Man O'War (15 page)

Danny held the lead shank short. “They're new at it, like you,” he whispered to Man o' War. “But they'll settle down, too.”

Another set of young horses came down the track, and their antics were even worse. Most of them bucked and kicked every few strides, and Danny wondered if any of them would ever make racehorses. At this stage of the game he almost doubted it. It was a trying time for everybody.

“Settle down, you big bum, settle down,” Danny heard one rider call to his mount as they swept by. Danny noted that the tone of the rider's voice was not derisive but comforting and encouraging, and that the words had been spoken in rhythm to the beat of the young horse's hoofs. The chances were good that this rider loved his colt very much.

Danny rubbed Man o' War's head. “Don't be impatient. You'll be out there soon enough,” he said.

Harry Vititoe kept Man o' War at the gap in the fence a long while before he finally signaled to Danny to turn him loose.

“Luck,” Danny said, sweeping a hand down over the colt's neck. Then he leaned on the rail to watch. “Nice and easy, Red,” he muttered to himself. “Nice and easy does it.”

He saw at once that Harry Vititoe had his hands full keeping Man o' War from bolting down the track after the other horses. But the ex-jockey had no intention of letting the colt go, and he kept a snug hold on the reins. Finally Man o' War seemed to settle down, and Vititoe let him jog as they went around the track.

Danny saw Man o' War come to a stop on the far side. Vititoe let him sniff a wagon that was being pulled alongside the outer rail. Convinced that it was nothing to fear, Man o' War went on.

Danny turned his attention to a set of green yearlings coming down the track. Some of them evidently wanted to go back to the stable, for they were trying to make for the open gap in the fence. Their riders had a handful keeping them straight.

For a moment Danny studied not the skittish colts but their riders. Most of the exercise boys weren't “boys” at all, being closer to fifty than fifteen years of age. They were small, hardened men, many of them with wizened faces that looked as if they'd borne the brunt of a colt's heels at some time during their careers. But despite their rough appearance they were marvelously kind to their charges.

Danny listened to their voices, soft and patient, as they attempted to control the flighty mounts beneath them.

“This filly's a dilly,” one called as he was almost thrown and taken through the gap in the fence. “She ain't afraid of nothin'! She's just lookin' for a chance to set me down in the
dirt.” His voice and hands were soft, and Danny could tell that the filly was listening to him because she had one ear cocked.

When they had passed, Danny knew he would have given anything to be small and wizened rather than the hulking figure he was. Raising his long arms, he snapped the end of the lead shank in the dirt. Maybe someday he'd be able to ride Man o' War in spite of his size. If that day came, he wouldn't change places with anyone in the world!

He watched his colt again as Harry Vititoe brought him around the far turn and into the homestretch. Vititoe rode with longer stirrups than the rest of the “boys.” They helped him keep better balance, and he needed every aid he could get to stay on Man o' War. The colt shied across the track, but Vititoe stopped him at the rail and got him into a slow jog again.

They went past Danny, then Vititoe stopped Man o' War and came back. The big colt wheeled suddenly as if reluctant to leave the track. Harry Vititoe brought him under control again.

“Get the shank on him, Danny,” he said. “We're calling it a morning.”

Back at the barn Danny removed Man o' War's tack. “He did real well. Better than I thought he would.”

Vititoe nodded, his eyes remaining on the colt. “Yes, everybody's happy with the way he went. Tomorrow I'll take him out with a couple of other yearlings so he'll have some company.”

“Don't choose any flighty ones,” Danny cautioned.

“No, they'd only make each other worse. I'll pick a couple smart yearlings. Red will learn from them.”

During the days that followed, Man o' War went to the track with the more advanced yearlings in the Riddle stable.
Most of the time he worked willingly for Harry Vititoe. He learned to go in single file, both leading and following the other horses. Sometimes he was asked to go head and head with them, first on the inside of the group, then on the outside. Only then was he difficult to handle, wanting to extend himself while Vititoe fought to keep him in a slow gallop.

