Blister Jones Part 16

"Well, he comes home alone, just playin' along, the jock lookin' back at the bunch.

"'How much has he got left?' I says to the jock after the race.

"'Him!' says the jock. 'Enough to beat anybody's hoss!'

"I starts him the next week, 'n' he repeats, but it ain't till his _third_ race that I know fur sure he's a great hoss, with a racin'

heart.

"Sweeney has the mount, 'n' he don't get him away good--the colt's layin' a bad seventh at the quarter. Banjo's out in front, away off--'n' she's a real good mare. That pin-head Sweeney don't make a move till the stretch, then he tries to come from seventh all at once . . . 'n' by G.o.d, he does it! That colt comes from nowhere to the Banjo mare while they're goin' an eighth! The boy on Banjo goes to the bat, but the colt just gallops on by 'n' breezes in home.

"'You b.u.m!' I says to Sweeney. 'What kind of a trip do you call that?

Did you get off 'n' shoot a butsy at the stretch bend?'

"'If I has a match I would,' says Sweeney. 'I kin smoke it easy, 'n'

then _back_ in ahead of them turtles.'

"I know then the colt's good enough fur the stakes, 'n' I writes Miss Goodloe to see if I can use the fourteen hundred he's won to make the first payments. She's game as a pebble, 'n' says to stake him the limit. So I enters him from New Awlins to Pimlico.

"I've had all kinds of offers fur the colt, but I always tell 'em nothin' doin'. One day a lawyer named Jack Dillon, who owns a big stock farm near Lexington, comes to me 'n' says he wants to buy him.

"'He ain't fur sale,' I tells him.

"'Everything's for sale at a price,' he says. 'Now I want that colt worse than I do five thousand. What do you say?'

"'I ain't sayin' nothin',' I says.

"'How does eight thousand look to you?' he says.

"'Big,' I says. 'But you'll have to see Miss Goodloe at Goodloe, Kentucky, if you want this colt.'

"Oh, General Goodloe's daughter,' he says. 'Does she own him? When I go back next week I'll drop over and see her.'

"Well, Salvation starts in the Crescent City Derby, 'n' when he comes under the wire Miss Goodloe's five thousand bucks better off. He wins another stake, 'n' then I ship him with the rest of my string to Nashville. The second night we're there, here comes Jack Dillon to the stall with a paper bag in his hand.

"'You didn't get the colt?' I says to him.

"'No,' he says. 'I didn't get anything . . . I lost something.'

"'What?' I says.

"'Never mind what,' he says. 'Here, put this bag of sugar where I can get at it. She told me to feed him two lumps a day.'

"After that he comes every evenin' 'n' gives the colt sugar, but he's poor company. He just stands lookin' at the colt. Half the time he don't hear what I say to him.

"The colt wins the Nashville Derby, 'n' then I ships him to Loueyville for the Kentucky. We want him to win _that_ more'n all the rest, but as luck goes, he ketches cold shippin', 'n' he can't start.

"Miss Goodloe comes over to Loueyville one mawnin' to see him. She gets through huggin' him after while, 'n' sets down in a chair by the stall door.

"'Now, start at the beginning and tell me everything,' she says.

"So I tells her every move the colt makes since I has him.

"'How did he happen to catch cold?' she asks.

"'Const.i.tution undermined,' I says.

"'Oh! How dreadful!' she says. 'What caused it?'

"'Sugar,' I says, never crackin' a smile.

"She flushes up, 'n' I see she knows what I mean, but she don't ask no more questions. Before she leaves, Miss Goodloe tells me she'll come to Cincinnati if the colt's well enough to start in the Latonia Derby.

"I ships to Cincinnati. About noon derby day I'm watchin' the swipes workin' on the colt. He's favorite fur the Latonia 'n' there's mebby a hundred b.o.o.bs in front of the stall rubberin' at him.

"'Please let dis lady pa.s.s,' I hears some one say, 'n' here comes Liza helpin' Miss Goodloe through the crowd. When Liza sees me I ducks 'n'

holds up my arm like I'm dodgin' somethin'. She grins till her mouth looks like a tombstone factory.

"'I clean fohgot to bring dat pokah wid me,' she says. 'Hyar you is, Miss Sally.'

"I don't hardly know Miss Goodloe. There's nothin' like race day to get a dame goin'. Her eyes are shinin' 'n' her cheeks are pink, 'n'

she don't look more'n sixteen.

"'Why, Boy-baby,' she says to the colt, 'you've grown to be such a wonderful person I can't believe it's you!' The colt knows it's race day 'n' he don't pay much attention to her. 'Oh, Boy-baby!' says Miss Goodloe, 'I'm afraid you've had your head turned . . . you don't even notice your own mammy!'

"'His head ain't turned, it's full of race,' I says to her. He'll come down to earth after he gets that mile-'n'-a-quarter under his belt.'

"When the bugle blows, Miss Goodloe asks me to stay in her box with her while the derby's run. There's twenty thousand people there 'n' I guess the whole bunch has bet on the colt, from the way it sounds when the hosses parade past. You can't hear nothin' but '_Salva-a-tion!

Oh, you Salva-a-tion_!'

"They get a nice break all in a line, but when they come by the stand the first time, the colt's layin' at the rail a len'th in front, fightin' fur his head.

"'_Salva-a-tion_!' goes up from the stands in one big yell.

"'_There he goes_!' hollers some swipe across the track, 'n' then everything is quiet.

"Miss Goodloe's got her fingers stuck into my arm till it hurts. But that don't bother me.

"'Isn't it wonderful?' she says, but the pink's gone out of her cheeks.

She's real pale . . .

"They never get near the colt. . . . He comes home alone with that big easy, swingin' gallop of his, 'n' goes under the wire still fightin'

fur his head.

"Then that crowd goes plumb crazy! Men throws their hats away, 'n'

dances around, yellin' till they can't whisper! Miss Goodloe is shakin' so I has to hold her up.

"'Isn't he _grand_? How would you like to own him?' a woman in the next box says to her.