Block · one region of the page, as the scanner read it. It may hold a whole story, part of one, several, or an advertisement; stitching blocks into articles is the next step. Text is supplied OCR.
Page 27 · column 1 of 4 · from the scan, no model involved
By Betsy Parker
Times Newspapers Staff Writer
Snorting rhythmically, the bay gelding inhales the icy autumn air as he gallops. Fresh cut grass, piles of drying fall leaves, a smoking barbecue in the infield: so many smells. But what fills his nose most of all is the scent of a gray horse racing beside him; he must have had a liniment bath this morning, so strong is the minty perfume.
Lifting his head, the gelding peers into the middle distance: Looming ahead is another of the dark green hedges. He judges his stride, lowers his head for a final glance as the obstacle nears, and lifts into the air with measured grace.
Upon landing, the horse feels — and senses — his rider’s renewed urgency. He feels the rider’s hands lower alongside his neck, the boy’s calves and thighs pulsing in rhythm with his stride.
As the pair draws near the finish line, the bay hears — and senses — the gray looming close. As his rival’s head draws even with the bay’s flank, the bay hears the nearing footfalls. But, with a final burst of energy, he edges clear again, feeling his rider relax and stand tall in the stirrups as the pair crosses the finish line in front.
Later, in the winner’s circle, the bay’s groom sneaks
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