If there are any heavens, Bill Shoemaker will find himself met by a herd of young racehorses in the primes of their lives, sunlight shining on bay and grey and chestnut coats, on white and dark hooves dancing over the close cropped earth. Those horses will have names like Ferdinand, and Swaps, and Spectacular Bid.
And they will all want him to autograph his books for them.
Because in Heaven, horses can read. Didn't you know?