_"Auntie's Favorite Horse"_
Dave Beach had traded for an old pacing mare. She was very sore
forward, at least sixteen years old, but had a world of speed
for a short distance. In the harness she was quiet and kind,
but in the barn she would drive nearly every one from her. To
feed her was a trick few men cared to learn. She would kick
and bite, and any one who was the least bit timid could do nothing
with her. Dave had traded for her in another city. She was not
known to horsemen around here. He expected to make some money
with her, so he kept her out of sight as much as possible until
he got her "fixed up a bit," as he put it.
He had her teeth filed until she had a six-year-old mouth. Her
shoes were pulled off to let her feet spread and grow. The clippers
had removed her long hair, and Dave had fed her to bring the
best results for looks and speed. He knew nothing of her breeding,
but that was "easy" for a man as horsy as Dave. When she was
ready for the public to see she looked as racy as even Dave
had hoped for.
The morning paper contained the following advertisement:
"For Sale.--The bay pacing mare Becky Wilkes, by Forward, by
George Wilkes, by Hamiltonian 10, by Abdallah 1. Dam: Mamie
B, by Brown Hal, by Tom Hal, Jr., by Kitrell's Tom Hal, by old
Kentucky Tom Hal. This mare is six years old, kind and gentle,
perfectly sound, and can show a 10 clip to wagon. With proper
work she would be a world beater. Reason for selling--death
in the family. Call mornings at Beach's Livery, Brady St."
After Dave's experience with Jimmie he went to bed and slept
until ten o'clock. He was standing in the big double door of
the barn, thinking what a fool he had made of himself, when
a young fellow drove up to the curb and stopped.
"Is this Beach's Livery?"
"Yes, sir, this is the place," said Dave.
"I see by the paper that you have a pacer for sale." The speaker
was a fine-looking young man, with a good face and an easy manner.
He was dressed in the pink of fashion, and his general make-up
would denote wealth. Dave was not sure of the kind of man he
had to deal with. He looked him over carefully, but somehow
he was unable to tell whether he was "horse wise" or not. "He'll
soon show his hand," said Dave to himself. "He's either 'dead
wise' or 'dead easy.'"
"Yes, sir, I have a very fine bay mare and she's for sale to
the right party," said Dave. "No one can get that mare to abuse,
as she is very dear to our family. Do you want a horse for
yourself, sir?"
"Yes, I want one that can go faster than these," pointing to
his own team.
"I have the one," said Dave.
"Can I see it?" asked the stranger.
"Sure you can; I'll hitch her up. (Did you hear him say 'it'?
Mamma, he's easy!) Oh, Hank!" he shouted. "Put the harness on
Becky. (I knew that he'd soon show his hand," said Dave to himself.
"He don't know no more about a horse than a jack-rabbit knows
about ping-pong, or he'd never say 'it.' Just watch me hand
it to him.) Ginger up a bit, Hank, this man is in a hurry."
Of course Hank, the barn man, knew what that meant, and when
Becky came out she was champing the bit and pawing like a race
horse. Dave was proud of the way she was acting.
"She's perfectly safe and kind, but full of life. Not a mean
thing in her make-up, and if you can find an 'out' about her
I'll give her to you."
As he was hitching her to his light wagon he kept up his horse
talk, and no one could beat him talking horse if he thought
the man had money.
"You see this mare is out of Colonel Thompson's celebrated string.
The Colonel's wife was my aunt, and when this mare was a colt
auntie fell in love with her and would not allow her to be raced
down through the circuit. When Johnny Seely broke Joe Patchen
he used Becky to work him out and she would go away from him
like he was tied to a post. Yes, siree, man, this is the greatest
mare on earth and she never had but one chance to show what
she could do, and I'll stop and tell you about that right now.
Just once we got her away from the home stables and I'll never
forget that day. There had been much good-natured bartering
among the owners and drivers down through the grand circuit
during the season and much money had changed hands among them
that did not reach the 'bookies.' When we got to Lexington,
Kentucky (our old home), at the close of the season, the owners
got together and put up five hundred dollars each for a special
race. Mile dash, free-for-all, either gait, association rules
to govern. Harry Loper to start them and the first horse under
the wire to take the jack-pot. The Lexington association added
five thousand dollars.
