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mare stumbles in the soft going and he topples off in a most unflattering heap.
1 pull up just long enough to see that he was in one piece and, once satisfied, ask my gelding to canter the final furlong to the steeple at St. Buttevant. .
Eddie shortly joined me in front of the stately stone church. Out of breath, we both slide down from our mounts and lay exhausted and exalted in the peat roadway.
Our horses cool down quickly in the evening air. We loose the cinches and lead them home.
We empty the rest of Eddie’s flask en route, though not much was left following his dismount.
Of alf the grand days I’ve ever had foxhunting, the day Sir Edmond Blake and 1 chased steeples was by far the grandest.
I wonder if anyone else will believe our tall tale, or remember the day in weeks to come?
(The preceding was a ficticious though historically accurate tale of the birth of the steeplechasing sport. Miss Burke, former steeplechase jockey and owner previously from Fauquier, she now works from Lexington. Ky., as associate producer for ESPN’s Racing Across America.)
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