Larry (The Storm Trilogy Book 3)

Book summary

"Larry" is an inspiring story of a young thoroughbred named Larry, overcoming adversity from birth. Blessed with a mystical gift during a storm, he embarks on a journey of triumph against numerous challenges. With his best friend, a magically-gifted jockey, by his side, Larry faces down foes, proving that destiny is forged by courage and companionship. This tale is a testament to the power of determination and friendship in shaping one's fate.

Excerpt from Larry (The Storm Trilogy Book 3)

THE WIND WHIPPED through Larry’s mane as the sun glistened off his deep auburn coat. His muscles rippled with each majestic stride. The thundering sound of forty other hooves faded and now Larry could only hear the roar of one hundred thousand devoted ecstatic fans, many of whom shed tears of joy and amazement.

The little human who always climbed aboard Larry’s back for these runs rocked in rhythm to Larry’s blistering gait. Wearing her red, black, and white checkered colors, jockey Rachelle Hunter could no longer hold back her emotions.

“You’re doing it, my friend,” Rachelle whispered into Larry’s ear. “It’s your dream. It’s your destiny… It’s my dream too.”

Larry seemed to understand. The horse and the jockey held a special bond.

The ten erstwhile entries in the Belmont Stakes tried gallantly to keep pace with Larry. It was almost a formality that Larry would win the race. Odds were an astonishing 1:100, meaning bettors would have to wager one hundred dollars to win one. Larry dominated the first two legs of the Triple Crown, winning the Kentucky Derby by twelve lengths, and the Preakness Stakes by six. Most of the ten other horses’ owners who entered the Belmont acknowledged they were competing for second place.

Going into the race the nation was gripped with “Larry Frenzy.” Two distinct camps formed. The Larry supporters were completely enthralled with Larry’s story. They were thrilled at how Larry morphed from a struggling thoroughbred whom his owners almost discarded into the most astonishing equine athlete since Secretariat. Then there were the adversaries who doubted Larry’s abilities, claiming the horse’s stunning accomplishments must have been a result of illegal performance enhancements.

But Larry passed every ELISA (Equine Linked Immuno Sorbent Assay) test administered. Bending to pressure from a cadre of racehorse owners to investigate the spectacular yet unheard-of improvement in Larry’s performance, ARCI (the Association of Racing Commissioners International) ordered daily ELISA tests of the miraculous thoroughbred, whose given name was Sir Laurence Olivier, aka “Larry.” There was zero evidence of any impropriety. Larry was simply a freak of nature, a being touched by something spiritual and miraculous.

Larry took charge of the race from the moment the gates opened, sprinting to the front of the pack. His nearest competitor, a massive, midnight black filly named Holy Spirit, who stood eighteen hands high, tried to keep pace for the first three furlongs. Holy Spirit was already ten lengths behind Larry at that point.

Holy Spirit’s jockey, Thad Eisner, continued to go to the whip, cracking the horse’s left thigh as if there was a chance Holy Spirit might catch Larry. Holy Spirit put some distance between herself and the third-place entry, Carrot Stick. It seemed certain Holy Spirit would become the second horse in history to place second in all three legs of the Triple Crown. In 1978 Alydar dueled Affirmed, finishing by a combined margin of just two lengths behind Affirmed. Holy Spirit would match that feat, but the combined distance in the Kentucky Derby, Preakness Stakes, and Belmont Stakes would amount to an astounding sixty-seven lengths behind Larry.

It was Holy Spirit’s owner, the flamboyant British billionaire Peter James Gallagher, who spearheaded the effort to discredit Larry’s accomplishments. PJ Gallagher made his first billion in real estate and invested that wealth in several lucrative sports ventures. He owned the Manchester United Football Club, the Bayern Munich Football Club, and Coolmore Stables in Ireland, where Holy Spirt was bred.

Gallagher did not take losing very well. Holy Spirit entered the Triple Crown undefeated in her prior fifteen races, which all took place in Europe. There was a considerable build-up for the Kentucky Derby, with the press dubbing the race “The Second Revolutionary War” between the U.S. (Larry) and the British (Holy Spirit). Larry’s dismantling of Holy Spirit incensed PJ Gallagher even more. He took to the media with his tirade, claiming no horse could defeat his prized thoroughbred so soundly.

Gallagher sat in his private suite flanked by his closest associates, his publicist Georgina Theodore, and his personal assistant James White. PJ appeared confident before the race, boasting to the press that his horse had the stamina to outlast Larry in the mile-and-a-half distance. He already consumed three bottles of Perrier-Jouët champagne by race time to drown the pain of inevitable loss.

Inside, Gallagher knew Holy Spirit stood no chance against a healthy Larry. Gallagher’s only hope was that Larry would break down or collapse, which was a legitimate fear among some race experts who knew a horse could buck its shins if pushed too fast and too soon in a race. Gallagher also thought that maybe Larry’s ordeal leading up to the Belmont drained Larry’s energy for the long race.

With Sir Laurence Olivier soaring, continuously extending his lead, it was abundantly clear that Larry was going to attain his destiny. No challenges or foes could stop him.

