“The thigh bone is broken. The doc said it’s the most important bone in the body—it carries most of the weight. They’ll operate and put in a temporary pin. It’ll mean Tom won’t have to wear a heavy body cast while the bone is healin’. He’ll be able to get around with crutches. He’s pretty happy about that.”
Alec thought bitterly, I’ll bet he’s happy. I’ll bet he feels just swell. The poor guy.
George went on, “So I’m flyin’ to Pittsburgh with him tomorrow. We get an ambulance at both ends, an’ all the arrangements have been made. But I’m stayin’ with him to make sure everything goes just as they say it will. Tom’s not goin’ through this alone. Not with me around, he isn’t.”
“What about Bonfire?” Alec wanted to know. “How’s he getting back, George?”
“I’ve already hired a guy to drive our van back with him.”
“And Jimmy?” Alec asked. “Have you called him?”
“I’m doin’ that right away.” George went to Bonfire and gently rubbed the colt’s head. “Looks like we’re all goin’ to be turned out to pasture for a while,” he told Bonfire. “Next year maybe things will work out better for us. ’Course you’ll be too old for the Hambletonian, but you got to take the bad with the good. Jimmy will see it that way, I know.”
Alec watched the old man and the colt, but said nothing.
George asked, “I guess you’ll be goin’ home, Alec, won’t you?”
“Yes. There’s no reason for my staying now.” Alec lowered his gaze to the straw bedding. Was it over for him too? Was he any different from what he’d been before coming to Roosevelt Raceway, before meeting Bonfire and Tom and George? Or even before the accident?
Alec turned to Bonfire again. He didn’t like this continual gnawing inside him. He didn’t like the way he felt at all.
He loved Bonfire. Why then didn’t he ask to take over this colt? Probably Jimmy Creech wouldn’t let him do it. But at least why didn’t he ask? Was he afraid to train and race Bonfire? Of course not. He’d never been afraid to race any horse. But before this morning he’d never hurt anyone, either.
Again Alec was conscious of the tightness within his chest. He wanted to shout to George that he had to race Bonfire. But he could say nothing.
A moment later he heard a familiar voice, one that was warm and friendly and casual. “I can’t figure you out, Alec. You ask me to come and I come. Then the minute I get here you say you’re goin’ home.”
Alec turned and looked at the short, broad-shouldered man leaning comfortably against the stall door. No longer could he keep his feelings to himself, and especially not from somebody he had known and worked with for so many years. Henry Dailey could almost read his mind. But all Alec said was, “You’re a little late, Henry.”
Henry smiled and came inside, his bowlegs taking him quickly over the straw. “Never too late,” he said, holding out his hand to George. “Hello, George. My name’s Dailey.” He nodded toward Bonfire, adding, “I’ve been standin’ outside lookin’ at him while you fellows been talkin’. A grand colt, a beautiful colt, just like you said, Alec.”
Removing his battered hat, Henry ran a handkerchief over the top of his brow and through his long white hair. “A scorcher,” he said, turning to George again. “This is the kind of a day when you ought to be thankful you got no hair to make you hotter, George.”
The old groom frowned and shifted his tobacco chaw from one side of his mouth to the other. George didn’t like to be reminded of his baldness. Nor did he like the way this man took over the stall, so casual, so confident.
Alec too was impressed by Henry’s attitude. It was as though nothing unusual had happened, as if Henry dropped around to Roosevelt Raceway every day.
Henry replaced his hat. “Let’s get a cup of coffee and talk, Alec,” he said. Outside the stall he stopped and looked back at Bonfire. His eyes were still on the colt when he said, “George, I wonder if you’d mind puttin’ off your phone call to Jimmy until we get back? I’d like to talk to him too. I got a feelin’ Alec and me won’t be goin’ home.”
All the way to the cafeteria, Henry maintained an incessant stream of small talk. Sitting down at the table, his coffee before him, he said, “You’re sure you don’t want anything to eat, Alec? Have you had lunch?”
Alec shook his head. “I’m not hungry. I’ll get something later on.”
