Slim Randles' Home Country
A day at the races
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[September 02, 2017]
bunch of us went to the races up in the city the other day. Windy
won a little, but the rest of us just kinda broke even, and we got
to yell and cheer, so I guess that can cost two bucks without
hamstringing the entire regiment. It was fun.
And we ran into Brock Bullingham there, too, who
had a horse entered in a maiden race. Brock’s place is about 20
miles north of the city, and he runs horses and cattle on a huge
acreage. He told us proudly what the horse was called so we could
cheer for him, and off they went. Brock’s horse went to the lead and
stayed there. He gathered up even more of a lead on the backstretch
and finished about 15 lengths ahead of the second-place horse.
He went down to the winner’s circle and we went along for the fun.
The track stewards, however, showed up none too pleased.
“Brock, you say that horse is eight years old?”
[to top of second
“Well, if you have a horse that can run like that, why is he just
now in a maiden race?”
Brock grinned, “Couldn’t catch him ‘til he was seven.”
[Text from file received from