Bonfire began moving, and Alec lifted his dangling feet to the iron stirrups on the shafts. The colt strode easily without demanding more rein. His tail came back, flicking Alec in the face.
Tail-sitter, that’s what I am now, Alec thought. He glanced back at Henry, wondering how his old friend felt about seeing him behind a colt rather than astride one.
Alec slowed Bonfire to a walk while crossing the macadam road that led to the huge parking area. Beyond, the great stands loomed black and grotesque in the early-morning grayness. Alec turned the colt toward the training track, letting him go into his fast walk. He was glad they’d have the track to themselves.
He clucked to Bonfire as they went up the homestretch. He felt the slightly stronger pull on the lines, now that the colt had the track beneath his hoofs. But Bonfire requested rather than demanded more rein. He had a very light mouth, and was most obedient and responsive. Like Satan back at home, Bonfire’s speed could be turned on and off by Alec’s slightest commands.
Alec sat back comfortably in his seat. He hummed a little, glorying in being alone with a fine colt on a fine morning. It was a world set apart from all others, and his love for it drove everything else from his mind.
They completed one lap, passing Henry, who sat on a bench near the middle of the homestretch. But Alec was too happy to notice Henry’s close scrutiny as they went by. Even so it wouldn’t have mattered, for it was what he expected of Henry.
Alec kept humming to his colt, feeling relaxed and very much at home. He knew he needed to give Bonfire only the lightest touch and the speed would come. But he kept him to the slow jog Henry had ordered and completed another lap.
Going around the track for the third time, he saw another horse coming through the gate. He felt his spine stiffen, and then was able to relax again. But his gaze shifted often to the horse jogging around the far turn behind them.
As he took Bonfire into the homestretch, approaching Henry again, his eyes sought the trainer, asking him what he wanted done. The horse behind was coming along at a faster clip than Bonfire. Soon he’d be overtaking them.
“Keep going, Alec,” Henry called, waving them on.
Alec nodded and continued up the track. But nothing was the same as it had been before. He felt tense. He kept looking back at the horse jogging behind them, coming ever closer.
Henry rose from his seat on the bench, strode a few feet, and then sat down again. “Use your eyes, not your feet!” he told himself angrily. He had seen Alec stiffen in the cart seat. And now he watched him glance back often at the horse coming around the turn. It wasn’t like Alec to pay attention to anything but his own horse.
Henry’s gaze left Alec for the man driving the horse down the stretch. When he went by, the man called, “Howdy! Nice morning.”
“Howdy,” answered Henry. “Sure is.”
Then he looked on ahead at Bonfire and Alec. He had only to watch the colt to know that Alec was tense. Bonfire was a highly strung, sensitive colt. He felt everything his driver did. He had a mouth that turned those leather lines into electric wires. And through them Alec’s uneasiness was being transmitted to the colt.
Henry’s eyes narrowed with concern. He turned and looked back at the horse behind, so far behind that Bonfire didn’t know he was being followed. The colt’s restlessness was all Alec’s doing. Alec and his turning head.
Henry thought, It might be worse for Alec than I’d figured on. I can’t believe it, though. Alec’s never been afraid of anything. He isn’t now. Not for himself, anyway. He’s afraid of what the colt might do. He doesn’t want to hurt anyone again. But he’s not making it any easier for the colt or himself … or for me. I’m stuck here, all right, whether I like it or not. We’re not going to take this home with us. I got to lick it where it started, and that’s right on a harness track.
Henry watched the other horse draw ever closer to Bonfire. They came down the backstretch, around the turn, and toward him again. He saw Alec glance at him, expecting a signal to stop the colt rather than go around again. But Henry waved them on for another lap.
There was nothing for Alec to be concerned about, Henry knew. The horse coming up would pass far to Bonfire’s right. Their colt couldn’t possibly become scared with so much running room. Alec must know this, but he just didn’t want to take any chances.
