The Black Stallion's Filly by Walter Farley
A bugle sounded, calling the horses to the post. In single file they left the paddock and paraded on the track. The announcer was giving the names and racing backgrounds of the colts who would race against Eclipse and Silver Jet. The only one that aroused Alec’s interest was the small bay Moonstruck, who had run second to Golden Vanity in the Santa Anita Derby in February.
The rain came down harder as the colts neared the starting gate, and the majority of people standing in front of the grandstand scuttled under the stands. All the horses went behind the gate, turned and entered their stalls. Just then the rain slackened to a light drizzle again, and the crowd rushed out from beneath the protective stands to watch the race. The gate doors closed. The break would come any second.
Alec asked, “How are Eclipse and Silver Jet in the mud?”
“It’s not muddy,” Henry insisted. “The track’s good even if it is a little slippery.” He paused. “But to answer your question, I hear the two of ’em can take mud or leave it alone. It won’t make any difference to them if there’s a muddy track in the Derby.”
The bell sounded and the gate doors were opened. Moonstruck broke fast on the inside as Alec had guessed he would. But from his outside post position Silver Jet was away just as fast; he came racing toward the cameras, his hooded head stretched out.
Alec’s eyes quickly shifted to the center of the field, trying to find Eclipse’s white face. He found it in time to see the big colt stumble coming out of the gate. Eclipse picked up stride again, but not before the horses on either side of him had closed in front of him. Alec saw Ted Robinson pull up the big colt.
Moonstruck came flying into the front of the television cameras and the picture quickly shifted to show a side view of the field as the colts thundered past, racing for the first turn. Running on the rail, Moonstruck pulled clear of the field. Far on the outside Silver Jet pulled clear too but Moonstruck, having less distance to travel, outran the gray colt to the turn. Dan Seymour took Silver Jet just to the right of the bay leader.
Behind them came the closely packed field with Eclipse in fifth position, still blocked from settling into his great strides.
Watching the horses race around the turn, Henry shook his head. “Eclipse is licked,” he grunted. “He’ll never get out of there in time.”
The leaders came off the turn, and Alec had to admit that the race looked hopeless for the big colt. Already there were five lengths between the two leaders and the rest of the field. And now Seymour began using his whip on Silver Jet. He struck the gray colt just once, and Silver Jet surged past Moonstruck to take the lead. Then Seymour put aside his whip, riding easily and saving his mount.
Behind them, the third horse leading the rest of the field pulled a length clear, going after Moonstruck. And suddenly out of the pack and still on the inside came Eclipse’s white face.
Alec let out a shout. “Here he comes, Henry!”
Eclipse was in full chase now. He had settled into stride and Ted Robinson let him go without using his whip. Ahead of them was the third horse by two lengths, a length beyond him was Moonstruck, and another length beyond was Silver Jet. The pace was fast but Eclipse was clear of the tightly packed field behind him. Now he had a chance in his chase of the flying gray colt!
Halfway down the backstretch Ted Robinson used his whip and Eclipse was in a drive. He closed the distance between him and the horse ahead, who was now racing at Moonstruck’s flanks.
Alec watched closely as they all went into the far turn with Silver Jet still a good two lengths in front of Moonstruck. He saw Moonstruck begin to wobble and knew the sprinter was through. The colt just behind him was ready to give up too. Now, if Eclipse could get past them, he might have a chance of catching Silver Jet in the homestretch.
Moonstruck was wobbling so much he was bearing out going around the turn, taking with him the colt behind, who was as spent as he was.
Henry leaped to his feet. “Inside, Robinson! Go inside of them on the rail!”
Alec too was up from his chair. Even before he saw Ted Robinson go for his whip again, he knew the veteran jockey would take advantage of the opening on the rail. Eclipse responded quickly and pressed inside the two tired colts in front of him. Yet even as he made his bid, the two colts came to an abrupt stop. Moonstruck wobbled against Eclipse and crowded him against the rail.
