out, bumped another kid, went down. They had to destroy him, so the board of stewards decided to
bury him out there.”
At exactly ten minutes before post time a horseman in a red cutaway and a black hunter?s cap led the
horses out onto the dirt, parading them around the track and in front of the stands. There was a ripple
of applause, now and then, and a lot of chitchat among the horseplayers as the Thoroughbreds went
by. Disaway was acting a little frisky, jogging sideways and shaking his head.
Callahan was right about the railbirds. Ten minutes before the first race, half of the crowd around us
seemed to rush off en masse, waiting until the last minute to get their bets down. We moved up
against the rail and across from the finish line, a perfect position.
The odds on Disaway changed very little, as Callahan had predicted. Five minutes before post time
they dropped from $33.05 to $26.20, still a hefty long shot as far as the bettors were concerned.
As they started putting the horses in the gate, Callahan gave me the binoculars.
“Watch Disaway, the four horse. He?s acting up a little but I don?t think he?s nervous. Anxious to run.
Looks good, lots of energy.”
I could see him jogging sideways and throwing his head about as the handler tried to lead him into the
chute. Magic Hands was leaning over his shoulder, talking into his ear. A moment later the horse
settled down and strolled into the gate.
I turned around and appraised the clubhouse with the glasses. Raines was in the centre box, alone,
looking stern, like Patton leading his tanks into combat.
“There?s Raines,” I said, “centre stage.”
Callahan gave him an unsolicited compliment. “Raines is a tough administrator. Built a rep for the
track; well run, clean, profitable.”
“Aren?t they all?” I suggested.
“Hah! I got out of college,” said Callahan, “got a job working for the vet at a little track. Florida.
Assistant track doctor. Track was dirty. Shit, they switched blood samples, dosed horses.. . crazy. Saw
two horses die that summer, one with heaves. Terrible. Pony just lies down, gags for air. Like
watching him suffocate, only takes hours. Don?t want to kill him because you keep hoping he?ll turn
around, make it. I decided to make a stink how bad it was. Got me fired. Told me I?d never work at a
racetrack again. So I became a cop, went back, cleaned their tank. Heads up, they?re coming out.”
I gave him back his glasses just as the bell rang. I could see the horses charging out of the stalls, a blur
of horseflesh and wild colours; mauve, pink, orange, bright blues and greens seemed to blend together
in a streak of colour, then the line began to stretch out as the field moved for position. The crowd was
already going so crazy as the eight horses pounded toward the first turn, I couldn?t hear the announcer
