The Black Stallion's Sulky Colt Read Free

tight around the shafts. Tom took up the long lines. Finally George led Bonfire down the row while Tom and Alec walked beside the sulky.
    Alec noticed that the strange brightness in Tom’s eyes was greater than before. And his big hands were trembling, telegraphing his nervousness down the lines to his colt. This was the reason for Bonfire’s tossing head and the wetness that was showing on his red body.
    Alec understood Tom’s nervousness, for often he had felt the same way before a race. Tom would be all right once he got into the sulky and the colt stepped onto the track. He’d calm down then and so would Bonfire.
    The bugle call to the post came over the public-address system and the paddock gate was opened. The first horse stepped onto the track.
    Tom slid into his seat behind the blood bay colt. “Okay, George,” he said. “Let him go.”
    The old man stepped away from Bonfire’s head. “Luck, Tom,” he said.
    â€œThanks, George.” Tom nodded as Alec too wished him good luck. He tried to grin but it didn’t come off.
    Alec followed George to the wooden bench just inside the track rail where other caretakers were sitting. From here he would be very close to Bonfire.
    Alec said, “Don’t worry about Tom. I’m sure he’s okay now.”
    â€œI’m not so sure at all,” the old man answered. “He’s overanxious. He’s been that way all week. It’s taken a lot out of him. He’s apt to do ’most anything in this race.”
    Alec said nothing more for over the public-address system came the introductions.
    â€œLadies and gentlemen,” the announcer said, “parading up the track now are the horses in the second race on your program. This is a stake race for three-year-olds who are eligible for the world-famed Hambletonian to be raced at Goshen, New York, on August seventh. This is an important preparatory race for that great classic, ladies and gentlemen, and from this field of fine colts may come the one who is destined to go down in harness-racing history as this year’s winner of the Hambletonian. So watch them well.
    â€œNumber one is Lively Man, a roan colt by Titan Hanover out of Blue Maid. He is owned by Mr. Richard Frecon of New York City and is being driven by Fred Ringo. Number two is Silver Knight, a gray colt by Volomite out of Gray Dream. He is owned by Mr. Peter Conover of Venice, Florida, and is being driven by Ray O’Neil. Number three is Victory Boy, a brown colt …”
    Alec watched the line of horses in parade, their glossy coats shining under the bright lights. All this was a far cry from the harness races he had seen at fairs. Here were no crowded midways with spinning Ferris wheels, no prize poultry and livestock to compete with the racehorse for the attention of the crowd. Here the racehorse alone was the attraction. A yellow crescent moon hung low in the night sky, while beneath it wasthe red glow of city lights. It was a beautiful setting for a race.
    Alec turned around and looked back at the stands. Most of the people there had come from New York and adjacent suburban towns and cities. Probably few of them ever had the opportunity to see harness racing at the fairs. So it was at this raceway that they had become familiar with the sport and had learned to love it, making it what it was tonight.
    The announcer had come to the last horse in the post parade. “Number eight is Bonfire, a blood bay colt by the Black out of Volo Queen. He is owned by Mr. Jimmy Creech of Coronet, Pennsylvania, and is being driven by Tom Messenger. Bonfire is making his first start at Roosevelt Raceway since winning the Two-Year-Old Championship at this track last September.”
    Alec turned to George. “It’s a short stretch to the turn. Does Bonfire get away fast?”
    The old man kept his eyes on Bonfire and Tom. He didn’t answer Alec.
    The horses came down the track, taking