The Black Stallion's Courage (15 page)

“Eclipse is the heavy favorite and must be considered the champion to be tested in this classic race. According to those who know him best he will not be found wanting today. In fact they have already placed the very positive adjective
great
on his broad, flat back.”

A jockey said, “Broad is right. I swear y'could set a table for six on it.”

“Quiet!”

“Okay, okay.”

“… and most horsemen,” the television announcer continued, “discount Eclipse's loss to Black Minx in the Kentucky Derby since the big brown colt hadn't yet found himself. This is not the same horse, they say, who was beaten in the Derby.”

“But she whipped him good,” a rider said. “Baby really did it, no matter what this guy says about Pops not being the same horse in the Derby. And that was a big one, too, a real big one. Maybe even the biggest no matter what this guy says about the Belmont bein' a test of champions or somethin'.”

“He just meant that it separates the sprinters from the stayers, that's all,” a valet explained patiently.

“Well, maybe so,” the jockey answered, “but the Derby ain't no sprint. Baby can stay with the best of them, Baby can.”

“Keep quiet, will ya?”

“All right, all right …”

The cameras were still on Eclipse while he slowed to a walk.

“After the Kentucky Derby,” the announcer continued, “Eclipse set a new world record in the Withers Mile here at Belmont and then, of course, went down to Pimlico to defeat his Derby conqueror. Most impressive while winning the Preakness was his equaling the track record over a very muddy strip. The big colt can handle wet footing such as he has again today but his long strides aren't best suited for it. Eclipse will, of course, be ridden by his regular rider, the young veteran Ted Robinson.”

The picture shifted to Wintertime, the second
horse in the post parade. The blood bay colt went into a lope before the stands, his strides coming short but very confident.

“Now here's a colt who seems to delight in this wet kind of going,” the announcer told his television audience. “Wintertime has run some of his best races here at Belmont Park, which is his home track. Some people figure that he just might be the horse Eclipse will have to catch in the stretch run. He finished second in the Kentucky Derby and tied for third with Black Minx in the Preakness. Perhaps this will be
his
day, the day he stops being best man and becomes the groom.…”

“What a silly way to talk about a horse,” a jockey commented. “What's he mean anyway?”

“Just that Red's due to win one, that's all,” came the answer.

“Then what's he been building up Pops for? He just got through telling everybody that Pops was the champ, didn't he?”

“He's got to make it sound like a tough race for Pops,” the other answered. “It's his job, that's what it is. He's only got four other horses out there. He's got to make people think Pops is really doin' something in beatin' 'em.”

“He hasn't beaten them yet,” another rider said quietly.

The cameras were shifting to Golden Vanity, the third horse in the post parade, when Black Minx whipped out of line and came down the center of the track. The cameras remained on her as she swept by Golden Vanity while trying to break away from her stable pony and rider.

“There's the Kentucky Derby winner,” the announcer said quickly. “Number five, Black Minx. She seems peppery today and full of run. There, now they have her stopped. But she's not going to be led back to last position in the parade. She's going to stay up there alongside Wintertime. They're letting her, so everything seems to be under control now. Alec Ramsay is sitting back in his saddle. That's Henry Dailey, Hopeful Farm's trainer, acting as pony boy. He had his hands full for a few seconds there.

“Black Minx may surprise everyone by going out in front and staying there today,” the announcer confided to his audience. “Fillies aren't supposed to win Belmonts any more than Kentucky Derbies but apparently no one's told Black Minx. She may be the only filly since Ruthless in 1867 to win the Belmont Stakes. Remember, too, she's carrying the same weight as she did in the Kentucky Derby. That's one hundred and twenty-one pounds. The colts give five pounds to a filly in this long run of a mile and a half, carrying one hundred twenty-six.”

A jockey said, “There he goes again, makin' it sound like a tough one for Pops.”

“Listen, Mac,” another rider said, “this guy knows that after today he's not goin' to have any three-year-olds to talk about
except
Pops. There aren't goin' to be any trainers willing to send their colts out against him, that's what! It would be too humiliating, and trainers and owners don't like to be humiliated before thousands of people. Pops will have the rest of the three-year-old races to himself. They'll be ‘walkovers' for him.”

