The Black Stallion's Filly (18 page)

A few moments later they were on the rain-sodden track, and Henry said, “Just let her gallop two miles, Alec. When you're finished we'll try having her stand at the gate again.”

Nodding, Alec let her go. She moved into her slow gallop, her feet stepping lightly over the mud. Alec soon learned that for all the good the new tail did for her appearance, and for all it might do to help matters at the gate, it certainly did not lend her any added incentive to run. She moved no faster and no slower than before.

Several times during the first mile he felt her grab for the bit, but he kept it away from her. She continued her slow gallop, although he constantly urged her to hasten her strides. Only by taking hold of the bit would she run for him. She still had a mind of her own, and was going to have her own way under saddle.

At the end of the two-mile gallop he took her back to Henry at the starting gate. When she saw it her ears pricked forward, but other than that there was no indication of interest or fear.

Just behind the gate, Henry reached for her bridle and led her toward one of the starting stalls. She walked with him, never balking, and Henry was grinning when he had her standing in the stall.

He stroked the filly's head, and said to Alec, “The new tail is working. I could close the doors today but I'm not going to do it. It'll be enough just to have her stand here for a few minutes.”

Alec continued to sit quietly in the saddle. There was nothing else for him to do, except to wonder at the
swiftness with which Black Minx had accepted her new tail and had forgotten being without one and the reason for it.

A few moments later they were on their way back to the barn. It had been a most quiet hour but Alec was glad of it. Starting Thursday morning and continuing through the following week, he would have little free time. He knew there would be many days at Churchill Downs when he would look back with longing upon the quiet hours spent here at the farm.

The next day Alec became conscious of an increasing feeling of tension. His excitement mounted until he couldn't sit still, and when he had no immediate jobs he created something to do.

He knew Silver Jet and Eclipse had arrived at Churchill Downs. He also knew that Golden Vanity, Wintertime and Lady Lee were at the Keeneland track about fifty miles from Churchill Downs; they would race in the Blue Grass Stakes at that track on Thursday. That was the day on which he and Henry and the filly would leave Hopeful Farm for Kentucky.

Meanwhile, Alec studied every item about the three-year-olds that appeared in the newspapers. One of these gave an account of Golden Vanity's latest work at the Keeneland track, and Alec read it with avid interest.

Alec showed this story to Henry. After reading it the trainer said, “That's the way I feel about Golden Vanity too. Wait until something looks him in the eye.”

Wednesday was busier than any other day, for early the following morning they'd be on the road, bound for Churchill Downs. Alec was thankful for everything that kept his hands and mind occupied. He had less time then to think of the Kentucky Derby.

In the morning he broke Black Minx from the gate. They had had very little trouble closing the doors on her. After he gave her the bit for seven-eighths of a mile, as Henry ordered, he galloped out a full mile and a half. As usual Henry said nothing about the filly's clocking, and there was nothing in his face to show whether it had been good time or bad. Henry's only remark was, “Well, that's the last one for this track. I'll cool her out now.”

During the afternoon and evening Alec had to do a countless number of jobs. For the last time he examined all the mares, foals and stallions; he went over everything again with his father, who would be in charge during his absence, and made certain there were no misunderstandings between them. He drove himself ruthlessly every minute and felt better for it.

Before going to bed he helped pack the tack trunks and put them into the van. He bedded down the van's stalls for the filly and Napoleon. Henry had decided he wanted Napoleon along. He had announced that the old gray would provide companionship for Black Minx; but Alec knew that Napoleon was being taken along more as a companion for Henry than for the filly. Napoleon had been stabled with Satan and the Black during their racing days. Now it was only right, as Henry saw it, that the old gelding should go to the track with them on this new venture.

After breakfast the next morning, they loaded the filly and Napoleon into the van. The first streaks of light were showing in the sky when Henry climbed behind the wheel. Alec went to the back of the van, where he'd stay with the horses until they arrived safely at Churchill Downs. It would be a long drive—more than twenty-four hours—with stops along the way to rest and walk the horses.

As Henry started the van, Alec again called goodbye to his mother and father, who stood with the three hired men. His mother, so small and plump, yet so delicate in appearance, waved back and called after him, “Son, hold on to those reins and let that filly run. Show those hardboots!”

Alec smiled at his mother's words. Only a short time ago she didn't know what a “filly” was, much less that “hardboots” was a group name for Kentucky horsemen. As the van went down the driveway he turned to the stallion barn. “Here we go, Black,” he said. “Here
you
go again!”

The van turned onto the country road, and Alec remained at the side door until he could no longer see the rolling pastures and white fences of Hopeful Farm.

Late in the afternoon, they stopped at a gasoline station on the Pennsylvania Turnpike, and there they heard the radio announcement of the results of the Blue Grass Stakes at Keeneland, Kentucky.

“Golden Vanity gave one of the greatest exhibitions of speed ever seen on a Kentucky track in defeating Wintertime and Lady Lee in new race record time of one minute forty-eight and three-fifths seconds for the mile and eighth. He swept under the wire three lengths in front of Wintertime and seven lengths ahead of Lady Lee. To lend added emphasis as
the horse to beat
in the Kentucky Derby, Golden Vanity's head was pulled sideways by Nino Nella during the last eighth of a mile in the jockey's efforts to slow down his mount. The California-bred colt is now the red-hot favorite to win.…”

Henry took Alec's arm. “C'mon, we've heard all we need to. Let's get goin'.”

