Risky Chance

by Alison Hart

  April 1939,

  Race Day

  Marie buzzed around me like a bee. Washing my tail, brushing my coat, braiding my mane. One of Wolf’s friends had lent us a stall at Tanforan for the big day.

  I hung my head over the door, goggling at the swarm of grooms, riders, and horses. The noise and confusion excited me, and every time I heard “They’re off!” blasting from the grandstand, I wanted to run, too.

  Lanny came up, wearing a big grin. “You polish that colt any more, Miss Marie, he’ll be bald.”

  “Chance might not have the fanciest tack,” she told him as she trimmed a stray hair on my muzzle. “Nor the finest blanket. And he won’t come from Winston’s best stable.” She spat the word. “But he’ll be the handsomest. And the fastest. And when he wins, everyone at Tanforan will know that my father is the best trainer in California.”

  “That’s a lot to place on the back of one horse,” Lanny said as he scratched my withers. “What if he comes in second? Or last?”

  Marie shot him a dark look. “He won’t.”

  For a moment, Lanny was silent. Then he said, “You don’t have to act so brave, Miss Marie. I know what’s at stake.”

  Ignoring him, Marie bridled me.

  “Your father told me you could lose your house.”

  She gave me one last swipe with a rag. Stepping back, she studied me. I arched my neck. “He’ll win,” she declared. “Mother and I saved every nickel we made from sewing those doll clothes. We bet it all, Lanny.” Tears glimmered in her eyes before she brushed them away.

  I felt her sadness. She reminded me of Dappled Filly, and I laid my head on her shoulder.

  Crossing his arms, Lanny studied me, too. “Chance was the best colt I’d ever trained,” he said quietly. “Before people ruined him. You’ve done wonders with him, Miss Marie. I do believe he could beat the moon today.”

  “He just needs to beat nine other horses.”

  Lanny nodded. “I’ll meet you in the saddling paddock. It would be my honor to help send him off to the track.”

  “Thanks, Lanny.” When he left, Marie stooped and ran her hand down my right leg. Was she worried about my bow?

  Rising up, she laid her cheek against my neck. It felt hot and wet. Then, pulling a cap from her back pocket, she put it on and tucked in her curls. “It’s time, Chance,” she said, and, straightening her shoulders, she led me from the stall.

  The saddling paddock was crowded with fine and fresh-looking horses. Tails switched. A horse reared. Others kicked out, narrowly missing me.

  Marie’s mother waved a handkerchief at us from the crowd. Roses bobbled from the brim of her hat, reminding me of that long-ago day when I’d first met Marie. She blew us a good-luck kiss. Lanny put on the saddle pad and saddle and tightened my girth.

  I spotted Huge Man. He stood by a tall, big-boned bay. He was talking to the bay’s jockey. Instantly, I recognized Stubby. My nostrils flared, and I flattened my ears angrily. As the bay pranced and hopped, Huge Man glared at me and stabbed one finger in my direction.

  Raising my head, I stood quietly. I didn’t need to prance for the crowd. I wasn’t frightened of Huge Man or Stubby, either. I’d been claimed by grumpy and gruff owners. I’d been ridden and whipped by too many jockeys like Stubby. I’d been treated like I was nothing and told I was done for.

  Life had changed me as it had Marie, Blink, Lanny, and Wolf. I knew what I had to do. First out of the gate. First against the railing. Run. Run. Faster. Faster. And never look back.

  “Chance knows how to win this race,” Wolf told Blink, who suddenly looked like a child. “All you need to do is listen to him. That’s how we won eight races together.”

  “And no whip,” Lanny and Marie chorused.

  “Yes, sir, and uh, ma’am.” Blink touched his hand to his cap. Lanny boosted him into the saddle. For a moment, Marie wouldn’t let go of the reins. She stared up at me, and I could see worry in her eyes. Was she wishing that she was the one riding me today? Or was she worried I couldn’t win?

  “It’s up to you, Chance,” she said, and, letting go, she stepped back.

  Blink steered me around the paddock, and then we followed the other horses onto the track. The bay was two ahead of me. Stubby turned in the saddle. Raising his whip, he smacked it sideways in the air as if hitting another horse’s head. His eyes were on me. Then he grinned nastily, shifted his gaze to Blink, and slashed again with the whip.

