Allerton and Axtell

by Gary Lee Martinson

  “What do you mean?” He asked.

  “The two horses you have, are now both, world class.” Her eyes opened wide and a delightful smile continued to shine. “They are nationally known winners, champions, they can’t be beat.”

  “They have done well.” He said and then turned to a somber tone, “At least Axtell will continue doing well.” Gilbert regretted the remark he had just made, because it might give her, a reporter, the impression that Allerton was finished as a race horse. Which certainly may not be the case. Allerton was in Independence getting the best care he could possibly be getting. Gilbert even felt guilty being in Terre Haute instead of Independence caring for Allerton. Mr. Williams made arrangements for Gilbert to miss school for a few days so he could look after the ailing Axtell.

  “I am sorry,” and she really appeared to him to be sincere with her concern. “I heard Allerton had an injury in Des Moines. When can he come back?”

  He found himself with a question he didn’t know how to answer. He wanted to be honest to her, by telling her he may never be back. Yet, he thought Allerton could recover nicely and return to be a strong contender once again. Mr. Williams, was optimistic he would recover and be back as strong as ever. He also thought that a simple statement like that, could devalue Allerton’s worth, both for sale and for breeding. He answered in the only way possible. “He won’t be back this year, but he’ll be as good as ever next year. You can count on that.”

  “That is great news,” she said smiling again. “It has been rumored that he would never be able to race again.”

  “Rubbish,” he said as he laughed, “you can quote me on that. I appreciate what you did in Keokuk last year. I want to be sure you understand that.”

  “It is so wonderful to actually see real gentlemen involved in this business, that I felt that it needed to be done.” Her smile left her face as she continued, “I will have to admit I was looking for something crooked in Keokuk. My deepest apology for that.” She looked very sincere, “It was just too convenient that the race went just as you had said it would, like you knew something, the rest of us didn’t. I was right, in a way, because you did know something we didn’t. You knew your horse.”

  “Yeah, I know these horses.” He replied angrily. He wasn’t so much mad at Miss Timms as he was upset that people would even think that way about Mr. Williams and Mr. Hussey. “It really upsets me when they write things about Mr. Williams and even Mr. Hussey, that are the furthest thing from the truth.”

  “Please, forgive me for my thoughts, Mr. Fenny.” She decided to sit down on a stool near the stable as he continued rubbing down Axtell. “He looks good.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “I hear that Allerton beat Axtell in Independence in August. If that is true, it proves you were right, that Allerton would have or will do better than Axtell.”

  “Allerton had the pole for that race.”

  “Are you saying that Axtell should have won that race?”

  Gilbert stopped rubbing Axtell and looked at her keenly. “I haven’t got you figured out yet. I don’t know if you are evil or good.”

  “Evil?” She said amused. “I hope I don’t give you the impression of being evil.”

  “I mean it as a figure of speech only. Not that you are really evil. You just seem to be intent on looking for bad things,” He kept brushing, “something controversial.”

  She thought for a moment, “I understand. You are absolutely right. My question is a bit rude. Let’s try again. How do you feel Axtell will do in the upcoming days?”

  “He’ll trot the best he ever has. He keeps getting stronger and faster every time we get out.”

  “Think he’ll recapture the record for three- year- old’s, from Sunol.”

  “I am not going to say another word to you about the horses. I value our friendship too much to jeopardize it on a horse.”

  Miss Timms shook her head slightly, “Too bad you’re not older, or I could charm you into talking.”

  “See, there you go with the evilness thing again.” As Gilbert shook his head slightly with a big grin on his face.

  She chuckled, “You are really something, my young Mr. Fenny. Good luck to you.” She got up off the stool clutched him on the shoulder affectionately.

  “Goodbye, ma’am,” he replied with mixed emotions.

  She met Mr. Williams and Mr. McHenry, they talked for a while.

  The citizens back in Independence were all in a flutter as they flocked by the hundreds to the local newspaper offices to hear the results of Axtell in Terre Haute. People crammed into the offices and the streets outside filled with people waiting for news. They wanted to know, as soon as possible, about their hero in Terre Haute, as he attempted to recapture the world trotting speed record from, ‘Sunol’, the Palo Alto Farm filly from California.

