ANOTHER DOSE OF REALITY... what next? (Part 58b)

It would’ve been nice if I could say we got all his horses qualified. We didn’t. Only three made it. That meant he had to ship eight horses back to New Hampshire. It also meant that he could no longer afford to pay me. At about the same time my grandfather had decided to sell the one horse he had left. AJ was down to just five horses including my grandfather’s and although he felt badly about it his declining health and the fact that he’d pretty much kept his horses for the past few years for my benefit and I was no longer with AJ, there was no point in it anymore. I told him I could race it and try to find a buyer although there was no demand for 12 year old geldings. He agreed and said he’d get the horse shipped to me.

When the horse arrived I had to take his eligibility papers to the office so I could enter him in a race. While I was there I saw this strange sight. It was a short man all dressed in fancy clothes. He was wearing gabardine driving pants like most trainers do and a jacket with a leather patch on one shoulder much like what a hunter would wear. His boots looked like they were snakeskin and he was also wearing a wool cap set at a jaunty angle. He was also wearing an ascot and the cigarette he was holding was in a fancy holder. It certainly went with his pencil thin moustache. The only thing missing was a monocle. The first thing I thought of when I saw him was that he was a “dandy” from one of the books I’d read in college. I’ll admit I was smiling on the inside as I looked at him.

I’d made some inquiries about a job and all that was available was the position of a groom. Jean Paul had told me that, as far as my career was concerned, it would be best not to do it unless I was starving. So, I became a one horse trainer/driver. The first time I raced the old horse I finished 3rd. Now, 12% of $600 is $72. That didn’t even pay for his feed and horse shoeing. But I struggled on and got another 3rd. Jean Paul wasn’t even doing that well. His owner had “pulled the plug” on him and ordered him to ship all the horses back to New Hampshire so my one true friend was leaving. He asked me to train one of his horses while he made final arrangements. This particular horse was one that I was familiar with in that she was truly lazy. Jean Paul and I had taken part of a tube from a sulky tire and attached it to the end of a whip and then sliced the end of it and made like spaghetti straps. By snapping it up around her ears and screaming at her she seemed to respond. I actually felt rather foolish doing it but it was a means to an end. As I remember it I was the only one one on the track at the time. I also was able to get her to go as fast as Jean Paul had wanted. That was my last contact with Jean Paul.

This track was only open for five weeks before we had to move to another track not all that far away. I was getting a bit concerned with nothing on the horizon for me. My grandfather was sending me money for training the horse which helped. This new track had a type of race that was fairly new to harness racing... claiming races. It was where you entered your horse for a set sale price. Someone claiming a horse had to put up that money prior to the race and the horse became theirs as soon as the race was over. One good thing about those races was that the purse (money we were racing for) was higher. I’d talked with my grandfather and he agreed that $2000 was a fair price so I entered the old horse in a claiming race. The purse was $1000, or $400 more that we’d been racing for. I really didn’t think anyone would pay $2000 for a tired twelve year old racehorse. I ended up finishing second which meant $250 in purse money. As I paraded back to the paddock I was actually fantasizing what it would be like to have a few more horses and to be truly on my own. But, when I got the horse back to the paddock I was shocked to see the shit eating grin of Dan’s walking up to take the reins of the horse. He’d claimed my grandfather’s horse.

If there was anything I could’ve done to prevent him from taking the horse I would’ve done it. But, the way the process worked was that a track official was with Dan and when he took hold of the bridle the official handed me a certified check. Once back at the paddock stall I had to unhitch the horse from the sulky and take the harness and other equipment off him. The buyer got only the horse and bridle. As I did I was cursing under my breath. When I was finished Dan and one of the grooms who I had worked with walked off into the night with the horse. I remember wishing that the horse turned up lame on him in the morning. I didn’t have much time to dwell on it though as I had to get all the equipment out of the stall as it was needed by a horse in the last race of the night.

I was trying to figure out how many trips it would take to get it all back to the barn when I saw someone walking up. He was wearing brown and ivory racing silks and as I looked closely I recognized the “dandy” from a few days before. He had a smile on his face and asked if Dan had “stolen” my horse. He, of course, was being facetious but in my frame of mind I took him seriously. He laughed when I barked back a "no". He said I could call him Mr S. but my first thought was “Why?”, since he'd started the conversation. Thankfully, I didn’t say anything. He went on to ask what I was going to do now that my only horse was gone. I was thinking to myself “How does he know that?”. Before I could come up with an answer he continued on and said that he’d heard good things about me and was wondering if I’d consider taking a job with him.

To be continued...