Henry kept his eyes on Bonfire while the other horse moved by, with his driver calling “Howdy” to Alec. Henry noticed the turning of Bonfire’s head to the right and his increased nervousness. But, just as he’d expected, the colt didn’t break stride and kept right on going.
Henry’s eyes followed them around the track once more. With a little time he could have restored Bonfire’s confidence in himself without resorting to any mechanical aids. But he didn’t have the time if they were to race here. So he had to think of something that would help the colt to keep his mind on racing. Alec needed it as much as Bonfire. Fix the colt, and he’d fix Alec. A big order in a hurry. But it had to be done.
Henry motioned to Alec to bring Bonfire to a stop at the track gate. He walked beside him all the way back to the stables, saying very little.
Later, when Bonfire had been cooled out and put back in his stall, Alec said, “You haven’t told me much, Henry.”
“I know. I’ve been thinking about it.” Henry paused, and then continued. “There’s a fluidness to his action that means a lot of speed. But I guess we knew that.”
“Yes, we did,” Alec said quietly.
“He’s short on stamina. His coat wasn’t just wet. It was sweaty. He could use a lot of long, slow work. Not much time for that before the Hambletonian.”
Alec said, “Get to the real problem, Henry. What about his wearing an open bridle?”
“It won’t work, not now … not until he gets his self-confidence back.”
“I thought you’d say that. Then what do we do? Try the blind again?”
Henry turned quickly to Alec. His surprise that Alec had even suggested the blind was evident in his eyes. He didn’t answer right away. He was too pleased. Finally he said, “I don’t know, Alec. I doubt that it would work any better than when Tom tried it.”
Alec didn’t say anything so Henry continued, “From what you told me, Bonfire jumped when the partial blind allowed him to see your horse a little ahead of him. Of course the colt had known you were on his right all the time, but he only got scared an’ bolted when he saw how close you were.”
“It would be that way in a race,” Alec pointed out.
“I know,” Henry replied thoughtfully. After a few seconds he asked, “What do you think about using a closed blind on him?”
Alec shook his head. “I don’t think he’d stand for not being able to see anything with his right eye.”
“But do you think it would work?” Henry asked persistently.
“Yes, if he’d wear it,” Alec admitted. “Another horse would be well past before he’d be able to see him with just his left eye. I don’t think he’d be scared then.”
“And if he’s not scared he won’t jump,” Henry said.
“That’s right. But I’m sure he won’t take the closed blind, Henry. He’ll fight it.”
“Let’s find out this afternoon,” Henry suggested. “We got to start someplace. It might as well be with that.”
As matters turned out, it wasn’t necessary to take Bonfire to the track to learn his reaction to the closed blind. They found out everything they needed to know right in the stable area.
They led him from his stall and put on the bridle with a blind that completely shut off all vision from his right eye. For a few seconds he stood still as though waiting patiently for them to remove the obstruction to his sight. When they didn’t, a mounting restlessness swept over his red body. He shook his head to rid himself of the blind. When that did no good he rose high in the air, pawing in his fury.
They got him down, and removed the blind. After a long rest they tried again. It was no different this t
ime. Once more he waited for them to relieve him of the darkness to his right. He was patient, tolerating the obstruction for a few seconds. Then his uneasiness mounted. He showed it first in a slight trembling of his red body. Then he rose on his hind legs as before, pawing the air, and throwing himself to the side.
They got out of his way, holding him with the long lead rope. He rose again, fighting more furiously than ever.
“It’s no use, Henry,” Alec said. “He’ll never stand for it.”
“Not long enough to run a race with it,” Henry agreed, disappointed.
They got Bonfire down and, after removing the bridle, put him in his stall. Henry went to the tack trunk and sat down while Alec remained at the half-door, watching the colt.
“He’ll tolerate the blind for about ten seconds,” Alec said, “but no longer.”
“About that, I guess,” Henry admitted. “An’ ten seconds aren’t goin’ to do us any good.” He swung his feet together, his bowlegs almost forming a circle. “Well, we’re back where we started. My first suggestion didn’t amount to much.”