  Terre Haute offered one of the best chances for him to do it. It was an extremely well maintained track and fast when compared to other tracks in the country. This would be his best chance before the end of the racing season.

  Mrs. Williams had traveled with her husband for this event. The children were left in Independence being cared for by a nanny and other family members. She had not seen Axtell trot faster than 2:20, so she was anxious to see him attempt to beat Sunol’s record. She was treated like a queen by everyone. They had given her a special box seat with several of Terra Haute businessmen and their wives. There was boy at her disposal to fetch whatever she desired. She was flattered by the treatment, but felt unworthy of the special attention bestowed upon her. She was just a modest former school teacher, not feeling special since she had very little to do with the horses’ training or triumphs. However, she spent many hours with them and become attached to them.

  After the official races were completed for the day, the excitement grew with the anticipation of Axtell’s exhibition against the clock. George Starr was going to follow the fleet footed Axtell with his thoroughbred horse, Father John, for the first half mile. Then attempt to overtake him in the second half mile to stimulate his best performance. There were three thousand spectators anxiously waiting to watch the exhibition.

  The crowd gave an enthusiastic cheer as Mr. Williams and Axtell appeared on the track. Mr. Williams had worn a bright red hat on this day, and as usual the gentleman tipped his hat as he went past the stands. They jogged around the track a few times and returned to the starting area. Axtell appeared to be in fine shape for the exhibition.

  Mr. Williams and Mr. Hussey checked the track out thoroughly, determining the track was in good shape. Mr. Williams planned to push Axtell steady from the start and hope he could find some extra speed at the end.

  Mr. Williams scored up his trotter only seventy yards from the start to save Axtell’s strength. Axtell was scored twice before given the word from the judge Mr. Ijams. The gait was beautiful and his stride was long. The accompanying horse Father John laid back at Axtell’s wheel.

  Axtell went around the first turn and did the first quarter mile in :33. There was a red post marking the half mile mark and Axtell swept past it in 1:05 ½. The crowd rose to their feet knowing the time was in line to set a new trotting record. George Starr then urged his horse to challenge the great trotter.

  The third quarter of the track was noted to be faster then the rest of the track. Axtell with Father John at his wheel, carried his owner past the three quarter post in 1:37 3/4. Mr. Hussey, who had a timer next to him, noted the time.

  “My god, he is doing it!” he screamed, but no one could hear him through the screaming cheers of the crowd.

  Starr let Father John race for the finish pushing Axtell to his limit. Mr. Williams encouraged his colt, and he rounded the final turn up a slight hill without a wasted movement. Halfway down the stretch Mr. Williams brought down his whip twice on Axtell’s rump. The two horses dashed for the wire, Axtell appeared to be determined not to lo
se to the running horse. They crossed the line together as time stopped.

  The timers all leaped with excitement, which enticed the crowd into a frenzied cheer. The timing judges calmed down and quickly conferred with each other about the time. A rallying cry from the crowd expecting to see a record being broken.

  The crowd slowly calmed to a deafening silence as the timers conferred. Colonel Conley’s and Mr. A.E. Brushe’s watches had recorded 2:12 but Colonel J.H. Steiner’s watch was read as 2:11 3/4. The mark went up at 2:12, and the crowd went crazy with excitement. Not only has he beaten Sunol’s three-year-old record, but he had beaten the world stallion record.

  The crowd cheered Mr. Williams madly for ten minutes as he brought Axtell in to be weighed. There were drums beating, horns playing and pounding on the stands that deafened the ears of all in the city of Terre Haute. When the crowd finally quieted down, the Terre Haute Association president Mr. Ijams called for three cheers for Axtell. Then called for three cheers for Mr. Williams. His last call was for three cheers for the Terre Haute track. The cheers went on for ten more minutes.

  The event was flashed to all the media, a new world trotting record had been made at Terre Haute, Indiana. The people of Independence went wild as the results were announced. The band playing and the people danced in the streets. The celebration went on throughout the night.

