Mrs. Ramsay smiled. “What’s everyone doing here?” she countered.
Exasperated, Mr. Ramsay turned to his wife. “I meant that Abu is supposed to be in Arabia. It’s a long way to come for a horse race.”
“But it’s the Hopeful.” Mrs. Ramsay reminded him, smiling. “And his Satan is running.”
“You mean our Satan, Belle,” Mr. Ramsay corrected. “But it isn’t surprising after all that he’s here.”
They focused their attention again on the gap in the fence. The horses and their riders should be coming through any minute now.
In the paddock, Satan stood quietly waiting for Alec to come in to see him. His heavy ears came up alertly, and he shoved his small head toward the boy. Alec stroked him gently.
Henry said, “Take him up right from the start, go up front, an’ stay there.” The old trainer paused, smiled wanly, then added, “I’m talkin’ just to hear myself talk, I guess. You know what to do as well as I do.”
Alec nodded but said nothing. His heart was pounding heavily, and he was afraid that his nervousness would be felt by Satan. The colt was remarkably quiet, and Alec knew that the past few weeks of hard work with him had not been in vain. Picking up a stick, he rubbed it gently along Satan’s neck. “Just so you don’t forget, boy,” he said quietly. “Don’t be afraid.… No one will hit you with it. Easy, boy. No swerving today.”
Henry watched them. They were both ready, no doubt about that. It would be a great race. Henry’s lips tightened and he crossed his fingers.
The crowd in the paddock area surged forward, but the policemen kept the eager spectators away as the horses were saddled.
Henry tested the girth and smoothed the saddle cloth bearing the number three. “We didn’t draw an outside position this time,” he muttered. “Keep away from the rail. May be bumpy there.”
Alec nodded, his hand upon Satan’s black-hooded head. “Ward has number four post position,” he said, without looking at Henry.
“Watch him. Watch his gray,” Henry said. “Boldt still might be up to something.”
Satan moved a little restlessly when they had him ready. The tension mounted as the time drew near. The roar of the crowd became louder.
Alec talked to his horse, soothing him. The black hood concealed the white diamond on his forehead, making him look more like the Black than ever before. He tossed his head, working himself up.
Henry bent down, feeling the colt’s legs. Finally he stood up again. “Okay,” he said. “Wanted to make sure. No rain in the past few weeks has made that racing strip hard as cement.”
“And fast,” Alec added.
“Hard strips are hard on a horse’s legs,” Henry said. “An’ I’d hate to see him hurt that leg again.”
The paddock judge came down the line, stopping before each horse. Finally he reached Satan. “All set?” he asked Henry.
Henry looked at Alec, then nodded.
“Let’s go then,” the man said.
The Chief, number one, was led up to the parade circle a short distance from the saddling area. The crowd in the paddock pressed closer to the rail encircling the path over which the horses would be led until the bugle summoned them to the track.
A rangy roan followed the Chief, then Henry and Alec walked up the runway with Satan.
Alec took his eyes off his horse for a moment to glance at the back of the large grandstand. A few more minutes, he thought, and they’d be out there. Just a few more minutes now. Satan crabstepped nervously at the shouts of the people on either side of the runway.
Seconds later they were in the parade circle, the horses walking, prancing around. Alec and Henry stayed with Satan, but many of the owners, trainers and jockeys were huddled together inside the ring. Last minute instructions were being given.
Alec saw Boldt talking to Ward. The owner of the Comet had a large bandage over his beaked nose.
Some of the tension left Alec. “You did it, Henry.… I see by Boldt’s nose,” he said with a grin.
Henry, a trifle embarrassed, merely grunted.
A bell rang, and the old trainer said, “Ten minutes to post time.”
The horses circled the ring a few more times, Satan’s gaze shifting constantly from one horse to another. He moved uneasily, his eyes flashing. Alec concentrated upon his black colt, talking to him all the while.
Satan whistled his shrill challenge. The long-limbed roan in front bolted, but his groom held on to him. The Comet’s ears lay back and his teeth were bared. Boldt’s gray was a racer in build, splendid and proud; he showed fight. Across the ring Desert Storm raised his small head, looking in Satan’s direction but seemingly unbothered by the black colt’s challenge.
