The Black Stallion's Filly (22 page)

What was going to happen when Nella really sat down to ride during that last quarter-mile of the Derby? Golden Vanity had just sprinted a full mile in new record time. Could he really carry that kind of speed another quarter of a mile? If so, nothing could catch him. And, if not, what was going to happen? Alec walked back to the barn, knowing that questions such as these never would be answered until the big race.

He was not alone in his thinking. Throughout the country, those who heard of Golden Vanity's brilliant victory were asking themselves the same questions. And in Louisville there was little talk of anything else.

That night Henry attended the annual Derby Trainers' party in a downtown hotel. After dinner the horsemen were asked to give the press their forecasts of Saturday's classic. The trainers were cautious in what they said. The Derby was too close for anything but carefully worded statements. Even Golden Vanity's young trainer was afraid to speak up about his colt's chances of winning. He said, “I think it's going to be a wide-open race. We've got high hopes, that's all.”

“Red” Dawson, trainer of Eclipse, remarked, “If Golden Vanity and Silver Jet don't go to the post, we might have a chance.”

Tom Flint said of Silver Jet's chances, “I can't say
we have the Derby winner in our barn, but we might be close.”

Don Conover, Wintertime's trainer, said, “We've been running second so long we feel like a June bridesmaid. It's taken the wind out of our sails, but if we can get a second in the Derby we might be satisfied.”

There were three other trainers who said they were counting on a lot of rain on Saturday, for their only chances lay in a muddy track. And there were still others—those with surprise entries and lesser lights—who repeated the comment of one: “My boss has wanted his colors in the Derby since he was knee-high, so we're here and I guess the boss will be getting up his thousand-dollar entry fee on Friday.”

Henry, the last trainer to be called upon, gave the briefest and most accurate statement of all.
“We didn't bring a goat to the Derby,”
he said.

The following afternoon, Wednesday, Alec rode Black Minx to the post for the first time. There was no doubt that she knew what was happening. In the paddock she had been extremely nervous, and now on the track Alec had all he could do to keep his seat as she swerved from the post parade, sidestepping quickly.

Henry had not been unduly alarmed by her restless antics in the paddock, for he had expected them. His instructions were, “Just stick with her, Alec, and she'll work all this nervousness out in her first start. She should win easy, but I'm not interested in the results as much as I am in just getting a race out of her.”

It was the second race of the afternoon. The great stands weren't crowded with people as they'd been the day before for the Derby Trial. Other than Black Minx, no Derby candidates were to be seen in action. She had been made the favorite in this six-furlong race because she was a possible Derby horse and because of her fast morning works.

The post parade ended. Alec turned the filly down the track with the others, going past the stands in a slow canter. The starting gate was across the track at the head of the backstretch. It would be a short race, three-quarters of a mile, nothing more than a good work for a Derby hopeful.

Alec kept the filly on the outside of the track. One of the two red-coated marshals, riding a track pony, kept near them.

“Need any help with her?” the marshal asked.

“She'll be all right,” Alec replied.

Black Minx went sideways again, and Alec felt her mouth reaching for the bit. He knew he wouldn't have any trouble giving her the bit today. She'd grab it as soon as he let her. He kept her down to a canter, waiting for the others to get ahead of him before rounding the first turn. It would be best if they were the last to enter the gate. It would mean that much less of a wait for her.

Nine horses were ahead of him, the filly making a field of ten. Henry had chosen this race because of its good-sized field. The Derby would have a field as large or larger. It would be a good test for Black Minx in company with so many. This was a maiden race, restricted to horses who had never won a race.

Alec let the filly go into a gallop but continued standing in his stirrup irons. She drew alongside a dark bay colt. They were approaching the starting gate. The dark bay was from the same stable as Golden Vanity, and Nino Nella was up on him, wearing the bright gold silks he had flourished in the Trial and would wear in the Kentucky Derby.