A few minutes later the horses were entering the starting gate and the jockeys' room, like the stands outside, became very quiet.

Eclipse walked quickly into his number 1 stall and stood there, waiting. Wintertime balked behind his stall and shook his hooded head angrily. A ground crewman took him by the bridle and led him inside. Golden Vanity went willingly enough into the number 3 stall but kept going and broke through the closed front flaps. An outrider was there to pick him up and he didn't get away. He was taken around the gate and inside again. This time he stayed. Silver Jet stood quietly in the number 4 stall, making no more fuss than Eclipse. Black Minx refused to go into her box, rearing and throwing herself sideways. It took two assistant starters to get her into the number 5 stall. They stayed there holding her, while she let fly her hind legs at the padded door to her rear.

Now there were mumbled mutterings from the tense jockeys in the room. Any second and the door flaps would be opened. They knew it as well as if they'd been in the gate themselves.

“No chance. No chance,” one said. “Red's up in the air.” Wintertime had reared and Billy Watts was having trouble getting him down.

“Keep quiet. You ain't out there.”

“Look at Pops, will you?” another rider said. “He looks bored. I mean it.”

“He looks lopsided to me,” someone answered.

“Lopsided nothin'. Wait'll you see him come out. Straight as a die.”

“Quiet!” Michael Costello bellowed. “ 'Tis the
announcer I'll be a-listenin' to and not to the likes of any of you!”

“Eclipse is usually a slow starter,” the announcer said quietly while waiting for Wintertime to stop rearing. “He takes a while to get in stride but the long race is all in his favor, especially the quarter-of-a-mile homestretch.”

“What's he talking about?” a jockey asked. “Pops breaks fast,
then
falls back because he wants to race that way. He likes to bowl 'em over in the stretch run, that's what Pops does.”

The stall doors suddenly burst open and the horses came plunging out of the gate. Now the watching jockeys were quiet but their hands and shoulders worked in rhythm with their favorites on the screen.

“Come on, Baby. Come on. Keep her goin', Alec. Push her.”

Black Minx must have been in motion just as the starter touched the electric button opening for stall doors, for she came out a stride ahead of the others. Apparently out of control, she lunged in toward the rail but no horse was on her left so she wasn't interfering with anyone. Alec straightened her out skillfully and then took her gently over to the inner rail.

“ 'Tis a pretty piece of ridin',” Mike Costello muttered.

“Come on, Baby, keep goin'!” another jockey shouted.

Black Minx began shortening stride or perhaps Alec was taking up a wrap on her. The jockeys watching the screen couldn't tell. But now the rest of the field had caught her. Wintertime had been the next fastest
out of the gate and he was the first to reach Black Minx, with Eclipse hard on his heels.

They saw the filly swerve to the right, shaking her head and fighting Alec Ramsay once more. Wintertime slipped into the opening on the rail with Billy Watts hand-riding vigorously.

“Billy's opening up,” a valet said. “He's not goin' to sit behind any horses today.”

“Neither is Ted!” someone shouted from in back of the room.

It was true. Eclipse was moving up alongside Wintertime.

“ 'Tis no head start Pops will be givin' the others today!” Mike Costello exclaimed.

Black Minx picked up stride when Wintertime suddenly appeared on her left. She leveled out faster going past the stands, and the crowd roared. Wintertime couldn't pull away from her and Eclipse was staying just behind them!

“She'll last. She's got speed
and
class, that Baby. Come on, Baby!” a jockey said.

“They'll stagger in, both of 'em,” another remarked.

“Then so will Pops,” someone added. “He ain't droppin' back like he usually does. He's goin' with them!”

Silver Jet and Golden Vanity were three lengths behind, their jockeys a little worried about the others but content to wait until they were on the backstretch before making their moves.

They swept into the first big bend with Billy Watts still pumping Wintertime. But the blood bay colt
couldn't pull away from the black filly at his side. Alec Ramsay sat quietly in the saddle, apparently not yet ready to ask more of his mount.