For a few minutes neither spoke. Alec watched Bonfire pulling at the hay from the corner rack. “It’d be all right if we could turn the blind on and off,” he said.
“Open and shut, y’mean,” Henry corrected casually. And then he turned quickly to Alec, but the boy’s back was toward him. “Open and shut?” he repeated, and the lightness had left his voice.
Alec shrugged his shoulders. “Well, you know what I mean, Henry. Open when we don’t need it, closed when we do—and for no more than ten seconds.” He laughed. “A silly idea. I wonder whatever made me think of a thing like that?” he added thoughtfully.
“Alec …” Henry began. But he didn’t get a chance to finish, for Alec had turned toward him, his eyes bright and searching.
“Henry, didn’t you once tell me about …”
“Halcyon?” Henry asked.
Alec nodded. “Then you’re thinking about the same thing I am,” he said.
“If it’s Halcyon, it is,” Henry answered. “He was the only running horse I know to wear that kind of a blinker hood. Years ago it was, on a New York track.”
“Didn’t you tell me that the eyecups on that special hood could be opened and closed just by the jockey pulling a cord he held in his hands along with the reins?” Alec asked.
Henry nodded. “As I remember, the eyecups were controlled by small springs. So they worked like a shutter or a Venetian blind. The jock could open and close them as he saw fit during a race.”
“Couldn’t we do the same thing?” Alec asked eagerly. “Use a hood on Bonfire with just the right eyecup, and have the cord come back along the lines to me? Couldn’t we, Henry?”
“We could if I can get to New York and find the right man to make such a hood for me.”
“What’s stopping you?”
“Nothing,” Henry said, getting off the tack trunk. “I’m practically there now!”
Alec watched Henry go toward the parking area where his car was parked. It was a long chance they were taking, but a good one.
FOLLOW THE LEADER
7
Henry didn’t return that night or early the next morning. Alec took care of Bonfire but postponed eating breakfast, hoping that Henry would arrive and join him. By nine o’clock there still was no sign of Henry, so Alec ate alone.
Returning to the stables, he took Bonfire out for a walk, and then let him graze. The colt wore a light sheet, for the sky was a dull gray and there was dampness in the air. Horses and drivers went by on their way to the training track but they held no interest for Alec. He thought only of Henry. Had he found a man in New York who could make the special hood? Henry knew his way around. He’d spent half his life in New York. But even if his trip were successful would the trick hood work on Bonfire?
A large horse van passed. Alec watched it come to a stop before the nearest green-and-yellow sheds. The side door was lowered and heavy fiber matting laid over it so the horses to be loaded wouldn’t slip. It wasn’t difficult for Alec to identify the horses and know where they were going.
They were all three-year-olds bound for Goshen, New York, and the Hambletonian. Silver Knight was there, his large gray head held firmly by his groom. If it hadn’t been for him, Alec thought, things wouldn’t be as bad as they are for Bonfire or Tom. Yet how could he blame Silver Knight? It was the breaks of the game.
Eight other horses followed the gray colt into the van, their legs carefully bandaged, their bodies blanketed. Alec recognized Lively Man, who’d won the race that first night, and several others, including Victory Boy, who’d finished second. It was a valuable cargo the van was carrying. Every colt in it would soon race for a purse of well over a hundred thousand dollars.
The trainer-drivers supervised the loading of their colts. They were young men for the most part, men who were physically able to stand the strenuous demands of long days and still longer nights at Roosevelt Raceway. Alec could well understand why older men like George and Jimmy Creech preferred to race at the fairs. He turned toward Bonfire.
“Mister,” he told the colt, “you’ll be going to Goshen yourself pretty soon now.” But he didn’t feel as confident as his words implied. He kept wishing Henry would get back.
It was more than an hour later when Henry’s car pulled into the stable area. Bonfire was back in his stall, so Alec hurried to meet his friend.
Henry got out of the car, his eyes tired and his unshaven face bristling with gray hairs. His hands were empty.
