The Horse Tamer (8 page)

Their first big-city engagement was held in Pittsburgh, which had a population of more than a hundred thousand. Finn hired the largest carriage house in the city and went to work to fill it.

First he wrote the copy of the most sensational circular he had ever attempted. He proclaimed Professor William Dailey the “Greatest Horse-Tamer in the World,” able to make any wild, unbroken colt so gentle within twenty minutes that he could be taken into the street and without bridle or halter ridden in any way the owner pleased! As an extra inducement, Finn Caspersen offered five hundred dollars if Professor Dailey couldn’t accomplish this remarkable feat!

He did not consult Bill about any of this, nor did he let Bill see the circulars before posting them all over Pittsburgh. He knew that his partner didn’t like to make elaborate claims as to his ability, especially those that bordered on circus tricks and detracted from his serious objectives relating to horse management. On the other hand, he knew too that once the circulars were up Bill would be forced to go along with him. Besides, he had full confidence that they would not lose their five hundred dollars.

But what Finn did not take into consideration was the effect of blueberry pie on Bill Dailey’s stomach. Bill felt squeamish just before he was due to go into the ring. “I shouldn’t go on,” he told Finn.

“But you’ve got to!” the big man insisted. “I’ve filled the place for you.”

“Give them their money back.”

“It’s more than that. It’s five hundred dollars extra I’ll have to pay. It’s just about all we’ve got saved. We’ll be broke,
flat.
”

“You were the one who wrote the circular,” Bill pointed out.

“I didn’t know what blueberry pie did to you. If you knew it made you sick, why’d you eat it?”

“I like it,” Bill said simply.

“We’ll have to sell our horses, coach, everything.… ”

Bill rubbed his stomach. The cramps were gone. “I’ll try it, Finn. If it gets worse, I’ll have to …”

“Don’t even say it,” the big man said, pushing him into the ring.

The rented carriage house was filled to capacity. There were more people there than Bill had ever seen in one place in his life. He walked to the center of the ring, nervous and afraid, which did not make his stomach feel any better.

The huge crowd was waiting impatiently for him to begin. He said, “I know there is much interest in fine horses here, for your trotting races are among the best in the country. I-I therefore take it as a g-great pride and privilege to speak to you about the education of horses … and,” he hesitated before adding, “their owners.”

A man in the front row rose to his feet. “Sir,” he said, “we are not interested in what you have to say about
our
need for education. Neither are we interested in the kind of circus tricks you have advertised. Riding a colt in the streets without use of bridle or
halter is of no importance to us even though you may have a smart way of doing it. We are horsemen, sir, and there are those among us who have paid as much as $33,000 for a horse and would not sell him for $100,000! Our problems of horse management are
real
and we are not interested in learning
tricks!
”

Another man shouted, “Sit down, Mr. Lutz, and let the Professor say what he’s got to say. It’s him we came to listen to, not you. Besides, not all of us have high-priced driving horses. If he can fix me up with an easy way to drive my old Nell without her kickin’ me to kingdom come I want to know it.” He laughed heartily and the crowd joined in, relieving the tension.

As Bill Dailey laughed, too, his nervousness and fear left him.

“I’ll do the best I can,” he said. “I want to help everybody regardless of how much you’ve paid for your horses or what you use them for. Oftentimes your very life and property depend upon how much control you have over your horse. If he’s vicious either by nature of from bad handling, he’s dangerous and unfit for streets or racetrack. Something must be done to cure him. Most owners don’t know how to go about it. They only make matters worse.”

Another man in the audience stood up and shouted, “Don’t try to pull the wool over our eyes by fancy talk, Professor. We’ve heard men like you before an’ none of them have done us any good. You all want to keep any
secrets
you have to yourselves.”

“On the contrary, sir,” Bill Dailey answered quickly. “There are no secrets to good horse management and I will tell you all I know. Furthermore, I expect you
to teach my methods to others. In that way more men and horses will benefit than I can reach alone. I plan to go from town to town and from county to county throughout the country teaching my methods and soliciting the aid of my pupils in going forth in turn and helping others.”

He stopped as a sharp stab of pain creased his stomach. It went away quickly and he continued. “What I have learned is, I believe, very important. It is worthy of your interest and study. I will teach you three methods by which you can control the most vicious and obstinate horses. They are simple in themselves but you must learn to use them with care and skill.”

He stopped while another pain gripped his insides. It was several minutes before he could go on.

“You must learn which of my methods to use and this depends on the temperament of the horse. For example, if you should tell me what bad faults your horse has, I can, except in rare instances, tell you his color, size, the kind of head and general character he has. Then I select the best method suited to cure his faults. What has to be remembered is that what works on one horse may not work on another.”

The cramps filled his stomach and once more he had to pause a long while before continuing.

“The horses I treat here in this ring will be brought under control within a very few minutes. Most of them, however, will not be completely cured. Only by repeating my treatment at home can success be assured. These horses then are merely for the purpose of exhibition—”

Someone shouted, “We’ve heard enough, Professor, and we think we know something about this matter of horse taming. Maybe we know more than you can tell us. Mr. Miller’s got a horse here. Now if you can ride or drive him, as you say you can, you’ll convince us that you can beat any man in the country at taming horses.”

Bill Dailey answered, “Have the horse brought out then and I’ll settle the matter very quickly.”

A groom, followed by an elderly, well-dressed man who was apparently Mr. Miller, led a gray horse into the ring. The animal was as ugly as any horse Bill had ever seen, besides being large-boned and very strong. There was no doubt in Bill’s mind that the horse would put up a furious fight regardless of all restraint. It would be a dangerous case to handle in a crowded building such as this, and yet he had no alternative but to go on. He watched the horse kick and jump, pulling on the long lead rope that his groom held expertly but cautiously.