Alec watched Volence’s squarish chestnut colt, who had also been sired by one of Abu’s Arabians. Desert Storm walked with a short, choppy stride as though he had all he could do to stand on his four legs. Yet this was the horse who had set a track record in winning the Grand Union Hotel Stakes a few weeks ago. This was the horse, according to the experts, who would test the speed of Boldt’s Comet.
Suddenly the ringing notes of the post bugle hung on the air, rolling over the multitude of people and finally coming to rest on the ten horses circling the ring.
“Go to your horses. Riders up!” the paddock judge ordered.
The sun shone brightly on their vari-colored silks as the jockeys were given a leg up.
“Good luck, Alec,” Henry said, his hand still resting on the boy’s knee. “Here’s where I get off.”
Alec nodded, but didn’t say anything. He knew Henry would understand.
Satan pawed the ground when he felt Alec’s weight upon his back. Then the horses filed toward the track and the thunderous ovation that awaited them.
THE HOPEFUL
20
Satan shied as he stepped onto the track, and Alec felt the restlessness sweep through his great body.
“Easy, Satan,” he kept repeating. “Easy, boy.”
The black colt suddenly stopped in his tracks, his shifting eyes turning to the white rail now black with people. Then, tossing his head, he shied again. Alec let him move lightly away from the file of horses; then he brought him back behind the rangy roan who was following the Chief and the black-and-white-spotted lead pony bearing the red-coated rider who was escorting them past the stands and around the track to the starting stalls.
As they paraded past the stands, more than fifty thousand eyes were upon them. When the people saw Boldt’s sleek, gray Comet their shrill yells rent the air. Satan half reared. Alec brought him down, talking to him all the while. He knew the eyes of the crowd were upon Satan now, that the people were wondering about the giant colt who was burlier in stature than any other horse on the track. “A big horse,” they were probably saying, “but he doesn’t have the speed of the Comet or Desert Storm. His time in winning the Sanford was slower than what the other two have done.”
Alec’s hand slipped down upon Satan’s neck. “We’ll show them, boy,” he said. “Easy now … but in a few minutes we’ll show them.”
He was glad when they had passed the stands and were making their way down the backstretch toward the starting gate. They were allowed to pull out of line now, and Alec let Satan go into a slow gallop. Still talking to his horse, he rose high in his stirrups, the reins held firmly in his hands, holding Satan back.
Ward rode the Comet alongside Satan as they neared the starting stalls. Alec was about to pull his colt away from the gray when Ward said, “Where’s your stick, kid? You’ll need a stick today.”
Turning in his saddle, Alec looked at Ward’s wizened face without answering.
“Aw, I forgot,” Ward said sarcastically. “That big horse of yours is afraid of a stick, ain’t he? That’s tough, kid.” Ward swung his stick alongside the Comet. “Mighty tough.”
Satan’s ears swept back as Ward’s stick passed close by him. But he didn’t swerve or pull away, and Alec stroked him gently while he kept his eyes on Ward.
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“It’s a pity the rest of us have to use ’em,” Ward continued, his thin lips drawn back. “Make it lots easier for you if we didn’t, wouldn’t it?” Then he pulled the Comet away, moving his gray toward the starting stalls.
Alec brought Satan over to the far side of the track. The Comet had made his colt furious, and Alec tried desperately to quiet him down. As he sat there, waiting for his turn to go into the starting gate, he thought of Ward’s remarks. It was obvious now that Boldt had instructed his jockey to make it as hard for Alec as he possibly could. And Alec knew that Ward would use his stick to every advantage.
The starter’s crew called to him, and Alec moved forward. It would be only a matter of seconds now before they were off. Alec forgot everything but the race ahead.
Satan shook his fiery head as Alec rode him into his starting stall. The Comet, in the stall to Satan’s right, bared his teeth, showing fight again. Ward said something, but Alec wasn’t listening; his eyes were on the long straightaway before them. “Come out fast, boy … no swerving … no giving ground today,” he whispered. Satan’s ears lay back, then pricked forward; he rolled his blazing eyes in the Comet’s direction, then looked at the track ahead.
