The Horse Tamer (5 page)

“I’ll bet there’s not a person here who doesn’t have a horse with some bad fault that you could correct,” Finn said.

“Maybe so.”

“And that’s true of every town in the country. You’d be famous, Bill, maybe
world
famous!” he concluded expansively.

“You’re crazy, Finn,” Bill said, laughing. Having passed the busy grocery, hardware and drug stores he clucked to his mare and the carriage wheels spun faster over the dirt road.

“No, I’m not,” the big man answered. “With me managing you you’d go far, Bill. Mark my words, you would.”

“Don’t listen to his wild talk,” Hank warned his brother.

Finn Caspersen laughed recklessly. “You can be part of it, too, Hank. We’ll use you like Bill did today. You’ll close the show!”

“I told you I won’t put on any
show,
” Bill said quietly.

“I was just kidding.”

“Then be serious if you want me to go in this with
you. There’ll be no more tail grabbin’ like I did today, nothing so exciting as that. Instead it’ll be just plain common sense, intelligent handling and kindness.”

“No more tail grabbing?” Finn repeated disappointedly. “Is that what you said?”

“It’s too dangerous an’ I don’t aim to get myself killed,” Bill answered. “But I’m goin’ to work it out some other way. Circling makes a horse match his strength against himself rather than against his handler. He gets dizzy and helpless without any pain or injury. It’s an easy way to get control, to go on from there.”

They passed the harness shop with its wooden, dapple-gray Percheron standing outside, then crossed the railroad tracks after listening for the whistle of the 12:09 from Pottstown. Just beyond was the stone courthouse with its park and bandstand in front. Next to that was the barnlike brick structure housing the jail, the town hall and the auditorium. It was there that Bill Dailey stopped to water his horse at a corner trough.

“Do you think Wild Bess will stay cured of biting?” Hank asked his brother.

“She will if Mr. Boyer keeps his promise. We’ll go back in a couple of days to make sure.”

Finn Caspersen looked at Bill with new respect in his eyes.

A few minutes later they were on their way again and, nearing home, turned down a well-shaded street with trim two-story residences set well back from the brick sidewalk and picket fences. Behind each house was a stable.

Bill Dailey turned into his driveway. Only the first floor of his house was different from the others on the street. It had been converted into a workshop and through the windows a multitude of carriage and wagon parts could be seen.

Arriving at the stable, Hank said, “Let me take care of her, will you, Bill?”

“You’ll be sure to wash and rub her good?”

The boy nodded vigorously. “An’ I’ll walk her till she’s dry.”

“All right,” Bill said, but already his thoughts were on other things. He hurried into the house, Finn Caspersen following closely behind.

They climbed a steep flight of stairs and entered the living room. “Have a seat,” Bill said without stopping, “an’ I’ll get that book.”

When he returned, Finn Caspersen had his coat and hat off and was sprawled in a deep leather chair. “Nice place you have here, and I’m making myself right at home,” he said. “Hope you don’t mind.”

“No, I don’t mind,” Bill answered.

Finn picked up the book and thumbed the pages, finding it difficult to read in the room’s dim light. The narrow windows, he thought, should be widened to let in more light and air. He decided that if he ever got around to owning a house he’d do a lot more besides widening windows. For one thing, he’d do away with dark, gloomy wallpaper such as this room had. In its place he’d put up a bright, cheerful pattern and he wouldn’t care at all what people thought of him for doing it. He’d throw out all the heavy
black-walnut furniture that was so popular as well as these horsehair-stuffed chairs and couches. He’d get something light and comfortable, that’s what he’d do!

He glanced up from the book. “I can’t see very well.”

Bill Dailey hurriedly lit a gas lamp.

“That’s better,” and Finn smiled. “Thanks.”

“This book’s an old one belonging to my father,” Bill said. “I couldn’t find any others on horse management an’ I’ve been trying everywhere.”

“I’ll bet you have,” Finn mused while turning the pages.

