The Black Stallion's Sulky Colt (3 page)

Down the backstretch they went, with four colts dropping behind and moving over to the rail. But Alec saw that Tom's red-and-white silks weren't among them. Tom still wasn't ready to save ground or his colt. Bonfire continued his drive beside the three leaders. And nearing the end of the backstretch he began to push his head to the front again.

The announcer's call came, “At the far turn, it's Bonfire out in front. Lively Man on the rail is second. Third is …”

But Alec wasn't listening to the call. Nor did he receive any joy from seeing Bonfire in the lead. It would have been far better if Tom had dropped Bonfire back with the other colts, saving him for the long distance still to be run.

Quickly he glanced at George. The old man had his hands on his face, rubbing it, and perhaps not even seeing the race. Alec understood, for he felt the same way. His heart sickened when he saw Bonfire racing wide again going around the far turn, ahead by half a length. Yes, ahead, but at a price far greater than those
closer to the rail were paying! The colt answered Tom's demand for more speed. His lightning strides came ever faster and he held his lead all around the turn.

Coming into the homestretch for the first time, it was only Lively Man who stayed with Bonfire. The roan colt had raced along the rail all the way. He was fresh compared to Bonfire, and had more speed yet to give. He came down the stretch stride for stride with the blood bay colt and they drew away from the others. Only when they passed the stands at the end of the first half-mile did Tom Messenger decide to give his colt a rest.

Alec watched him take Bonfire over to the rail behind Lively Man. His heart went out to this fighting son of the Black, who had responded so willingly to every request Tom had made of him. He wondered how much speed and stamina Bonfire had left, with another lap still to go.

George was watching the horses coming toward them. There were tears in the old man's eyes, and his yellowed teeth pulled at his lips.

“He'll have something left for the finish,” Alec told him. “I know he will.”

George said nothing. He just watched.

Suddenly the crowd roared, and Alec saw Silver Knight coming down the track with a great burst of speed. The gray colt had been one of the four trailers who had tucked in close to the rail after the first turn. Now he was making his bid, moving past the two horses behind Bonfire and quickly overtaking the leaders.

The announcer called, “At the half-mile. Lively
Man out in front. Bonfire is second. Silver Knight in a drive and now third, closing fast on Bonfire.”

It seemed to Alec that the gray colt was almost alongside Tom before the young driver knew it. They were approaching the first turn again when Alec saw Tom glance at Silver Knight's head coming up on his right; then he asked Bonfire for more speed. It was obvious that Tom didn't want to be boxed in on the rail by the gray colt. He began to take Bonfire out from behind Lively Man. But Silver Knight's driver was determined that his bid to pass Bonfire and Lively Man was not going to be denied him. He asked his gray colt for more speed and got it.

Alec leaped to his feet when he saw Tom trying to take his colt through the small opening between Silver Knight and Lively Man. Sulky wheels were screaming hub to hub, with racing quarters dangerously close. Bonfire recoiled at the gray colt's nearness but there was no break in his long strides.

The racing horses swept into the turn. Alec's fingers found George's shoulder and tightened. Silver Knight moved closer to Bonfire and then his sulky shaft must have struck the blood bay colt. For suddenly Bonfire jumped and there was a sickening clash as he and Silver Knight went down in a terrible huddled heap of thrashing legs and tangled sulkies.

Alec's loud cry rose with those from the packed stands behind him. He knew Tom and the other driver, Ray O'Neil, were safe, for he'd seen them leap clear of their sulkies upon impact. But the colts were down.

He could do nothing until the trailing horses in the race had passed. They went wide around the turn, avoiding the fallen colts and their drivers. Alec's heart trip-hammered in his chest, pounding out the seconds until finally the track was clear; then he ran forward with the grooms.

Tom and Ray O'Neil were unhurt. Both were kneeling beside their colts when Alec reached them. There was a wild, horrible fright in Bonfire's eyes as the colt attempted to lift his sweaty head.

Tom kept repeating, “Down, boy. Down.” His voice broke in his terrifying concern for Bonfire. He kept his hands on the colt's head, stroking it, holding it down against the clay and sand of the track.