  I waited for Blink to tremble at the sight. But he only chuckled. “Stubby thinks he’s scaring us,” he said. “Only ‘scared’ is when the sheriff threw my family out of our home. ‘Scared’ is seeing my mom and baby sisters cry ’cause we had no place to live. A whip cracked across my face? That’s nothin’.” He whistled under his breath. “Kingsman, though. That’s one ace of a horse. He’ll be tough to beat, Chance.”

  Breaking into a jog, I caught up with Stubby and the bay. A mounted attendant held Kingsman’s head, keeping him under control. His knees lifted smartly as he trotted past the grandstand. His tail fanned in the air, and he tossed his head, showing off as the crowd roared his name. Stubby waved, enjoying the attention, too.

  “Odds are twenty-five to one on you, Chance,” Blink said as we passed the totalizator board. “Kingsman’s odds are three to one. Seems the crowd doesn’t believe you’ll win. I guess we’ll have to show ’em what a long shot can do.”

  Nine other horses and jockeys gathered behind the starting gate. The assistant starters loaded us one by one. Horses were lined up on my right and my left. The last horse to load reared and crashed through the gate. I heard the bay snort. The horse next to me pawed nervously.

  Finally the last horse loaded. Eyes wide, I watched the flagman. He raised his arm. Blink sat forward, his fingers clutching my mane. He was as chilly as I was.

  The flag went down; the bell rang. Reaching out, I clawed the track with my two front hooves. I pushed off with my hind legs, powerful from trotting up and down the hills with Marie. I bounded from the starting gate before the others. In two long strides, I was against the rail. In four strides, I was ahead of the other horses. Blink rode like Marie: as light as a fallen leaf. I knew he was there by the slight pressure on the reins and the whisper of my name.

  I hurtled around the turn to the backstretch, nine horses close behind me. Nine horses that were waiting for me, the front-runner, to tire and fall back.

  But the will to win raged inside me. It pushed me faster and faster down the backstretch. Along the inside railing was a blur of faces and waving arms. Shouts rang in my ear, and I heard my name and then the name Kingsman chanted over and over.

  As I neared the final turn, I cocked my ear, listening. Huff, huff came from close behind. The bay wasn’t giving up. It was time to let him know who was the best.

  I lengthened my stride and surged forward. All of a sudden, pain hit my right leg. Even with all Marie’s patient care, my injured tendon wasn’t holding up. I faltered. Blink must have felt my misstep, because he tightened the reins as if to ease me back.

  Huff, huff. Suddenly, the bay was pulling beside me. I rolled my eye to the right. I saw Stubby’s nasty grin. I saw him switch his whip to his left hand. I heard Blink’s sharp intake of breath as the whip snaked out. Stubby was keeping it low so the stewards on their platform wouldn’t see.

  Stubby had steered the bay so close I was trapped between him and the inside railing. I couldn’t swerve right or left. The only way I could avoid the whip was to outrun him.

  I leaned into the final turn to the homestretch, trying to keep my weight off my right leg. Crack! The whip cut my ear. If I could just hold on, we’d soon be heading down the final stretch. Stubby would have to stop whipping because of the stewards’ sharp eyes.

  Run. Run. Faster. Faster.

  Blood coursed through my muscles, spurring me on. I shut my mind to the pain spreading up my leg. The homestretch loomed ahead. Kingsman and I were neck and neck. As we thundered down the homestretch, the gran
dstand erupted. Were those Marie’s and her mother’s cheers I heard? Were those Lanny’s and Wolf’s shouts of encouragement?

  I could never have heard them over the crowd, so I must have heard them in my heart.

  Blink crouched lower. His hands rested high on my neck. I felt his courage and energy flow into me. As if we were one, we sailed toward the finish line. Kingsman still hugged my side, but he wasn’t going to beat me. I would win for Marie, Wolf, and Lanny. I would win because I would never race again.

  Calling on my last surge of power, I leaped forward. We passed beneath the finish line a nose ahead of the bay.

  Instantly, Blink leaned back on the reins. When I slowed, he kicked his feet from the stirrups and jumped off. “Whoa. Whoa.” He stumbled but didn’t let go. Pulling hard, he got me to turn. My right leg seemed to buckle beneath me, and I almost fell to my knees. But Blink was there, pressing his weight against my right side, holding me up.

