“Well, Mister Sutcliffe, I know what a rider’s pay is around here, and it’s not worth losing my job because of it. My boss told me not to ride a horse that’s not his, so I know I’d be in real trouble with him if I did. No, sir, I thank you for your offer, but I don’t figure to risk my job for just rider’s pay.”
My words seemed to put Ray Sutcliffe on the spot; they seemed unexpected. “Well, don’t you worry none about that, boy,” he said, talking down to me. “I’ll talk to Mister Logan myself and let him know the situation. I’m sure he’ll understand.”
“He might understand,” I said, “but I’ll still be in trouble with him. I can’t do it.”
It was then I saw Ray Sutcliffe’s eyes true for the first time. The man was desperate. Maybe he’d made a wager he was counting on winning a little bit too much; I didn’t know. All I knew was that he was desperate for me to ride, and I figured him to pay me a good price if I did. “I said I’d make it worth your while, boy, and I will.” His voice was now testy. “This here’s a good horse you’ll be riding, an excellent horse. I’ve got a considerable wager on him, and that wouldn’t be the case if I didn’t know what an excellent horse he is. Tell you what. I’ll double your rider’s wages.”
I glanced again at Mitchell, who kept on grooming the gelding, but his eyes did meet mine, letting me know he knew the same as I about this man Ray Sutcliffe. “No, sir,” I said again. “Double a rider’s pay isn’t going to help me out any with Mister Edward Logan. He says a thing, he means it. I go against his orders and I won’t be able to go back to Georgia. I ride for somebody else, then I know I have to go on my own. I go on my own, I’ll need more than double a rider’s pay.”
Ray Sutcliff frowned. “So what’re you figuring you’d need?”
I sidestepped answering his question. “Well, first of all, I don’t know if I could even ride your horse, seeing that I’ve never been on him before.”
“Well, I tell you what I’m willing to do,” said Ray Sutcliffe. “You ride my grey and win that race for me, I’ll give you two percent of the winnings. That’d be more than double the pay of my rider.”
Now, I knew that this man was not about to count out the total of his winnings to me and let me take my two percent, and I wasn’t about to ask him what his wager was. “I don’t figure I can do it for that either,” I said.
“That’s more than enough!” declared Ray Sutcliff. “That’s more than a boy like you’ll see in any one ride!”
I shook my head, looking as if I was sorry I couldn’t take him up on his offer. “No, sir, I just can’t do it.”
Ray Sutcliffe seemed frustrated. “Well, boy, what do you want, then?”
“Well . . .” I said, as if I were still thinking this thing over, “four times a rider’s wages seems fair to me. I’ll do the ride for that, if your horse and I can get along.”
“Four times a rider’s wages!” exclaimed Ray Sutcliffe. “What you take me for?”
I shrugged, as if that was the best I could do for him. “I figure I lose my job, I can get along on that for a while ’til I find another one. Can’t do it for less.”
Mister Ray Sutcliffe from Alabama did not look pleased. “All right. All right. I’m going to pay you what you asking, this four times a rider’s wages—but only if you win, you hear? You lose, boy, and you get nothing.”
I was taking a big risk with my daddy, to walk away with nothing for it. But I figured I’d struck the best deal I could with Ray Sutcliffe, and despite the risk, there was something in me that wanted to prove to my daddy not only that I could ride this stranger’s horse, but that I was a man now. I nodded. “I understand,” I said. “But if he wins, I’ll need my money right after the race.”
“Agreed. But you’d better ride him well. Come on now to where I got my grey stabled. Time is short.”
“I have to finish brushing down these horses first,” I said.
Ray Sutcliffe’s face took on a look of exasperation. “What? You got a race to tend to, boy!”
“I’m sorry, Mister Sutcliffe, but I told Mister Logan I’d brush these horses down for him, and he taught me a long time ago to do what I say I’m going to do.”
“Well . . . let that other boy brush them down for you!”
“I’ll be needing Mitchell’s help with your horse, sir, and like I said, we’re obliged to finish this job for Mister Logan.”