Alec saw at once the reason for keeping Bonfire
down, although Silver Knight had been unhitched and was now being helped shakily to his feet. Sometime after his fall Bonfire had pushed his left foreleg through the wire spokes of Silver Knight's sulky wheel. The leg was held fast. If Bonfire fought to pull it free, he could easily rip a tendon and be maimed for life.

Alec dropped down beside Tom, but found he could do nothing to help.

“Easy now. Easy,” Tom told Bonfire. But he knew it was only a question of seconds before the badly frightened colt would start struggling.

Someone in the crowd shouted, “He needs wire cutters. Get them from the paddock. Quick!”

Alec looked around for George. The old man was standing on the other side of Tom, his body shaking, his eyes staring and glazed. Quickly Alec went to him.
“You used wire cutters in the paddock. Did you put them back in your pocket?”

But the old man's expression never changed, nor did he seem to hear Alec. His teeth chattered as with cold.

Alec slapped his hands against the pockets of George's overalls. He felt a hard bulge in one. Eagerly he withdrew the wire cutters and went back to Bonfire and Tom. “Keep him quiet just a second more,” he said.

Tom nodded, hope coming to his eyes upon seeing the cutters. “Steady, fellow,” he told Bonfire. “It's almost over.”

Alec got one spoke beneath the cutters. He pressed carefully so as not to excite the colt. There was a sharp twing as the taut wire parted. Bonfire tried to raise his leg, and the wheel and battered sulky moved.
He began to struggle but quieted again as Tom's hands and voice reassured him. Alec quickly cut two more spokes. Then he took hold of Bonfire's long sinewy leg and withdrew it carefully from the wheel.

They got Bonfire to his feet. No longer did his body glisten beneath the track's bright lights. The clay and sand clung heavily to his wet coat. He trembled as Alec had never seen a horse tremble before.

The track was now crowded with officials anxious to clear the way for the next race. Silver Knight had been led away some time before. The marshals closed in upon Bonfire and Tom Messenger. They got the colt moving, and Alec noticed with relief that there was no sign of lameness in Bonfire's strides.

Alec walked behind. He saw George breaking through the cordon of officials in an attempt to reach Bonfire. The old man appeared to have regained his faculties.

Alec followed them through the paddock and out the back gate. Only then did the officials disperse, leaving Tom and George alone with their colt and battered sulky. Alec caught up with them quickly, and while Tom led Bonfire, he helped George pull the sulky.

The old man was still somewhat shaken. “Thanks for what you did for him,” he said.

Alec changed the subject quickly. “I think the colt's more scared than hurt,” he said.

George answered, “That's what Tom thinks.” The old man paused. “Well, he has every right to be scared. It wasn't pretty.”

“Do you mind if I go back with you?”

George didn't look at Alec. “Of course not,” he said kindly.

They went across the large, open area between the paddock and the stable area and then through another gate. Beyond were hundreds of long sheds, yellow and green beneath the lights. It was quiet here compared to the paddock and track. There were few voices, only grooms calling to one another, and the nickering of stabled horses.

They went past many sheds before stopping at one in the distant regions of the area. Alec's eyes had never left Bonfire during the long walk. No, the colt didn't show any sign of lameness. But did his fine body still tremble beneath the red-and-white cooler? A badly frightened colt could be more of a problem than a lame one.

He helped George put the sulky beneath the shed's overhang, and then he turned to Bonfire. Fear was still prominent in the colt's eyes and, when Tom removed the cooler, his body was wet and trembling. The dirt of the track hadn't had a chance to cake upon him.

Tom turned to Alec, his gaze steady and showing concern not for himself but only for his colt. “Thanks for all your help,” he said.

Alec liked what he'd seen in Tom's eyes. He knew that tonight's spill wouldn't keep Tom from racing again. But Bonfire? Would the colt get over the accident as his driver had done? The answer would come when Bonfire set foot on the track again.

Tom had taken off his racing silks and was removing Bonfire's harness. George got a pail of warm
water and sponges. Alec took one of the sponges and helped them wash the colt. No one said a word about the race.

Later they took turns walking the blood bay colt up and down the row, cooling him off. Alec was helping George clean the harness when the old man said, “Maybe you'd better not write Jimmy Creech about tonight.”

“I wouldn't be the one to do it in any case. Jimmy is Henry's friend. I don't even know him.”

