Man O'War (27 page)

Nearing the barrier, he could see the horses milling about in back of the webbing. The darkness was shattered by their frenzied movements and the hushed stillness broken by the cries of their riders for more room. He went close to the starter's stand, peering through the half-light while the rain poured down his face.

He saw Upset skitter nervously across the track and bang into Man o' War. Then Constancy hit him from the other side. The big colt plunged forward, almost breaking away from his handler and going through the barrier.

Starter Cassidy was trying to bring the horses and riders under control but the blinding rain only added to his burden. It was evident to Danny that the jockeys were making every possible effort to prevent Man o' War from getting off well. Each time Cassidy had them close to being lined up, the start was spoiled by the willful maneuvering of horses to either side of Man o' War.

Man o' War lashed out with his hoofs when any of the others got close to him. He hit the filly Ethel Gray, who should have been four positions away from him. He lunged at Upset when Willy Knapp brought his colt across the track. Then he reared and tried to break through the barrier.

Mars Cassidy was almost losing control, Danny knew. It
seemed every rider was trying to wear down Man o' War under his high weight. The minutes ticked on, with the rain turning the racing track into deep mud. Could Man o' War still win under such a handicap?

Danny glanced at his watch. Nine minutes had already gone by. The flagman had his yellow flag raised. He would drop it when the barrier was sprung and the horses moved down the track. But when would the moment come?

The rain was streaming down Man o' War's flanks. Loftus finally had him straight and in position. Dr. Clark was steady and on the rail. So was Constancy. The others were lining up too. Danny turned to the starter.
Now?
The barrier went up!

Constancy broke first with Dr. Clark right beside her. Capt. Alcock was next and then came Man o' War.

Danny let out a yell of relief, now that his colt was clear of interference. He watched him move past Capt. Alcock and go after the two leaders. Man o' War was moving in an easy gallop, and Danny knew he'd be able to catch them any time Loftus chose to have him do so. Already Man o' War was fighting to be turned loose. Danny could just make out the horses' flying bodies in the half-light as they rounded the far turn. He saw Man o' War sweep by Dr. Clark in three mighty strides, then he had caught Constancy, flashing by her as if she had been standing still.

There was no more to the race, and Danny knew he had seen the most exciting part at the barrier. Man o' War was all by himself when he passed the stands, the mud flying behind him. The other high-class colts were strung out far to his rear, lost in the blur of his extreme speed.

Even Danny had not expected Man o' War to rise to such lofty heights as he did after winning the Hopeful Stakes. Photographers and newsmen never let him alone, and pictures and stories of Man o' War began appearing with ever increasing
frequency in the daily press and turf journals, including publications that had never before paid any attention to a racehorse.

He heard Montford Jones, who had bought Rouleau at the Yearling Sales, offer Mr. Riddle $100,000 for Man o' War.

Danny held his breath awaiting Mr. Riddle's answer.

It came with a laugh and a shake of his head.

“Then $125,000,” Mr. Jones said.

“No, I think not.”

“What about $150,000?”

Danny felt tenser than ever.

Again Mr. Riddle laughed and shook his head. “I can't be tempted,” he said. “I have no intention of parting with Man o' War.”

The meeting at Saratoga was over, and after a few days' rest the Riddle stable moved back to Belmont Park on Long Island. Within the next two weeks Man o' War was scheduled to run his final race of the year, this time the Belmont Futurity, the richest and most coveted race for two-year-olds in the country.

“Nothing can beat him,” Feustel told Danny one morning while the boy was grooming the big colt. “But it makes me uneasy just to think of it. No matter how brilliant his other wins have been, they mean nothing if he doesn't cop the Futurity. That's how it's always been. Win the Futurity and you're the head of your division. Lose it, no matter what the excuse, and you're done.”

“He's rested and ready for it,” Danny said confidently. “He won't lose.”

“It'll be a straightaway for him this time,” the trainer said. “Right down the middle for six furlongs.”

