Man of the Family (8 page)

Clear around the curve at the end of the track the bay kept about three feet in front of us. Then I yelled, “GO, SKY!” and hit him with the end of the lines. He did go, too. I pulled his head over easy—just enough to let us by on the outside of the bay—and all the time I kept on saying, “Come on, come on, come on.” The quarter mile was just barely long enough for us. We didn't win by more than a nose.

I guess I shouldn't have been so greedy, but I never stopped to think how it was going to make the other fellows feel to have Sky beat the horse they were betting on, especially when Sky wasn't even registered for the race. But I could see it on their faces when I brought him back to the gate. Fred Aultland looked as glum as a cold fried egg, and most of the other fellows didn't look much better. Hi was the only one that was excited. He slapped his leg and yelled to me, “By doggies, Little Britches, I thought you was goin' to get your own head acrost the finish line in front of old Sky's. What the hell was you sayin' to that horse?”

Everybody was blaming Tom for letting Sky beat the bay, and Ted Ebberts said he could have run faster than that in his long winter drawers. Tom didn't seem to be mad at me, but he was mad at all the rest of them. He slammed his whip down into the dust and hollered, “You're all so damn smart, why don't one of you hombres try it? I'll bet five dollars there ain't one of you can make the bay outrun that blue.”

Hi was the one that took him up on it. But he made it that Tom had to ride Sky High and let me ride the bay. At first Tom said that wouldn't be fair, because I only weighed seventy-two pounds and was riding bareback, while he and his saddle weighed better than a hundred and fifty. In the end he did bet, though, because the fellows began to josh him.

I never felt so much mixed up in a race as I did in that one. I wanted Sky to beat the bay again, to show he was a better horse, but I wanted to win, too. More than anything I wanted to win because Hi had bet five dollars on me. And it wasn't a fair race. Tom was so mad he started giving Sky the whip right from the jump and, of course, he threw him all out of stride. Fred's bay won by at least four lengths.

We had fiddled around so long, getting ready for the second run, that a lot of people had come onto the fairgrounds. And every one of them was right down in front of the grandstand to see the finish. I was sure our fellows were all going to feel good again after we beat Tom and Sky as much as we did, but they seemed to feel worse than they did the first time. Jerry Alder kicked up a cloud of dust with his boot heel, and groaned, “Now ain't that a dish o' sour beans! First, when there ain't nobody 'round, the little devil makes our dark horse look so bad it scares the bejazis out'n us, and now, when half the doggone county's hangin' over the rail, he makes him look so good we'll never get a bet.” He kicked another cloud of dust toward Hi, and howled, “Who-the-hell's bright idea was this, anyhow?”

10

The Match Race

I
NEVER
felt much worse than I did when Jerry hollered at Hi. It seemed as if I'd gummed everything up for everybody, and I wished I'd never come to the fairgrounds at all. But the fellows weren't really mad at me. And Hi was smart. As soon as Fred Aultland had taken the bay's bridle, Hi picked me off his back. And he picked me just like you'd pick an apple. He just reached up one hand and grabbed hold of the cross-straps on the back of my overalls. Then he held me up over his head like I was a kitten he was putting up in a tree, “Hell's bells!” he hollered. “This little old kid don't weigh no more'n a horsefly. I could pack him and outfoot the blue myself.” As he said it, he ran me around in a circle, dropped me, and caught me again just before I would have hit the ground. All the people in front of the grandstand laughed and hollered, and I think Hi fooled a lot of them. The fellows didn't have any trouble getting all the bets they wanted on Fred's bay.

They didn't win, though. Mr. Batchlett's chestnut beat the bay by half a length. Mr. Batchlett was the big cattle trader around Littleton, and he was the only man in town who was louder than Sheriff McGrath. I thought there was going to be a fight before the bets were all paid off on the hundred-dollar race. Of course, Mr. Batchlett knew all the Y-B fellows—and everybody else. And I guess he'd had a few drinks of whiskey before he came over to collect. Anyway, he told Fred his bay was no good, and that he had a couple of heifer calves out at his ranch that could outrun him any day in the week.

Hi and Mr. Cooper had to hold on to Fred to keep him from taking a swing at Mr. Batchlett, and before it was over, half the men at the fairgrounds must have come over and taken sides one way or the other. Then Hi got the idea of having a match race between the two horses as soon as the fair program was over.

I never had any idea how much money was bet on that race, but it must have been a lot. I know our fellows bet every dime they could get their fingers on, and I think most everybody else did, too. For a while I was right in the middle of it all, but when it looked as if it was going to be a free-for-all fight, Ted Ebberts picked me up and took me to the outside of the crowd. I was the last one to know that I was going to ride Fred's bay.