Ray Sutcliffe frowned and gave in, though I could tell he didn’t like it; he just had no choice. “Best get a move on you, then! My grey’s in the next stable over. That race is at noon, and you’d better be there, ready to ride.”
“I’ll be there,” I said.
As Ray Sutcliffe stormed off, I noticed Robert standing at the entry of the stable. When Ray Sutcliffe neared him, Robert stopped him. “Aren’t you Mister Sutcliffe?” he asked.
Ray Sutcliffe acknowledged that he was. “And you’re Edward Logan’s boy, I recall. I saw you yesterday with your father.” He held out his hand to Robert. He hadn’t offered his hand to me.
“Yes, sir, I am,” said Robert, shaking the man’s hand. “Mister Sutcliffe, I hear right that you were offering Paul there a job as your rider?”
“That’s a fact. My own boy took sick, and I’m in a bad bind with a race coming up in a few hours.”
Robert glanced past Ray Sutcliffe to me. “My daddy won’t take kindly to this. He told me he wasn’t going to let Paul ride horses he doesn’t know. He tell you the same?”
“As a matter of fact, he did, young man, and I want you to know I respect your daddy’s thinking about that, but I couldn’t find him this morning to extend him the courtesy of discussing this matter with him, and unfortunately, I need a rider before he’s expected back. Now, I don’t know your daddy well, but I’m sure as a horesman he’ll be understanding of the situation. That rider of yours said he’s not debted to him and he can come and go as he pleases. That right?”
Robert looked at me, then back at Ray Sutcliffe. “My daddy wouldn’t think so.”
“Well, that’ll have to be between that boy and your daddy. As for that boy and me, we got us an agreement for him to ride my grey, so you’ll have to excuse me. I’ve got matters to attend to.”
Ray Sutcliffe then left the stables, but Robert called after him. “Paul can’t ride your horse—”
“He’ll ride!” declared Ray Sutcliffe, not breaking his stride and not turning around. “He’ll ride!”
He walked on, and Robert headed for the stalls. I watched him coming, and I was angry that he was interfering in what was my business. When he reached me, he said, “Paul, what do you think you’re doing?”
“Obviously,” I said coldly, “you heard what I was doing.” Then I turned my back on him and started brushing the gelding.
“You know what I mean.”
“I could ask you the same thing.”
“What?”
I looked at Robert again. “What do you think you’re doing?” He gazed at me blankly. “Just what are you doing in my business?”
“You know our daddy said you’re not to ride that grey.”
“It’s my business.”
Robert shook his head. “You can’t ride him, Paul. I’ve seen that grey. He could throw you.”
“If he does, he does. Like I said, it’s my business.”
“I won’t let you do it.”
“How’re you going to stop me?”
He looked right at me and said, “I’ll tell our daddy.”
I looked right at him too. “I’d expect you to do that.”
“I mean it,” said Robert, unapologetic. “I mean it, Paul. I’ll find our daddy, and I’ll get him to stop you.”
I started to turn away. He grabbed at my arm. I stopped and looked hard at him, and I said, “I remember the last time you did that.” Those were my last words to Robert. My eyes said everything else. Robert flushed, then let me go, and I went back to brushing the gelding. Mitchell looked my way without uttering a word. Robert turn
ed and left the stables.
When Mitchell and I finished all the work we were supposed to do for my daddy, we didn’t go immediately to Ray Sutcliffe’s grey. I figured I needed to know something about that horse before I even saw him, so we headed out to find Ray Sutcliffe’s rider, the one that was laid up sick. The man was known by the name of Eddie Hawks, and we found him in a livery on a dirty pile of hay where a number of the colored riders were bunked. He looked to be in a bad way, and was suspicious of talking to me at first, but finally he did. “You fool ’nough t’ try and ride that horse?” he asked from where he lay.
“I suppose I am,” I said.
“You tryin’ t’ take my job?”
“Just for this ride. You can’t ride, I can. Got no interest in the job after this day.”
“So what you come t’ me ’bout?”
“I want to know how to ride that grey.”
“Thought you done said you knowed that already.”
“Maybe I should’ve said I wanted to know how to ride him and win.”
Eddie Hawks breathed in short spurts. “Maybe I told you that, I be givin’ up my job.”