Nella turned in his saddle, his boyish face as confident, as cocky as if he were riding Golden Vanity rather than a colt who had never won a race. “That filly's crazy,” he said, grinning. “She'll spill you one of these days.”

“Sure,” Alec said. It was the first time Nino Nella had ever talked to him. The young jockey had been too busy with Golden Vanity to give much thought to a filly who had taken him through the rail more than a year ago. At least, Alec had thought so. But it was apparent now that Nella hadn't forgotten Black Minx.

“I wouldn't want any part of her,” the jockey said. “You give me room.”

Alec pulled down the filly to a jog, and Nella went on ahead. Alec watched the arrogant little jockey ride toward the gate, his stirrups too short, his rear tilted too high. But the kid could ride, Alec admitted, in spite of his bad seat and brazen confidence. And Nella had good reason for thinking so little of Black Minx's ability and intelligence. A broken collarbone and weeks spent in a cast were nothing to be treated lightly.

Alec patted the filly's neck, trying to calm her down. Yet he liked everything he felt. There was an
eagerness
to her action that no morning work had ever produced. Or was it just plain
nervousness
, the mental strain of parading with other horses and going to the post? Eagerness would mean a quick response from her during the race and would restore his confidence in her. If her new action meant nothing more than nervousness, she might go to pieces in the gate, and it would be the end of any Derby hopes.

He took her forward, for all the others were in
their gate stalls. She pricked her ears as an assistant starter took her by the bridle. But she moved ahead for him. Alec leaned down to look at the bandages on her forelegs. At Henry's insistence, she was wearing them as a precautionary measure. If she were to go into the Derby on Saturday, nothing must happen to her legs now.

She was in the gate, and the starter's assistants stopped moving about the framework of the stalls. Alec didn't like his post position, number 5. It put him smack in the middle of the field. He hoped Black Minx would break fast, and get out in front during the long run down the backstretch to the far turn. Three-quarters of a mile was nothing more than a sprint. The gate doors closed. He gave her the bit. There was no place for her to go until the wire door in front opened. Her body was trembling. Was it eagerness to be away? Or nervousness? He'd soon know.

Over the track loudspeakers, the announcer told the crowd, “The horses are at the post.”

Alec's eyes were straight ahead. He waited and was ready for the break. He knew Nino Nella and the dark bay colt were in the stall to his left. The line of horses and riders were tense, waiting. Then the long line burst at the sound of the bell and the opening of the gate.

Black Minx was late in her break. She bolted from her stall a half-length behind the leaders. The horses inside came out in the shape of a flying wedge with the number 3 horse in the lead. The horses on the outside pushed over and Alec found himself being squeezed in the back of the wedge. The filly was in full flight now
and almost on top of the colts running just ahead of her. The horses were jamming against each other.

Alec sought to take hold of the filly and pull her back. But he was too late. He saw Nino Nella's dark bay being bumped hard by another horse. Then the bay stumbled directly in the filly's path! The rest happened so quickly that Alec never remembered its sequence.

He saw the bay colt start to go down and Nella jump from his saddle. He felt the bay's hind feet glance Black Minx's foreleg, upsetting her. She stumbled and he lost his seat, slipping down to one side with no chance of jumping clear. He pushed himself away from her and hit the track hard, his face buried in the dirt. Legs of other horses flew over him. He felt the shock of a hoof grazing the fiber skull helmet he wore beneath his cap, then another hoof struck his shoulder. It was quiet after that except for the roar of a car's motor close by. The track ambulance was coming through the backstretch gate to get him.

He lay still, fully conscious and realizing it was best not to move until they could reach him. The ambulance arrived and its attendants placed him on a stretcher. He saw Nino Nella standing near the door of the ambulance.

“No, I'm all right,” Nella was saying. “I jumped clear and landed on my feet. Nothing touched me.”

The rear door of the ambulance closed and the white-coated attendant removed Alec's skull cap and black silk blouse. The siren was loud as it left Churchill Downs and sped through the heavy traffic of Louisville. Alec closed his eyes. He felt no pain. Maybe nothing
was wrong. What about the filly? Had she gone down too?

