The Black Stallion's Blood Bay Colt (29 page)

Bonfire sensed the eagerness of horses and drivers, and his pace quickened. Tom slowed him down; there was no place for them to go—not yet.

The limousine ahead moved a little faster, and Tom kept Bonfire's head close to the orange-and-blue silks Miss Elsie wore.

“Mr. Lunceford, keep your position!” the starter called.

Tom glanced at heavy-set, chubby-faced Frank Lunceford and knew that he was even more eager than the others to get his golden chestnut colt, Victory Boy, away first from his number 5 position. Lunceford had moved closer to the driver on his left, forcing the others to move more toward Miss Elsie and the rail. But Miss Elsie ignored the spinning wheels of Ray O'Neil's sulky on her right and didn't give way an inch; she was in a good spot, bringing her black filly down just a few short feet from the rail.

Tom knew that no one would beat Miss Elsie to the turn, for no horse in the fast-moving line could match Princess Guy's speedy break—none except, perhaps, Silver Knight. The gray colt might stay with the filly. In a few seconds now he'd know.

Princess Guy and Silver Knight
.

Tom was certain it was these two Bonfire would have to beat. So he forgot about Lunceford and the rest of the field. He'd go along with the black filly at the break and she'd lead him out in front.
Just follow Miss Elsie. Just follow Miss Elsie
.

Like a tremendous and powerful incoming wave, the line of horses increased their speed behind the fast-moving gate. The grandstand spectators rose to their
feet at the rushing pound of hoofs. As a team the country's top two-year-olds swept beneath the lights of the starting line.

“GO!” shouted the starter.

To the shriek of the drivers, Tom let Bonfire go behind Miss Elsie. Strides quickened like unleashed springs and still in one line they went for the first turn. No colt gave way, and Tom knew from his vantage point behind that never would there be another fight like this for a first turn. Every driver in the field had decided to make a desperate bid to obtain the lead at the beginning of this race.

Tom's heart stilled during the fight for the turn. He could do nothing but keep Bonfire's nose close to Miss Elsie's back, hoping desperately that her black filly would reach the turn first … for he would then be directly behind her, and ready to make his move for the lead.

Suddenly there was a break in the long line across the track and the drivers drove their horses closer to the rail. Only Silver Knight and Frank Lunceford's chestnut colt came on to match strides with Princess Guy; the others moved over toward Tom.

Sweeping into the turn, Princess Guy, Silver Knight and Victory Boy strode as a team, stride for stride, wheel to wheel.

Tom kept his position directly behind Miss Elsie, but racing alongside Bonfire now were three other colts. And behind them came the third tier of the last three horses.

There was no slackening of stride by any colt in the race. They were making one constant bid, and Tom
knew this speed was much too fast for so early in the race. But no driver slowed his colt. Spinning wheels were but inches away from one another. O'Neil and Lunceford were trying to force Miss Elsie closer to the rail to save themselves ground going around the turn. But she held firm. The drivers on Tom's right were forcing him, too. But he held his position right behind Miss Elsie.

Coming off the turn, they entered the backstretch. Princess Guy was moving effortlessly, her hoofs hardly touching the ground in her graceful flight. Tom knew she was flying, for Bonfire was moving faster than ever to keep up with her. Surely the filly would now pull away from the heavy-footed gray colt and the long-limbed chestnut who strode beside her! If the black filly would pull away just a short distance, he'd go along with her to come out from the rail when he was past the gray and chestnut colts, then make his bid with Bonfire to pass Princess Guy.

But it didn't happen that way at all. For down the backstretch Silver Knight and Victory Boy matched the filly's long, sweeping stride. No horse or driver gave way—not even those racing alongside Tom.

They went into the back turn in the very same positions and still fighting. Once more, spinning wheels glistened ever closer as drivers moved over on each other trying to save ground going around the turn. Miss Elsie held. Tom held.

And at this point in the race, Tom knew two things for certain. One was that he and Miss Elsie had an advantage in that they were close to the rail and taking the shortest route around the track. Two, something
had to give soon, for no colts of this age could travel so fast for so long. The killing pace would tell on the colts very soon, and he wasn't even certain that Bonfire had the necessary reserve. Never before had he called upon the colt for a supreme effort; yet very shortly he would ask Bonfire and the colt would give his answer.

