They were friends of a friend who apparently lived in quarters along a row of large sheds built off of a highway just north of North Little Rock. They seemed like happy, contented men, with a few horses to help keep them company.
Rock noticed a leather saddle cloth on one of the horses branded with the word "Thoroughbred," and he asked about it. "He ran one race several years ago," one of the men said. "He didn't do very well and he's been here ever since."
Rock could see that a small horse lay on its side in the same stall, completely covered, head to tail, by an old wool blanket and another made of tanned leather. He wondered whether it were alive and removed the leather blanket to see it raise its head, exhale, and rise. It was a perfectly formed, yearling chestnut colt, absolutely beautiful, Rock thought. "Does anyone have any plans for this one?" Rock said.
The colt looked very fast.
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