The Belmont Stakes
One and a half miles. Seven thousand nine hundred and twenty feet.
That alone stood between Reese and the Triple Crown.
And eight other horses, but who cared about them? Not Reese, and certainly not her horse, Paddock Pizzazz, who butted his metal head against the starting gate, impatient. Smoke blew from the metal plates covering his nostrils, filling Reese’s lungs with acrid exhaust.
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