Bid: Barbados Jazz

OFFICIAL INFO FORMAT BECAUSE SHE IS MINE

Name: Barbados Jazz
Barn name: Barbie
Gender: Mare
Breed: Thoroughbred
Height: 15.3hh
Color: Bay
Genotype: Ee Aa
Markings: None
Temperament: Nippy and sassy, though one couldn't call her mean. She has no idea how to handle extra energy, so it all comes out as attitude unless she is carefully handled.
Discipline: Dirt racing (retired)
Bloodlines: Speightstown x Private Feeling (Belong to Me)



I know I have been unforgivably inactive in HARPG stuff, but HERE IS SOME LOUIS. Things brief but important. Have at it.

Bid for Hip 8 from this auction. Still very few bids on some excellent pedigrees!

HIP 8
Name: Barbados Jazz
Name Explanation: Speightstown is a large city in Barbados; from there I was riffing off of "private feeling" and Barbados's reputation for good music.
Barn name: Barbie
Gender: Mare
Age: 4
Breed: Thoroughbred
Color: Bay
Genotype: Ee/Aa
Markings: None
Height: 15.3hh
Temperament: Nippy and sassy, though one couldn't call her mean. She has no idea how to handle extra energy, so it all comes out as attitude unless she is carefully handled.
Discipline: Dirt racing (retired)
Pedigree: Speightstown x Private Feeling (Belong to Me)

Record:
19-4-2-7
$162,800
3rd GIII Old Hat Stakes
3rd GII Inside Information Stakes

Stakes-placed black type
Half-sister to Kensei and Lookin at Lucky


Louis already smelled like horseshit and distraction by the time he got to the farm, late, the hems of his jeans stained with mud and grass. Rachelle sighed at his quiet apologies, and twitched her head toward the truck. There was no more talking until they arrived at the auction grounds; Louis read the catalogue and Rachelle's scribbled comments in silence, apparently unwilling to be the first to speak.

It wasn't often that Louis was late, or distracted, and Rachelle understood why such episodes came, but it was still a source of frustration, and for more than one reason: first, of course, it was difficult for an employer to tolerate less than complete concentration on the part of an employee, and second... his refusal to let her help him was senseless and baffling. It would be easy, she had insisted, over and over again, and then he wouldn't have this trouble. Louis was stubborn. He always said no.

"We'll look at the Speightstown," said Rachelle, all business as she hopped down from the truck and marched toward the sale barn, "but it's the Hat Trick I want. Frankie's on to something with that horse. Just might be his babies get expensive not too long from now."

Louis hurried after her, walking at her heels like a well-trained dog. "Get up here," she snapped, hauling him by the arm so he was walking by her side.

"Sorry, boss," said Louis. Another apology. How many had that been today? Rachelle itched to just order him to bring Sarah to Brazen Fields, but she couldn't do that, no more than she could fire him for being a good person.

"Stop apologizing," she said, trying but failing to dull the edge to her voice. "Hat Trick, Speightstown. Seven and eight. Have at it."

The Hat Trick was a long, scopey colt with his sire written all over him, and Louis quickly gave him a passing grade, but Rachelle could immediately sense that he wasn't completely sold. "I won't thank you for letting me buy a mediocre animal," she said. She was still snapping, she knew. "What don't you like about him?"

"He's... a fine colt," said Louis.

"But?"

Louis fidgeted. "Heavy eyes. Might be it's nothing, might be he's fast. But others will fight harder."

"Fine," said Rachelle, moving on to stall number eight. "There will be other Hat Tricks," she said quickly, when it seemed like Louis would apologize again. "Tell me about this one. I hope I won't be going home empty-handed. Barbados Jazz, she's called. Graded stakes-placed broodmare prospect, excellent family. Any foal out of her will be worth a wheelbarrow full of bills."

The Speightstown mare was a dark, gleaming creature with a coat that gleamed bronze in the sunlight, and Rachelle could immediately see that heavy eyes would not be a problem for this one. Her back was a bit too short for her legs, if she looked for a flaw; yes, and she was scruffy, with a little switch for a tail and a mane that didn't seem to be in the mood to lay flat. But her big ears were straining up, her head bobbed with excess energy, and her wide-set eyes shone with life. Her handler niggled at her lip with his lead chain when she stood in one place for too long, and she rewarded him with a sharp nip at the elbow.

"Well?" Rachelle said, when Louis seemed unlikely to speak unprompted.

Louis briefly met her eyes. "Yes," he said, very simply.