Frank Lunceford went for his whip, coming off the back turn. He made a last desperate effort to get around Silver Knight and Princess Guy. But Victory Boy failed utterly before the ever-quickening strides of the black filly and gray colt, and the golden chestnut began falling back as the field swept down the homestretch for the first time.

Racing by the standing, crazed people in the grandstand, Miss Elsie opened up her black filly another notch, and now she actually seemed to fly. But Silver Knight had more speed as well, and when Ray O'Neil called for it, the gray colt surged forward with Princess Guy.

Tom's hands moved on the lines as he too called for more speed. And at the same time he heard the drivers on his right calling to their colts—and some went for their whips.

Bonfire's muscles gleamed beneath his sweated body, and he responded quickly to Tom's call for more speed. Tom knew then that his colt had no equal. He could feel the power—reserve power—flooding the lines he held. And it was good, knowing there was more to come!

The blood bay colt went forward with Princess Guy and Silver Knight, leaving the others gradually behind.

As they swept past the judge's booth, Tom heard the announcer call to the crowd, “Time for the half, one minute flat!” Never had two-year-olds raced so fast.

Miss Elsie was taking Princess Guy along at a killing pace and only two were left of the field of ten to challenge her.

Once more they went into the first turn and Miss Elsie sought to kill off the ponderous gray colt racing alongside by again increasing the filly's speed. Princess Guy leveled out as though she had wings. Tom wondered how much more speed this black filly had. When would she reach her limit? He touched the lines again to keep Bonfire directly behind Miss Elsie.

But Miss Elsie did not kill off the big gray colt on the turn, for he too had more speed and surged forward with the filly. Tom saw Ray O'Neil glance back at him as they went into the backstretch. He hoped it meant that O'Neil was worried, that Silver Knight had reached his utmost speed. He wanted Silver Knight to fall back, then he'd take Bonfire ahead and on to challenge Princess Guy.

It was getting time to make his move, even if Silver Knight didn't fall back and he had to take Bonfire around the gray colt. Somewhere along this stretch he'd make his move. He got ready for it.

Bonfire's nose was still close to Miss Elsie's head, and Tom knew she realized it was the blood bay colt—for he'd been there since the start of the race. Suddenly Miss Elsie began moving away from Bonfire! Seemingly there had been no increase of length or rapidity in the black filly's strides. But Tom knew she was going
faster or she wouldn't be pulling away! Miss Elsie was going all out!

Tom called upon Bonfire for more speed and again came the quick response from the powerful, splendid muscles in front of him. The blood bay colt pushed his nose close to Miss Elsie's head again. But then the break came—the one for which Tom had been waiting. Silver Knight started falling back, inches at first, then several feet. Just a little more room and Tom knew he'd be able to get Bonfire between Miss Elsie's sulky and the slowing Silver Knight.

The gray colt came back to race alongside Bonfire, and Ray O'Neil was sitting alongside Tom while Miss Elsie and her black filly raced alone in front. Tom waited for Silver Knight to drop back a little more, just a few more feet.

But the gray colt stopped losing ground. Stride for stride he raced Bonfire. Startled, Tom glanced at the man alongside him, then quickly he turned to Miss Elsie's back again. If Silver Knight wasn't going to drop any farther back, Miss Elsie
had
to move ahead.
Otherwise he and Bonfire were in a pocket!

But Miss Elsie didn't increase the speed of her black filly. Frantically, Tom watched the backstretch poles sweep by, and then they were going into the last turn.
He had to get Bonfire out of this pocket!

He let Bonfire push his head closer to Miss Elsie. She must feel his breath! She must know!
She did
. Miss Elsie knew Bonfire was directly behind her and in a pocket. She had glanced back once to see the gray colt and Ray O'Neil alongside the colt behind her.
And she
knew that the colt was Bonfire
. She was afraid, not of Silver Knight but of the blood bay colt! She was going to keep him there all around the turn, down the homestretch
—right to the finish!

He had to get Bonfire out. “But not now!” he cautioned himself. “Wait until we come off this turn. The only thing I can do is to drop behind O'Neil and then come around him and go after Miss Elsie. It's all I can do. And there won't be much time.”