“Didn’t you get it?” Alec asked quickly.
“You think I would have stayed up all night for nothin’?” Henry growled. “Sure I got it.” He reached into the back of his black coupe and tossed the hood to Alec. “I had him make it red,” he said, “figuring we’d better stick to Jimmy’s stable colors.”
As they walked back to their shed, Alec fingered the light racing hood with its bulging leather eyecup that opened and closed when he worked a spring catch.
Henry said, “All we got to do now is to attach a long cord to the catch an’ we’re ready to go.”
“Plenty of cord around,” Alec answered.
“Let’s get to it, then.”
“You mean you want to take him out now?… Today?”
“Why not?” Henry asked.
“Don’t you think we should give him a day’s rest? He hasn’t had much since his fall.”
“He’s had plenty, Alec. An’ the sooner we find out if this thing’s goin’ to work, the better off we’ll be.” They came to a stop before Bonfire’s stall, and Alec let the colt sniff the red hood.
Henry went on, “Besides, this colt could be jogged every day for the next few months without it hurtin’ him any. That’s what he needs. He’s long on speed, but short on stamina for a race like the Hambletonian.”
Taking the hood from Alec, Henry went into the stall. “I want to get this over with so I can get some sleep,” he grumbled.
“Then you think it’s going to work?”
“It’s not goin’ to take long to find out,” Henry answered, slipping the hood over Bonfire’s head.
The colt didn’t object, for the eyecup was open, and the light hood was easy and comfortable to wear. “Now get the bridle and the harness,” Henry requested.
A few minutes later they took Bonfire from his stall. “I don’t think we should hitch him to the cart right away,” Alec commented. “If it doesn’t work and he goes up he might hurt himself on the shafts.”
“You’re right,” Henry agreed. “Now get the cord, Alec.”
The cord was attached to the spring catch and then taken back along the right line, passing through the harness terret to Alec. He was careful with the cord, knowing that the slightest pull would close the eyecup. He tied it around his little finger to keep it separate from the lines.
“Okay, Henry,” Alec called. “I’m ready when you are.”
Henry led Bonfire down the shed row. Finally he
called, “Close it, Alec!” He watched the colt. Bonfire kept walking quietly beside him. “Open it!” No more than a couple of seconds had passed with the cup closed.
“How’d it go?” Alec asked from behind the colt.
“Fine,” Henry answered. “We’ll keep this up for a little while, gradually lengthening the time the cup’s closed. This is goin’ to work, Alec!”
For more than thirty minutes they walked Bonfire up and down the shed row, opening and closing the eyecup. Toward the end they kept it closed for many seconds, but never long enough so that the colt was ready to fight the blind. They found that his uneasiness left him quickly once they opened the cup and that they could close it again after a short interval.
Finally they hitched Bonfire and took him to the track. They said nothing on the way there, each knowing how optimistic the other felt but realizing that the final test would come on the track.
Henry left Bonfire’s side when they reached the gate. “Okay, Alec,” he said, “you two are on your own now.”
Alec took the colt up the homestretch, conscious of glances from the men sitting on the benches. But they weren’t overcurious. Racing hoods weren’t unusual. Only if the men happened to see the eyecup close would their interest be aroused.
Alec kept Bonfire near the outside rail, and found no need to close the cup. Other horses went by but they were all far enough away not to bother Bonfire. When they passed Henry for the first time, Alec saw him signal to move the colt over.
Alec obeyed, looking behind as he did so. Several horses were coming up on his right. He waited until they were close beside him and then pulled the cord. It took only a second or two for the horses to pass and get well in front of Bonfire. Alec opened the eyecup again, and Bonfire never broke stride when he saw the horses ahead of him. Instead, his eagerness to catch up with them was disclosed in the sudden pricking up of his ears. He asked for more line and Alec gave it to him.
The colt picked up more speed quickly. He was eager to go on as he swept past the horses, but Alec slowed him down again.