Man O'War (24 page)

Louis Feustel sent for the veterinarian. “It's from wolfing down his feed,” he said anxiously. “I knew it would come sooner or later. Get the colic medicine, Danny.”

Watching his colt paw away at the straw bedding, Danny hoped Feustel was right. Man o' War might just have a stomach ache from eating too fast. But he knew, too, that colic could be the outward sign of something far more serious than indigestion. The abdominal pain could be caused by twisted intestines or something even worse. The veterinarian would know.

Danny found it hard waiting for the doctor to come. He recalled the hard races this growing colt had run and his fractious antics at the barrier. Had Man o' War hurt himself without their knowing it? He knew that he was worrying needlessly, that there was no reason for so much concern. The colt was big and strong. He had thrown off influenza earlier in the year. He could lick this, too. Colic attacks were nothing new or unusual around a stable.

The veterinarian arrived and, after examining the big colt, confirmed Feustel's diagnosis. “It's indigestion, all right.”

Everyone in the stable relaxed and the veterinarian added, “The pain is leaving him already. He'll be himself soon enough and clamoring for feed. Go light on him for a few days, Louis.”

“Sure, we'll drop him out of the Great American and wait for the Tremont Stakes the following week.”

So Man o' War stayed in his stall while Bonnie Mary won the Great American carrying 127 pounds, only three pounds less than Man o' War would have carried had he gone to the post. What was even more impressive, Bonnie Mary lowered the race record a full second by doing the five furlongs in 58 ⅖ seconds, faster than any of Man o' War's races over the same distance!

A week later, on July 5, Man o' War emerged again to reclaim his share of two-year-old honors. Fully recovered from his attack of colic, he went postward in the Tremont Stakes.
Despite the fact that Bonnie Mary was not in the race, the great stands were overflowing with people who wanted to compare this colt to the brilliant filly. Only two other stables would send their charges against Man o' War, and the spectators quickly made him the favorite, even though he was carrying the heavy impost of 130 pounds. His very presence on the track excited them and they watched his quick movements with wonder. Here was a horse that was all Thoroughbred … and something else. They had no doubt about the outcome of the race and yet they awaited the start breathlessly.

Man o' War did not let them down. He put on his usual performance behind the barrier, almost unseating Johnny Loftus. But once the barrier whipped up, he broke on top and ran the six furlongs under a strangling pull to win. His time was unimpressive, a slow 1:13. But it did not matter to the crowd. He could have gone much faster if he had been let out the way he'd wanted to be. Here, they knew, was a champion.

It was only then that Man o' War was given the rest from racing that Danny thought he needed. The stable moved to Saratoga immediately after the running of the Tremont. Everyone knew that Mr. Riddle liked this track best of all and would cherish every victory his horses won there. The Hopeful Stakes would be his prime objective, just as it was for every other horse owner in the country, for the winner of the Hopeful usually ended the season as the champion of the two-year-olds.

But the Hopeful and the races that preceded it were still a long while off. The Saratoga meeting would not open until August 1, so for the rest of July, Man o' War loafed.

Danny relaxed with his colt. He loved Saratoga for its quiet, natural beauty. The air from the Adirondack Mountains was cool and exhilarating, and yet the pace was slow and serene. He thrived on it, the same as everyone else. No wonder stable
owners liked to come here with their horses, he decided. Nowhere was the grass more luxuriant, the water more sparkling, the weather more pleasant.

Often at night, when Man o' War was bedded down, Danny would walk the quiet streets of the town, passing the large hotels with their long porches where people sat even now, weeks before the races started. Saratoga was a health resort as well as the site of the oldest track in America.

He passed, too, the brightly lit white-painted houses set well back from the streets, their lawns level and green. In one rambling villa on Union Avenue the Riddles lived. He would watch guests enter and, with no trouble at all, visualize Mr. Riddle extolling the great speed of Man o' War to them, the same as he did at the stables. The guests would listen attentively and nod their heads in complete agreement.