Robinson pulled up Eclipse, bounced off the rail, and then slammed back against Moonstruck. Neither horse went down, and in a fraction of a second Eclipse was again in the clear. He seemed unhurt and was full of run but Robinson made no effort to catch Silver Jet. A horse could take just so many bad breaks during the running of a race, and Eclipse had had more than his share. The veteran jockey let the colt go but wisely did not urge him, as far ahead Silver Jet neared the finish line.
Alec and Henry watched the gray colt being driven all out down the homestretch by Dan Seymour. And the jockey did not slow him down after passing beneath the finish wire. Silver Jet went a full mile and a quarter before being brought down to an easy gallop.
Henry said, “Seymour had orders to work him the Derby distance. I wonder if they’ll announce the time for it.”
The television cameras stayed on Silver Jet until he was jogging back. Then they picked up Eclipse and the announcer said, “I don’t believe he hurt himself in that unfortunate jam on the turn, and Moonstruck looks all right too. It was just one of those bad breaks that come all too often in racing.”
Henry’s eyes didn’t leave Eclipse all the time the husky colt appeared on the screen. “He never had a chance today, never had room to do his running. This race has nothing to do with the Derby picture.”
Alec smiled. “You’d better be careful what you say, Henry.”
“Why?”
“I think I just heard someone give Silver Jet’s time for the mile and a sixteenth. It was a minute and forty-three seconds.”
Henry turned to Alec, his eyes showing his great surprise. “If you heard right,” he said, “I’m wrong, Alec.”
Silver Jet was in the winner’s circle, and the announcer said, “The time for the mile and a sixteenth, ladies and gentlemen, was one minute and forty-three seconds, which equals the race record!”
“You were right, Alec,” Henry said. “And he did it on a wet track, too! It’s hard to believe that he went a second faster than Eclipse did last Saturday in beating Lady Lee.”
Now Tom Flint was standing beside his colt, and the crowd closed in upon the ring while photographers took pictures. When they had finished, Dan Seymour dismounted and Silver Jet was led from the ring.
The announcer looked up at Tom Flint’s towering frame during the interview and asked, “You had your colt go the full Derby distance, Mr. Flint. Would you tell us his time?”
Flint’s big face showed nothing, but his eyes were very bright. “Since a lot of watches were probably on him, I don’t mind telling you,” he said in his deep voice. “He worked the Derby distance in two minutes, four and a fifth seconds.”
“That’s fast enough to have won most of the past Derbies,” the announcer said.
“Most of ’em,” Flint repeated evasively.
“You mustn’t be as scared now as you were in the paddock before the race, Mr. Flint.”
Silver Jet’s owner and trainer buttoned the top of his raincoat. “I’m still scared,” he said.
“Of Golden Vanity?” the announcer asked.
Flint took a step away from the television camera, then stopped. “Of Golden Vanity, Eclipse, Wintertime, Lady Lee and just about any and all of the colts we’ll be up against in the Derby.” He shoved his hands into his pockets and left the ring with Dan Seymour.
The announcer was about to conclude the program when a note was handed to him. After reading it, he said, “Eclipse has been examined and found to be unhurt. He’ll be shipped to Churchill Downs on Monday as planned.”
Alec turned off the television set. “Are we going to Churchill Downs next week as planned, Henry
“After today’s race a lot of people will be saying that Silver Jet is going to be the colt Golden Vanity will have to beat in the Derby,” Henry said. “Perhaps so. Anyway, they’re the same type of front runner. It should be a good show going down that last furlong.”
Alec turned away from him, thinking that once again Henry had evaded a direct answer to his question.
But Henry hadn’t finished. “We couldn’t miss such a show, could we, Alec? Yes, we’ll be going to Churchill Downs next week.”
When they left the attic Alec knew they’d be taking the filly to Kentucky, but he was certain of nothing else. Henry hadn’t said if she’d run in the Derby or the Oaks or in any one of a number of shorter and less important races. But it was enough to know they were going. And he felt that Henry wouldn’t be going to Churchill Downs unless Black Minx was ready to race.
