Mary and James stood in their box under the roof as the parade of horses walked past the stands in the rain. There was only one horse the Glidewells were watching. Mary grabbed James. He was deeply moved by the scene as he patted Mary’s hand. Maizie‘s eyes were following Capp holding the halter, leading horse and jockey in blue and orange. There was Glory Be, their dear horse, the horse who even at his birth seemed destined for this moment.
As each horse was led into the starting gate, a gate handler held on to the horse’s halter as the gate was closed behind. Capp had returned to the rail and joined Tommy and Wil. “He went in easy. No problem in the stall,” Wil said.
From where James was standing, Glory Be looked good. He was keeping his head down, not rearing-up. When the flag dropped, the gates opened, and the announcer yelled, “They’re off!”. The spectators were on their feet; eyes on the field of horses. Pounding out of the gates, the horses began to drive hard down the straight, gaining speed. All were jockeying for positions in the pack. Some were looking to take the rail, some the lead, some stayed with the pack. But as the horses cleared away from the gates, people could see that a jockey had fallen from his mount. The announcer kept his attention on the front of the pack, but James could see with his binoculars that the horse and rider were his. The jockey’s silks, blue and orange, were muddy but identifiable. James’s shoulders slumped. “We are done. Our jockey is down.” Both Mary and Maizie remained silent, while James threw his race schedule on the floor. “Damn! What the hell!” he yelled.
Capp and Tommy were at the starting gate on the rail, gripping tight. They saw what happened. Glory Be had slipped in the mud, causing him to dislodge Eddie a length out of the starting gate. There was no mistake, only bad luck. The mud calks didn’t grip, his front legs had churned briefly in the mud. Capp put his head down between his arms and gripped the rail even tighter. Tommy simply said, “Feckin’ mud.”
But then as Eddie ran to the edge of the track Glory Be straightened up and began to run. It took him a few seconds to steady himself in the mud, but when he did, he was in the race, without a rider. He pulled through the mud, building up to a fast gallop, the stirrups on his saddle bouncing as he ran, the reins resting on his mane. Glory Be put his head down, stretched and pounded down the track. He galloped faster now, coming up on the back of the pack. He stayed there for a bit as the mud flew in his face from the horses in front of him. As he rounded the first bend and hit the backstretch, he slowed slightly, seeming to figure his next move. Suddenly he sped up again, moving around the pack—one horse, then two, three. Jockeys turned their heads toward the horse outrunning them. Some urged their horses faster, prompted by the riderless horse with the orange blanket. Glory thundered past the pack near the last turn and set his sights on the three horses in the lead. He passed one and pulled hard, stretching into the last straightaway.
The crowd was on their feet, watching Glory Be challenge the two in the lead. The jockeys were now using their crops and reins, pushing their horses faster and faster. The finish line was close now. A horse racing without a jockey may not realize exactly where the finish line is. He may slow down too soon. Jockeys themselves have lost races making a finish-line error. Glory Be was not fooled; he kept charging. Right in front of him now was Omaha, the lead horse. Glory moved to the right and stretched his legs long. With grace and strength the stallion pounded, the reins slapping against his shoulders. The finish line was close now. Omaha’s rider looked to his right and felt Glory moving past him with rhythmic strides. As Glory Be crossed the finish line, there was no question that with no jockey to handle him, he’d maintained his speed and nosed out the rest of the field. He’d come in first.
The announcer leaned into his mic and announced the winners: “First place, Omaha; second, Roman Soldier; third, Whiskolo!” Capp ran out onto the track with a lead and grabbed Glory Be’s halter. The crowd’s eyes were all on the horse that ran the race without a jockey, fingers pointing. Some started chanting, “GLORY BE, GLORY BE!”
“I guess, folks, we should mention that Glory Be, number eight, did not win,” the announcer said. “You have to have a rider, folks. Glory Be is disqualified.” The crowd booed, although most knew this was true. A horse without a rider could not win a race, but that horse could win the hearts of the audience.
Capp received a boost into the saddle by Wil, who slapped the horse on the rear. Capp turned the thoroughbred and began the cool down around the track. The crowd watched as Capp trotted around the first turn and then back down the backstretch, petting his mane, telling the horse how proud he was and how intelligently he had run the race. The horse’s ears twisted to hear Capp’s familiar voice. No one else heard Capp’s comments but they were all watching horse and rider just the same. It was a poignant moment for the Glidewell team. Glory Be was a fan favorite.
As Capp brought Glory Be back into the home stretch the crowd