Tom heard the yell of the crowd as they came off the turn. The homestretch was ahead of them! He touched the lines, but this time it was to ask his colt to slow down, to watch Silver Knight and Ray O'Neil slide by … and then to come around in a last desperate rush to catch them before the finish line. He didn't think there'd be time to catch Miss Elsie and her black filly. He had failed his colt, George, and Jimmy Creech.

He touched the lines again, but still there was no response from Bonfire. The blood bay colt wasn't going to slow down! He knew this was the stretch drive! Everything he had learned from them, his every instinct, told him that this was the homestretch.
Jimmy Creech had wanted a colt with gameness and the will to win
. Bonfire was fighting to be let out and it would cost him the race.

For only by slowing down could Tom get him out of this pocket. Bonfire was pushing his head over Miss Elsie's when it happened. The heavy-footed Silver Knight faltered for the first time, picked up stride, then half-stumbled.

Quickly Tom turned to him, knowing the hard, fast race had told on those large feet. Silver Knight picked
up his stride again, then faltered once more. This time it cost him the ground between Miss Elsie and Bonfire.

Miss Elsie glanced behind at the faltering gray colt; then she saw Bonfire's head come between them and she went for her whip. The blood bay colt was coming through the “hole” with less than a hundred yards to go!

Tom's hands moved quickly as he called for every last bit of speed from Bonfire. He felt the colt gather himself just as he had for every sprint at the fairs—and this in spite of the long, hard race behind him. Tom felt himself picked up and hurled forward; the colt's tail cut his face like the sharp lash of a whip, yet Tom never felt the pain. He couldn't see ahead, but it didn't matter; he knew the track was clear. Above the finish line was the long string of lights. And many yards before he and Bonfire passed beneath their brilliance, they had swept by the beaten black filly, Princess Guy.

Those who saw Bonfire create a new world's record of 1:59 at Roosevelt Raceway that night described the blinding speed of this blood bay colt no differently from the farmers and the small-town folk of the fairs who had seen Bonfire.

“His sprint is something that sets you afire,” they said. “You see him gather himself, then suddenly it happens and you find yourself being picked up and hurled along with him, even though you're away up in the grandstand. But it's hard to explain exactly what happens to him and to you, when he goes. You have to see him yourself.”

Two months later, Tom and George helped Jimmy down the hospital steps. They helped him even though he kept insisting that he was all right and had never felt better in all his life.

Tom knew that in all probability Jimmy was telling the truth, because for the first time in many, many long months he saw the tiny pinpoints of brown in Jimmy's hazel eyes. And when Jimmy's eyes were clear it meant that he was feeling very well. Still, he was weak from his many weeks in bed, and it was best that he take it very slow and easy for a while, just as Dr. Morton had told him to do.

There was a good chance, too, that Jimmy would follow Dr. Morton's instructions, for the pains he had experienced before the operation were of the severest kind. Jimmy hadn't mentioned them, but Dr. Morton had told Tom and George of Jimmy's terrible ordeal. He had gone on to say that the ulcer had been removed completely when the Boston surgeon closed the stomach leak. There
was no reason now why Jimmy shouldn't be in perfect health.

Reaching the bottom of the steps, George asked, “You warm enough, Jimmy?” The fall day was exceptionally cool and the mid-afternoon sun was hidden behind clouds.

Jimmy pulled the muffler about his neck. “Sure, I'm warm enough,” he said a little defiantly. “No need to treat me like an invalid, George. I'm okay now, I tell you.”

“I know that,” George said, smiling. “It's just that it's cool for me, too.”

They got in the car and drove through the streets of Pittsburgh. Jimmy sat between them in the front seat and was silent a long while, then he said, “The doc said Mrs. Davis wanted to stay on at my house. So I told him she could.” He turned to George, adding quickly, “Not as a nurse … I don't need a nurse. She's goin' to do my cooking. She's a pretty good cook.” Then to Tom, “Not as good as your Aunt Emma … but good for our town.” He paused again, then continued as though more explanation of Mrs. Davis's presence in his bachelor home was necessary. “She needs a good home, the doc said, and she likes Coronet. She's pretty old, you know.”