This is I'm Dashing with his mother, I'm a Kittyhawk. See my previous post for the spectacular win by I'm a Kittyhawk in the Ballade Stakes!
Below is a video of one of I'm Dashing's races which we showed at my book launch.
And I follow it with an update on our racehorses.
Favourite Reads
Psst: Don't forget that books in the Meg Sheppard Mystery Series make excellent gifts:
I am a founding member of shepherd.com and was invited to submit my three favourite reads of 2024. Here they are: https://shepherd.com/bboy/2024/f/vicky-earle
As you can probably guess, selecting just three books was a huge challenge. You'll find notes on why they are (some of) my favourites.
It was hard enough to select five books of similar genre to mine and explain why I loved each one. https://shepherd.com/best-books/books-with-quirky-characters-in-intriguing-places
(You will find links to the books when you click on each of the above links).
In case you're in a hurry (it's that time of year!), here are the three books I selected as my favourite reads of 2024 (apologies to the authors of all the other wonderful books I read this year!):
How to Age Disgracefully Clare Pooley
Fight Night Miriam Toews
The Jane Austen Society Natalie Jenner
So, if you've given your friends and family all six books in the Meg Sheppard Mystery Series, I've given you some other ideas! Books make great gifts and if you're not sure which book to give, there's the magic of the 'gift receipt' and your loved one can make their own selection.
Happy giving and reading!
Here's a story that's a bit of a departure for me. I hope you enjoy it!
(It's another 'word challenge' piece I wrote for the Uxbridge Writers' Circle: the words I had to use are in italics).
Cowboy
Brandy sat tall on his chestnut quarter horse, holding the reins in one hand, with his hat tipped back on his head. Despite the outward appearance of nonchalance, he felt as if he had a bunch of macramé in his abdomen. He hoped and prayed that it had been his imagination, which can be vivid at times. The flashing lights, the whirring and the hissing - it had all of the characteristics he would have expected a flying saucer to have, as it landed with a whoosh in his cornfield the night before.
In the early morning light, he could see a distinct circle, about sixty feet in diameter, where the corn stubble was crushed. He could smell scorched earth and burnt stalks, the acrid scents overpowering the scent of his horse’s sweat.
He dismounted, landing softly on the ground, and looped the reins over the pummel of his well-worn saddle. Perhaps all these years of being a cowboy, out in the elements, had addled his brain. He shuddered and told himself that he had seen, heard and smelled evidence of this thing, whatever it was.
Brandy scoured the ground, looking for some tangible physical evidence, something he could hold in his sweaty hands – something to back up his story. He kicked at the roots of the burnt stubble, not knowing what he hoped to find.
An ATV veered off the road, churning up dust as it tore towards him. The man wore sunglasses and a black shirt which billowed as it captured the hot air. Brandy could sense the man’s intensity, as well as his determination to reach him. He grabbed his horse’s reins, assuming that the man had no horse sense and was likely to skid to a halt right under his horse’s nose. The ATV stopped, in a cloud of corn bits and pieces and brown dust, just five feet from them.
“Hi,” Brandy said, without moving a muscle.
“Hi. You have a meeting with Brigadier General Smythe.”
“You have the wrong guy.”
“I’ve been given orders to get you to the Air Force base, pronto.”
“Can’t be me.”
“You must follow me on your horse to your house, and then ride with me from there.”
“How do you know where I live?”
“Part of my orders.”
Brandy wanted to ask if it had anything to do with the flying saucer, but thought better of it.
“Identification?”
The man handed Brandy his identification card, which appeared authentic.
“We have to go,” the man said. “It’s a matter of national security.”
“What happens if I refuse?”
“You’ll be arrested.”
“I’ve done nothing wrong.”
“You will have if you don’t come with me.”
Brandy mounted his faithful and trusting horse, and followed the ATV back to his house. As soon as he got behind the man he had a sinking feeling in his stomach. He felt a loss of control which set off feelings of anxiety. He was being taken somewhere he didn’t want to go, and his imagination created various scenarios. One was that, because of what he’d seen, he would be incarcerated in solitary confinement for the rest of his life. He was a cowboy, for God’s sake. He lived for the open air, the freedom, the peace and yes, the hard work. His horse was his constant companion.
He was on the verge of having a full-fledged panic attack by the time he met with the Brigadier General in his large office. But there was an atmosphere of professionalism and dignity which calmed his racing heart and quelled his alarmist thoughts.
The Brigadier General politely asked questions about what he’d seen the night before. He wanted specific details, including sounds and smells. Brandy’s memory was clear and he volunteered everything he remembered, including what he’d observed just before the ATV charged into his field.
Feeling utterly relieved, he left the office and was escorted by the man dressed in black, back out through the gates.
“Aren’t you going to give me a lift back to my house?” Brandy asked.
“No. Orders.”
“I have to walk?”
“No, your horse is waiting for you at the corner ahead.”
Brandy was incredulous. Some of the alarmist thoughts returned and intensified as he walked the two miles to the intersection on the hot, dusty road, with sweat pouring down his back. He half expected a fighter plane to dive out of the sky and finish him off. But, sure enough, his horse was waiting obediently for him.
He set his horse off at a lope toward his house, but it had gone. The ground was levelled. The cornfield behind where the house had stood, was ablaze. It was as if he’d been evicted from his own property.
He knew why they’d done it. It was a warning not to say anything to anyone, and in the process, they’d got rid of any evidence that might have been there.
Brandy put his fingers around the curious piece of metal he had in his pocket. It felt a bit like rubber. He picked up his horse’s reins and turned their heads towards town. He would chat with his girlfriend, who was a darn good journalist.
Vicky Earle Copyright 2024
I'm Dashing's Race
This is the video of the race we showed at my book launch.
I'm Dashing's Great Great Grandmother was the first racehorse we fully owned. His Great Grandmother (28), Lions Raw, and his Grandmother (22), I'm a Cheetah, live on our farm.
I hope you enjoy the race!
2024 Racing Season: It's a Wrap!
We think that this season is the most disappointing we've had in well over three decades of horse racing.
It's a Fluke was claimed (and he's been claimed again - meaning he has another new owner).
Audi's World developed an abscess at about the time he was ready to race and it didn't heal in time.
Prized Spirit sustained an injury (no one knows how) just before her final race of the season. (She will be fine). She had very poor rides and bad luck in the races she ran.
But we horse racing people need to be optimists to stay in the game.
And we do have high hopes for both Audi's World and Prized Spirit.
We'll have a two-year-old to follow as well: we part-own Rizzmo (his stable name is Toby) who was bred by Franz Crean. He's a large, handsome horse (see earlier post).
So, we're putting 2024 behind us and looking forward to a great 2025 racing season!
I hope to add another post before Christmas, but just in case I don't make it, Merry Christmas to you and your families.
And thank you for your support and encouragement. I would not have written six books without your positive feedback.
Happy reading!
Vicky
Ooh! Love the new story!