  The city of Terre Haute arranged a ball to honor Mr. Williams and his great stallion. Mr. Williams told Gilbert, “You better keep a close watch on our horse, because he is worth $100,000 dollars if not more. Somebody might want to steal or hurt him.” Gilbert was flabbergasted to be responsible for protecting the most valuable horse in the world. He was also determined not to let him down, even if he had to give his own life. Mr. Williams smiled and pointed to two large men at the end of the barn. “They are U.S. Marshals. They will help you protect Axtell from anyone messing with him.”

  “Sir,” Gilbert asked, “there is a rumor that you may sell Axtell.”

  “Do you think I should?”

  “It isn’t up to me, sir,” he said. “He is your horse.”

  Mr. Williams looked at Gilbert intently, “I warned you not to get attached to a horse didn’t I?”

  “I hope you don’t sell Allerton, sir.” He said respectfully.

  “This is a business, Mr. Fenny. I have big plans for us.”

  “Wouldn’t it be good business to keep him ourselves, though?”

  “I don’t know,” he admitted, “they are set up here better to breed. We could sure use the money to do some improvements on our track maybe even build a new one. I would like to try a kite shaped track. We could have a great meeting there, and many records could be broken.”

  “I understand what you are saying, sir,” Gilbert replied. Mr. Williams was always a man of vision and that vision was alive and well.

  Mr. Williams, Mr. Hussey and Mr. McHenry left for the banquet. Mrs. Williams retired to her hotel room exhausted from the days exciting activities. When the three men entered the banquet hall, they were greeted with cheers and applause. There were two hundred people waiting for them, representatives of all the major newspapers, top horsemen, and a contingent of local dignitaries.

  The hotel and banquet room was a grand sight. There were crystal chandeliers, large elegant pictures of horses on the walls framed in extravagant gold frames. There were hundreds of place settings of expensive china. There were silver serving platters displaying a variety of foods, most of which Mr. Hussey couldn’t recognize as eatable. The few ladies that were present were dressed in the most elegant gowns. The men were in strict formal wear. The three men from Independence had their normal suits, that had always suited their needs in the past. The three of them felt they were underdressed for this particular occasion. They were greeted by nearly everyone individually.

  Mr, McHenry looked around the room and quietly, “We should have waited till they got drunk so we don’t look so out of place?”

  “No,” Mr. Hussey said, “Whatever we wear is most appropriate, because we are apparently the, ‘Belle of the Ball’.”

  “You are absolutely right, John,” agreed Mr. Williams. “They are the ones who should feel out of place, not us.” The three men chuckled.

  A waitress, wearing a quaint black dress and white lace with a white apron, approached the gentlemen with a tray of drinks. She stopped, “Gentlemen, these are on the house from the gentlemen at the table in the corner.” She nodded in the direction of a table of four gentlemen. The four at the table raised their glasses in a toasting gesture.

  “I do believe you are being paged, Charles,” said Mr. McHenry.

  “Gentlemen this is when the fun begins, enjoy it because we may never be in this position again.” Mr. Williams turned his attention to the waitress. “Could you get me the best water you have with ice and bring it to the table of gentlemen, please.”

  “Yes, sir,” she responded with a smile.

  “Thank you.”

  “You don’t mind, Charles.” Mr. McHenry said as he lifted one of the glasses from the waitress’s serving tray.

  “Not at all,” he said politely, “enjoy yourselves this evening, you both deserve it.”

  The three made their way toward the table shaking more hands as they went. The four gentlemen at the table stood up as the three approached.

  The biggest man of the group with jet black greased down hair, and his mustache pointing straight out the sides of his face, addressed them first. His hand was extended to shake Mr. McHenry’s hand, since he was the closest of the three. “Bloody good to meet you,” he spoke in a profound educated English accent. He shook their hands in succession as they came over. “I am Lord Pimbrick, this is John Madden, Cyrus Potter, and Andy Welch.”

  There were handshakes all round, and Mr. Hussey felt he must have shaken Mr. Potter’s hand three times. “This is Mr. McHenry, John Hussey and I am Charles Williams.” Lord Pimbrick gestured for them to all sit down. There happened to be empty chairs at the table for the three men from Independence.

