Man O'War (19 page)

Man o' War's gallops were kept to a mile and a half during January and February. He went to the track every day except on those days when the track was frozen and dangerously slippery. Snow didn't keep him in his stall and he loved galloping in it, sending it flying in his wake.

Watching him, Feustel told Danny, “Snow is good for a horse's feet and legs. Even galloping in the mud is okay unless a cold rain is falling at the same time. Getting their bellies wet won't hurt them any. But getting their bellies
and
backs wet at the same time is liable to cause trouble.”

By the first of March work started in earnest for all the two-year-olds. Danny, along with everyone else, crossed his fingers in anticipation of the spring races to come. He watched his colt's gallops lengthened to three miles, then the breezes came. First Louis Feustel had him run a quarter mile at a good clip, then the distance was extended to three furlongs until, finally, the big colt was going a half mile in long, wonderful strides.

Danny saw Feustel stop his watch at fifty-five seconds, good time for a two-year-old under a tight hold!
He's coming along
, Danny told himself hopefully.
He's coming along fast.

But the boy knew that Man o' War still had much to learn about racing before he faced the starter. Like all the other colts, he was skittish and nervous on the track. If a piece of paper blew across his path he would shy quickly, almost unseating Gordon.

“He'll get over that soon,” Feustel told him. “A couple of months from now he'll be running straight and true despite anything that happens.”

“I hope so,” Danny answered. “He's going to hear a lot of noise and excitement coming down the stretch.”

So he waited patiently but with some concern as March passed and Man o' War's work was stepped up still more. His colt continued to rear skyward every time he was saddled and mounted. But everyone had come to expect this token battle from Man o' War. He'd always be something of a rebel, and it didn't matter very much so long as he didn't carry it too far.

The weather became warmer and Man o' War shed his winter hair. His coat was a fiery red bronze, becoming ever sleeker as the weeks passed. Danny noted that Louis Feustel was watching the big colt more carefully, too. Every lightning move Man o' War made was as dramatic as his glistening body. Those who had looked upon him as just another fast youngster, whose early speed was showing some promise, began to sit up and take greater notice.

“Maybe we've got a prize package in this colt,” the trainer told Danny one night early in May. “We're moving the stable to Havre de Grace racetrack in a few days, but I don't plan to start him there. I'm going slowly with him, more slowly than with any of the others. I don't want to make any mistakes, just in case …”

Havre de Grace was only a short distance from the training farm, and the following week the Riddle and Jeffords stables moved there. The mere sight of the large number of horses preparing for the spring races sent quivers through Danny's body. He thought of what might be in store for his colt. He tried to quell his excitement, knowing that it would not have a good effect on Man o' War. But his horse was as excited as he.

“Take it easy,” he told Man o' War, his words of caution meant for himself as much as for his colt. “We're not even going to race here.”

Feustel ordered slow workouts, but Clyde Gordon had his hands full keeping down the colt's speed. Despite everything the trainer and rider could do, Man o' War was beginning to move into the spotlight.

“They still don't know what I've got in store for them,” the trainer said one morning. “He's fairly hard and ready for more speed if I ask it of him. A few fast moves and he'll be ready to race. But I don't want to ask him for it too soon. First we've got to teach him to break from the barrier. He has to learn to get away faster.”

“He'll learn, Boss,” Danny said. “It may take a little time but he'll learn.”

“We'll find out,” Feustel said, “starting tomorrow morning.

The next day Danny had Man o' War rubbed and brushed until his coat gleamed like polished copper. He held the big colt while Gordon mounted. When the man was up and settled in his seat Feustel said, “Danny, take the Major out with him this morning. Go as far as the barrier. Leave him there.”

Eagerly Danny saddled the old gelding and mounted, taking hold of the lead shank to Man o' War's bridle. He heard Feustel tell Gordon, “I'll have a pair of colts with you at the barrier. They're fast, so try to break him with them and come out together. He ought to remember his yearling trials and break straight.”