“Everything’s fine back at the farm,” Henry said. “That War Admiral mare is over her cold. I had the vet give her the terramyein shots like you said to do. The only trouble with usin’ those drugs is that they cost too darn much. Our bill from the vet alone the past few months is almost as much as what it would cost us to buy another good broodmare.”
Alec said, “It’s better than losing our horses.”
“Yeah. Sure. I’m with you a hundred percent. You know that, Alec. All I mean is that we’ve had more than our share of sick horses this year.” He paused before adding, “The Black is sure feelin’ good. But he misses you, Alec.”
Henry finished his coffee and went to get another cup. When he came back he talked about Roosevelt Raceway for the first time. His voice and manner didn’t change. Both held the same casualness as before. “I looked at the horses here while I was tryin’ to find you, Alec. They’re a lot different from what they used to be. If harness racin’ has changed so have the horses.” Henry chuckled. “Why, I remember my father unhitchin’ his mare from a plow and takin’ her into town for an afternoon of racin’. There was nothin’ unusual about that in the old days. It was what was expected of harness-racin’ horses, an’ they were built for it.”
Henry turned to look out the window in the direction of the stables. “I guess I shouldn’t be so surprised at the change in them after all the years I been away from this sport. They’re a racy bunch now an’ I can’t see any of ’em pullin’ plows. They’re built for speed, not work.” He chuckled again. “But did I expect harness racin’ to stand still any more than our own sport? These horses are the result of careful line breeding. Some of ’em are just as fine-boned as anything I’ve seen at our tracks.”
Alec said, “I thought you’d like Bonfire.”
“Yeah, I was includin’ him, all right. He’s racier than any of ’em. There’s a lot of the Black in that colt. No mistake about that.” Henry paused and for the first time his eyes and voice lost their lightness. “But don’t get the idea from what I’ve said that this sport’s for me. I want no part of it except to help you with Bonfire.”
Alec looked up. “Is that why you came?”
“Of course. I felt pretty bad after your phone call the other day. When I didn’t feel any better about it this morning, I hopped into the car and came down.”
Alec’s gaze shifted uneasily. “As I said a little while ago, you’re too late, Henry. Tom’s in the hospital. Bonfire’s going home.”
“He’s not goin’ home, not after I get through talkin’ to Jimmy,” Henry said emphatically. “Don’t you worry about that none. Let’s talk about you and Tom. What happened out there this morning?”
Alec told him as quickly and simply as he could. He didn’t look at Henry but he knew his friend’s eyes were focused on him.
When Alec had finished Henry said, “As George said back there, it could have been a lot worse. Tom will be all right. Forget about him for a while, Alec.”
“It’s not that easy.”
“I know,” Henry said understandingly, “but you’ll manage it.”
“I never hurt anyone before, Henry. It’s not like taking the fall myself. This is different, somehow. It’s hard to explain.”
“You don’t have to explain. I know how you feel, Alec. We’ll lick it all right.” Henry paused. Then he said, “Let’s not talk about it any more. Let’s get back to the colt. He can’t talk, so we’ll have to figure out for ourselves what we’re up against.”
For more than an hour they discussed Bonfire. Afterward Alec felt much better. He got something to eat, and when he
’d finished said, “Everything seems different with you here, Henry. I know you’ll be able to help him.”
The old trainer said, “Maybe I will and maybe I won’t. All I can do is give him a chance to regain his self-confidence. If he has the courage to come back an’ the will to race again, he’ll make it all by himself. I’ll just be doin’ the groundwork.”
There was hope in Alec’s voice as he said, “That’s all he needs. He’ll come back strong. He’s one of the good ones.”
“You should know, Alec,” Henry said, turning away. “I’m sure you’re right.” He finished his coffee, well aware that he wasn’t certain at all that he could do anything for Bonfire in so short a time before the Hambletonian. Nor was he any more certain about Alec. Both of them needed time, and he wasn’t being given much of it. “Let’s get out of here, Alec,” he said finally. “We got a lot to do.”