“I don’t think it’s very good. There’s nothing in it that’ll help anybody in
real
trouble,” Bill explained.

For several minutes Finn Caspersen read in silence, then he asked, “You mean something like this won’t work?” He handed the open book to Bill Dailey and indicated the following paragraph:

Great Secret for Taming

“I’ll bet we could sell a lot of those cakes, Bill,” Finn suggested, smiling. “Read the next one too. I like that even better.”

Arabian Secret

When Bill Dailey handed back the book, Finn asked again, “Won’t they work?”

“No better than apples or anything else that a horse is fond of,” Bill answered. “The only thing that really works comes from here.” He tapped his head. Then, sternly, he said, “You’re not figurin’ on turning us into a medicine show, are you? ’Cause if you are …”

“No, no,” the big man replied hastily. “I was just asking, Bill. I didn’t mean anything by it.

“Say, let me tell you about ‘The Whisperer,’ ” Caspersen went on, anxious to see a change in the stern look on Bill’s face. “This book kind of makes me think of him. I knew him when I was a kid living in Mallow in the County of Cork, Ireland. We called him The Whisperer because he’d put his mouth to a horse’s ear as if he were whispering something to him, and he had quite a local reputation for his power over horses. Some people even thought his powers were supernatural.”

Finn Caspersen stopped a moment and when he
continued there was more of an Irish lilt to his voice than ever before. “Shure and I remember our parish priest crossin’ to the other side of the street, he did, whenever The Whisperer came along! ’Tis the truth I speak when I say he thought the man was in league with the very divil himself!”

Finn laughed heartily and it was a few moments before he turned again to Bill Dailey. All the recklessness was back in his voice when he said, “Now, Bill, I’m not suggesting for a minute that we sell taming medicine, but where would be the harm in whispering in a horse’s ear? I heard you carrying on quite a conversation with Wild Bess. It’s great showmanship.”

Bill Dailey couldn’t help smiling. “All right, Finn,” he said, “whispering once in a while won’t do any harm. But remember, we’re going to play this straight or not at all. There’s not going to be any trickery. Right?”

“No trickery,” the big man agreed.

“No magic words,” Bill went on.

“No magic words,” Finn repeated.

“No taming medicines.”

The big man shrugged his shoulders and repeated, “No taming medicines.” His eyes met Bill’s. “What do we have left?” he asked.

“Hard work.”

“No nothing,” Finn summed up, closing the book, “but I’m game to try it.”

Finn Caspersen stood on a box in front of the largest livery stable in Pottstown. He had rented the stable for Bill Dailey’s first public appearance as a horse-tamer. Tacked on the doors were handbills which he had designed himself and had distributed about town. At the top was a drawing of Wild Bess with her teeth bared. The announcement read:

FOR ONE DAY ONLY

The big man peered down at the crowd. “More than fifty of your friends and neighbors are already inside,
folks, waiting for the Professor to begin his instruction in the world’s best system of horse taming.”

He stopped to wave away some boys who were trying to peek through the cracks in the closed doors.

“You will be astonished, my friends,” he continued, “by the ease with which Professor Dailey subdues some of the most vicious and ungovernable specimens of the horse fraternity to be found in this vicinity. You will find both amusement and instruction in witnessing the skill with which he handles the hitherto incorrigible subjects brought forward to test his new doctrine. Before your very eyes he will subdue the wildest and most stubborn cases, attaining complete subjection and docility. Like Wild Bess, whom he tamed for Mr. Boyer just a week ago, they will be horses you know well from this
very
neighborhood. Yes, my friends, you will be astonished and astounded by the ease with which Professor Dailey brings them
all
under the control of Man! You will see him jump upon their backs, slide off and handle them without their showing the least disposition to bite or kick!”

Finn Caspersen paused, and a man called out, “For how much money?”

“For only five dollars, sir, truly a most reasonable fee for such combined entertainment and instruction!” He waved in the direction of his flat-bed wagon in which he had brought his most prized merchandise–several fine clocks, silver-handled buggy whips, rare books and guns.