Bill Dailey had started walking toward the horse when the attack of prolonged stomach cramps bent him double. He knew then that the matter of holding a contest with Mr. Miller’s horse had been taken out of his hands. When he could straighten up everyone was looking at him expectantly. The huge arena was still except for the furious lashing of the gray horse’s legs.

Bill faced the audience with great effort. “I am sorry but I cannot attempt to manage this horse now,” he apologized. “I am sick and it would be very
dangerous for all of us. Your money will be refunded. If you will come back tomorrow …”

There were loud hoots and catcalls from the crowd, and one man’s voice rose above all others. “You thought you could pull the wool over our eyes, didn’t you, Professor! No wonder you’re sick. It’s the sight of that there horse.”

Bill Dailey’s face turned pale, more from pain than from the harsh calls of criticism. “I’m sorry,” he repeated.

The gray horse was rushing about the ring, jumping and kicking and altogether giving his groom plenty of trouble.

Hank was suddenly at his brother’s side. “Don’t listen to them, Bill. You did right. I’ll get you to a doctor.”

“No, you stay here with Finn. Make sure he returns their money, every penny of it.”

After Bill Dailey had gone, Finn Caspersen took the center of the ring. “Now, gentlemen,” he said in his most professional manner, holding his hands in the air, “there’s no need to hurry. As the Professor said, your money will be returned. Please take your time.” He paused, glanced toward the exit Bill Dailey had used, then cleared his throat and continued, “But for those of you who are interested in not returning to your unruly horses empty-handed, I have a few bottles of a taming medicine never before made available in this area. It’s called Arabian Secret. All that’s necessary for you to do, gentlemen, is to rub a little on your hands before approaching the animal …”

There were hoots of derision from many in the
crowd but there were others who looked on interestedly. Someone shouted, “How much?”

“Only ten dollars, sir. A special price, if I may say so, due to the Professor’s inability to perform. The usual price after one of our exhibitions is fifty dollars, but today we are reducing it to only ten. Step right this way, sir.… ”

“I’ve no place in my work for a medicine man,” Bill Dailey told Finn the next day. He lay on a cot in a far corner of the livery stable. Finn Caspersen sat in a chair beside him.

“Just because I sold a few bottles of Arabian Secret doesn’t make me a medicine man or turn this into a medicine show,” Finn insisted.

Hank, who was sitting at the foot of his brother’s bed, said, “It wasn’t a few bottles. I told Bill how many you sold. It was close to a hundred.”

The big man turned to the boy, his eyes glowering.

“You stay out of this,” Bill warned his brother.

Finn Caspersen got to his feet. “It’s still only a
few
bottles compared to what I could’ve sold if I’d had more ready. If there were five hundred people in the building, there were another five hundred waiting outside.” He grinned recklessly. “What are we arguing about anyway, Bill? At ten dollars a bottle we made more money than if you’d worked!”

Finn paused as if undecided whether to go on or not. His eyes found Bill’s and he mistook what he saw there for indecision. Grabbing his chair, he moved it closer to the cot and sat down again. “Maybe this is the time I always said would come. Maybe it’s time you listened to me for a change. I’ve put up with your high-minded ideas long enough.”

From the bedside table he picked up the bottle of medicine which had been purchased at the drug store for Bill’s upset stomach. “Do you think this is any better than what I sold today? No! It’s a
cure-all
, a sure cure for everything and
nothing
. I’ve sold gallons of it in my day an’ I’ll be selling gallons more before I’m finished.” Again he grinned. “Oh, this medicine isn’t going to hurt you, Bill. Maybe it’ll even soothe your upset stomach some. It’ll help you about as much as our Arabian Secret soothes upset horses. So what’s the difference if I sell one or the other?”

Bill Dailey sat up in bed but he didn’t look at Finn. “You wouldn’t stop even there,” he said quietly. “I can see that now. It’s not in you to stop. In addition to taming medicines, you’d soon be selling
cure-alls
for every injury and ailment horses have.”

“But why not, Bill?” the big man asked seriously. “I’m sure you’re as good a horse doctor as the next man, and better than most. There are close to twenty-seven million horses and mules in this country. Most people are treating their sick animals just the way their fathers told them. They’d listen to you just as well as to anyone else and they’d buy whatever you had to sell them!”

Bill refused to meet Finn’s searching eyes. He knew the big man was right. Not much more was known about the care of sick horses than in ancient times, and barbarous methods of treatment were being used—hot and cold drenches, bleeding, turpentine and carbolic acid. Someday people would take more of an interest in veterinary work and the weird cupping machines and witch-doctor practices would be no more. The day might not be too far off, either; two private veterinary schools had opened in the East and another was being established in Chicago.

“Are you listening to me?” Finn asked.

“I’m listenin’ to you.”

“Then what about it? Nothing we sell will hurt anyone one bit and it might help some. If you’re dead set against doing it during the show, we can sell the stuff on the street
after
your performance.”

Bill turned to Finn. “How’d you like me to tame a wild zebra for our show too, Finn? That’s what a circus man visiting Reading wanted me to do for his act with Barnum and Bailey. He said there’s nothing in the world so hard to break and train.”

“A zebra? A
wild
zebra? You serious, Bill? Do you really think you could do it?” Finn rose to his feet excitedly. “They say there’s one at the New York Zoo that was captured in North Africa. Now you’re talking, Bill! A zebra trained to drive would really pull in a crowd! We’ll go to New York and set up a big arena. Along with a wild zebra we’ll get the biggest horse we can find! Not only big but strong and ugly—the uglier the better—like that gray horse today. You can teach him to
rear and kick and bite on signal. Next we’ll get an iron muzzle for him.”