The Black Stallion's Filly (23 page)

Derby Day minus two
.

When Alec reached the track early Thursday morning, most of the Derby colts had finished their gallops. He found Henry in Napoleon's stall, cleaning it and muttering to himself while he worked. Alec knew the reason for Henry's grumbling, for the morning paper, lying on the tack trunk, was opened to a page on which there was a picture showing Black Minx being chased by the two track marshals. The caption over the picture read,
HENRY'S GOAT
.

Alec had read the story in the taxi on the way to the track. The writer had made good use of Henry's comment at the Trainers' Dinner on Tuesday night. He claimed Henry might have brought a goat to the Derby at that, since
“Black Minx displayed the agility of a goat in her first start yesterday by hurdling one fallen horse and evading the track marshals for all often minutes before she tired and they were able to corner her.”

Henry left Napoleon when he saw Alec, and after a few minutes together they went toward the filly's stall.
“I think I'll ride Napoleon out with you when you go to the Derby post,” Henry said. “It might make things a little easier for her if she's got the old boy for company.” He didn't explain if “old boy” meant Napoleon or himself, and Alec didn't ask.

Alec glanced at the filly's right foreleg when they entered her stall. There seemed to be nothing wrong except for a slight scratch above the fetlock.

Henry said, “She's a little stiff. I was waiting for you to walk it out of her.”

Black Minx pushed her head onto Alec's chest and he smoothed out her forelock until it hung between her large eyes. Sure she'd be stiff. His shoulder was a little stiff, too. They were lucky there wasn't anything more serious the matter with them.

Henry glanced outdoors. It was a gray morning, with a soft drizzling rain. “If this weather keeps up it'll make the ‘mudders' happy. They'll go in the Derby if it's a heavy track.”

“Did Golden Vanity gallop this morning?” Alec wanted to know.

“Sure. He'll go on a muddy track but nobody in his stable will like it.”

“It's only Thursday. We have two days for the rain to stop.”

“Yep, but it could get worse.”

“She wouldn't like a muddy track either,” Alec said of the filly.

“No, but she'd go,” Henry returned. He left the stall to get Black Minx's bridle and saddle, for the drizzle had suddenly ceased and it was a good time to get her out.

Alec removed her blanket. “We sure made a great beginning yesterday,” he told her softly. “But anyway, you got your picture in the papers. You did that, all right.”

They had the track pretty much to themselves in their two-mile walk and jog that morning. Alec felt better for the exercise and he figured the filly felt the same. He rubbed her down well and spent the rest of the day with Henry. Like everyone else now, they were just waiting for Saturday.

To the joy of some stables and the disappointment of others, Friday turned out to be clear with the promise of a hot, dry day. Before the sun came up Alec had Black Minx on the track with all the other Derby horses, most of whom were blown out in their last fast breezes before racing in the classic. But Henry had Alec keep the filly to a slow gallop.

The backstretch rail and stable area were crowded with early risers who had come to watch. But the men who trained, owned and rode the Derby horses paid little attention to anything but their charges. For months, and for a few of them years, they had pointed their colts for the classic to be raced the afternoon of the following day. They watched their Derby hopefuls with level, steely gazes, knowing that within a few hours they must decide whether or not they should pay the thousand dollars necessary to start in the Derby. They talked little, smiled little. The reporters were told brusquely to write their own stories. The horsemen would have nothing further to say until five o'clock the next afternoon, at the finish of the Derby.

As Alec rode Black Minx back to the barn, with Henry at her head, some of the reporters made reference to “Henry's Goat” in an attempt to get the trainer to make a comment. Henry said nothing.

All the rest of the morning and during the afternoon, photographers were everywhere about the stable area, taking their last-minute pictures for the next day's papers. During all this activity Henry and Alec stayed close to Black Minx, never leaving her for a moment, not even to go to the track during the afternoon to watch the running of the Kentucky Oaks. But they heard the announcement of the results over the loudspeakers. Lady Lee had won easily in new record time for the filly classic. Wet and shining in all her newly won glory, she came back to the stable area surrounded by her admirers and the press.

Henry said, “She sure deserved to win. A fine filly, just as game as they come. She'd make a wonderful broodmare for the farm, if we could ever get hold of her.”

Alec caught a glimpse of Lady Lee's small and dapper owner, who was trying to keep the crowd back from his filly. “I don't think we could buy her,” he said.

Later in the day Henry left for the Secretary's office to enter Black Minx in the Kentucky Derby. And that evening the papers carried the names of the horses in the Derby field and their post positions. The list was sent to the nation over the wire services and radio.

Alec went over the list with Henry. They knew that Olympus, Rampart and Lone Hope, like Black Minx, were the untried and lightly regarded surprise entries who would definitely go to the Derby post with the Big Four, making eight starters certain. Break-up and My Time were “mudders” and most likely would go only if it rained and the track was heavy.

Alec finally left the stall to walk about the stable area. The exercise didn't help very much to relieve his nervousness. They had a fair post position, he told himself, away from the rail yet not too far outside. He caught himself thinking that number 5 had been their post position in Wednesday's ill-fated race. He dismissed it from his mind, not wanting to remember it.

Returning to the barn, he went to Black Minx. He stayed with her for a while and then left, afraid that his
Derby-eve jitters might only be communicated to her and make things worse. He returned to Henry to find his friend already stretched out on his cot, his eyes closed. Alec envied his friend's ability to lie still, perhaps even to sleep.

