Man O'War (23 page)

The Riddles were there, standing beside Feustel, who held Man o' War's head. Loftus was still in the saddle, trying to keep the colt in position and at the proper angle for a good picture. Never was there a more beautiful colt. The eyes of all who looked upon him glowed. They were reluctant to let him
go, to bring this moment to an end. They seemed to sense they were watching the beginning of something that happened just once in a lifetime.

But soon, Danny thought, the ceremony would be over. Then he would be able to put the black-and-yellow cooler on Man o' War and take him back to the barn. Soon the colt would be his alone again. Or would he, now that he was on his way to greatness?

Danny found that he didn't have Man o' War to himself back at the barn. Louis Feustel hovered around the colt like a mother hen, keeping outsiders away from Man o' War and telling all the stableboys what to do in short, terse commands.

“We've got ourselves a champ,” he said. “See that you take care of him right. Where's the warm water? Danny, get a move on. Don't just stand there gawking. And Frank, you got the water too hot. Cool it down some. Mike, get his halter. Quick.”

Feustel removed the colt's bridle and slipped on the halter. “There … that's better. Give him a sip of water now, Danny. Just a swallow. Whoa, that's enough. Careful now. Here … hold him, Danny. I'll do the washing myself. Set that warm water down, Frank. Step back, Mike, take off that cover first. Strip him down, that's it. Now give me the sponge.”

Feustel filled the sponge with water, held it between the colt's ears, and squeezed gently. The water ran down over the head and face, carrying much of the sweat with it. Man o' War
tried to catch the water with his tongue, then he shook his head and reared.

They all stepped back until he came down. “Better put the chain through his mouth, Danny,” the trainer said. “He's still full of beans.”

Feustel continued his washing, sweeping the sponge carefully over the colt's face, eyes, muzzle, and nostrils. He squeezed some of the water into the colt's mouth to carry out the saliva. Then, carrying the pail of water, he began moving faster, dipping the sponge often and sweeping the glistening body in long strokes along the neck, back, sides, and rump.

Everybody else stood clear, not caring if the water was splashing over them or not. Danny's gaze left Man o' War a moment to take in Mr. Riddle and a group of friends who were standing a short distance away. He heard one of the men say to Mr. Riddle, “You rung in a four-year-old on us, Sam. No two-year-old could be as big as he is. And not as fast!”

Mr. Riddle laughed with his friend. His eyes didn't leave his colt as he said, “Yes, he's going to be hard to beat, if he doesn't go wrong.”

“Don't you worry about that,” Louis Feustel said, stopping his work. “He won't go wrong, sir, not this colt. He'll thrive on all the work we give him. He's big through and through.”

“He's got the will to win and that's certainly one of the greatest attributes a horse can have,” Mr. Riddle answered.

“He's got class, this colt has,” Feustel agreed. “You know, they say that a horse with real class sometimes
does
have a heart that's larger than normal for his body. I'll bet his is big, real big. When he caught those other colts, they just pulled themselves up like a man putting brakes on his car. Yes, sir, he's got as much class as any horse I ever saw.”

Danny held the lead shank tight as Feustel moved to the
front again and began washing the colt's chest. Then the swift, sure strokes of the trainer's hand swept the forelegs and belly clean. He changed water often, barking orders when the pails weren't ready fast enough for him. He cleaned the hind legs. He was thorough but careful to avoid getting kicked or stepped on, for Man o' War was fussing in his excitement. He washed the long tail, also under it, putting the tail into the bucket and sloshing it around in the water. Then he lifted the tail and whisked out most of the water. He stepped back to observe his work, then started again on the lower legs.

As Danny's eyes swept over the crowd, he knew that his days alone with Man o' War were a thing of the past. Major Treat was in his stall, waiting for his evening feed. The stable dogs were barking and the smell of mash being cooked was in the air. But the men from the other stables weren't going to dinner as usual. They were all here, just standing around Man o' War, gawking as if they had never seen a racehorse before.

