The Black Stallion's Sulky Colt (19 page)

“No one could have had a better colt,” Alec said.

“I know that too,” Henry returned.

They stopped before the water pail and Bonfire shoved his head eagerly toward it. Alec offered the water to him, counting the colt's swallows and finally taking the pail away. “That's enough for now,” he told Bonfire. And then to Henry, “Let me take him, please.”

Henry let go of the halter and lead shank but moved with Alec up the row. Many seconds passed before Alec finally asked Henry what he really wanted to know.

“Will he go another heat?”

“Sure,” Henry said lightly, “and so will you.”

“But fast enough? I'm serious, Henry. I want to know.”

“I can't tell you, Alec. I really don't know the answer.” Henry paused, and Alec didn't look at him. “I
think
he's strong enough to beat most of them,” Henry added.

“Most of them?”

“Well, all but one then,” Henry answered. “I'm worried about that colt over there, Alec. An' the guy who's drivin' him.”

Alec looked at Bear Cat. The brown colt was walking easily. He didn't seem to be breathing as hard as Bonfire. But what Henry had said was nothing new or startling to Alec. He'd known all along that Bear Cat and Si Bauder loomed larger than anyone else in their
path to a Hambletonian victory. But Bonfire had beaten them once. He could do it again.

“Bear Cat,” Henry said, “is the only colt here, includin' ours, who's been trained right and aimed right for this race. That's my opinion, anyway. He's been brought along slowly and beautifully over a long period of time. He's at his peak today. He's got a world of speed, an' stamina as well.”

Henry stopped talking, his eyes following Bauder, who went to Bear Cat to feel beneath the cooler.

“He's got a smart old trainer too, a guy with a lot of common sense. Bauder warmed Bear Cat up lightly, and had him ready for the race. Si wasn't worrying none about the first heat. It was the second and third heats he knew he could take.”

“But he didn't,” Alec said. “—not the second.”

“No. You surprised him, all right. But that man isn't as sore as you might think he is. He only figures you've delayed him a little. Now he'll have to take the third and
fourth
heats.”

“You mean we'll have to go still another mile heat if Bear Cat should win this one?”

“Sure,” Henry said. “How else you goin' to determine the winner of the Hambletonian? But the whole field wouldn't go a fourth heat. Just the three separate heat winners—Lively Man, Bonfire and Bear Cat.”

Alec smiled grimly. “Don't rush things, Henry. He hasn't won the third heat yet.”

“No, an' don't you and Bonfire let him. If it ever came to a fourth heat, Bear Cat would be the only one in the race. Bonfire wouldn't have much left, and Lively Man would have less.”

They continued walking Bonfire but said nothing more. The colt's hoofs beat off the minutes, and then the seconds. Finally they knew their waiting was about to end. Bonfire was put in his stall. Jimmy stayed with them, but he too was painfully quiet. Only Bonfire made any noise. He jerked the tie ropes, trying to get at an occasional fly that bothered him.

For Henry it was the worst time of all. The necessary work that had kept him busy was done. In addition to these final minutes of waiting, shared by Alec and Jimmy and everyone else in the paddock, he had to decide how best to fix the eyecup so it could
not
be used again.

Henry glanced at Alec, who was standing near Bonfire's head trying to give the colt relief from the flies by waving his hand. Alec had forgotten
or
had forgiven him for what he'd tried to do before the second heat. Henry couldn't decide which it was. But it didn't matter. When the call came and Bonfire was hitched to the sulky, Alec would remember to check the cord and cup. Henry was certain of that. But he'd find a way. He'd been given one last chance, and it was all he needed. No slip this time. No backfire.

Henry wished Jimmy would go away. What he had to do was difficult enough without having Jimmy around as a constant reminder of what this third and perhaps final heat of the Hambletonian meant to him.

Henry turned away. And it meant just as much to him and Alec. They wanted to see this son of the Black win the Hambletonian. He had every right to win. Never had a Hambletonian been raced as fast as that
second heat. And Bonfire had courageously come from behind to win it!