As soon as the crowd broke up, Fred and Hi took me over and bought me a barbecue sandwich and a quarter of an apple pie. Then we sat down under the grandstand while I ate it. They waited till I was half finished with the sandwich before Hi said, “Little Britches, we maybe done you some dirt, but, by doggies, you got sense enough to look out for yourself. Batch ain't no fool, and he ain't above winnin' a horse race any way he can. Not this one, he ain't—not with this much powder on the barrelhead. He's puttin' that Le Beau kid on his chestnut for the match, and what I mean, that Frenchman's a tough hombre. You watch out for him.”

That was the first I really knew I was going to ride in the match, but I'd been hoping I was. “I won't have to watch out for him,” I said. “If I can get the bay off to a good start, he'll never get close enough to do us any dirt.”

“Don't you be too dang cocky, Little Britches,” Hi said. “I told you Batch ain't no fool. You ain't goin' to get to ride bareback. You got to ride a saddle and you got to pack sand enough to bring your weight up to the Frenchman's. You ain't goin' to pack that kind of a load and slip around him like you done with Tom. And you be doggone careful 'bout gettin' in close agin him. Batch'll be makin' it worth the Frenchman's time to win.”

Fred Aultland hadn't said anything. He reached over and put his hand on my knee. “Understand, Little Britches, this ain't no life and death race. It's just another horse race. Only thing is, there's quite a chunk of money bet on it. The Le Beau kid's prob'ly got a five on it hisself, and his reputation ain't too good. If he starts makin' it tough for you, drop back. There ain't no race worth gettin' hurt for.”

“That's right, Fred. Right as rain. Stay clear of the kid, even on the turn, Little Britches,” Hi told me; “you'll have to cover more ground, but if you talk to the bay like you done to old Sky, you can give that Frenchie plenty of room and still win. And, for God's sake, don't take no daredevil chances. I've told Le Beau I'll knock his teeth out one by one if he makes a dirty move, but I don't trust him. Fred, I wish to hell we could call this whole thing off.”

By that time I wished so, too, but I wasn't going to let them find it out. I knew Le Beau. He was about twenty, and as tough as whang leather. Sheriff McGrath was always after him for something, and he'd been in fights in every saloon in town, but he could ride anything with four legs. I made my voice go as low in my throat as I could, and said, “You don't have to worry about me. I'm not a bit afraid, and I'll keep clear of him all the way.”

Tom Brogan came to the end of the grandstand and called Fred outside, but Hi didn't move. It was the first time he and I had been alone since Father died. It's strange how sometimes you can be with somebody you like and not say a word, and all the time you know what the other one is thinking, and you know he knows what you're thinking. That's the way it was with Hi and me. I knew he wanted to tell me he was sorry Father died, and I knew he couldn't find the right words to say it. We must have sat there for at least ten minutes before Hi put his hand over on my leg and said, “Dang fine man. You'll do all right if you grow up like him.” I didn't say anything; I couldn't.

Just as we were coming out from under the grandstand Hi rumpled up my hair, and said, “You want I should send one of the boys up after your saddle, or you want to take Sky and go for it yourself?”

I didn't want to tell him I didn't have it any more, so I said, “Never mind, Hi, I'll ride that light saddle of Tom's. Mother would be worried about me if I came home after my saddle, and she'd be more worried if somebody else came for it.”

Hi pushed his Stetson back and scratched the top of his head for a minute. “No, Little Britches, that ain't no good. You're goin' to have to get every lick out'n that bay, and you never could do it on a strange saddle. I'll go myself—ford the river at the dam and belly-hook up over the hill. I'll guarantee your maw'll never see hide nor hair of me. Where's your saddle at—hangin' in the barn?”

Of course, I had to tell him then that it had been stolen, and that I didn't know where it was. But I did tell him that it really didn't make any difference because we didn't have a horse any more. I was still trying to keep my voice way down in my throat, but I felt so bad about losing the saddle he'd made me, that the words came out all whiskery. Hi slapped me on the back so hard it made my teeth chatter, and said, “That ain't goin' to make a mite of difference; come to think of it, you'd 'a' had to pack more sand with a lighter saddle. Sand's a dead weight—twic't as tough to pack as saddle leather. Come on, we'll get Tom's saddle cinched down to your size 'fore the bronc-bustin' class.”

The busting contest was the last one on the program, and the match race was to be run right afterwards. All the time the bucking was going on, I could see Tom Brogan exercising Fred's bay in the open space by the Thoroughbred stables, but I never caught sight of Batchlett's chestnut. I think that made me more nervous than anything else. I'd heard of giving horses whiskey just before a race to make them run faster, and I was afraid Mr. Batchlett and Le Beau were doing something like that to the chestnut.

Half the men in the county were ganged up around the track gate when Le Beau and I rode out onto the strip. Fred led the bay as far as the gate, and Hi walked along beside us with his hand on my knee. I tried to hold it still so he wouldn't know how much I was shivering, but the more I tried to hold it, the more it shook. He kept soft-talking to me all the way, just the way he'd have done with a frightened horse, but all I can remember of it is, “Don't take no chances, Little Britches; don't take no chances.”