  Then Marie and Lanny were there, too. Marie’s face was smudged with tears. I searched for her smile. I had won, hadn’t I?

  She wrapped her arms around me. “Thank you, Chance,” she said. “You made our dreams come true.” Then as suddenly as she had arrived, she disappeared.

  Quickly Lanny took off my saddle, handed my reins to a strange groom, and hurried off. Confused, I searched for him. Blink and Marie’s mother were helping Wolf make his way to the winner’s circle. Marie and Lanny were nowhere in sight.

  Turning away, I hobbled beside the groom, my head bobbing with each painful step.

  Now I understood why Marie was crying. I had been claimed by a new owner. Not that I blamed her. I was truly done for. Even Marie couldn’t keep a Thoroughbred that would never race again. I wouldn’t be able to pay for my keep. I was no use to her and her family.

  My heart was heavy as I limped off the track, but I never looked back.

  It was later when the vet came into my stall. I wasn’t the only horse who’d broken down that day, so he’d been busy. Fortunately, the groom had taken care to untack me and cool and rub me down. He’d rubbed liniment on my leg and fed me a bran mash. But even the bran mash couldn’t lift my spirits. Marie and Lanny were gone. I was once again a claim horse. And when the vet opened the door, I stood in the corner, my head hanging.

  Bending, the vet inspected my leg and said to the groom, “I’m tired of patching up these horses so some money-hungry owner can race them one more time.”

  “Horse does act beat down,” the groom said. “As if he lost the race instead of won.”

  “Yeah, well, that’s ’cause his next stop will be the packing plant,” the vet said after he ran his fingers down my leg. “I don’t know if I should waste bandages on him.”

  “You better,” someone declared. Rolling one eye back, I saw Marie burst into the stall. “My horse just won us a pot of gold.”

  Lifting up my head, I took a sideways step toward the door. Why was she here? “A pot of gold, huh?” The vet instantly brightened. “That means I’ll get paid for once.”

  Marie gave me a fierce hug. Then she held my head as the vet put a poultice on my leg. Still, I kept rolling my eyes at her, not sure what was going on.

  “I’m sorry if you thought we’d abandoned you, Chance,” she said. “Wolf and Blink had to talk to the stewards. Mr. Winston accused Blink of fouling Stubby.” She made a disgusted noise. “We know that isn’t true. Fortunately, the stewards knew Stubby was lying, too. And after your race, well, Lanny and I had something special to do.”

  When the vet rose to get wraps, Marie led me forward a few steps so I could see out the open stall door. “I had a plan, Chance.” Her voice rose excitedly. “I knew what I wanted to do with Mother’s and my winnings. Father doesn’t even know.”

  Craning her neck, she looked up and down the aisle. I peered out the doorway, wondering why she was so excited. Then I heard humming and the sound of a horse’s hooves thudding on the packed dirt. Lanny turned the corner, leading a skinny light-gray horse.

  Sweet Dreams! Lanny grinned. “Glad to see your old friend, I bet,” he said when she and I touched noses.

  Marie wrapped her arms around Dreams’s neck. “I claimed her, Chance! Lanny helped me. She was in a race after yours. We had to make our claim in a hurry. But she’s mine now. Mine!”

  Dreams blinked as if confused. I was confused, too. Was I going home with Marie? Was Sweet Dreams coming with us? Why would Marie want us? As she had said earlier, Dreams was raced to death. And me, I would never race again.

  “Oh, I have such big plans. Especially for you, Chance,” Marie said. “When your leg heals and school’s out, you and I are going to become mounted attendants on the track.” She plunked her cap on her head so she looked like a boy.

  “There’s good money for a rider with his own horse,” she went on. “And with my pay, and Mother’s doll clothes, we’re going to build a barn, because when Sweet Dreams gets her spark back, she’s going to give us the first of many fine foals.”

  While Marie talked, Lanny listened and nodded. A grin stretched his cheeks. “I’m putting my winnings in with Miss Marie’s,” he said. “Soon our stable will be bursting with speedy two-year-olds. And with Wolf’s and my training, Marie’s riding, and Blink’s expert jockeying, we’ll be the top barn in California in no time.”