“He's not ready for breezing or any fast work,” the ex-jockey told Danny. “My job is simply to get him legged-up and used to the presence of other horses. Feustel will take care of his real training.”

“Then your work is almost done,” Danny said. Man o' War was now being galloped twice around the track daily and he showed no signs of fatigue.

“Just about, Danny,” Vititoe agreed. “He still gives us trouble when being saddled, but I don't think I'll be able to correct that, me or anyone else. He has a long memory. He won't easily forget the weeks we've spent breaking him.”

It was almost the end of September and soon the stable would be shipped to Mr. Riddle's farm in Maryland. There, Danny knew, Man o' War would be asked to move along at a faster pace, as some of the other yearlings were already doing.

One morning he watched the small, compact colt that Mr. Jeffords had bought for the highest price in the sale. He was probably the most advanced of any yearling at the track and was breezing a furlong, from the eighth pole to the finish wire, in good time.

“He looks like he's worth every penny of the fifteen thousand six hundred dollars they paid for him,” he told Vititoe, who was standing next to him.

The ex-jockey nodded in full agreement, his keen eyes following the rapid drive of the golden colt's short, powerful legs. “He flies along, all right,” Vititoe said. “He's going to Maryland,
too, you know. Mr. and Mrs. Jeffords have a farm next to the Riddles' so they'll probably be training their colts on the same track. It'll be something to see.”

“You mean my colt might be working with this one?” Danny asked.

“They're bound to put them together somewhere along the line,” Vititoe answered. “I'd like to be there to see it.”

“I wish you were,” Danny said. “Somehow I can't see anyone else up on him now.”

The ex-jockey laughed and put an arm across Danny's shoulders. “You'll get used to it, Danny,” he said. “Before you're done you'll see a lot of riders up on him.” His eyes met the boy's and his voice softened. “You'll get used to it, Danny,” he repeated. “Just give your colt all you've got. Who knows? Maybe the two of you will go a long way.”

Vititoe's gaze returned to the Jeffords colt, which was easily pulling away from the other yearlings. “You might even make everyone forget what they paid for that one. You just might, at that.”

A few days later the stable left Saratoga for the Riddle farm in Maryland, where training would be stepped up before winter arrived. During the weeks to come, Louis Feustel and Mr. Riddle would learn what they could expect from the yearlings they had bought.

Danny was confident that Man o' War would prove to be the best racehorse of the lot. But he knew that other caretakers felt the same way about their colts. Each expected his charge to be the one that would set the racing world afire with his blazing speed. Only time and fate held the answer.

When he arrived at Glen Riddle Farm near Berlin, Maryland, Danny found the countryside very flat compared to Saratoga and the rolling hills he had known in Kentucky. But the land was spreading and peaceful so it wasn't long before he felt at home. The farm itself included over a thousand acres, with stables for sixty horses. There was also a new mile track, which Mr. Riddle had built for the training of his own yearlings and those of Mr. and Mrs. Jeffords, who owned the adjoining farm.

The October days that followed were bright and sunny, and Danny was told by the stablemen that the climate on the eastern shore of Maryland was such that they'd probably be able to work the yearlings outside most of the winter.

Man o' War, too, settled down quickly in his new home. He was eating well, and when Danny turned him out in the paddock to get the kinks out of his travel legs he frolicked like the strong, healthy colt he was. But his play was soon to end, Danny knew. The purpose of Glen Riddle Farm was to prepare all the yearlings for the spring racing season, and the days
to come would be a busy time for all.

There were more grooms at the farm than the Riddle stable had had at Saratoga, for taking care of racehorses in training required many skilled hands. At first Danny resented having anyone else help him with the care of Man o' War, but soon he realized how much had to be done to keep this colt sound and fit and, most important, how much he had to learn about the care of a racehorse and his equipment. Saddles and bridles, as well as all other tack, had to be properly cared for. A faulty bridle, rein, girth buckle, or stirrup could break and cause a bad accident. Blankets and coolers had to be kept clean, as did brushes, bandages, bits, and scrapers. To say nothing of a stall that had to be kept clean and fresh-smelling!