The crowd sounded like a flock of magpies around a dead animal, but one man's voice bellowed above the rest of the roar. By the sound of his brogue, he was an Irishman. I guess he had bet some money on the bay, and he was calling Fred a blankety-blank fool for letting a little kid ride his horse in a big race.

Ed Bemis, Sheriff McGrath, and some other man I didn't know, rode out to the backstretch with us. Halfway out, the sheriff dropped back beside me, and whispered, “You watch out for this Le Beau kid, Little Britches. I'll see he don't do you no dirt at the take-off, but you'll be on your own after that. There won't be nothin' I can do for ya.”

My knees wouldn't stop shaking. After Ed Bemis had marked off the starting line, he spun a silver dollar up into the air, looked at me, and called, “Heads or tails?”

I said, “Heads,” but it came down tails, so he told Le Beau to take the inside position against the rail. Le Beau was little and skinny for a grown man. His eyes were narrow and slanted, his mouth was too big for his face, and his teeth were yellow. He looked like a half-starved coyote, and he grinned at me like one when he shouldered the chestnut past us.

I think my being nervous bothered the bay. He acted as though he had Saint Vitus's dance, and I could feel the muscles jump and twitch under his wet hide. Every time I'd lean an inch forward in the saddle he'd break with such a rush that I could hardly hold him. It must have taken us ten minutes to get set for the start. My mouth was drier than track dust, and I was scared I was letting the bay waste half his strength before the race ever started.

Both horses broke together at the gun, and went down the backstretch neck and neck. I remembered what Hi had told me, and kept the bay a good four feet out away from the chestnut. As we came into the turn, I squeezed in a little to save ground, but I still kept out a couple of feet from Le Beau. Even at that, the chestnut started to pull away from us. I knew the bay was doing the very best he could, but I stretched up along his neck, with the saddle horn poking right into my belly. I picked up the beat of his hoofs and began calling, “Come on, come on,” to him. It seemed as though the beat quickened, but the chestnut kept inching ahead of us till, at the head of the stretch, his tail was right even with my shoulder.

I was so busy talking to the bay that I forgot what Hi had told me about keeping clear, and we came into the straightaway with the bay's head inches away from the chestnut's flank. I knew we were sunk, but I never wanted anything more than I wanted to win for our boys. I swung my whip high, and without making a break in my talking, cut it down across the bay's belly. He lifted, and lengthened his stride by an inch or two. The chestnut's tail began to slip back past my shoulder, and I caught a glimpse of Le Beau's head turning toward us. The next second his whip cut the bay across the muzzle.

A tremble like a sharp earthquake went through him, and his muzzle dropped back even with the chestnut's rump. I was so mad I lost my head, or I would never have swung the whip on a horse that was doing his best, but I did it just the same. As soon as I could get both hands back on the lines, I began drawing him out clear of Le Beau's whip. I don't know whether it was my whip or Le Beau's that made the bay mad, but one of them did. His ears were pinned tight back against his neck, and he surged forward till his head was even with Le Beau's knee. Then we got it. Le Beau's head swung, and he spewed a half cupful of tobacco juice right into my horse's eyes. I got my share of it, too.

It didn't really blind me, but it must have blinded the bay. He side-jumped, and I nearly went out of the saddle, but he didn't break his stride. I could only open my eyes a split second at a time, and all I could see when I did, was the blurred heap of the grandstand. I held a tight right rein and, with my mouth right up against the bay's pinned-back ears, started to yell, “
Go!
Go! GO!” at him.

He did go, as I never knew another horse to go in my life. The roar from the grandstand pounded toward us like a stampeding herd. It seemed to be all around us. My eyes were burning, but I blinked them open and saw the blurred white lines of the outside rail at my right. I pulled on the nigh rein so we wouldn't scrape it. And the next moment Hi's arm looped around me and scooped me off onto his saddle pommel.

I can't put down what he said. And I didn't even know we had won until he was holding me there on his knees by the pump and Fred Aultland was pouring cold water over my eyes. Mr. Batchlett was there, too, and all the men from out around our old ranch. Mr. Batchlett was leaning over me when I could hold my eyes open, and his voice was almost as soft as a woman's. “Poor little devil, poor little devil,” he kept saying. “Never seen such guts in horse and man in all my days.”

Fred had dipped a handkerchief in cold water and put it over my eyes. I couldn't see, but I knew Grace was there before I heard her. Maybe it was because the men all stopped talking, and maybe it was because I just knew she'd come, but I wasn't a bit surprised when I heard her voice. It was trembly, and she asked, “Is he hurt bad? Is he going to be blind? What did Le Beau do to him?” Then she put her hand over mine and it was as trembly as her voice.