From the corner of his eye, Alec could see the jockey on the rangy roan to his left. On the pole position was Lenny Sansone, up on the Chief. Lenny’s face was set, his stick in hand. All the jockeys were ready with their whips. Alec hoped and prayed that Satan’s fear of the whip had been cured once and for all during the past few weeks. But he knew that only the break would tell. The break … it would come any second now.
Suddenly the Comet broke out of his stall, drawing two horses on the outside with him. They ran a short distance down the track before their jockeys were able to pull them up. Then they turned and made their way slowly back to the starting stalls.
The tension was broken momentarily as the starter brought the horses back. They circled behind the starting stalls and came in once again.
As Alec waited he talked to his horse. Lenny called something to him, but he didn’t hear. His eyes were staring at the dirt beside the rail. As Henry had said, it was bumpy there … better to keep away from it. He’d take Satan straight down … straight to the wire.
Ward had the Comet in his stall again. The other two horses were also in theirs. The starter’s eyes swept down the line.… He wanted to get them away fast. It was coming. Alec felt it, and leaned forward, ready. All the months and years he had waited for this race were to be culminated in the next minute. Ahead, six and a half furlongs down the track, was the final answer. He felt Satan’s muscles tighten.… His colt knew it as well as he did.
The barrier shot up! The roar from the packed stands swelled thunderously as it was carried across the infield, then died beneath rolling hoofbeats.
By a stride, Lenny Sansone had the Chief out first. Then came Satan and the Comet right together. Alec felt his colt’s muscles hurtle them forward with the power of a mighty spring unleashed. The shouts of jockeys rang in his ears and sticks were brought down heavily upon sleek, straining bodies. Satan’s head and eyes were set straight ahead in spite of the fanning sticks. “Go, Satan! Go!” Alec shouted to his horse.
For a few seconds Alec was conscious of nothing but the mighty surge of hard bodies and pounding hoofs. Then the Comet moved close beside Satan, and Alec felt Ward’s knee against his own. He caught a glimpse of Ward’s flaying whip, carried in his left hand, as he brought it down upon his gray’s haunches. The stick had come close to Satan. Then it came again, and Alec felt Satan shudder as Ward’s stick glanced off the black colt’s shoulder.
In the close running, Ward’s blow upon Satan could be looked upon by the judges as accidental, but Alec was furious. Then his fury gave way to despair as Satan pulled up and swerved hard toward the inside rail, just behind the Chief. The black colt stumbled as his hoofs hit the bumpy ground, then he recovered, with Alec urging him on. His body still trembled from Ward’s blow, and for a few yards Satan’s giant strides were pulled short.
Repeatedly Alec called to his horse. Gradually, but ever so slowly, Satan’s strides lengthened and quickened until once again he was running like black flame before a strong wind.
“Satan!” Alec called, almost savagely. “It’s come … the race … the race! Run them down!”
And the fury in the boy’s body seemed to flood into the gleaming body beneath him. There was a shrill whistle from the running horse as he swept low, leveling out.
The Chief’s hindquarters rose and fell in front of them; the bay was running as Lenny Sansone had hoped he would run today. Alongside the Chief, running stride for stride with him, was the Comet. The rest of the field was spread out to the right and a little behind the two hard-running horses in the lead.
As they swept by the half-mile post, Satan’s nose neared the Chief’s haunches. There was space between the Chief and the Comet to ride through, and Alec goaded his black colt on. Satan’s strides quickened still more, and Alec knew his horse’s speed was rising to its swiftest. If Satan could break through the gap in front, he would reach his limit with a clear track in front of him.
Less than a quarter of a mile to go! Sansone went for his stick, fanning it close beside his bay, and the Chief surged ahead. Ward, too, began using his stick and drove the Comet forward with the Chief.
Alec started to drive Satan on, then hesitated at the sight of the swinging sticks in front. There was just room for Satan to go through the gap between the Chief and the Comet, but dared he chance it with those flying whips? If Satan swerved now, so close to the finish, it would be all over for them.
