She leaned into the stinging hairs of Diamond’s mane, her body high over the saddle, feet thrust deep in the short stirrups, reins shortened to keep touch with the mare’s mouth, her hands moving in the exact rhythm of the flexing neck. They bore down on the last of the pack, a black flinging his legs, came even with three more, their ears back and necks straining.
She didn’t use her spurs or her quirt, just her voice. ``Come on babe letit loose letit go stretchit out we can catch ‘em you got the goods you’re the top you’re the best keepit going that’s my girl.’’ The mare kept her ears back as the murmur propelled her forward, her slender legs flashing, the muscles under the red gold coat bunching and releasing. They came beside the middle of the pack on the outside rail. ``You’ve got it you’ve got the heart first this white one now the gray forget the stumble you’re on the path we’re gettingit keepit going girl keepit going.’’ They rounded on the outside racing beside the lead two, another black and the bay hugging the inside rail ready to take the lead.
She guided the mare gently closer to the black on her left and let the reins out so the mare had to stretch her neck to keep contact. ``NOW YOU GO HERE YOU ARE DON’T HOLD BACK THAT’S MY GIRL GOGOGOGOGOGOGOGOGOGOGO.’’ The mare spurted forward, cut the black off, pulled beside the bay at railside and threw herself into longer and longer strides until she looked smaller than the tall horse she was, until she looked pasted into the dirt of the track like a tree hurled by the wind until she passed the bay and passed the stands and ran through the finish line first and ran and ran until she was halfway around the track on the other side before the girl could pull her up and ease her into a trot and a jog and then a bouncing walk. The mare shook her head against the containment of the reins. She wanted to do it again. She was born to run. They were born to run.