“These are just a few of the valuable and
voluntary
gifts the Professor has received from grateful members of his classes,” he lied. “I know there must be many
among you who have difficult horses that you cannot manage and—”

A man interrupted defiantly, “My name is Clayton and I have such a horse but I do not care to join any horse-taming class. I can do as much with a horse as any man. I do not want instruction but I will gladly sell you the horse!” He laughed loudly and the crowd joined him.

Finn Caspersen waited soberly for the laughter to die down, then he said in his most courteous manner, “We do not want to buy your horse. But I’ll tell you what we’ll do, sir. If you join the class and bring your horse for Professor Dailey to experiment upon I promise that he will be gentled within twenty minutes!”

“Without hurting him?” the man asked disbelievingly.

“I guarantee Professor Dailey will not injure him the slightest bit.”

The man was enjoying his role. “And what if your great horse-tamer doesn’t gentle him in twenty minutes?”

Finn Caspersen smiled. He knew he had won over not only this man but the whole crowd as well. “If he doesn’t, sir, I will charge you nothing for the instruction and will also buy you the best suit of clothes to be found in Pottstown!”

The crowd roared and the man shouted, “I will come on those conditions. I know that no man living can tame my horse within that time!”

From that moment on Finn Caspersen had no trouble selling the rest of his tickets.

The livery-stable ring was smaller than Bill Dailey would have liked it to be. Before him rose a high tier of
seats filled to capacity, just as Finn had promised. The trouble was that if anything went wrong, someone might get hurt.

“I am no magician,” Bill told the throng, his stern gaze sweeping the stands. “Neither am I a humbug as some of you might think.” Tight-lipped, he paused a moment, waiting for a possible jeer. But no one challenged him. He knew what he had to say and he knew too that he would say it well, thanks to Finn’s patient coaching.

“I seek only peace for the long-abused horses of our land,” he went on. “Too many professional horsemen have kept what they know to themselves, with some even pretending they have secret powers. There is no mystery to controlling horses. All it takes is skillful, intelligent handling. When a horse becomes vicious or unmanageable it is as the result of ignorance and bad treatment. I propose to educate owners as well as their horses, and to do so without tricks or deceit. There are no secrets to my system. It is based on these simple facts, which anyone can learn.

“First, horses can be molded by firmness and kindness. Second, because they have brains it is possible to reach an understanding with them. Third, it is not difficult to do this if you go about it the right way. For example, if a horse’s trouble is caused by fear, you show him that there’s no reason to be afraid. If it’s viciousness, which is far more dangerous, you must rid him of it by kind but firm treatment.”

From the upper seats a man shouted, “Show us,
Professor
, that’s what we came for—
not a lecture!
”

The sternness remained in Bill Dailey’s eyes as he
ignored the man’s interruption. “I have challenged you to produce horses that you think I cannot handle. They are here, waiting to be tamed. In all frankness, what I am about to do here is foreign to my real purpose, which is not to exhibit feats of taming but to create more interest in the fundamentals of control. If these horses had been handled properly they would never have become vicious, ill-mannered and headstrong, dangerous not only to you and me but to men, women and children on our streets. They are capable of killing and maiming, causing destruction of life and property. They never should have been allowed to reach this condition and you
owners
are primarily at fault!”

The man to whom Finn Caspersen had promised a suit of clothes if Bill failed to tame his horse stood up and said loudly for all to hear, “Sir, I am one of those owners who await your education. Now, I do not consider myself a fool with horses. I have handled them all my life and can drive any common horse as well as the average man. I cannot see how it is possible by any reasonable treatment to control such a stallion as mine in the short time of twenty or thirty minutes which you claim to be able to do. It is contrary to all reason! I would be afraid to undertake to lead him into this ring without the aid of two good men for I doubt that we would be able to hold him. Why, he has never been harnessed or put in shafts in his life.”