when you