The flagged dropped, the barrier was raised and the two Glidewell fillies took off running neck and neck. There was nothing to slow them. Both riders indicated to their horses to go for broke, and they did. As they approached the finish line at the four-furlong mark, there was great uncertainty as to who would finish first, but somehow Devil Doll stretched her neck out and won by a nose. The crowd on the knoll were all standing and cheering, enjoying the closest match of the day. James turned to Wil and said, “Guess betting on the long shot gets you nowhere.”
“Only when it does.” Wil laughed as he accepted James’s five dollars.
Next in the lineup was Miles Moser on Scout’s Honor against Neil Favor on Mitt-Me-Kid. What Neil Favor lacked in horsepower he made up in guile. But all the guile in the world wouldn’t have had Scout’s Honor lose this Sunday. The horse was sound and fast and won easily. Scout’s Honor was just too good, Miles Moser just too experienced.
Capp riding Running Wild took the finals in the consolation bracket. Red Sundown seemed no match at all for the Glidewell team. As Capp climbed off the saddle, he regretted even more that he had lost in the first race yesterday. Running Wild was the best horse in the lot, no doubt about it. He had made a mistake not training him harder with the starting mechanism. It had been his fault that he lost. Not bad luck. Not an unruly horse. A trainer’s error.
A stable hand intercepted Capp and attached a lead to Running Wild’s halter. “I’ll see to it Wild gets a good rubdown, Capp,” he said, about to lead the horse back to the barn.
“Wait a minute. Keep him saddled. I have to find Mr. Glidewell.”
“He’s down on the rail with Mrs. Glidewell and Wil.”
“Thanks,” said Capp as he ran. The final was about to begin.
“All right, folks, we are ready for the finals. The winner will earn one hundred dollars; the runner-up, fifty. Riding Devil Doll from Glidewell Ranch is our favorite bugler, Corky Wright. His competition is Scout’s Honor, being ridden by Miles Moser. Two great horses and riders,” said Rex Goude. “This will be a fine race.” Riders were ready, the barrier was sprung, and the race began.
Capp found himself secretly hoping that Moser would win the final heat. If Moser lost, Capp’s chance for redemption in James’s eyes would be gone. Capp felt a twinge of guilt, but the chances that Doll, a filly, would beat that big stallion were slim to none. Capp kept his eyes on the match race as he was running toward the viewing knoll, frantically looking for Mr. Glidewell.
Corky was working Doll hard, but the stronger, bigger stallion began to pull away. Moser glowered at the Glidewell team as he passed. Doll kept fighting, running harder as Corky encouraged her on. As the two horses pounded their way down the track, the results were clear. At the finish it was Scout’s Honor, winning by a length. The team of Miles Moser and his horse was headed down the backstretch to the saddling paddock in all their glory.
Capp, on a dead run, finally found James, Maizie, and Mary. “Mr. Glidewell,” he gasped, catching his breath, “I have to make this fast. You got two hundred dollars?”
“Why?”
“I want to challenge Moser to a runoff and win one for the team. He’s a jerk. He couldn’t beat Wild if his life depended on it. One more race. I know it’s just for show but isn’t the whole tournament? This Moser guy needs some competition and Wild will give it to him. We’ll get some respect back. I want the ranch to offer Moser double or nothing. Wild can do it. Please, give me a chance.”
James looked at Mary, who was shaking her head. “Just leave it alone, James.”
James turned to Wil with a competitive glint in his eye. “Wil, what do you think? Should we win back our respect?” asked James.
“Nothin’ in horse racing is for sure.” Wil hesitated, looking from James to Capp to Mary, and then back. “I’d say with no problems at the start, nine times out of ten Capp and Wild would take it.”
Capp’s eyes grew wide with excitement. Looking at the knoll, he could see the crowd was packing their gear and paying their bets. “Hurry,” yelled Capp. “Tell the crowd there will be one more race. Hurry. People are leaving.” Capp began his run back to the paddock. Wil moved quickly to heed Capp’s bidding. He left James nodding his head and yelling, “Run, Wil. Hurry.” James watched as Wil climbed up to the viewing platform and grabbed the mic. Miles was nearly to the saddling paddock. “
Wil’s voice boomed across the track, silencing the crowd. “Hey Miles. Miles Moooooser!” Moser stopped and turned back toward the finish line. “Fine ride, son! That is one fast stallion.” The crowd yelled and Miles raised his hat and bowed in the saddle, a gesture of appreciation to his adoring fans. Then he continued his trot, sitting straight-backed and proud in the saddle.
Wil yelled again. “Hey Miles. Bet your boy is tired from working so hard to beat our Glidewell filly.” The crowd grew silent, while a few chuckled. Miles slowed his horse and turned to look back at the platform. Wil repeated into the mic, “Fine ride, Miles. Bet Scout is tired from beating our pretty little filly.” Moser stared back at the platform and adjusted the hat on his head. Suddenly kicking the stallion in the flank he headed back toward the announcer’s platform. The crowd on the knoll began to whoop and holler, anticipating a row. No one was leaving now.
When Miles Moser reached the announcer’s platform, he yelled up to Wil, “No way is this stallion tired.” He reached down to stroke the horse’s neck. “He could go six more match races if he had to.”
Wil smiled and continued: “I bet he
