“Six furlongs is longer,” complained Moser.
“I know. Your horse too tired?”
“No, Scout ain’t tired, not one bit. He’s just getting warmed up.”
“Seems a fair race. Running Wild and Capp had to run as many races as you and Scout did today.” Wil paused for just a moment as Miles steadied his horse on the track. “Unless of course your horse is tired and you were kidding and six furlongs is too long.”
The crowd snickered.
Miles Moser raised his head. “Two hundred dollars suits me fine! We’ll have our race. I’d love to pocket more money. Easy pickin’s.” Miles Moser showed absolute confidence. The crowd on the green knoll clapped and the backsiders cheered.
“All right, we will see you at the start in thirty minutes.” Wil handed the microphone back to Rex. Spectators and backsiders alike ran to find men willing to place bets on the impromptu “final” race of the day.
Capp jogged to the big barn to check on Wild. The horse was pawing at the loose ground in his stall. Capp smiled, “You ready, boy? We got one more today. Longer race.” The horse raised his head and nickered. “We are going to take it. Hell Wild, we got to take it,” Capp said, stroking his horse’s side. “Wild, you know Mr. Glidewell wants this real bad. We don’t win, he may send us on our way. Where would we go, fella? This place is too good to let it all go.” Capp leaned into the horse’s neck and patted him gently. He clipped the lead onto Wild’s halter and proceeded to the saddling paddock.
Tommy was there to see to Capp’s readiness. When the time was right, he put the blinder bridle on the horse’s head. Wild seemed to immediately relax. Tommy checked to see if the saddle was secure and Capp mounted his horse. He sat while Tommy made sure the stirrups were in the correct position. Then he gave Capp a little coaching. “Have Wild be a stayer. Don’t let him get ahead too soon. Lull Miles into thinking it’s gonna be easy. Then at three furlongs go hard. We can beat this horse, but you have to play it smart.”
Capp knew Tommy was right. He’d have to run an intelligent race. The extra distance did give Wild a chance if there was trouble at the start. This run was personal. It was for Glidewell’s honor and for Capp’s self-respect. A chance to guarantee Capp stayed at Glidewell.
As the two horses approached the start, Corky let loose on his bugle. Capp’s opponent, Miles Moser looked at him and glared and then let his horse rear in an attempt to excite Running Wild. With the blinders on, Wild wasn’t distracted by the act of intimidation, but it made Capp want to win even more. With Capp’s good horse handling, Wild proceeded slowly to the starting line. When the riders were settled, the flag dropped and the barrier was sprung.
“And they’re off!”
Running Wild had a good start and stayed away from the inside rail letting Scout’s Honor take it. All of Capp’s concern about the start barrier was negated with Matilda’s great suggestion. Both horses were gaining speed and rhythm, but Capp stayed behind.
“What the hell is he doing?” asked James in loud, angry tones.
“He’s staying. It’s his plan. Watch and learn, James.”
Capp leaned over his horse and raised his body, centering his weight in the stirrups and on the horse’s neck instead of his back. Capp held Wild to a restrained run, staying behind Moser but close enough. At three furlongs he loosened the reins. Wil patted James on the shoulder. “See, James, Capp is letting Wild race now.” James gripped the rail tighter. A length behind Scout’s Honor, Capp guided Wild closer to the rail and began to gain on Moser. He could feel that Wild’s gait was even and smooth. Each stride felt longer and cleaner, the horse’s head down. Capp and Wild were coming up on Moser and outrunning the competition stride for stride. At the five-furlong mark, they were head-to-head on the inside, Moser whipping Scout with the reins and yelling loudly. Capp finally overtook him, finishing a respectable half-length ahead.
It was a brilliant race. As Wild continued his cool down run around the track, the community of Glidewell Ranch and spectators cheered. James could not contain his joy. He picked up Mary and twirled her around and kissed her. Looking at Maizie’s sweet face, James was moved to pick her up too but didn’t.
Miles Moser rode over to James, Mary, and Wil on the rail. Wil looked up and said, “Seems we beat you, Miles.”
Miles looked a bit in shock and said, “Seems we got hustled, Scout and me. Things ain’t been good lately. I needed that money. I shouldn’t have taken your double-or-nothing bet.”
“We respect your competitive spirit. I tell you what, if you are willing to let us breed your quarter horse with a few of our fillies, we’ll pay you the money you lost.”
“Scout and I got other races to win. It’s how we make our living. Scout doesn’t have no time to be enjoying himself at your fancy ranch.”
“Your choice, Miles,” said Wil.
Wil waited for an answer but none was coming. The two Glidewell men remained silent and stoic. Moser tipped his sweaty hat, kicked Scout in the flank, and trotted toward his horse trailer. He and his horse would be on their way soon, poorer than when they came.
On the viewing knoll, Matilda Coombs was screwing the cap onto her flask. She looked up at her brother and stuck out her hand. He grabbed it and helped his sister to her feet. “Let’s get going,” she said. “You’ve got a train to catch,