  “This is a nice banquet room,” said Mr. McHenry. “I hope the food will be as good.”

  “I can guarantee you the food will look good. But for the taste, we’ll certainly find out when we eat it.” Cyrus Potter chuckled out.

  “Any idea what we are being served?” Mr. McHenry asked curiously.

  Lord Pimbrick spoke up in his well-bred English accent, “I do believe it is Chicken Cordon Bleu, with soup and mashed potatoes.”

  Mr. Hussey leaned over to Mr. Williams to speak privately, “What is Chicken Cardon Bleu?”

  “Something with chicken in it, probably with blue coloring,” Mr. Williams said, “I really don’t care as long as it’s edible. I’m starving.” He was well aware of what Chicken Cordon Bleu was since he had spent a few years in Chicago. He went on to explain what it was to Mr. Hussey, so he wouldn’t feel humbled by the others who already knew.

  The waitress brought Mr. Williams his water. “Miss,” he addressed the waitress, “could you make sure some of the great food gets delivered to my groom at the stables.” He scribbled something on a paper, then gave a her a sawbuck bill and handed the note to the waitress. He gave her a five dollar bill, “This is for you, thank you.”

  She smiled, “I know just what to do. Thank you, sir.” She walked off. Lord Pimbrick looked at Mr. Williams for a moment.

  “I say, not drinking with us, Charles?” Lord Pimbrick asked.

  “I do not care to drink alcohol.” Mr. Williams said as he raised his glass in a gesture of a toast. All the men at the table did the same. As they sat at the table enjoying the evening, many gentlemen approached Mr. Williams, giving him a friendly pat on the back and a kind comment about his horse. As dinner was served, the three Independence gentlemen enjoyed their meal immensely.

  “This stuff isn’t bad.” Mr. McHenry said quietly to Mr. Huss
ey.

  “I’m so hungry that an old shoe pulled from the river would taste good.” Mr. Hussey added quietly back.

  “That is hungry,” Mr. McHenry responded. “I’m so hungry that I could eat the meat regurgitated from a vulture.” The two men chuckled.

  Mr. Williams leaned over to the two men. “Gentlemen, let’s remember where we are, please.”

  “Sorry, Charles,” both men whispered.

  Mr. McHenry leaned over to Mr. Hussey, “How much do you want to bet, that old Pimbrick isn’t really a lord?”

  “What makes you say that?” Mr. Hussey asked.

  Mr McHenry expressed, “I don’t know, but you know those English blokes. I mean how would we know if he is really a lord or not?”

  “What Englishman do you know?”

  “Well, there was that Wendall, fella, that was at the track last year.”

  Mr. Hussey shook his head, “That doesn’t count, you hardly talked to him.”

  Mr McHenry didn’t respond to Mr. Hussey’s comments. He directed a question to Lord Pimbrick, “Lord Pimbrick, what exactly constitutes a Lord.”

  Lord Pimbrick seemed to be delighted with the question. “It is a title given to one who has–” He stopped his statement abruptly.

  Mr. W. P. Ijams stood up a few tables away and shouted for attention. He offered a toast to Mr. Williams and Axtell. At the close of the toast he offered $100,000 for Axtell and the first five colts to Williams from his best mares. Mr. Williams stood up and graciously declined the offer.

  Once the plates had been cleared, Mr. Madden who had been very quiet the whole night, spoke up. “Mr. Williams, you undoubtedly must know that Axtell is a prize horse and that several offers can be made for your horse. I would like to know what price would it take to purchase Axtell from you?”

  Mr. Williams had not been taken by surprise and he calmly answered with a statement, “Axtell and I am very flattered by all the offers. In this world there are a lot of men who have $100,000, but I am the only man who has an Axtell.” It was a snobbish way to tell Mr. Madden that Mr. Williams had not limited his price to sell his famous horse. So the night went on without any further offers to purchase Axtell. The amount offered was already more than any horse had been purchased for before anywhere. It would be considered a risk for anyone to purchase any horse for that amount. Axtell had proven himself as the greatest stallion ever to trot, but he would not be a risk where breeding was concerned. Any injury, could render him worthless as a racing horse, but he would still bring forth some great stock.