“Yep, we've got ourselves a champ,” he heard Feustel mutter to himself again as he picked up the curved scraper and began removing most of the water from Man o' War's dripping body. Danny watched the sure, sweeping swipes of the scraper. Even the head trainer wanted to take care of this horse. Man o' War belonged to everybody.

Having finished with the scraper, Feustel used a clean sponge, squeezing it as dry as he could. Then he went all over the big colt again, squeezing water out of the sponge as it collected. When he had the colt as dry as possible, he called for a heavy cooler and covered Man o' War carefully.

“There,” he said finally, satisfied that the blanket was even all around and snug enough not to slip back. His keen eyes turned to Danny, and for the first time that afternoon his face seemed to lose its grimness. He even smiled as he said, “You
walk him, Danny. Cool him out carefully, now. Just a few swallows of water slowly, and warm it up some … don't want it cold. Off with him, now.”

Danny, too, was grinning as the crowd opened up for him and his colt. He held Man o' War close. He hadn't lost him yet. “Come on, Red,” he said. “We're going for a nice long walk, just you and me.”

For the next two days Man o' War rested and loafed. Louis Feustel had him walked each day and held to a jog on the track. The big colt's racing campaign was off to a flying start and everybody wanted to keep it that way. They all knew what they had in the burly colt, as did everyone who read the newspapers.

The headlines proclaimed: “Man o' War a Whirlwind.” And sportswriters reported in detail the impression left in the minds of all those who had seen him easily win his first race. They prophesied great things for him among the juveniles, for he had made “six high-class youngsters look like $200 horses.” They were all certain he would be a hard colt to beat in the rich stakes to come.

“He'll be hard to beat, all right,” Danny said, reading the lengthy accounts about his colt. “Nothing will even come close enough to touch him.”

And on the third day after his first start, Man o' War was bridled and taken again to the paddock at Belmont Park. The event was the Keene Memorial, his first stakes race for a winner's purse of $4,200. His opposition consisted of five colts, all more highly regarded than those he had beaten in his first race. Three were being especially watched: On Watch, Ralco, and Hoodwink. Most of the crowd's interest was on the meeting of Man o' War and On Watch because they were sons of Fair Play and Colin, and those sires had been intense rivals in their
racing days. Colin had emerged the champion. Would Man o' War avenge his father's defeat? Both colts were carrying the same weight of 115 pounds. Both were highly regarded. The spectators made up their minds as the horses went to the post. They recalled Man o' War's impressive victory three days earlier. Again they made him the favorite to win.

Danny watched as his colt went postward, prancing closely beside Major Treat. He felt Man o' War wouldn't let any of his followers down. The track was sloppy from an earlier rain but that wouldn't bother him. He'd be able to handle himself without trouble. He might do even better than he'd done in his first race. He hadn't been so nervous in the paddock and seemed to be getting used to all the noise and hullabaloo. He was almost keeping in time to the music from the track band, his heels dancing in the mud. He was as eager as ever. He knew where he was going.

Danny hugged Man o' War's cooler. “C'mon, Red, show them again,” he muttered to himself. Oh, he'd like to have been up on him, all right. But the big colt was the thing. Nothing else mattered much, so long as Man o' War raced the way he could. “C'mon, Red. C'mon,” he repeated loudly.

He knew Johnny Loftus again had orders to break Man o' War from the barrier slowly and to go only fast enough to win. Everybody, including Feustel and Mr. Riddle, didn't want to overdo Man o' War. He had too much racing ahead of him.

“
Keep a good hold of him once you're out in front
,” Feustel had instructed Loftus.

Danny watched the field line up behind the barrier. Man o' War was quiet for a change, and the others were steady too. There was no delay. The barrier went up and the yellow flag fell. The Keene Memorial was on!

Ralco came out of the pack first. Danny searched the surging
mass of horses for the black-and-yellow colors of Man o' War. He found them well back in the middle. Another horse moved up beside Ralco to the front. Johnny Loftus had Man o' War three lengths behind, but the big colt was steady and out of trouble.

“Now, Red. Now!” Danny shouted.