“Told you I don’t want it. You can trust me on that.” Eddie Hawks closed his eyes like he was thinking on whether to help me or not, on whether to trust me or not. “Thing is,” I went on while he was deciding, “your boss came to me. Seems to me he needs this race won, and seems to me if you tell me how to win it, once you’re better, you’ll have a job to go back to.”
Eddie Hawks slowly opened his eyes. “How old you, boy?” “Fourteen.”
“Umph,” he grunted. “Say you know horses, huh?”
“Some.”
“Well, you don’t know none like that ole grey. Ole grey, he got mule in him.”
“How’s that?”
“Don’t know, but he gots it, way he act. He got his own way t’ thinkin’. Now, you let that ole horse get out front first, he likely t’ rare back and let every other hoss runnin’ get ’head-a him. You keep him back some, other horses ’head-a him, and he gets his dander up ’cause he can’t stand that! He gotta pass each one. That ole grey, he’ll race ’til his heart burst t’ git ’head-a somethin’ in front-a him already. After that, once he out front, he don’t care if they go on and pass or not, ’cause he done figured he done proved hisself. He done passed ’em, done proved hisself already, and he ain’t got nothin’ else t’ prove. You can hold him when he need holdin’ and know when t’ let him loose when the time come, then you done got that race won.”
I thanked Eddie Hawks for his help. Then Mitchell and I went to check out the grey. He was a tremendous-looking horse. “So, you really gonna ride this monster?” asked Mitchell as we took our first closeup look at the stallion.
“I s’pose so. I want that money.”
“You know, you could be lookin’ for a broken neck.”
“You sounding like my daddy now.”
Mitchell almost smiled. “Well, don’t want that. Thing is, though, Paul, this here’s a dangerous-looking animal.”
“Dangerous enough for me to reconsider?”
“Well, that’s up to you. You the one hafta ride him.”
I walked up to the grey and looked into his eyes. “I’ll ride him,” I decided right then for a fact. “I’ve got only my neck to lose and four times a rider’s pay to gain.”
“And a whippin’ from your daddy, don’t forget that.”
I looked at Mitchell. “I win this race and get my money, then I’ll be on my own. My daddy won’t be whipping me again.”
Ray Sutcliffe joined us. “You, boy,” he said to me, “you ready to give my grey a try?”
“I’m ready to start getting to know him,” I answered. “Not ready to mount him yet.”
“Now, what you mean by that? Get on that horse.”
“No, sir, I can’t. You need to give me some time with him first.”
“Well, I don’t have none of that.”
“It’s important. Now, I said I’d ride your horse, Mister Sutcliffe, but I’ve got my own way of dealing with horses. You want me to win, then I’ve got to deal with this grey my way.”
Ray Sutcliffe looked me up and down, and I knew he hadn’t liked what he’d heard from me. But he gave me the leeway. “You just make sure you win. We’ve got less than two hours before that start.”
He left me then with the grey, and I slipped a rope around the grey’s neck, took a saddle, a bridle, and a brush, and led the horse off to a shady spot in a nearby pasture, away from the commotion of the stables, away from all the people milling about, away even from Mitchell. I needed to be alone with the stallion.
“You know,” I said quietly when we were to ourselves, “maybe this race isn’t important to you, but it is to me, so I figure we best get to knowing each other quick. I’m Paul Logan, out of Georgia, and you need to know I’ve ridden a lot of fine horses, maybe some not as fine as you, maybe some better. Now, I know we don’t know each other, but I understand from your rider, Eddie Hawks, you’ve got a real mind of your own. You like to win if you do it in your own way. Well, that’s all right with me, long as you let me ride you and help you out a little bit. See, I figure to prove my daddy and Robert wrong. I figure to ride you, even though I don’t know you, and Ole Grey, I figure to win.”
I talked on that way to the grey for some while, and after a bit I began to stroke him as I talked. I pulled some apple wedges from my pocket and gave them to him, kept on with my talk, then began to brush him down. When I put the brush aside, I leaned my head against his forehead and I told that ole grey: “I’m going to mount you soon, you hear? Let’s see how we work together.”