Alec said, “It looks as if you and those Keeneland people will have to change your tune now about Golden Vanity.”

“Maybe so,” the trainer said, climbing into the van's cab. “He'll be out in front for the first mile, that's
a cinch.” Henry disappeared inside the cab. As Alec climbed through the side door, he heard Henry add, “Like I said before, it's going to be a good show, all right.”

Alec sat down in his canvas chair, looking at Black Minx.
It sure is
, he thought,
and I wonder if we're going to be in it!

Early the next morning, Alec and Henry were in southern Ohio. Behind them lay the mountainous mining country of Pennsylvania and West Virginia. No longer did the road twist and squirm its way past slag dumps, coal fields and gigantic mills with chimneys belching red-black smoke into the sky. Now in the gray light of dawn the road was level and straight, passing through the rich and newly plowed farmlands of the Ohio Valley.

They did not stop until they had crossed the Ohio River into Kentucky, and then they paused only long enough to eat and to care for the filly and Napoleon. Henry was anxious to reach Churchill Downs by early afternoon.

In northern Kentucky the land once more became almost mountainous, and then, as they drove on, gently rolling. Soon farms appeared along the road, but the fields were mostly unplowed, showing little spring planting. Instead acre after acre was in pasture, and the
number of horses grazing in these fields grew as Alec and Henry neared the heart of the bluegrass country.

Finally they had to stop for gas. As Alec slipped down from the back of the van Henry said, “Just a few more hours now. How are they riding?”

“They're all right. How about you?”

“I'm in good shape,” Henry replied. “The naps I got last night are holding me up okay. Are you going to get through the rest of the day all right?”

“Sure,” Alec said. “There's nothing wrong with a straw bed. The horses and I had more rest than you did.”

They bought a morning newspaper at the gasoline station, and then started on their way once more. Alec moved the filly over and stood beside her as he talked to Henry through the small barred window between the cab and the back of the van. He held the newspaper.

“Did you see this story on Golden Vanity's win yesterday?” he asked.

“Just the headline. It's pretty much what we heard yesterday on the radio.”

“But the way he did it, Henry.”

“What about it?”

“Lady Lee got out ahead of him and led around the first turn,” Alec told his friend. “Then Nino Nella gave Golden Vanity the signal and the colt bore down, passing her and having his own way to the finish.”

“I still don't get what you mean,” Henry said, without taking his eyes off the road.

“Well, it looks as though Lady Lee looked him in the eye, and you said—”

Henry interrupted. “We didn't mean in the early
part of the race. Wait until it happens at the head of the homestretch.”

“If it does,” Alec said, “it's going to take something awfully fast to get up there with him.”

“Yeah, I know.”

They were traveling down the road from Paris to Lexington, the “Avenue of the Thoroughbred.” For miles on either side of them were endless wooden fences, some painted white, others brown and black with creosote. Still others were made of stone. All of them protected the thoroughbreds who grazed within the rolling pastures.

Henry said, “Don't scratch Wintertime off your list of top-notch Derby horses just because he got beat again yesterday.”

“I'm not. But here's a story that says Lady Lee is out of the Derby.”

“Yeah, I saw that.”

“Her owner says that he had to use good common sense in deciding to withdraw her from the Derby,” Alec told Henry. “He will concentrate on filly races instead. He had given her a couple of throws at the colts, but her defeats by Eclipse in Experimental Number Two and by Golden Vanity and Wintertime yesterday at Keeneland prove to him that the Derby is out of her reach. He claims she's too fine a filly to be broken up trying to lick the colts. She'll run in the Kentucky Oaks instead of in the Derby.”

“He's right, of course, but it's too bad,” Henry said.

“Why? You mean you wanted to see her go into the Derby?”

Henry's big shoulders moved beneath his jacket. “Then she wouldn't have been in the Oaks,” he said.

Alec didn't bother to ask Henry for an explanation of what he meant. He could guess. He realized that Henry was still trying to make up his mind whether it should be the Derby or the Oaks for their filly. And if Black Minx went into the Oaks she wouldn't have things her own way, as she might have had without Lady Lee in it.

He put the newspaper aside, his hand thoughtfully stroking the filly's back. She swished her new tail at him but otherwise remained quiet. He checked her shipping bandages to make certain they were secure, then resumed looking out the window. He didn't talk to Henry while they drove through the light traffic in Lexington.

Soon they were on the outskirts of town, passing the Keeneland racetrack. The race meeting there had ended the day before, and many horse vans were rolling out of the beautiful park. Some, like their own, were carrying Derby hopefuls to Churchill Downs.

“Henry?”

“Yes, Alec?” Henry turned his head slightly. His face was bristling with more than a day's growth of stiff gray hair.

“The Oaks is only a mile and a sixteenth. We know she could travel that at a good clip. Maybe she'd beat Lady Lee. There aren't any other fillies in the race to worry about.”

Henry pushed back his worn hat. “I know all that, Alec.” He thrust out his square jaw. “But there's only one Derby.”

Alec's mouth got a little tight. “Yes, there's only one,” he said quietly. “But it's become a
sprint
of a full mile and a quarter. It requires not only speed but stamina and courage. If you ask me, that's too much to ask of a colt so early in his three-year-old year, let alone a filly.”

Henry said nothing. His bowlegs swung a little as he lifted a foot from the accelerator, slowing down so as not to get too close to a horse van directly ahead of him. He regained speed before speaking again.