It was easy to say nice things about such a colt, especially with old friends who shared one's interest in the goal common to all horse owners, the winning of the Hopeful. They would know, of course, that the best two-year-olds in America were beginning to arrive at the track. Jim Rowe was already there with Upset and Wildair, both ready to race. He had another youngster also, John P. Grier, who, according to stable talk, was not quite ready to go but was supposed to be the best of the lot. Mike Daly, too, was due in with Golden Broom, who had fully recovered from the quarter crack he had developed in the spring.

Danny moved away from the house. He recalled Golden Broom's speed very well, but he didn't think the Jeffords colt would give Man o' War any trouble. Neither would any of the others. His colt was fully rested. He looked more like a four-year-old than he had at Belmont, standing over sixteen hands in his plates and with the weight to match. He was now close
to 1,000 pounds, which was big weight for a two-year-old. And there was not a pimple on him.

Early the next morning Danny walked Man o' War through the pine woods that surrounded the track. Soon these golden, easy days would be over and his colt's real work would begin again. Man o' War was ready for it. He was destined to be a greater horse than his sire, Fair Play, ever was, Danny decided. And for a moment he recalled again his days at Nursery Stud with its stallions and mares and foals.

Man o' War was much leggier than Fair Play. Bigger in body, too, and broader across the loins. All in all, this colt was much better balanced than his sire.

Danny watched as Man o' War decided to get down and roll. Carefully he lowered his great body and then, turning on his back, thrashed the air with his legs. Finally he stood up, shaking himself.

Would any of the top two-year-olds he'd meet at Saratoga really make him run? Danny wondered. If Man o' War was ever extended it would be something to see. Even so, five and six furlongs were much too short for him. He needed more distance to stretch out. But that would have to wait until the following year.

Suddenly Man o' War snorted. Danny followed his altered gaze and saw another horse being walked a short distance away. He recognized Bonnie Mary, the brilliant filly who had won the Great American at Belmont when Man o' War had been confined to his stall. She was scheduled to go to the post against Man o' War in his first race at Saratoga. Would she be the one to make him extend himself?

The big colt tugged at the lead shank, trying to move toward her. Danny shook his head at Man o' War's eagerness. “A
filly
,” he muttered. “Wouldn't you know?”

On August 2, 1919, Man o' War went postward for his first start at Saratoga. It was the thirty-sixth running of the historic United States Hotel Stakes at three-quarters of a mile and worth $7,600 to the winner. Danny stood at the gap in the fence through which the horses had passed. It was the largest and best field his colt had faced, but he had no doubt Man o' War would win. Neither, it seemed, did the spectators have any doubt, for they had once more made him the heavy favorite even though he was carrying 130 pounds and giving weight to all his opponents.

Danny studied the field of ten horses, his eyes finding Bonnie Mary. She was the only one carrying close to high weight, 127 pounds. The crowd had made her second choice. Could she carry her heavy impost against such a colt as Man o' War? A few minutes more and Danny, along with everyone else, would have his answer.

The others in the field were lightly weighted even though they came out of some of the best stables in the country and
were being ridden by outstanding jockeys. Upset was the third choice of the crowd, but he had been beaten by Bonnie Mary in the Great American. He carried the same weight as he had in that race, 115 pounds, but today's distance was six furlongs, an eighth of a mile farther. Would the extra furlong and weight advantage mean that he could catch Bonnie Mary?

Man o' War was the idol of the overflowing stands, and Danny's skin tingled as he heard the applause for him. Would his colt's name be added to the names of the famous winners of the United States Hotel Stakes … Hanover, Old Rosebud, St. James, Pompey, Scapa Flow, and Jamestown? Danny had read about them all.

He watched the field round the far turn and go up the back-stretch, where the barrier awaited them. Racing around a turn didn't bother Man o' War any more than a straight course. He had proved that in his last three races.

Danny was more fearful of the other jockeys than of their mounts. Eddie Ambrose was up on Upset; Buddy Ensor on Bonnie Mary. McAtee was riding David Harum, while Fator, who could rate a horse better than any other jockey in the country, was up on Carmandale. Those were the fellows to watch, he decided, for they were out to put an end to Man o' War's victories.