He picked up the newspaper again. There was little space that wasn't devoted to the Kentucky Derby. He read, knowing he might as well accept the fact that
the day
was about here, that it did no good to try to escape it, that it might help more if he jammed his head full of Derby news until he was numb from it all. He might be able to sleep then.

He read everything. He learned that the majority of turf writers rated Golden Vanity as “the horse to beat if the track is fast for the Derby.” Nevertheless, the readers were advised to watch what might happen “if Silver Jet gets near enough to Golden Vanity in the stretch run to look him in the eye.”

The race prophets were being cagey with their forecasts, and their stories and comments were crammed with
if
's and
but
's. Readers were also asked to remember that Eclipse was sharper than he had ever been.

As one writer said, “We must disregard his loss to Silver Jet in the Wood Memorial, when he was plagued with bad racing luck. If he hadn't been bumped going into the far turn, the results of that race might have been different. Wintertime should be kept in mind as well, for he is stronger than his small size indicates. Also, he's a stretch runner as proven in his losing races to Eclipse in Experimental Number Two and to Golden Vanity in the Blue Grass Stakes, and again in last
Tuesday's Derby Trial. He was holding his own coming down the stretch in every race, and there's no telling what might happen in that last long furlong of the Derby.”

Nor did the experts ignore the possibility of a victory by one of the lesser lights. Olympus, Rampart and Lone Hope had shown some remarkable morning works, and “they're unraced and untried, but anything can happen in the Derby.”

Anything can happen in the Derby
. Alec smiled. How often had he heard it and read it this week. It provided an easy “out” for the turf writers, trainers, owners and jockeys alike.

Black Minx was worthy of attention too, the sportswriters acknowledged. “A dangerous combination at any racetrack at any time are Hopeful Farm's trainer, Henry Dailey, and the farm's rider, Alec Ramsay. Although their filly, Black Minx, is not being given much consideration in some quarters, she bears watching. After all, a filly did win
one
Derby!”

Tiring of the prophesies, which were nothing more than carefully worded comments to cover almost any kind of a result in the big race, Alec turned to news of activities going on downtown.

All hotels were full, and now people were overflowing into towns within a radius of one hundred miles of Louisville. It was estimated that more people would be at Churchill Downs the next day than ever before. One Derby visitor had taken over a large highway motel for himself and his sixty guests. Special trains sided in the Louisville stations made up what was being referred to as “Railroad Town.” Thousands were
making their homes in the trains while awaiting the Derby. One special train was from Texas, and its occupants were feasting on six hundred Texas steaks they had brought with them.

Alec continued reading for a long time, finding these stories more relaxing. It was almost midnight when his eyes became heavy and he decided that he could now sleep. He turned off the light, but it was another hour before he actually slept.

It was no better the next morning, and in many ways much worse. He galloped the filly but it didn't help. Even though the sun was not yet up, the gates to Churchill Downs were open and the bleacher stands on the turns were already packed with people who had stood outside the main entrance all night long. Within a few hours the track's infield would be a great mass of people as well. Only the towering grandstand and clubhouse would be empty until race time, for all seats there were reserved.

The Derby horses finished their gallops and returned to the barns. The stable area lacked the noise of other mornings, the good-natured calls, the whistling, even the humming of the grooms to their charges. The barns were closed to people not directly concerned with the Derby horses.
No visitors today. No bay today. We go to the post at 4:30
.

The sun came up. The sky was cloudless. It promised to be a hot afternoon, with the track fast. The day would be too bad for the “mudders,” but good for the others.

Henry wasn't calm any more. All morning long he
“stall-walked” up and down the dirt runway before the barn. And other trainers in other barns did the same. Repeatedly Alec went from Henry to the filly, and then back to walk with Henry again. There was nothing to do but wait as he had done all week long. Yet today there would be an end to the waiting.

Noon came. The early races had already begun. The noise from the stands was increasing with each hour. More and more people were arriving. By four-thirty there wouldn't be room to move, to breathe, except for a mile and a quarter of lonely track.

Henry didn't want to eat, so Alec went to the cafeteria alone, but he scarcely touched his food. On the way back to the barn, he passed Billy Watts and nodded. Wintertime's jockey didn't seem to see him, and Alec wondered if his own face looked as white and as grim as Billy Watts's.

He heard the band playing across the track, but never looked in that direction. He would see the track soon enough. Instead, he looked up at the sky, to watch the many planes flying back and forth. Some were pulling long advertising trailers behind them; others were waiting as he was for the classic to begin.

He passed the barns of Silver Jet, Eclipse, Golden Vanity and Wintertime, and wondered why the colts alone appeared calm and undisturbed. But soon they would know too; they'd know on their way to the paddock.

In their own barn, Henry had his jacket off, and his shirt clung to his body with sweat. He spoke only to tell Alec to stretch out on the cot and relax. For a while Alec tried it; then he got up and went to the filly for
some comfort. But he didn't stay very long with her, for she was calm and he decided that he did her no good.

An hour before post time Alec said, “I'd better get going now.” He hardly recognized his own voice. He knew he must go to the jockey house to dress and weigh out for the race.

It had come. It was the beginning of the end of all the waiting.