What about the third? Would it be as fast? Perhaps faster? Henry was certain that the thousands of people at Good Time Park were asking themselves the same questions. They knew as well as he did that this next heat would be strictly a two-colt race. Lively Man was licked. He wouldn't be able to stand the fast pace. Only Bonfire had a chance of beating Bear Cat, but no one, including Henry, knew how much of a chance. It would depend on race strategy, on the breaks of the game.

On one side of the stall hung the red hood. Henry looked at it a long while. It had worked so well in the second heat. How often had Alec opened and closed the eyecup during that race? Many, many times. And now it was going to be taken away from Alec and Bonfire.

Henry took his eyes off the hood. He
had
to do it. He was playing for high stakes, higher than any this famed Hambletonian could offer. And he was counting on a courage and self-confidence Alec and Bonfire didn't know they possessed
because the hood kept them from knowing
.

Finally the call came. “Hook 'em up, boys. We're going out in a few minutes!”

Everyone in the paddock was glad the call had come. The Hambletonian colts were harnessed. The last time that day for almost all of them. Only Bear Cat could make a fourth heat necessary for himself and Lively Man and Bonfire. Few of the other drivers expected to beat Silas Bauder's brown colt. It was up to
Bonfire or Lively Man to end the Hambletonian with the coming heat.

Alec was the first to reach for the red hood, and he said, “You help Jimmy, Henry. I'll take care of this end.”

The old trainer knew then that Alec had
forgiven
him rather than forgotten. Alec wasn't going to leave the colt's head until they had stepped onto the track. Realizing this, Henry accepted his
only
alternative. His jaw became set and the skin drew tight about his cheekbones. He went to Bonfire's head and removed the hood after Alec had slipped it on.

Alec reached for it. “What are you doing? That was on right, Henry.”

“I'm not goin' to let you put it on him, Alec,” Henry said quietly.

“Okay, put it on yourself then,” Alec answered. “But hurry up. We have no time to kid around.”

“I'm not kiddin'. I'm not puttin' it on him. No one is.”

It was only then that Alec realized what Henry meant. His face grew a shade paler and then he said again, “Put it on him, Henry.”

Jimmy moved closer to them, wide-eyed in his surprise. “What are you two arguin' about?” he asked. “The colt's ready to go. Come on now. They're waitin' for us.”

Neither Alec nor Henry paid any attention to Jimmy. Silently they stood looking at each other. Henry's face was whiter than Alec's and deep lines cut into his heavy jowls.

“I had this hood made,” he said. “I paid for it
myself. It's mine, and now I'm takin' it away. I'm takin' it because Bonfire doesn't need it any more … or
you
either.” He turned away and walked down the paddock row, his strides coming fast but his shoulders slumped like those of an old, old man.

Alec stood still, but Jimmy made use of his legs. He ran after Henry, catching him at the paddock gate. Henry pushed Jimmy away from him, and then was lost in the great crowd.

Jimmy returned to the stall and stood beside Alec, his thin lips moving a long while before the words came.
“Why? Why now?”
he kept repeating.

Alec knew why, but there was no point in telling Jimmy now.

The paddock judge called, “Hurry up your colt, Ramsay! You're holding us up!”

Alec put on the bridle. “Come on, Bonfire,” he said. “We're going out. We're going clean.”

The announcer said, “The horses will now go behind the gate for the third heat of the Hambletonian.”

They passed the stands in the final two-column parade with introductions and warm-up scores over. They were in their post positions earned as a result of the previous heat. Bonfire led the parade, the first horse in the first tier. Directly behind him came Bear Cat.

Alec's eyes left Bonfire only for the track marshal riding before them. Beyond the marshal at the top of the stretch awaited the mobile gate. Alec paid no attention to the nine colts following him or to the eight others across the track. But he knew they were there, that all eighteen would be going behind the gate to race as hard as they'd done in the two previous heats. He didn't take for granted, as did almost everyone else, that this time it would be strictly a two-colt race. He assumed nothing in so large a field where anything could happen to change the complexion of a race. He hoped
only to get Bonfire out in front, giving him a chance to race as he'd done before.