“Just get him clear, Johnny,” Danny muttered to himself. “Get him clear and running.” But he knew Johnny Loftus would have a difficult time. He had drawn eighth position, and there was a good chance the others would jam him at the start.

The field had reached the barrier and Man o' War was already giving the starter a lot of trouble. He was eager to get off and Loftus was shaking him up still more. Twice he broke through the barrier, taking several colts with him.

Danny's eyes never left them. There was no doubt that
Johnny Loftus wasn't going to wait until the others got off today. He meant to take Man o' War to the front right away, afraid perhaps of the traffic jam that might develop ahead of him if he broke too slowly. But he was having his hands full restraining the big colt, and as he broke through the barrier once more Danny wondered how much the heavy weight was telling on his colt.

It was all of six minutes after post time when Mars Cassidy, the official starter, had the field lined up the way he wanted it. Only then did he press the lever, making the barrier spring upward. The race was on!

Danny saw Man o' War plunge forward. He was out in front and running! The deep breath Danny had been holding was expelled in a great sigh of relief. The way was clear for Man o' War. There would be nothing to stop him, nothing more to this big stake race but
his
colt.

Everyone else at the track knew it, too. They all sat back and watched in silent awe as Man o' War drew easily away from the rest of the field until Loftus started pulling him back. From then on it was only a case of watching the red colt fight for his head and a chance to run the way he would have liked. At the end of the race Loftus, smiling in his moment of triumph, was looking back at the others strung out far behind him. Upset was the horse nearest to him, followed by Homely and then by the filly Bonnie Mary. The winning time was a good 1:12 ⅖, made under the strongest kind of restraint.

The crowd went wild over Man o' War's spectacular and easy victory. Horsemen and fans alike followed him back to the open stable area, and Danny along with the other grooms tried to keep order by splashing water all about while washing the big colt. They did this despite the fact that Mr. Riddle and his prominent guests were there. They kept the newsmen and photographers
back, too. No one could get close enough to touch Man o' War. It didn't matter that they were getting soaking wet themselves. They were dressed to tend horses, but these others, these tourists (they were all tourists now, even Mr. Riddle), had to keep back because of their fancy clothes. Not only that. After the race he had run, Man o' War needed all the room and air he could get.

Danny washed the colt's forelegs, muttering, “They'd make fools of themselves over far lesser horses than this one. Stand still, Red.”

Mr. Riddle had stepped back from the spraying water along with the other visitors and newsmen. He understood the grooms' actions as well as the next man. But his pulse quickened as he looked over the long, powerful lines of his statuesque chestnut colt. He was very proud of Man o' War, more so than of any horse he had ever owned. He smiled patiently as drops of water fell on him from the broad sweeping motions made by men with dripping sponges in their hands. And he listened to the glowing comments of the men around him.

“He is the greatest two-year-old I've ever seen since I came home from France,” one friend said. “Nor did I see one in all Europe that I would class with him.”

Mr. Riddle nodded. He knew Thomas Welsh was usually very sparse in his praise of racehorses. It was a good sign.

Andrew Joyner, another friend, said, “I have to admit that he's as good as his daddy was at two. I think he might even make as great a distance-running three-year-old as Fair Play.”

Mr. Riddle nodded, satisfied again with this critic's opinion, even though he thought it had been given a little reluctantly. Andrew Joyner had trained Fair Play, so it wasn't easy to admit that Man o' War might be as great as his sire. Mr. Riddle smiled. “He'll be greater than Fair Play, Andrew,” he said confidently, “much greater. You'll see.”

Behind him someone said, “I'm sure he can shoulder as much weight as any two-year-old of the last twenty-five years and still win.”

A newsman seemed to agree, for he exclaimed loudly, “He can carry all the weight they put on his back, all right. Did you notice how Loftus was just looking around at the scenery in the last stage of the race? There never was a more glorious two-year-old, and I'm including Colin and St. Simon, even Spendthrift and Eclipse and Herod.”