They rode toward the track, the sun golden in the east, the mist rising from the river beyond the backstretch. Danny felt the enchantment of the early morning and the mounting excitement of the big colt beside him. Man o' War was fresh and eager to run.

“Take a good hold on him, Clyde,” he said cautiously.

“I know. He's up against the bit even now, walking. No
one's ever goin' to have to drive this colt, Danny. He'll do everything with his whole heart, every single minute.” The man took another wrap of the reins about his hands.

They kept to the outside rail going up the track. A short distance away was the elastic barrier with a set of four young horses behind it. Suddenly the barrier snapped up, sending the colts away. Danny recognized one of them as Golden Broom, whose pistonlike legs had driven him from the flat-footed start like a catapult. He watched as the golden colt flashed by, lengthening his lead more and more.

“We'll never get off like him,” Danny told Gordon, “but we'll catch him in the end.”

“Maybe,” the rider shrugged, “if we don't run out of ground first.” His gaze turned back to the barrier. “There's time enough for that later on.”

The two colts that Feustel had sent with them were already at the barrier. Man o' War's body broke out in a sweat as he approached it, and Danny wondered if the elastic webbing would upset him. Except for that, the standing start would be no different from his fall speed trials.

Don't hurry him
, he wanted to say to Gordon, but he kept his mouth shut. His advice wouldn't be welcome now. Gordon had enough to do. It took strong hands to control Man o' War.

Behind the barrier Danny removed the lead shank, and Gordon walked Man o' War up to the barrier beside the two other colts. Danny watched him anxiously. His colt was nervous and sniffing what to him must seem an awesome contraption. Suddenly Man o' War reared and twisted away from the barrier.

Clyde Gordon had a difficult time staying in the saddle. He grabbed everything he could in order to stay on as the big colt tried to unseat him. Finally the man regained his balance and
his strong hands had Man o' War under control again. Once more he walked the colt up to the barrier.

“That's it,” Danny mumbled to himself. “Let him get used to it. He's got brains. He'll learn what it's for.”

The two other colts were quiet and in position. The starter stood just inside the rail watching Man o' War, waiting for him to settle down before snapping up the barrier.

Man o' War bolted, trying to break through the elastic webbing. Gordon pulled hard, turning him around. Again the colt reared, twisting and trying to unseat his rider.

“Easy, Red! Easy!” Danny called. He watched Gordon regain control again, turning Man o' War back. Danny knew how suspicious his colt was of the webbing. But he had to get used to it. What Man o' War learned now would affect his whole racing career. Those who were handling him had a big horse. They had to do it right.

Gordon had him right up at the barrier, his nose against it. For a few seconds he was quiet and ready. No more waiting was necessary. The elastic sprang up and the track was clear!

Danny watched the two other colts break ahead of Man o' War. He had expected them to get away first. It didn't matter, for his colt was now off and running!

Clyde Gordon sat low and forward, waiting for Man o' War to settle in stride and not urging him to catch the fast-breaking colts in front. Longer and longer came Man o' War's strides, and Danny could imagine the wind beginning to sing in Gordon's ears!

“Come on, Red!” he shouted at the top of his lungs. Major Treat, surprised by the shrillness of his call, almost jumped from beneath him.

This was no race, Danny reminded himself. There was no reason to get excited. His colt was simply learning to break
from the barrier. He would go a short distance and be pulled up, perhaps to come back and break again if Feustel ordered it. But Danny's heart kept pounding as he watched Man o' War begin to catch up with the others.

The big colt had his legs untangled now, his strides no longer awkward. Suddenly, as though in one mighty leap, he had overtaken the others. He became nothing but a red, whirling blur in Danny's eyes. If he had been running before, he was flying now! Faster and faster he swept down the track, fighting for his head and pulling Gordon clear of the saddle. Never had Danny seen Man o' War run so fast before. Neither had anyone else! Only when Man o' War neared the first turn did he give in to Gordon's hold on his mouth. Slowly, ever so slowly, his strides shortened until in the far-distant backstretch he came to a stop.