Alec looked at Bonfire's clean head, bare of anything but the light, open bridle. His colt did not turn to the left or the right. He kept his eyes straight ahead, his ears pricked, watching the gate come closer and closer. He knew very well what was about to happen. He was ready and eager. He didn't seem to miss his red hood.

Alec wasn't furious with Henry any longer. Whatever anger had been in him had left the moment he had seen Henry merge with the crowd, taking the hood with him. There was no getting it back, no turning back. It was too late for anger. All that was left was to accept what Henry had said:
“I'm takin' it because Bonfire doesn't need it any more.…”

Alec hoped desperately that Henry was right. “I mustn't even say I
hope
he's right,” he told himself. “I must
know
he's right.” Never before had he doubted Henry's judgment. Why doubt it now, when so much depended on the outcome of this heat?

They passed the mobile gate with its barrier wings folded and clear of the track. A short distance farther on the marshal waved his riding crop, signaling their release. Alec turned Bonfire, as did the drivers of the other colts in the first tier.

It wouldn't take long to find out if Bonfire needed the trick hood. Racing room would be close moving behind the gate. Any second Alec would know the answer.

Over the public-address system the announcer said, “The horses are now in the hands of the starter, and are moving behind the gate.”

The stands quieted as the wheels of the limousine began turning and the colts in the first tier followed the barrier wings. Behind them came eight other colts.

“Bring up your colt, Bauder!” the starter ordered. “You're lagging.”

Alec had Bonfire close to the moving gate without touching it. The rail to his left seemed to stream by, going faster and faster as their speed increased. The position on Bonfire's right was open as Bear Cat strode behind the others in the first tier, his brown body alongside Alec.

It was just like the start of the second heat, Alec thought. Silas Bauder would bring Bear Cat up with a rush, attempting to have his colt going at top speed when the gate opened.

But this time the starter was insistent. “Come up, Bauder, or we won't go off!”

Bear Cat began inching toward the barrier wings, his head now at Bonfire's hindquarters.

Alec glanced past the brown colt to Lively Man in the third post position. Ringo had his colt's nose touching the barrier, ready to get away fast, determined to make up for having lost the rail to Bauder in the previous heat.

Bonfire was steady. He kept his eyes straight ahead while Bear Cat came up closer and closer on his right. Instinctively Alec moved the small finger of his right hand. But no cord was tied there. There was no eyecup to be closed.

The beat of hoofs mounted. The crowd was on its feet, no longer shouting with shrill voices but hushed in
expectation of what they were about to witness. Faster and faster the field moved down the stretch until hoofs and engine rose in a mighty crescendo.

In that ever-mounting rush to the starting line Alec kept his eyes on his colt, watching for the slightest movement that would indicate Bonfire's fear of Bear Cat. But his colt saw nothing but the speeding gate before him, and his demands to be turned loose became stronger and more insistent.

Alec's small finger moved again, and this time he realized what he was doing. He closed his finger over the line to keep it still. He wanted no reminder. And yet he felt his tension mounting. He kept his eyes on Bonfire's head and ears. There still was no sign that Bonfire had any fear of Bear Cat, now racing alongside stride for stride a little behind the gate. Certainly Bonfire knew of Bear Cat's presence but it wasn't bothering him. If Alec needed any other assurance that Henry had been right, it was in his hands. He felt Bonfire's determination to get out in front of those racing beside him, his tremendous
will to win
.

The lines were wet from Alec's perspiring hands. He glanced at Bear Cat. He found himself moving his little finger again. Hot, salty perspiration stung his eyes. He was anxious, worried—for himself or for Bonfire? The leather in his hands was slipping and he dug his fingernails into it to hold it fast.

Bonfire shook his head at the tight rein.
Too tight
, Alec knew. He'd drawn back on the lines. What had caused him to do that? Bear Cat had his nose ahead of Bonfire. Alec told himself to loosen up, to give his colt a little more line. Nothing was wrong. Bonfire was
going well. They had the pole position. The best position. A short mile for Bonfire, and at the end of it the famed Hambletonian.