  Just then, I heard Wolf’s voice. “The stewards fined Stubby,” he called as he came up the barn, arm in arm with Marie’s mother. Blink was right behind them. He looked completely tuckered out, yet his grin was as big as Lanny’s.

  Marie and Lanny went over to congratulate them. The vet had finished and was packing his bag.

  That gave me a chance to talk to Dreams.

  Once my friend had had a gleam in her eye and a shiny coat and had been as fast as I was. Now her eyes were hollow, her coat was ashy, and she had no fire left. I knew that would change. Dreams wore an old rope halter. And when Marie took off the leather halter I wore and put on my old rope one, I knew what that meant, too.

  I blew in Dreams’s nostrils. I told her that we were going home with people who would treat us with kindness, who would love us even though we were done for as racehorses.

  We were two of the lucky ones. We were no longer claim horses who belonged to no one.

  We belonged to Marie.

  APPENDIX

  MORE ABOUT THE THOROUGHBRED

  Thoroughbreds in History

  About three hundred years ago, three Arabian stallions were brought to England from the Middle East. Their names were Darley Arabian, Byerly Turk, and Godolphin Barb. They were bred to the larger, heavier English mares. The new foals had strength and speed. They were called English running horses. Later, they became the first of a new breed called the Thoroughbred.

  In 1764, Eclipse, a great Thoroughbred, was born. He was named for the eclipse of the sun that happened that year. He won eighteen races. About 95 percent of Thoroughbreds can trace their roots back to Eclipse.

  Bulle Rock was the first Thoroughbred brought to the United States, in 1730. Kentucky, with its rich bluegrass and mild climate, became a center for Thoroughbred breeding and racing. Racing continued in Kentucky even during the Civil War.

  Thoroughbreds Today

  Thoroughbreds in the United States and Canada are registered with the Jockey Club, which was formed in 1894. Each horse receives a unique name, such as Valentine Lassie, Zee Bird, or The Mad Artist. Today there are about 445,000 names in use. Every Thoroughbred racehorse’s upper lip is tattooed with a unique number. But all Thoroughbreds have the same “birthday,” January 1, no matter when they are born.

  Most Thoroughbreds are bred for racing. They have large nostrils and lungs for deep, strong breathing. They have long legs for fast running. The famous racehorse Man o’ War had a stride of twenty-eight feet! Thoroughbreds are noted for their speed, reaching up to forty miles an hour.

  The Thoroughbred ranges in height from 15 to 17 hands. (A hand measures four inches.) A grown horse weighs between
900 and 1,200 pounds. Thoroughbreds’ colors are brown, bay, chestnut, black, and gray, with some roans.

  Not all Thoroughbreds are racehorses. Some are bred and trained for jumping and dressage. Others compete in steeplechase and polo. Temperament often decides what a horse is best suited for. Thoroughbreds can be flighty but often possess great heart.

  More About Life During the 1930s

  Risky Chance is set during the Great Depression. This period began in 1929 and didn’t end until America went to war in the 1940s. Banks crashed. Businesses went bust. Fathers lost their jobs. Families lost their homes.

  Children like Marie had to go to work to help their families. They strung safety pins on cords, sewed buttons onto cards, or put bobby pins in packages. They could earn about two dollars and fifty cents a week. A family was considered rich if they earned six thousand dollars a year. Most families, however, earned about four hundred and fifty dollars a year. During the Depression, many could no longer pay the one-dollar electric bill. “For a whole week, we didn’t eat anything but potatoes,” one child said about his life during the Depression.

  More About Racing in the 1930s

  Horse racing became a popular sport during the Great Depression. By 1935, two-thirds of homes owned a radio. (There was no television.) Families loved sitting around listening to a dramatic horse race or baseball game. In 1934, Santa Anita Racetrack opened in California. It offered a hundred-thousand-dollar purse for the winner of the Santa Anita Handicap race. Today that would equal seven million dollars!

  During the Depression, Seabiscuit became a popular horse hero. Huge crowds swarmed the racetracks to watch the crooked-legged Thoroughbred run. He was featured on the covers of Time, Life, and Newsweek magazines. Just as in Risky Chance, Seabiscuit raced Rosemont in the 1937 “hundred-grander” and lost by a nose.