They went back to the stables, and found George packing his suitcase. He turned around when they entered the tack room, his face grave in his concern for Tom and for what was ahead of him. Yet when he saw Henry a slight flicker of defiance showed in his eyes. He knew this man wasn’t one of them. He didn’t have to be told; he sensed it all by himself. And after having worked for Jimmy Creech so many years, he didn’t like Henry’s cocky assurance, either.
Henry said, “Alec and I are stayin’ here, George. That’s what I want to tell Jimmy. We want to take over the colt.”
George looked at Alec sympathetically, and then his gaze shifted to Bonfire’s tack trunk, which he’d already packed and closed. “I spoke to Jimmy a few minutes ago,” he told Henry. “I couldn’t wait for you any longer.”
An angry crimson flush swept over Henry’s face.
George broke the tense silence by closing his suitcase and saying, “Jimmy said to send the colt home just as I’d arranged. He’s meeting Tom and me at the Pittsburgh airport.”
Trying to keep the anger out of his voice, Henry asked, “Did you tell him I was here and wanted to talk to him?”
“No,” George said.
“Then you’d better come with me now while I call him,” Henry said, taking George by the arm and moving him toward the door. “I want you to hear what he has to say so you’ll know it’s all right to leave Bonfire with us.”
Alec watched them go. George had stopped struggling. Now he was even walking ahead of Henry as though eager to make the phone call and have Jimmy put this intruder in his proper place.
Alec went to Bonfire. The colt had his head over the half-door and Alec rubbed him softly behind the ears. It might happen that he would be with this colt only a little while longer. He hoped not. He hoped Jimmy would agree to leave Bonfire behind. Alec knew that with Henry’s help he and Bonfire would get to the Hambletonian.
Almost an hour went by before Henry and George returned. Alec needed only to look at their faces to know how much the long talk with Jimmy Creech had taken from both men. Their faces were taut and white with nervous fatigue. Henry had been given charge of Bonfire. Alec knew this from the pinpoints of light in his friend’s eyes. He pulled the colt’s head a little closer to let him know.
George was not angry but tolerant and submissive. Jimmy’s decision had relieved him of all responsibility for Bonfire. Now his only concern was for Tom. “I’ll go and tell the van driver not to come around tomorrow morning,” he said.
Henry stopped before the stall, putting a large hand on Bonfire. Alec noticed that it was trembling.
“How’d it go?” he asked.
“Rough,” Henry answered. “Jimmy was never very easy to get along with. He’s worse now. Maybe it’s because he’s been so sick. He has a mind of his own, and he flares up worse than the worst kind of young colt.” Henry paused, his face relaxing a little while he looked at Bonfire. “But we got this fellow anyway,” he added. “Jimmy’s got too much at stake not to take any kind of a chance … even on me.”
“Doesn’t he like you?” Alec asked.
“Sure he likes me, or we wouldn’t have his colt,” Henry snapped back. “And I like Jimmy too. It’s just that we don’t think alike. We never did.” Henry paused. “But I don’t want to talk about him any more. Enough is enough.”
They stood quietly beside the stall for a few more minutes and then Henry said, “When George gets back I want you and me to go over to the hospital.”
Alec felt his face stiffen. Finally he said, “Sure, Henry. I want to see Tom before he leaves.”
It was going to be difficult, Alec knew, seeing Tom in the hospital and knowing what lay ahead of him before he’d be able to walk again. Henry must be well aware of this. Perhaps that’s why he had suggested the visit. Henry wanted him to face what he’d done to Tom, and then forget it.
Henry had taken over.
THE LONG CHANCE
6
Alec slept very little that night. He tossed restlessly on his cot, knowing that Henry was wide-awake too. And yet he was able to close his eyes without seeing Tom’s face on the track before him. His visit to the hospital had done that for him.
They’d been given only five minutes with Tom. Nothing was as difficult as Alec had thought it would be. At first it had been hard, walking into the room and seeing Tom’s leg held high by traction weights. But Tom said he had no pain, that the traction wasn’t as bad as it probably looked to them. He was anxious to get to Pittsburgh and have the operation done. He was glad he wasn’t going to need a body cast, for it would have kept him in bed. He’d be up and around again soon, using crutches. He was going to make very sure he’d be up in time to fly with Jimmy to see the Hambletonian. He wasn’t going to miss that, even if he had to walk all the way to Goshen, New York.