“His strides are meant for straight courses,” Danny said. “It will be easier than ever for him.”

Feustel picked up the colt's left forefoot and examined it
closely. “They'll still jam him if they can,” he said. “The field will be a big one. It always is. Sometimes as many as twenty horses go to the post.”

“But not this time,” Danny said. “He's beaten too many of them. They won't show up at the post.”

“Don't be too sure,” Feustel answered. “Large shares of the purse go to the second, third, and fourth horses in the Futurity. They'll go after them, if nothing else.”

Danny said, “I hear Jim Rowe is going with three horses to try and beat us.”

Feustel nodded and put down the colt's foot. “Yes, he's got John P. Grier ready. He claims he's a far better colt than Upset. If so, he might make a race of it.”

“Any way you look at it they'll be out to beat us,” Danny said.

“They sure will,” the trainer agreed. “And that's what makes me so uneasy. Like everybody else Mr. Riddle wants this one bad, maybe even more than we do. This is his first try at the Futurity and here he is with the favorite. Most of the other stables have spent years tryin' for a winner with no luck. They'll do everything they can to beat us.”

“Sam Hildreth is a wily one,” Danny said. “We'll have to watch his Dominique.”

“All of them,” Feustel muttered. “We've got to watch every last one of 'em. The thirteenth might not be such a lucky day for us.”

“The thirteenth? Is that the date of the Futurity?” Danny asked, his hand coming to a stop on the colt's neck.

“Yes, and it was the thirteenth of last month that Upset beat us.”

Danny said nothing more, for now he too was uneasy. And for the first time that he could remember, he welcomed the invasion
of photographers who arrived at the stall wanting to take pictures of Man o' War. He posed the big colt for them, listening to the clicks of their shutters but thinking only of the important race that would be run on—of all days—the 13th of September. Not that he was superstitious. Not at all. He would just rather have had the Futurity fall on some other day!

The field that went postward the following Saturday was not as big as Louis Feustel had predicted. Still, there were nine colts and fillies whose stables had the courage to race Man o' War. Danny walked beside his colt well onto the track, for Man o' War was more restless than he'd ever been. He lunged hard, plunging against Major Treat and dragging Danny with him. Two men ran out to help, and the big colt took all three of them into the air, this time plunging away from Major Treat.

“I don't know what's gotten into him,” Danny said as he tried to bring Man o' War down. “Unless it's because he hasn't raced in two weeks. He'll raise the devil at the barrier.”

The crowd watched Man o' War, but it seemed no one was worried over the possibility of his post parade antics taking anything out of him. They had made him the favorite at the shortest odds, with one exception, ever quoted in the long history of the Futurity.

He was carrying the highest weight in the field, this time 127 pounds, and conceding from five to ten pounds to all the other horses. The track was fast and, the fans believed, much to Man o' War's liking. A stiff wind was blowing up the track, but other than that nothing should impede this brilliant red colt in his final race of the season. It was possible that John P. Grier and Dominique might make a race of it, but Man o' War had beaten most of the others entered in the race and no one expected the decision to be reversed today.

Danny watched Man o' War prance up the track. He was acting better, now that he knew the business of racing was at hand. He slid hard against Major Treat, who took the shock of the plunging tornado quietly, as he was resigned to do by now. Together they continued past the stands, eighth in the field of ten. Only John P. Grier and On Watch were behind him. Dominique was in second post position while Upset, trying again to repeat his victory of just a month ago, was sixth in line.

The barrier awaited them at the start of the long three-quarters of a mile “chute.” As Danny had guessed, Man o' War was dynamite behind the barrier. Even from where the boy stood, he could see his colt fighting to break through. The other jockeys weren't helping to soothe him down, either. They were the top riders in America and all experts at getting the best of the start. They were doing everything possible to bother the favorite, and Loftus had his hands full with them as well as with his own mount.