It was hours later that he found out about himself and the filly. X-rays had been taken of his head and body. There was no serious injury—no concussion, no fractures—only a shoulder bruise. The doctors had said he could be discharged immediately but that it would be better if he remained in the hospital overnight. Grudgingly, and at Henry's insistence, he had consented.

The filly was all right. She hadn't gone down, hadn't broken a leg as he'd feared. She was in her stall, and except for a small cut found beneath the bandage of her foreleg she was none the worse for her experience. Henry had a competent man staying with her.

From his hospital bed Alec watched Henry clumsily rubbing the skull cap he had worn in the race. There was a dent in its side, where the hoof had glanced off. He wished Henry would put it away.

Henry said, “We can thank this for saving you from a serious injury.”

“Let's forget it,” Alec said quietly. “The sooner the better.” He paused. “How about Nella's dark bay? Did he break anything when he went down?”

“No. He's all right, and so is Nella. You're the only one who ended up in a hospital. Surprising, too, when you think of what a mess it was. We're lucky all around.”

“If you hadn't put bandages on the filly's forelegs, we wouldn't have been so lucky,” Alec said. “The bay's hoof would have crippled her.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Is she putting her weight on the leg?”

“Oh, sure,” Henry said. “She'll be perfectly okay tomorrow, and we'll walk her to get any stiffness out.”

“That takes care of tomorrow, but what about Friday? Is she going in the Oaks, Henry?”

The trainer shook his head. “No, it'll be the big one, Alec.”

The room was quiet for a long while. At last Alec said, “I'd like to get out of here tonight. No sense in my sticking around. They've taken all the pictures they're going to.”

“They're thinking about shock, Alec. It wasn't a nice kind of a spill.”

Alec grimaced. “I've taken them before. So have a lot of other guys, Nino Nella included.”

“He's telling everyone that the filly's a jinx to him.”

Alec smiled. “Maybe the jinx will work in the Derby.”

“Maybe it will.”

“Henry?”

“Yeah?”

“What made you decide it'd be the Derby for her? We didn't do very well out there this afternoon.”

“Sure you did,” Henry insisted. “Didn't I tell you?”

“Didn't you tell me what? You said she hurdled the bay colt when he went down and didn't hurt herself, but that's all.”

Henry tapped the sides of his chair with his boots, and for a second it was the only sound in the small
room. Then he said, “She not only hurdled him, but went on to finish way in front of the winner of the race.”

Alec chewed his lower lip. Then he asked, “You mean she raced all by herself, that she didn't quit?”

Henry nodded. “ 'Course she was running away again, knowing she'd gotten rid of you. But as you say, she didn't quit like she could have done. That's good enough for me.” He got to his feet, his steel gray eyes brighter, and moved toward the door. “The track marshals had an awful time catching her. She led them a merry chase around the track, goin' up and down the stretches, always slipping around them, before they finally caught up with her. She must have gone a couple of miles all told. She's got the stamina and the speed. She sure deserves a chance at the Derby.”

Henry stopped at the door. “At the time I wasn't much interested in what she was doin'. You and the ambulance had pulled off the track and I could only think about you until I got here and found everything all right. Now it's different. I can think about her now.”

“Sure,” Alec said. “You've got a Derby horse.”

“And a Derby rider. You get some sleep, Alec. It's the first good bed you've had in a week.”

Alec smiled. “Well, when you put it that way …”

“ 'Night, Alec.”

“See you in the morning, Henry.”

When the door was closed, Alec's face sobered. To himself he said, “Tomorrow, Friday, then
Saturday
.” He closed his eyes and tried not to hear the lurching of a horse's body above his head, the dull, sickening thud
of an aluminum-shod hoof. He had only two days to forget. He opened his eyes to see the dented skull cap, still on the chair where Henry had left it. He looked at it a long while, knowing that it was far better to accept it than to turn away and forever fear it.