Hooves pounded on the dirt track as Kate Midford urged the big gray thoroughbred to gallop onward.

“Come on Riptide, just a little more.” She urged the horse.

Riptide leapt forward and raced down the track. Soon, they rounded the last turn and went flying down the home stretch. A beep sounded as a young man leaning on the rail hit his stopwatch.

“Kate, you and Riptide were three seconds slower than the last time he tried the whole mile on the track. I know you really want to campaign him as a racehorse but I think your dad may be right. He just doesn’t have what it takes.” He informed her as the horse and rider slowed.

“Riptide can do it! He just needs more training.” She defended the horse.

“Listen, I’m sorry but he isn’t cut out for racing. If you don’t want him sold maybe make him your personal horse and try to take him to some shows. He’s most likely a better hunter or dressage horse. Find Riptide a job he can pour his heart into. Racing isn’t for him. Most thoroughbreds have to be retrained for new careers anyway.” Jeremy said.

“I have to at least let him try.” Kate said as she dismounted the gelding. “Come on Riptide,” she led him back to the barn.