As Danny rode Major Treat toward him, he knew that Feustel could no longer keep Man o' War's electrifying speed to himself. This morning everyone at Havre de Grace had been exposed to it, if only for a few blinding seconds. The word would pass from track to track until the whole turf world knew that the Riddle stable had a youngster to watch in the races to come.

Later, Danny walked Man o' War under his cooler. He stopped every once in a while to let the colt take a swallow of water. Only when Man o' War was thoroughly dry under the light sheet and ignored the water bucket did Danny take him to his stall. There he rubbed him down with a mild liniment.

Louis Feustel came into the stall and carefully inspected the colt's legs and feet. “He got away from Clyde this morning but, luckily, he didn't hurt himself,” he said quietly.

“You've got him hardened, that's why,” Danny said. He went back to work, Feustel watching every move he made. He
cleaned Man o' War's feet carefully, picking out all the dirt and washing them inside and out.

“Golden Broom's got trouble,” Feustel said.

Danny looked up. “Did he hurt himself this morning?”

“He's developed a quarter crack in his hoof,” the trainer answered. “It might bother him all his running days. You can never tell about an injury like that.”

Putting down the colt's leg, Danny began stirring a bucket of mud with a small wooden paddle. A horse's feet had to be able to take hard training and racing. No feet, no horse, it was said. And that might be true of the highly regarded Golden Broom.

He added a little more water to the mud until he had a smooth, doughy consistency. He wasn't going to let anything happen to Man o' War's feet if he could help it. This mud clay from Kentucky was playing an important part in his care. When packed right, it kept the foot moist and soft enough to withstand the hard, crushing impacts of the racetrack.

He spread the mud into the middle of the big colt's foot, pressing downward toward the heel until the pack covered the whole foot. Over it he put a small piece of paper that would prevent the pack from coming out until it dried. He put down the foot. Man o' War's weight would press the mud tightly into the foot and frog. Then he went through the same procedure with the next foot.

Louis Feustel said, “You've learned your trade well, Danny.”

“I've had good teachers,” Danny said, not without pride. “Frank, George, a lot of others.” He noted the anxiety for Man o' War in Feustel's eyes and understood. It took more than the skill of a fine trainer to get a horse to the races.

Danny began wrapping Man o' War's legs with soft cotton
and gauze. He was almost done before Louis Feustel spoke again.

“You're sure that this is his water pail?” the trainer asked. He had the empty bucket in his hands and was examining it. “It doesn't look like ours,” he added.

“It's his, all right,” Danny said. “I'm sure of it.”

“Influenza is catching up with a lot of horses on the grounds,” Feustel said. “We've got to be careful it doesn't hit us.”

“I'm watching him like a baby,” Danny said. “I'm even scalding his feed box. He's not going to catch anything.”

“I hope not.”

“He's strong enough to throw off any flu germ,” Danny went on. “He did it as a yearling. He could do it again, if he had to.”

Feustel went to the stall door. “I hope he won't have to.”

When Danny was finished with his work, he removed the colt's halter. “Everybody's happy with you,” he whispered. “Just stay well and sound.” He was not at all certain that his colt could withstand an influenza epidemic if it swept Havre de Grace. He was worried but thought it best not to brood about it.

During the days that followed, he continued to overlook nothing in the care and well-being of Man o' War. He tended to every minor and major chore, never getting out of seeing distance of the big colt's stall and making sure that his charge had plenty of rest during the afternoons, when the races were being run. He went so far as to close the stall door, making sure no noise from the stands would disturb the colt's nap. And when he took him out to graze and walk late in the day, he went where no other horses had eaten. Influenza germs could be left even on blades of grass.

He was really greatly relieved when the time came for the stable to move to Pimlico racetrack, a short distance from Havre de Grace. At that track the two-year-olds would continue their extensive training and some of them would make the first start of their young careers.