As Satan neared the horses, Alec thought of pulling him around on the outside. And it was then that he saw Desert Storm. The flying chestnut was driving down on the outside and to the right of the Comet with amazing speed.
Alec knew he had no alternative now but to go through the gap. Desert Storm was the horse to beat! Alec had to drive Satan between the Chief and the Comet, or Volence’s chestnut would beat them all to the wire!
Alec goaded his horse, and all of Satan’s savagery and fury went into his tremendous strides as he extended himself. Alec’s eyes stung and hurt; he was deafened by the sounds around him; and all he could feel was the mighty surge of Satan’s muscles.
Foot by foot, Satan moved between the bay and the gray. Flaying sticks swept by on either side of him, but the giant colt was running wild now, and nothing could stop him. As he moved in front of the Chief and the Comet, Alec saw Desert Storm on the outside, running hard, a length ahead.
One hundred yards to go to the wire!
There was no need to ask Satan for greater speed. He was running down Desert Storm with the fury of a black, whirling tornado. He pricked his heavy ears forward as he swept by the driving chestnut, and then with a final burst of still greater speed, he swept under the wire!
The crowd surged from the stands, breaking the police lines and running toward the winner’s circle where Satan stood.
Alec, his face flushed, sat quietly upon Satan’s back and talked to him as the wreath of roses was placed about the colt’s wet neck. “You did it, Satan,” he whispered. “You did it.”
The shouting crowd pressed heavily into the winner’s circle, and the police formed a tight ring about Satan. Henry jostled his way through the crowd, spoke to a policeman, and then entered the ring. He came up to Alec, nodded his head vigorously, and took hold of Satan’s bridle. The colt shied as Henry placed his hand on his head.
Alec held him, and as the colt quieted down, the boy saw the hurt look in Henry’s eyes. Tossing his head, Satan pricked his ears forward and began nibbling at the flowers about his neck.
Henry said, “His pappy would be proud of him today, Alec.”
The boy nodded as the news photographers took their pictures. “I know he would, Henry,” he said.
Satan stopped nibbling the roses, and suddenly shoved his head against Henry, nuzzling the old trainer’s shirt. Henr
y’s eyes brightened; then he raised a gnarled hand and rubbed Satan’s forehead. After a few seconds he looked up at Alec. “We’re friends now,” he said excitedly. “Satan and I are friends,” he repeated, turning back to the black colt.
Alec dismounted and unsaddled Satan while Henry held him by the bridle. Then, carrying his tack, he walked to the scales, stepped on them, and weighed in. The clerk of the scales nodded and he got off. Officially, the race was over.
Walking away from the scales Alec passed Eldridge, who had brought Desert Storm in second. “Good going,” the jockey said. “Y’got a horse.”
Lenny Sansone, carrying his tack, was behind Eldridge. “The Chief ran for me today,” he told Alec, “but he didn’t have enough to beat your boy.” He paused, smiling. “Got in ahead of Boldt’s Comet, Alec.… We set him right back on his rump.”
When Alec reached Satan again, he saw his mother and father standing beside Henry. Then toward them came a tall, slight man, and Alec gasped as he recognized him. Running forward, he grabbed Abu Ja‘ Kub ben Ishak by the shoulder.
The sheikh turned to him. “Alec,” he said in his soft, even voice, “it was a fine race.… He’s the Black all over again.”
They moved over beside Henry and Alec’s parents, while newspaper men crowded around them.
“What do you think of Satan, Abu?” Henry asked after a few minutes.
The sheikh turned to him, smiling. “What do you mean, Henry?”
“How’s he compare with the Black?” the old trainer asked.
“Racing horses is your business as well as mine,” Abu replied, still smiling.
“We’ll know better next year,” Henry grunted. “Next year there’ll be the Derby. Think of it, Alec. Satan in the Kentucky Derby!”
“I am thinking about it,” Alec said, smiling.
Mrs. Ramsay moved forward and placed her hand upon Satan’s neck. “He’s hot, Alec,” she said with great concern. “We should get him away from this crowd.”
“Yes, let’s take him home, Alec,” his father said, “… where he belongs,” he added hastily.