“Tell Henry then,” George said.

“All right.” Alec finished cleaning the bridle and then said, “George—”

“Yeah?” The chaw of tobacco was shifted as the old man cocked his head to listen.

“Would it be all right with you if I stayed around?”

“Y'mean for the rest of the evening?”

“Longer than that. For a few days.”

“You'd like a job?”

“Well, I've got a job but I'm not needed right now. I could stick around awhile if you'd have me.”

George resumed his chewing and then said quietly, “Sure, we'll have you.”

Alec turned away, watching Tom lead Bonfire toward them. Fright had left the colt's eyes. Would it reappear when he went to the track? That's what Alec wanted to know. That's why he had to stay.

“Tom,” said George, “Alec's going to hang around with us for a few days.”

Tom smiled, and in that smile was a sincere offer of friendship. He said, “I'm glad, Alec.”

Then he turned Bonfire over to Alec, for it was his
turn to walk the colt. “I don't think he's scared any more,” Tom said.

“I don't think so either,” Alec agreed. Beyond the row he could see the towering stands. Suddenly the lights dimmed, and a crescendo of voices could be heard above the thunderous beat of hoofs. Another race had begun. Would Bonfire ever appear on that brilliantly lighted stage again? Or get to the Hambletonian?

Later that night, Alec lay on a cot in the tack room next to Bonfire's stall. There were two other cots but only one was occupied.

“I guess Tom will be out walkin' a long while,” George said in the darkness. “He's got a lot to settle with himself.”

“You mean about the way he drove tonight?” Alec asked.

“Yeah, that and what's ahead of us … and behind us, too.”

“You cover a lot of territory,” Alec said with a lightness he didn't feel.

“Fifty years of it, I guess.”

“I sure can't make any sense out of that, George.”

“I guess not. Sometimes I don't even make sense to myself.”

George was silent for a long while and Alec thought the subject had been closed; then the old man spoke again.

“The way I see it,” he said, “is that Tom knows as well as I do that Jimmy's waited about fifty years to own a colt like Bonfire, one who could possibly win the Hambletonian.”

George paused, and Alec heard the creak of
springs as the old man suddenly sat up. “I guess I don't have to tell you what the Hambletonian means to us.”

“It's your top race for three-year-olds,” Alec said.

“It's more than that,” George returned quickly. “It's got tradition; it's …” He stopped to grope for the right words to explain all that the Hambletonian meant to him. Finally he gave up and said, “Look at it this way, Alec. Give us one race to win in our lives and we'll take the Hambletonian. You have the equivalent of that in your sport.”

“The Kentucky Derby,” Alec said quietly. “I know what you mean, George. You don't have to explain.”

“I guess not,” the old man said, lying back on his pillow again. “Few of us ever come close to winning a Hambletonian. But with Bonfire Jimmy's awfully close. He knows it, I know it, and so does Tom.”

“So you think that's why Tom drove as he did tonight?” Alec asked. “You think he was too anxious to make good with a top colt like Bonfire?”

“Yes, that's exactly what I mean. But not for himself or even for the colt. Tom's thinking about Jimmy. He knows Jimmy is a sick man and that he might not even get a chance to raise another colt, much less a top Hambletonian prospect.”

“That's a big load for Tom to be carrying,” Alec said.

“I know it and that's why I'd do anything I could for him. He's too young for that much responsibility, especially feelin' the way he does about Jimmy. But he won't listen to me. He's got a mind of his own, all right.”

“How sick is Jimmy?” Alec asked. “Doesn't he come around at all to help with Bonfire's training?”

“No, he has to stay home. Doctor's orders. He had a serious operation last year and he's not supposed to get excited. Boy, he'd sure get excited around here! He hates these night raceways.”

“Then how come you're here?”

“Well, that's Tom's doing, too. We've been racing Bonfire at small fairs for the past two months. That's what Jimmy wanted us to do because it's what he always did when he was driving. Bonfire had things his own way, just as any top colt would at such places. He won as he pleased with nothing ever gettin' near him. Tom decided a couple of weeks ago that it was no way to get Bonfire ready for a big race like the Hambletonian. He wrote Jimmy and got his permission to bring Bonfire here for a couple of weeks before going on to Goshen. So here we are.”