"The day of the race was ideal, clear and warm and no wind blowing
to speak of. Oh, my! I'll never forget the excitement of that
day till I die. There was Splan with Newcastle, Geers with Robert
J., McHenry with John R. Gentry, Curry with Joe Patchen, Curtis
with Walter E., Wade with Dr. M., Kelly with his California
wonder. You see every one had to start some horse, even if he
was outclassed. Old Dad Hamlin said to the Colonel, 'What are
you going to start, Colonel?' 'I don't know; I'll find something,'
he said."
The young man did not understand a word that Dave said, but
looked at him in wonder.
"After a talk with Seely," Dave went on, "it was decided that
they would slip this mare over to the track. Yes, sir, this
very mare here, and Johnnie was to drive her in the special
race. In the betting she was never mentioned until the Colonel
went up and asked for a price on her. 'Oh, about fifty to one,'
said Al Swarengen. 'Do you want a dollar's worth of her?' 'Give
me a hundred dollars' worth,' said the Colonel. He bet a hundred
dollars with every bookie in the bunch at fifty to one. When
they scored for the word, Johnnie was in fifth position. They
got away the third time down. Every horse was on their stride.
Mack had the pole, Curry lay alongside, and Geers, with Robert
J. going strong, moved in from the outside just after they left
the wire. A blanket would cover the three horses at the quarter
pole. Johnnie was trailing close up with Becky, but the trotters
Newcastle and Walter E. with Dr. M. were outclassed. The pacers
went the first quarter in 30 3/4 seconds, but slowed some in
the back stretch. At the half Gentry made a skip, but recovered
quick and still held the pole in the upper turn. No one in the
grand stand seemed to notice the little bay with her nose at
the wheel of Gentry's sulky. The Colonel knew she was there,
and he knew also that if Johnnie could get her though the bunch
at the head of the stretch there'd be a horse race in Kentucky
that day that would make the Doble-Marvin days look like deuces
in the Mississippi steamboat jack-pot. As the horses entered
the stretch Geers spoke to his knee-sprung bay and he responded
as only Robert J. could. Patchen, the big, honest black, was
pacing the race of his life. McHenry can team 'em in the stretch
like few men, and Gentry was on his tiptoes but holding his
place. Johnnie could see no opening to get through as they entered
the stretch, so he made a long swing clear to the outside with
Becky and then pulled her together for the finish. A hundred
yards from the wire it was anybody's race. Mack was reefing
Gentry; Geers was talking to Robert J. in his own way; Patchen
kept his feet, although Curry was standing up yelling at the
top of his voice. The people in the grand stand hardly breathed
as Seely came up strong on the outside with Becky. 'Who is that?'
they cried. 'See that bay horse come up on the outside. What
horse is it? Who's driving her? Come on, boys!' they cried.
When within fifty yards of the wire Johnnie shifted both lines
into his left hand and cut Becky with the whip the full length
of her body. She shot forward with a mighty lunge and Johnnie
rained blow after blow upon her. Just before they reached the
wire Robert J. and Becky were neck and neck, with Gentry and
Patchen at their throat-latch. Drivers and horses were straining
every nerve. The great crowd in the stand were holding their
breath. The judges and timers forgot their duty. Never will
the excitement of that moment be forgotten. Just in reach of
the wire Johnnie let go of Becky's head and she shot her nose
under the wire about two inches ahead of Robert J. For a moment
all was still, then that crowd of Kentuckians threw their hats
in the air and yelled themselves hoarse. As the drivers came
back to dismount, Johnnie was lifted high in the air and was
literally carried into the weighing-room, while Becky was led
to the stables to be cooled off. The niggers rushed to the Thompson
mansion on the river and told Mrs. Thompson about Becky's victory.