“SHOW THOSE HARDBOOTS!”
15
It rained hard the next day but Alec and Henry had plenty of inside work to do. Together they groomed the Black, Alec working on the stallion’s sweeping tail. He always kept it clean and free from tangles. Occasionally, as he did today, he thinned it out. First he brushed and combed the heavy tail, which reached almost to the stall floor, then carefully he selected a few strands at a time and pulled them out. He knew that the root or dock of the tail was not sensitive and that no horse would object to a thinning out, provided too many hairs were not pulled at the same time.
The Black pushed his slender muzzle toward Alec’s chest. Fondly, tenderly, Alec stroked his horse. The stallion stood quietly beneath his touch. The few extra pounds the Black had been carrying at the beginning of the breeding season were gone. He was now lean and hard, almost in racing trim.
Even more than the Black’s physical well-being, Alec was impressed by the stallion’s remarkable adjustment to life at Hopeful Farm. No longer was he as nervous and excitable as he had been in the early days, and he seemed to understand his freedom in pastures and paddocks. One day Alec had even caught him standing at his stall window, neighing at Satan in the front paddock, much as a couple of good neighbors might have done.
After Alec had thinned out the stallion’s tail as much as he wanted, he went to Henry. “We’ll need plenty more for the filly,” he said.
Henry answered impatiently, “Come on, Alec. We’ll get some more hair from Satan, and if that’s not enough we’ll have Napoleon contribute some.”
During the next hour they went from Satan to Napoleon. Then, still needing more hair, they went to the mares, thinning out one tail after another. When they had enough, they started for Black Minx’s stall.
Henry grinned as he opened the door. “Looks kinda pretty, doesn’t it?”
Alec nodded. The false tail was predominately black from the stallions and the bay mares, but intermingled with it were plenty of Napoleon’s long gray hairs. “Like a dark-headed man getting prematurely gray,” he said.
The filly turned to them, her bright eyes disclosing her eagerness to leave the stall. Henry said, “Not now, girl. Later we’ll go out for a walk but not just now. Alec, you get at her head and hand me a little of the hair at a time as I ask for it.” He took a few long strands, then handed the rest of the hair to Alec.
For a long while, Alec held Black Minx’s halter and watched Henry braid the hair to the filly’s own, using a heavy, strong sewing thread. Little by little Black Minx was acquiring a new tail!
She was aware something was going on. Yet she remained in the corner of her stall without kicking. Alec handed Henry more strands of hair as they were called for and kept talking to the filly, assuring her she’d like the results of what they were doing.
It was a good hour before Henry finished and stepped back from the filly, examining his job. Finally he turned to Alec and said, “That’s it, and it’s not a bad job if I do say so myself. Not bad at all.”
Alec smiled and nodded in agreement. Already the filly was swishing her new tail, and her eyes grew brighter in her excitement at the unfamiliar sound of it striking against the side of her stall. She swished harder, bringing the tail across her hind legs and finally swinging it all the way around to her flanks and back. Alec left her head to stand outside the stall with Henry.
Black Minx moved quickly to the center of her stall, then stopped. She seemed content just to stand still and swish her tail. Her eyes lost none of their brightness and her small ears were pitched forward. Occasionally she tossed her head, snorting, but for the most part her tail did all the moving.
“She missed having a tail, all right,” Alec said.
“She sure did, and it makes her appearance a lot neater. I’d forgotten how much I missed it, too.”
The end of the false tail came just above the filly’s hocks. It could have been a little longer, a little fuller, but, nevertheless, it was a remarkable improvement.
Alec said, “Napoleon’s hairs sure look strange amid all that black.”
Henry laughed. “Something old from Nap, something new from the others,” he said. “Maybe it’ll bring us luck.”
“I hope so,” Alec replied.