So Danny was happy for the help he received from the older groom who was assigned to Man o' War.

“Frank,” he said early on the third morning after their arrival, “what do you think of him?”

The man was cleaning the colt's hind foot and he didn't look up. “He's the best there is, jus' like you say,” he answered. “How else could we feel 'bout a colt we're rubbing?”

“Yeah, I sort of figured you'd put it that way,” Danny said. “But just wait until you see him on the track, and then you'll know better what I mean.”

Frank put down Man o' War's foot and straightened up. “He's still too thin for the size of him,” he said critically.

“He eats plenty,” Danny answered in stout defense of his colt. “It's only a question of time before he puts on more weight.”

“I know he eats good,” the man said. “But he gulps his feed down. A colt's got to
chew
his oats to do him any good. Feustel will slow him down. You'll see.”

Danny didn't pursue the subject, knowing Frank might be
right. Man o' War
did
eat too fast for his own good.

A short while later Louis Feustel appeared at the stall door. With him were Mr. Riddle and a man whom Danny had never seen before.

“This is Clyde Gordon, Danny,” Feustel said. “He's riding your colt this morning.”

Danny snapped the lead shank on Man o' War's halter. The time had come for Man o' War to continue his work on the racetrack. Would he react differently under Gordon's hands than he had at Harry Vititoe's? Danny led him from the stall. He'd soon have the answer.

Man o' War drew back his head when Feustel slipped the bridle over his halter.

“Always the rebel,” Feustel muttered, adjusting the bit. He told Danny, “Gordon is my top rider. He's used to handling difficult yearlings so he should get along with Red.”

“I sure hope so,” Danny answered, trying to keep Man o' War still.

The big colt shifted quickly, sending his hind legs flying when Feustel placed the saddle on his back. But the trainer had the girth band snug and the saddle was on to stay.

Clyde Gordon moved over to mount. He stepped back quickly as Man o' War swung his hindquarters around trying to get rid of the saddle.

Feustel called for more help, and additional lead shanks were snapped to Man o' War's halter. Then the trainer tightened the girth band another hole.

“He's holding his breath,” Danny said.

They moved Man o' War around in a circle until the big chestnut exhaled and the girth was loose again. Feustel took it up another couple of holes, and Man o' War reared as the strap tightened.

Danny and the other grooms stepped back but held on tight to the ends of the lead shanks until Man o' War came down again and was still.

He'll always resent being saddled
, Danny thought.
He'll always put up some kind of battle.

Clyde Gordon was at the colt's side again, his leg raised, waiting for Feustel to boost him into the saddle. Then, before Man o' War knew what was happening, Gordon was on his back. He tried to rear but Danny and the others held him down. He shifted his hindquarters but Gordon stayed on him. So far so good.

Mr. Riddle spoke to Louis Feustel and then the trainer said to Danny, “We have a nice old hunter here that Mr. Riddle thinks will be good company for this colt. I want you to ride him out with Red.”

Danny gulped a little.
He was going to ride beside Man o' War.
It was the next best thing to being on his colt's back!

A few minutes later one of the men came up with a tall, big-boned gelding. “This is Major Treat,” Mr. Riddle told Danny. “He was a good hunter in his day, pretty fast and very wise. I think hell have a quieting effect on this colt.”

Feustel smiled at the intent expression on Danny's face. “Your being along should help, too,” he told the boy. “Get up on him now.”

Danny was boosted into the saddle and given one of the lead shanks attached to Man o' War's bridle. The other grooms removed their shanks, and Danny was on his own. Clyde Gordon looked at him a little anxiously but said nothing.

Major Treat was very quiet and Danny moved him closer to Man o' War. The big colt snorted at the gelding but didn't rear. Danny shortened the shank. “Come on, Red,” he said quietly. “Let's go.”

Man o' War moved willingly at Danny's bidding, and behind them Louis Feustel said, “This might be the answer to a lot of problems with this one.”