When the Colonel drove back home, with Johnnie leading Becky,
Mrs. Thompson came at once to the stables and said to Johnnie,
'Uncover that mare.' 'She is very warm, ma'am,' said Johnnie.
'You can see her in the morning all right.' 'I want to see her
now,' she said, and she did. When she was those whip marks she
was very angry and said, 'That mare will never race again while
I live, nor after, if I can help it.'
"When auntie died she gave the best she had to her favorite
nephew, with the understanding, of course, that I would never
enter this mare in a race, and I meant to keep her for my own
use, but every time I see her it reminds me of my poor, dead
aunt, and I am determined to let some good man have her, but
he must use her right. It would kill me to think that auntie's
favorite horse was abused."
Hank got a coughing spell and started on a run for the back
end of the barn. He fell into a box stall and rolled and laughed
until it seemed he would never get his breath.
"Oh, mamma!" he said, "if that dood gits that old blister he'll
wish she was in heaven with Dave's auntie about the first time
he goes to feed her." He doubled up again and rolled in the
straw and laughed until he cried. "I like a liar, but Dave suits
me too well," he cried. He peeked out of the stall just as Dave
and his victim started out of the door. "Becky sure feels her
ginger this morning," he said, and then fell back in the stall
and rolled and laughed some more.
Dave drove down over the pavement slowly, talking "horse" as
he went. When he got down on the river bank, where there was
about eighty rods of good dirt road, he "cut her loose." She
was used to a "brush" and liked the dirt, and the way she threw
dust into that "dood's" eyes pleased Dave. "Did you ever see
anything like it?" said Dave as he pulled her up. "And she only
got started on that short road. She goes a mile better than
a quarter." Dave turned her around and handed the lines to the
young man and said, "You drive her down this time."
He fell in love with her on the way to the barn and said to
Dave, "How much do you want for her?"
"That's the trouble," said Dave, almost ready to cry. "When
it comes to parting with her it almost breaks my heart; but
I can't keep her around the barn, as she constantly reminds
me of dear auntie. I hardly know what to say. You'll be kind
to her, won't you?"
"Oh, yes, I'll be kind to her for your aunt's sake," the young
man replied kindly.
As they got back to the barn Dave looked at the slick, fat team
that belonged to the young man and said, "Where did you get
that pair of farm horses? They'll do for plowing, but you want
something that will beat anything in town, and Becky can do
it."
After much talk about breeding and speed, Dave finally made
him an offer to trade Becky for the team of five-year-olds and
one hundred dollars. The man counted out the money without saying
a word and Dave nearly fell dead, as he said afterward. "I could
just as well got five hundred. What a chump I was!"
As the young man's coachman led the mare away that afternoon
after delivering the five-year-olds, Dave called to him and
said, "Say, watch her a little in the stable. She's cross, but
if you ain't afraid of her you can handle her easy. Don't let
her bluff you."
"Thrust me for that, laddy. Oi've seen the loikes of this before,"
pointing with his thumb to the mare. "Oi sure feel sorry fer
paple and harses that are in their second choildhood. Shure,
if yer aunt was old enough to remember when this mare was a
colt she was old enough to die."
Dave smiled, but made no reply. Generally after a good trade
Dave took every one out for a drink and felt very happy. The
boys stood around and waited, but Dave failed to say anything.
At last Hank ventured to say, "Are yer any good, Dave? We're
spittin' cotton."
"You go treat the boys, Hank; I don't want a drink now," said
Dave, throwing him a dollar.
For the first time in his life he felt as if he had robbed some
one. Everything is fair in a horse trade, and he figured that
the fellow could afford to get beat once. "It will teach him
a lesson," he said.
"I think he is too game to come back and holler, and I'm not
afraid of that; but it sort of looks like taking advantage of
his ignorance."
Jimmie and his Friend kept coming up before him until Dave almost
wished the old mare was back in the barn.
"I'd give this hundred dollars if I didn't feel so much like
an old fool woman. I don't know what's ailing me. I've traded
my dead aunt's favorite horse at least fifty times and it never
hurt me before like it does now. I guess I need a drink. I'm
losing my nerve."