A little later they left Black Minx alone, giving her a chance to become thoroughly familiar with her new tail.
It continued raining all that afternoon, through the night and all the next morning. But early Monday afternoon it stopped and Henry hurriedly saddled the filly. He was afraid that more rain might keep her in her stall another day. She needed a long gallop, but he didn’t want her going out in the rain for fear she’d catch cold and upset all his plans for the trip to Churchill Downs on Thursday.
Alec arrived at the barn at the appointed time for Black Minx’s workout, and Henry boosted him up. He turned in his saddle and noted that the filly wasn’t swishing her tail as much as she had done the day before. Maybe, he decided, she had become used to it already, had accepted it, and had forgotten that only two days before she’d had none.
“She seems to be taking her new tail for granted now,” he called to Henry as the filly was led up the road.
“I like to think so,” Henry said. “That’s what we were hoping she’d do.”
Alec nodded. Yes, he thought, that’s exactly what we want. If she forgets that she has been without a tail, she’ll forget the accident that caused it to be amputated. Then she won’t be so apt to get excited in the close quarters of the gate.
A few moments later they were on the rain-sodden track, and Henry said, “Just let her gallop two miles, Alec. When you’re finished we’ll try having her stand at the gate again.”
Nodding, Alec let her go. She moved into her slow gallop, her feet stepping lightly over the mud. Alec soon learned that for all the good the new tail did for her appearance, and for all it might do to help matters at the gate, it certainly did not lend her any added incentive to run. She moved no faster and no slower than before.
Several times during the first mile he felt her grab for the bit, but he kept it away from her. She continued her slow gallop, although he constantly urged her to hasten her strides. Only by taking hold of the bit would she run for him. She still had a mind of her own, and was going to have her own way under saddle.
At the end of the two-mile gallop he took her back to Henry at the starting gate. When she saw it her ears pricked forward, but other than that there was no indication of interest or fear.
Just behind the gate, Henry reached for her bridle and led her toward one of the starting stalls. She walked with him, never balking, and Henry was grinning when he had her standing in the stall.
He stroked the filly’s head, and said to Alec, “The new tail is working. I could close the doors today but I’m not going to do it. It’ll be enough just to have her stand here for a few minutes.”
Alec continued to sit quietly in the saddle. There was nothing else for him to do, except to wonder at the swiftness with which Black Minx had accepted her new tail and had forgotten being without one and the reason for it.
&nbs
The next day Alec became conscious of an increasing feeling of tension. His excitement mounted until he couldn’t sit still, and when he had no immediate jobs he created something to do.
He knew Silver Jet and Eclipse had arrived at Churchill Downs. He also knew that Golden Vanity, Wintertime and Lady Lee were at the Keeneland track about fifty miles from Churchill Downs; they would race in the Blue Grass Stakes at that track on Thursday. That was the day on which he and Henry and the filly would leave Hopeful Farm for Kentucky.
Meanwhile, Alec studied every item about the three-year-olds that appeared in the newspapers. One of these gave an account of Golden Vanity’s latest work at the Keeneland track, and Alec read it with avid interest.
Golden Vanity, favored by many to win the Kentucky Derby at Churchill Downs a week from Saturday, breezed seven-eighths of a mile in 1:29 at the Keeneland oval today. Nino Nella, his regular rider, was up.
Without question Golden Vanity is the best three-year-old to be bred in California. His owner, Mr. Lionel Graham, is bringing along his own cheering section to the Derby.
The chestnut colt has worked impressively since his arrival from California two weeks ago. However, the consensus among the observers at Keeneland is this: “We want to see what Golden Vanity does when some other horse looks him in the eye. He had pretty much his own way on the West Coast but things will be different here in the East. There’s many a fast horse that falls short of expectations when another runner races him head on head. Golden Vanity has speed. We know that. But so have Lady Lee and Wintertime, and they’ll both be in there against him in the Blue Grass Stakes on Thursday. We’ll know more then about Golden Vanity’s Derby status.”