Midway through the Belmont, Theodore and White joined the rest of the crowd, standing and shouting for Larry. While they supported PJ Gallagher and Holy Spirit completely, the moment was too great to quell the adrenaline rush of watching history take place before their eyes. They were in the presence of something supernatural. PJ Gallagher was the only person at Belmont Park who never rose from his seat. He would not see the end of the race and the inexplicable event that took place when Larry crossed the finish line.

“There is no doubt we are all witnessing a miraculous, historical performance!” race announcer Ned Capozzi shouted as Larry turned toward the final stretch. His voice was barely audible over the deafening crowd. “I can’t even estimate the gap between Larry and Holy Spirit… thirty-five, maybe forty lengths?”

In the early morning before the race, PJ Gallagher met with Eisner and Holy Spirit’s trainer, a statuesque redhead named Shannon Fritz, to discuss race strategy. Gallagher was adamant that Holy Spirit should stay on Larry’s heels for the entire race and make her move to pass Larry down the stretch. Fritz and Eisner disagreed. They knew if Larry broke fast and Holy Spirit was to stay close, then the filly would either burn herself out or worse, break down at some point from the blistering pace. Shannon Fritz proposed that Holy Spirit stay with the pack and let Larry dictate the pace. If Larry immediately sprinted to the lead, Fritz knew Holy Spirit’s only hope was that Larry would tire and fade during the lengthy mile-and-a-half race.

The debate got animated. An inebriated Gallagher threatened to fire his trainer and jockey, who also threatened to quit before the race. The shouting was so loud that it woke many horses in the nearby stables, including Holy Spirit, who appeared agitated from the ugly confrontation. Larry, however, whose stable was on the opposite side of the paddock, continued to sleep and dream about his destiny.

Maybe the yelling put Holy Spirit in a foul mood. Maybe the race strategy was wrong. Maybe there was nothing the owner, trainer, jockey, or horse could have done to compete with Larry on that day.

“As he flies down the stretch, I am going to let Sir Laurence Olivier’s performance speak for itself. No words can adequately justify what we are witnessing.” And with that, Capozzi turned off his microphone and cried while Larry thundered toward immortality.

One hundred yards from the finish line Rachelle Hunter glanced at the race clock. She knew Larry was going to smash Secretariat’s Belmont Stakes record – the one most racing experts predicted would last forever. But Rachelle did not care about the time or the record, or how many lengths were between Larry and second place finisher Holy Spirit. Rachelle’s only thought was about Larry’s destiny, the one that constantly appeared in her dreams.

A bright white cloud descended over Larry as he neared the finish line. Sparks flashed out of the cloud. It was the only cloud in the sky that was otherwise bright blue.

Ten yards from the finish Rachelle leaned her face against Larry’s neck. She appeared to be hugging her beloved equine companion.

“I love you, Sir Laurence Olivier,” Rachelle whispered while crossing the finish line fifty lengths ahead of Holy Spirit. Rachelle felt as if Larry’s hooves were no longer on the ground. His legs were galloping but Larry seemed to be flying.

The white cloud thundered and shot out a blast of light.

The cloud disappeared.

Larry disappeared into the cloud.

The crowd gasped in unison.

Rachelle Hunter rolled onto the dirt track sobbing. She looked up toward the heavens as the other horses crossed the finish line, darting around Rachelle to avoid trampling her.

“I love you, Larry,” Rachelle repeated.

“SHE DOESN’T LOOK GOOD, DOC,” Holly Henderson said to Drew “Doc” Pearson. The elderly veterinarian had been delivering foals on Henderson Stables in Burbank, California since Holly’s grandfather, Landry Henderson, first bought the farm five decades ago.

Holly received a call at four a.m. “Dystocia,” Doc Pearson told Holly. “Best come down to the stable right away. We’re trying to save momma and baby.”

It was an unseasonably cool March morning in Southern California. Holly sprinted to the stable, her breath forming clouds from her nostrils, much like one of her horses while racing on a muddy, rain-soaked track.

There was a uterine tear in the mare, Katharine Hepburn, and she was unable to deliver on her own. To make matters worse, the foal was in a challenging position with his head resting on top of his front legs. At thirty-seven, and living her entire life on the farm, Holly experienced her share of dystocia births. They often did not end well. The mare frequently died from uterine tear bleeding which endangered the baby as well.

This was Katharine Hepburn’s maiden foal. Sired by Clark Gable -- every horse at Henderson Stables carried the name of a celebrity – Holly and her siblings who shared in running the business were optimistic for the Gable-Hepburn foal. Katharine Hepburn enjoyed a successful racing career winning six out of ten races at Santa Anita Park. Clark Gable had similar success winning eight out of twelve races before retiring to stud at the age of five.

Holly stood over Doc Pearson and Katharine Hepburn, out of breath, hair dripping from the light rain. She stared at the veterinarian’s long white beard and thought to herself that Pearson aged considerably since she had last seen him. “What can I do, Doc?”

“We’re losing her!” Doc Pearson exclaimed. “We need to get this foal out!”