By Mary Perdue
Lady at the Track
On an unseasonably warm South Carolina spring morning, Dogwood and Redbud trees are already in bloom along a stretch of concrete driveway, where a fine yellow dust of tree pollen lingers on car hoods parked near the barn ahead. Turning off State Highway 261, a two-lane road where you could go awhile without passing another car, the beauty of green sloping pastureland and acres of fence line on the horizon might fool you into thinking you’re in Kentucky Bluegrass country.
While it’s true that many thoroughbred farms have a security gate and sometimes a guard to screen visitors, it’s not until you’re asked to surrender your…
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