The rhythmic sound of hooves flying across the dirt. The cheers of racegoers. The melody of a fiddle and accordion lingering in the evening air. Feet shuffling to a two-step or Cajun waltz. The voices…

On Friday nights we would make a supper—a free supper—and people would enter their horses. After Cajuns have a few beers, their horses are faster and the women are prettier.” The celebrated Don…

A white sign with red letters tells you that you found the right place—the last operating bush track in the state...