Ted Robinson sat just as still as Alec, and Eclipse wasn't losing any ground to the speedy front runners. The brown colt's strides seemed to be twice the length of the leaders' and suddenly his big body blocked out the screen's view of them.

“That's all there is to this race!” a valet shouted.

The picture shifted and they could see the horses sweeping around the long turn with no change in positions. Going down the backstretch Silver Jet and Golden Vanity made their moves but they couldn't quite catch the three leaders. Their jockeys took up on them again, apparently deciding to wait until the run for home before trying once more.

“It's smart to wait,” someone in the room said. “You'd think Alec would take back too. He's smart enough to know he and Billy are killing each other off.”

“What about Pops? He's still there, ain't he? Ain't you worried about him killin' himself off?”

“Pops is running well within himself,” came the answer.

“No he's not,” another argued. “Look at Ted. His hands are down. He's asking for speed.”

“If he's asking and that's all he's getting, Pops isn't the horse he's cracked up to be,” someone shouted. There was a nodding of heads in complete agreement.

All eyes were now on Eclipse as the field neared the far turn. Here would come the test of greatness. There was still a half-mile to go. Would Eclipse stagger
home, fighting off the others to the finish, or would he win like the champion he was supposed to be? Was it to be a finish between Wintertime and Black Minx with Eclipse out of it? Or would the trailing Golden Vanity and Silver Jet come up with conserved stamina to win?

They were past the sweeping turn and on the straightaway when suddenly, to the loud shouts of the viewers, Eclipse came around the two leaders in mighty leaps! Ted Robinson tapped him once with his whip and the big colt started drawing away as if the others were standing still. The viewers saw Alec Ramsay lower his hands, urging his filly to accept Eclipse's challenge. But Black Minx wouldn't budge for him. She stayed with Wintertime, stride for stride.

Billy Watts had given Wintertime a breather but now he went at him again, using hands, whip and feet in a final effort to catch Eclipse. His urging was futile, for the long-striding leader pulled ever farther away. Soon all that appeared on the television screen was a big brown colt running all by himself down the long homestretch. Twice Robinson looked back and finally he stopped asking Eclipse for any more speed. He was sitting quietly in his saddle when his mount swept under the wire.

“Now let's get back to the race,” a jockey said mockingly as the cameras swept over the distance between the winner and the rest of the field.

The picture showed the oncoming horses. Golden Vanity was in front with Silver Jet a length behind him. Far to the rear were Wintertime and Black Minx.

“Looks like Billy's pullin' up!” someone said
excitedly. “Red's hurt. The left fore. He's limping. See? He wants to come on but Billy won't let him. He's stoppin' him.”

“Yeah,” another agreed, “but why don't Baby come on? What's wrong with her anyway? She's not hurt but she ain't comin' on!”

Not until Wintertime came to a dead stop was Alec Ramsay able to get Black Minx past the colt. The viewers watched while she finished the race at a slow gallop, shaking her head all the way.

“She's just a sprinter,” a valet said disappointedly, “and all the time I thought she had
class.
”

“ 'Tis not the truth ye speak,” Mike Costello said quietly. “Ye don't win the Kentucky Derby on speed alone. No, me boy, there's something else that's a-troublin' her.”

The Parkslope Stables' barn was very quiet after the running of the Belmont Stakes. Jean Parshall, Wintertime's owner, was in the colt's stall. So was Don Conover, his trainer, and Billy Watts, his jockey, and old Ray Jenkins, his groom. With them was their veterinarian.

Alec and Henry watched, along with others, from outside the stall, their eyes as concerned as everyone else's.

“You got someone walkin' the filly?” Henry whispered to Alec.

Alec nodded. “Mike Costello came around and offered to help.”

The blanketed colt stood quietly in his stall. Mingled with his sweat was the sharp odor of medication. His left foreleg had already filled and was hot to the touch. He held his hoof off the straw bedding.

They all knew that the tendons between the knee and ankle joint had been severely strained. Bowed tendons weren't uncommon in horses working at high speed. A slip or a blow could do it. The injured horse rarely was able to equal his best previous efforts. Whether or not he ever raced at all depended upon how severely the tendon tissue had been ruptured.