Post by meg on Mar 5, 2011 23:27:14 GMT
Charles had not come to the auction looking to buy anything. Although at the back of his mind he knew that his young warmblood was not working out to be the eventer he had thought she would make, she was still a talented horse. Maybe he would just have to go with her and become a show jumper, rather than the eventer that he oh-so-wanted to be. Either that, or he would have to pick up a new horse.
Although it was early in the morning still, the auction yard was buzzing with life. Obviously there were other people around who were looking for new horses. Looking at the amount of people here, it would not be difficult to sell Al, if he wanted to try. He parked his car and stepped into the auction barn.
The first horse, although an appropriate type, was far too old. Twelve was practically ancient in Charles’s terms. He was looking for something that he would need to put in the mileage with, but have for a long time. Not that he was looking. He was trying not too, anyhow.
Lot two would have been quite nice, had she not been such a midget. Irish sports horses like herself made quite successful, bold eventers. She was maybe a touch young also, but the fact that she would only make somewhere around the 14hh mark was the biggest off-putter. Charles needed something around the 16 hand mark for it even to be considered. Not that he was meant to be considering, but the thoughts came into his mind anyway.
Horse three was skipped passed, as she was far too tiny. Twelve hands? Why, Charles’s legs would scrape on the ground.
Although Mister four was interesting, he didn’t have the confirmation nor the background at his age to be appropriate. Although, being a pally TB was a certain draw factor.
After another couple of shorties and a western horse, lot eight came up. Being a dutch warmblood made it’s breeding good, but the way it shrunk into the back of its stall with it’s ears darting made Charles see sense that it wouldn’t be right for him. The fact that he totally was looking for something was becoming apparent to him now.
Talking to each other were a pair of skinny, lanky thoroughbreds, lots nine and ten. Charles read through each of their bloodlines and saw a few recognisable names. He quickly pulled out his iPhone and searched a handful of them in the thoroughbred registry. The sire that both of them shared had won a couple of starts before being retired with an injury. Number nines dam was nothing special, although number tens was the half sister to a horse that Charles had seen out eventing a couple of times and liked. That settled it.
“I’ll give you four hundred for her,” said Charles, knowing that that was probably a little on the expensive side for a horse that was going to need feed shovelled into her. He didn’t mind. He had the money, and had no problem with spending it. The owner quickly accepted, and Charles drove the short distance back to the Park to retrieve his float that he had ever-so-craftily left at the school this morning. He clipped a lead rope on his newest purchase, and led her out towards the float. He was surprised when she loaded up with next-to-no hesitation, expecting a horse in her condition to at least be a little wary.
He put the ramp up and tied her in. He reviewed his acquisition, who apparently went by the name of Lacey, hoping that she wouldn’t be too much of a handful to break.
Although it was early in the morning still, the auction yard was buzzing with life. Obviously there were other people around who were looking for new horses. Looking at the amount of people here, it would not be difficult to sell Al, if he wanted to try. He parked his car and stepped into the auction barn.
The first horse, although an appropriate type, was far too old. Twelve was practically ancient in Charles’s terms. He was looking for something that he would need to put in the mileage with, but have for a long time. Not that he was looking. He was trying not too, anyhow.
Lot two would have been quite nice, had she not been such a midget. Irish sports horses like herself made quite successful, bold eventers. She was maybe a touch young also, but the fact that she would only make somewhere around the 14hh mark was the biggest off-putter. Charles needed something around the 16 hand mark for it even to be considered. Not that he was meant to be considering, but the thoughts came into his mind anyway.
Horse three was skipped passed, as she was far too tiny. Twelve hands? Why, Charles’s legs would scrape on the ground.
Although Mister four was interesting, he didn’t have the confirmation nor the background at his age to be appropriate. Although, being a pally TB was a certain draw factor.
After another couple of shorties and a western horse, lot eight came up. Being a dutch warmblood made it’s breeding good, but the way it shrunk into the back of its stall with it’s ears darting made Charles see sense that it wouldn’t be right for him. The fact that he totally was looking for something was becoming apparent to him now.
Talking to each other were a pair of skinny, lanky thoroughbreds, lots nine and ten. Charles read through each of their bloodlines and saw a few recognisable names. He quickly pulled out his iPhone and searched a handful of them in the thoroughbred registry. The sire that both of them shared had won a couple of starts before being retired with an injury. Number nines dam was nothing special, although number tens was the half sister to a horse that Charles had seen out eventing a couple of times and liked. That settled it.
“I’ll give you four hundred for her,” said Charles, knowing that that was probably a little on the expensive side for a horse that was going to need feed shovelled into her. He didn’t mind. He had the money, and had no problem with spending it. The owner quickly accepted, and Charles drove the short distance back to the Park to retrieve his float that he had ever-so-craftily left at the school this morning. He clipped a lead rope on his newest purchase, and led her out towards the float. He was surprised when she loaded up with next-to-no hesitation, expecting a horse in her condition to at least be a little wary.
He put the ramp up and tied her in. He reviewed his acquisition, who apparently went by the name of Lacey, hoping that she wouldn’t be too much of a handful to break.