When they’d left Tom, Henry had said, “You don’t have to worry none about that boy. He’s game as they come. Nothin’s going to keep him from racing horses again, especially nothin’ like a broken leg.”
Alec turned over on his cot. They couldn’t fail Tom. He’d been so happy and pleased when they’d told him Bonfire wasn’t being sent home. No, none of them could let Tom down.
This was George’s last night with them, and the alarm clock had been set for an early hour. As it turned out, George didn’t need to be awakened by the alarm, for Henry was up before dawn.
George heard him, and immediately got out of bed and dressed. Then he went over to Alec’s cot. “You awake, Alec?”
“Yes, George. Are you going now?”
“Might as well. It’s earlier than I’d planned, but so much the better. I’ll reach the hospital in good time.”
From outside they heard Bonfire’s low nicker.
“Does Henry get up this early every morning?” George asked, picking up his suitcase.
“At the track he does. He stays in bed longer at home.”
George said, “It’s not goin’ to make him very popular around here. They put out the track lights and quit work only a few hours ago.”
Alec swung himself to a sitting position on the side of his cot. “Not being popular won’t bother Henry any,” he said.
George groped for Alec’s hand in the darkness. “I guess I don’t have to tell you how much I’m hopin’ for the best for you an’ the colt … and Henry,” he added thoughtfully.
“Thanks, George. You take care of Tom. Make sure everything goes right.”
“I will. Good-bye, Alec.”
“Good-bye, George.”
After the old man had left, Alec dressed, putting on the clean jeans and sweatshirt that Henry had thoughtfully brought along. He felt a lot better for having them. They were as clean and fresh as the morning itself. He was eager to get to work before the sun came up.
The sky was a dull gray when Alec returned from the washroom. He found Henry grooming Bonfire. “George says you’re not going to be very popular around here,” he said, smiling.
“That’s what he told me,” Henry replied as he went on with his work. “I’ve never seen such a place. After five, and no one’s up but us.”
“Their schedule isn’t the same as ours, Henry.”
The trainer cleaned the straw from Bonfire’s long black tail. “So much the better for what we got to do,” he said.
Alec glanced at him in a puzzled manner and then shrugged his shoulders. He’d know soon enough what Henry had in mind.
The colt tossed his head, pulling at the tie ropes. He nickered, and from along the row came the answers of other horses. A sleepy, angry voice shouted, “Quiet, you!”
Henry said, “I’m goin’ to take Bonfire for a little walk an’ get to know him better. You can clean up the stall if you like. I’ll be back as soon as it gets light enough for us to see on the track.”
Alec nodded, and went to work. He hadn’t figured on going to the track this morning. He’d thought Henry would give the colt a day off.
Later Henry came back with the colt. “Let’s hook him up now,” he said. “Bonfire told me he likes getting out this early.”
Alec pushed the training cart from under the overhang, while Henry put on the colt’s bridle. It was an open bridle, Alec noticed. No blind for Bonfire today. And the colt was eager to go, just as Henry had said.
Alec watched Henry tighten the harness leather about the shafts. His hands worked expertly, never fumbling or groping. Regardless of how Henry felt about harness racing he knew what he was doing.
Alec had taken up the long lines when Henry said, “We’re just going to jog a little this morning. I want to see his action, an’ I also want to see how he goes with an open bridle.” He turned from the colt to Alec. “In other words, I’m startin’ at the beginning this morning. No one will be out on the track with you, an’ like I said, that’s better for us. I don’t want to put him in any kind of a tight spot this morning. I’ll learn all I want to know just by watchin’ the two of you.”
Alec slid into the seat behind Bonfire and moved to the far side. “I guess you could ride over, if you wanted,” he suggested.
“No thanks,” Henry answered quietly. “I’m not that keen about bein’ here.”
The Black Stallion's Sulky Colt Page 5
