"The Littlest RaceHorse"
Late
October, 1962. The US and the Soviet
Union stand toe to toe, poised to unleash their nuclear arsenals over the deployment
of offensive missiles in Cuba – a mere 90 miles off the coast of Florida. This is the Cold War, suddenly too hot to
touch. Apprehension flows relentlessly down
the irrational corridors of chaos and panic – personal choices driven by the
political realities of a world gone mad.
A pair of kids, suddenly cast adrift by the week’s escalating events, find
themselves forced on a journey not of their own choosing – while the adults
around them ponder the longest week of their lives. Forced to finally choose between the past and
perhaps a very different future…one that seemed to share an improbable link to
a young Thoroughbred horse halfway across the country. Lives that were stolen on a Thursday – and
returned the following week.
Irreversibly changed.
And
some 2000 miles away, one Bobby Lee Hancock and his common-law wife, Fennel McCartney.
A farmer, a horse breeder – a man grown
hard by difficult times and unforgiving choices. And on that farm, a young Thoroughbred colt, seemingly
doomed by the peculiarities of his own birth. Or so the old customs had always dictated. “Fen, I’m a farmer ya know. Shoulda hit that damn thing in the head with
a hammer when it was born. Hell, next
thing you’ll havin’ me raisin’ rats and corn weevils! And that damn Kennedy’s gonna get us killed
maybe…or worse!”
But
the young President had already moved beyond the brink of a final apocalypse – opening
a second, perhaps more volatile door by questioning the very core of American
values. Civil rights, the desires and
ambitions of the country’s largest minority – women; and the wider
responsibilities inherent to leading the world’s greatest democracy through an
era restless for change. The 1950’s were
the calm between very different storms – one engulfing the world, the second
threatening the nation. But often, that
‘change’ was personal and highly private as well, especially for children
caught in a sudden and seemingly unrelenting tempest. And just as often, the salvation, perhaps
life’s balance itself comes with four legs and a tail. Just a horse?
Maybe not.
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| © Back cover by: Sandra Mesrine, La Chambre Noire Studio Photography |
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| © Front Cover by Azaliya, Shutterstock Images |
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