The minutes ticked away with Mars Cassidy trying to control the field and bring the horses into proper position. Five minutes passed by, then six, then seven … and at the eighth minute they were suddenly in line. The barrier was sprung and the yellow flag fell, waving them on.

They came out in a bunch and Danny looked for the yellow-and-black silks. He thought Man o' War, being so excited, would come out first and make every post a winning one. But out of the pack emerged Dominique, while John P. Grier flashed across the track from far outside and raced head and head with the leader!

Danny looked back and found his colt, a stride in front of the rest of the pack, nicely placed, and running well within himself. It was easier now to see the compactly bunched field,
and the crowd roared as Man o' War began to move up. In front, Dominique seemed to feel the effects of the stiff headwind and gave way to John P. Grier.

It was at that second that Johnny Loftus must have spoken to Man o' War, for the big red colt moved with electrifying swiftness. He hurtled past Dominique and then John P. Grier as if in play. Faster and faster he went until Loftus began pulling him back. Even then he was galloping faster than the other horses raced! By the last quarter of a mile, Loftus was once more standing in his stirrups and looking back at those who would challenge Man o' War.

It was another romp for the champion, and the overflowing crowd rose to its feet applauding him. When he came back to the winner's circle, the cheers rose to still greater heights, for the time on the board was 1:11 ⅗ the fastest Futurity ever run! Man o' War had won as he pleased. What might have happened if this great colt had been extended? the spectators asked themselves. Already they were looking forward to the following year when Man o' War would reappear and their answer might be forthcoming.

Danny waited outside the winner's circle. He watched the photographers take pictures of Mr. and Mrs. Riddle standing beside Man o' War. He had never seen them any happier. A short distance away he recognized Major August Belmont, owner of Nursery Stud. He, too, was smiling and Danny believed that he must be the happiest of all, for it was he who had decided that Mahubah should be bred to Fair Play. Major Belmont had sent from Nursery Stud the best colt bred there, perhaps the best in the world. What a pity he hadn't kept him for himself!

“But will he go on?” a newspaper reporter asked Louis Feustel the morning after the Futurity. “He's never raced more than three-quarters of a mile. Our readers will want to know if you think he'll still be sensational when the distances are stretched out next year.”

Feustel smiled, a little patiently, Danny thought. “You know,” he replied, “you're the first reporter I've talked to who's asked me that question. None of the others have been so skeptical. They seem to know that we have a top-class horse, one who has
stamina
as well as speed.”

The reporter did not smile back. “
The New York Sun
editorial policy is more
conservative
than other newspapers,” he said seriously. “We have seen other horses receive the acclaim your colt has, only to fade badly in later performances. We believe our readers prefer to sit back calmly and await results rather than to place a young two-year-old in equine history before he's actually had a chance to prove himself.”

Feustel shook his head. “Horsemen feel differently about
Man o' War,” he said solemnly. “Regardless of the fact that he's still a colt we know he's among the greatest we've ever seen, and we include older horses as well. We rank him among the best of the best, and I would say this even if he was not in my stable.”

The
Sun
reporter smiled for the first time at Feustel's serious but glowing praise. “I'm afraid our paper thinks you and others are being carried away by Man o' War's triumph in the Futurity,” he said. “We prefer to think of him as a brilliant colt who has done everything a colt should do. But he is only on the threshold of his racing career. As to his being the greatest ever, we'll have to wait and see.”

The reporter paused, his gaze turning to Man o' War. “All we would like to know just now is this: In your opinion, will he be able to carry his speed over longer distances?”

Feustel shrugged his shoulders resignedly. “He will go on,” he said simply.

“Has Mr. Riddle decided
not
to race him again this year?” the reporter asked. “He needs to win only $20,000 more to set a new record for his age. And as you so eloquently pointed out, he dominates his division. It would be easy for him to …”

“He's not racing any more this year,” Feustel interrupted. “Mr. Riddle and I have decided he's done enough; he needs the rest. We're not out to break any purse records.”