At first I just walked the grey, letting him get used to me. Then I bridled and saddled him and finally I mounted. I let him get accustomed to my weight on his back as he walked around the pasture, then knowing our time was short, I put him through paces, first a trot followed by a gallop before slowing him down and taking him back to the cool of a shade tree. I gave him more apple wedges. I let him drink from a stream nearby before I brushed him again. All the while I never stopped talking to him. “Well, ole thing, I don’t know if we’re ready or not, but I see that Ray Sutcliffe over there, waving his arms to come on, so I guess we better go. One thing I want you to remember, though. Like I said, I figure to win this race.” With that I led the grey over to Ray Sutcliffe and then headed for the starting line.
Now, these few minutes I’d put in with the grey weren’t enough for me to truly know him or for him to know me, but it was all the time I had. It wasn’t much, and I recognized that and I was nervous, not knowing how this old horse-mule was going to go down the stretch with me on his back. Still, I had done what I could, and I was as ready as I could be in this short time. I figured to prove my daddy wrong and myself a man. All I hoped now, besides winning this race, was that Robert hadn’t been successful in finding our daddy. Last thing I needed was for my daddy to show up.
The race course was a country road stretching from the railroad spur line on the east to a stagecoach stop on the west and back again. I was familiar with it. It was the same course I had run the first day on my daddy’s mare and had ridden a number of times since, exercising my daddy’s horses. The race was to begin and end at the spur line. Two trains were on the spur, and goods were stacked high for loading on the platform. Throngs of people lined the road. Six horses were entered in the race. I was already mounted on the grey when I reached the spur. Now I waited.
When the gun was fired, the grey and I made a slow start. Three other horses were in front of us. According to what Eddie Hawks had said, that was good. The grey’s start was all its own, but now as we shot out on the course, I held him back. Eddie Hawks had told me the grey needed a challenge and not to come up too quick on the lead. Now, this was hard for me. I was used to riding horses that came out not only wanting to win, but to lead. I was used to the thoroughbreds that made that run from the start, and all I had to do was just let them rip, right
from the gun. After that, all I did was steer the course and hold on. But I respected what Eddie Hawks had said. He knew this grey a whole lot better than I did.
While riding any course I always had markers in my mind to help me keep pace. The first marker was an old shack setting off the side of the road. It was about there that one of the horses trailing us began to pass, and I was surprised to find the grey not willing for that to happen. I could feel the strength of the grey pulling from my grasp, trying to keep that horse at bay, from passing us. And despite Eddie Hawks’s warning, I figured it best to let that grey have his way right then. I figured the grey had to know something about winning, and it seemed foolish to me to fall any farther behind. But when the grey neared the third lead horse at the next marker, a huge double-trunked oak by the side of the road, I pulled up hard on the reins trying to keep him in check. I could tell he didn’t like that, but I held him. It wasn’t time yet to make the run.
The third marker was a fork in the road, with one road leading to the stagecoach station and the other to I don’t know where. I made that curve, rounded the stagecoach station, and headed back toward the spur. It was then I let up some on the grey’s reins. The grey seemed to be waiting for that. We easily passed the horse directly ahead of us. Passing the next horse, though, took more time than I wanted, but that ole grey kept on pounding dirt and all I did was nudge him on. This part of the course was winding, and it was not my intention to pass the horse coming up on a curve. But the grey’s intention was to pass it, curve or no curve, and when the two horses came neck and neck on the curve, I almost fell off. When I gained control again, that ole grey had slipped into second place.
The last stretch of the course toward the train spur was up a steep hill, then a smooth slope down to the spur. Now, uphill on a last stretch is tough on any horse, but this was where the mule in the grey was at its best. All we could see, that grey and I, on that last stretch was the rider ahead and that other horse’s rump; we couldn’t see anything beyond on the other side. Yet I knew, just like Ole Grey knew, that the spur was there, and the finish line. I loosened up some more on the reins and let the grey have his way. The grey then took charge: climbed that hill, and, with all stops pulled out, passed that last stallion and sizzled like lightning down the hill, toward the spur, and across the finish line.