Man o' War came forward with great, ground-eating strides as if he had actually heard Danny's call! For a few seconds another colt stayed alongside and Danny recognized On Watch. But the other couldn't stay with Man o' War as he swept down upon the two colts leading the field. He bounded past them as if they had come to a dead stop. On Watch swept by the two spent leaders too, but he was no match for the big red colt. Man o' War moved easily away, and when he passed under the finish wire Johnny Loftus was again standing in his stirrup irons in an attempt to slow him down. Once more Man o' War had won in classic style, making his competition look like “cheap” horses rather than the high-class stock they were.

Danny watched his colt come back. Like everyone else, he was beginning to wonder how fast Man o' War could really go. There was no doubt that he could race much faster than he was being allowed to. But how fast was that?

Now Feustel was convinced more than ever that he had the best two-year-old of the season. He nodded in complete agreement and understanding when Mr. Riddle said, “Don't overdo him early, Louis. I want him at the top of his form for Saratoga, still over a month off. His possibilities are immense.”

“I know,” the trainer answered, “but after today's race it won't be so easy. They got a better line on him now. He'll never go to the post so light again. They'll start throwing the weight on him to slow him down.”

“It can't be helped,” Mr. Riddle said.

“I know,” the trainer said.

The meeting at Belmont Park closed, but racing resumed the next day at the Jamaica course just a few miles away. There it was planned to start Man o' War again although the stable remained at Belmont. To get him used to the Jamaica track and crowd, Feustel received permission from the officials to work him one afternoon between races.

Danny watched his colt closely. Perhaps the public workout would show how fast Man o' War could really run. Loftus took him five furlongs under a snug hold, but the big colt acted as if he were in a race. He took the bit and fought for his head every stride of the way. His eagerness to run electrified all who watched, and when he flashed under the wire, his time equaled the track record!

Man o' War, the newspapers reported that evening, was the equal of any of the older horses in training. But Danny knew that, powerful as the colt seemed to the public and the press, he still had a lot of growing to do. Only fate knew the full potential of Man o' War. Only time held the answer.

Man o' War raced on, meeting only youngsters his own age. And, as Feustel had predicted, to make the races fair the track handicappers added more weight to his back. Lead plates were inserted in the colt's saddlebag with each successive race.

But the leaden weights failed to keep him from winning. He carried 120 pounds in the Youthful Stakes and won in an easy gallop. Two days later Feustel sent him postward in the Hudson Stakes, and on his broad back was the heaviest impost of his young life, 130 pounds! Still he won easily. It seemed that no matter how much weight the track handicappers assigned him, there was no slowing him down.

Feustel told the press, “The only problem we got with him is to keep him from wolfing down his feed. He tries to eat like
he races. I put a bit in his mouth to slow him down some.”

Danny didn't consider the colt's habit of eating too hastily their only problem. What bothered him more than anything else was that Man o' War was using up more energy behind the barrier than ever before. And with the heavier weights the handicappers were assigning him, it was only a question of time before it would tell on him.

No two-year-old in history had carried so much weight so early in the season. Everyone knew it, including the other jockeys, who were doing everything possible to increase Man o' War's restlessness behind the barrier, hoping the heavy weight would wear him down.

Danny also wished Feustel would stop racing Man o' War so often with so little rest in between. Of course, he was a big colt and could take hard racing as well as work. But he was still only a two-year-old. His next race was just as few days off and in it he'd be meeting for the first time the top two-year-old filly of the year, Bonnie Mary.

Danny let his hand slide over Man o' War's neck. He supposed he shouldn't question Feustel's program when the big colt seemed to be thriving on his frequent races. He was gaining weight and growing like a weed. He was full of spirit and he was sound. What more could anyone want from a young colt? There was no reason to worry about anything.

But the following day Danny, as well as the others in the stable, had cause for concern. Man o' War became uneasy in his stall. He got down, rolled, and got up again. He began sweating profusely and bit his flanks. He was in pain, and the signs pointed to a colic attack.