The tall, spirited racehorse was a loser; but he was a beautiful loser. Standing all of sixteen hands at the withers and brandishing a coat the color of an acorn, he kicked up his heels and pranced into the auction ring. That stallion could run like the wind, but his temperament got his big behind kicked out of Kentucky bluegrass country. Old man Hunter thought he\u2019d be a perfect addition to his herd of riding horses; so he bid and won. A few days later the stallion snorted and chased the mares across the pasture of Mr. Hunter\u2019s Grazierville farm.
\nThe year was 1944. The twins were eighteen and as spirited as that Kentucky stallion. As they leaned on the fence admiring the big racehorse, they smoked the cigarette butt they picked up off the Grazierville road.
\n\u201cBetch\u2019re scared to ride that big bugger,\u201d Ab blew smoke rings as he dared his brother.
\n\u201cBetcha I ain\u2019t,\u201d Bob snorted. \u201cI can ride anything. Saddle \u2018em up,\u201d he shouted to Mr. Hunter.
\nThe twins had been hanging around Hunter\u2019s boarding stable and smoking discarded butts since they were ten years old. In return for cleaning stalls and brushing the stock, old man Hunter allowed the boys to ride anytime they wanted. Sheep, goats, big old hogs, ponies, horses; whatever needed riding (and even some things that didn\u2019t), got rode. Oh yeah, they\u2019d been thrown many times, but they always got back on the critter and rode until the sweat lathered like seafoam. That was the one thing that riled Mr. Hunter; do not lather up the horses.
\nBeing the size of a jockey, Bob had to climb atop the fence to swing himself onto the stallion. The horse didn\u2019t even flinch. A hundred and twenty pounds was like tossing a fly on an elephant. Bob pulled up the reins and the horse sharply jerked his head.
\n\u201cBe keerful, there Bobby,\u201d Mr. Hunter warned. \u201cHe\u2019s got a snaffle bit in his mouth. We ain\u2019t sure how he\u2019s gonna handle. He ain\u2019t been rid since the derby. I been told that he throwed his jockey and nearly kilt \u2018im. That\u2019s how he done got to the auction.\u201d
\n\u201cAw, don\u2019t worry none, Mr. Hunter. I can handle this ol\u2019 donkey. T\u2019aint a horse out there that I can\u2019t ride.\u201d Bob was confident. \u201cAb, you ride along with me. Take that gelding, Fish. He\u2019ll be good competition for this stallion.\u201d
\nThe twins urged the horses down Mr. Hunter\u2019s roadway and onto Grazierville Road. Bob kept a tight rein and the stallion handled just fine. Fish pranced alongside the racehorse. Once they were out of Mr. Hunter\u2019s sight, Bob loosened the reins and dug his heels into the animal\u2019s sides. It was as if the bell rang, the gate opened, and that horse took off like you know what through a goose leaving Fish and Ab in the dust. As they whizzed past the shell banks, the horse\u2019s hooves kicked up stones like a lawnmower does gravel.
\nThe first quarter mile of flat-out speed was thrilling. Bob felt as if he were flying in a biplane, with the wind in his hair and his scarf flying. All that was missing was a leather helmet and goggles. The animal\u2019s power surged. Faster. Farther. Was this animal ever going to tire? Apparently, not. Bob pulled back on the reins. The stallion arched his neck, dropped his chin, and galloped harder.
\n\u201cWhoa! Whoa! Stop, you crazy bugger. Stop!\u201d Bob shouted. His heart was pounding as hard as the horse\u2019s. They were nearing the macadam of Hoover\u2019s Lane. Iron horseshoes and smooth blacktop go together like bald tires and black ice. If he didn\u2019t slow this animal, they were both doomed. Somehow, Bob had to turn this rocket ship on hooves into the meadow. Ahead was a wooden footbridge that crossed a creek leading to the meadow. Bob pulled hard to the left, the snaffle bit cut into the roof of the stallion\u2019s mouth, he leaped sideways and his front feet hit the wooden bridge. The horse reared and tumbled off the bridge, landing belly-up in the creek. But where was Bob?
\nSeveral hundred yards behind them, Fish galloped as hard as he could. He was lathered as if he\u2019d been sprayed with a fire extinguisher. As they approached the footbridge, Ab could see the stallion\u2019s hooves pawing the air like a turtle on its back.
\n\u201cBrother!\u201d Ab shouted anxiously. \u201cWhere are you?\u201d
\nAmazingly, Bob scrambled, unscathed, from under the big stallion.
\n\u201cHe\u2019s hurt,\u201d Bob shouted. \u201cRide down to Zack Sprankle\u2019s and get him to come \u2026 and bring his gun.\u201d
\nThe horse lay writhing and pawing, upside down in the muddy creek. Bob couldn\u2019t approach the animal for fear of being struck by its flailing hooves. After what seemed like hours, Ab returned with Zack who was the best horseman in the valley.
\n\u201cYou gonna have to shoot him? Is he hurt bad? Ol\u2019 man Hunter\u2019s gonna kill me,\u201d Bob cried.
\nZack surveyed the situation. He calmly walked to his truck, instead of a gun, he came back with a rope. \u201cNothing wrong with this animal,\u201d he spat. \u201cJust stuck in the mud, zats all. Come \u2018ere, boys. Help me haul his big butt outta here.\u201d
\nA few seconds later, the horse was on its feet, no worse for the wear.
\n\u201cNeed a boost up on \u2018im, Bobby,\u201d Zack offered.
\n\u201cUh, I think we\u2019ll walk. Thanks anyway.\u201d
\nSo Ab and Fish, Bob and the racehorse walked all the way back to Hunter\u2019s. Talk about walking off the lather, those horses were bone dry by the time they reached the barn.
\n\u201cWell, how did he do?\u201d asked Mr. Hunter.
\n\u201cBetter enter this big boy in the Run for the Roses,\u201d laughed Ab. \u201cAnd Bobby here will be your jockey.\u201d
\n\u201cNot on your life,\u201d Bobby piped up. \u201cFind yourself another jockey. I\u2019m joining the Army!\u201d<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
The tall, spirited racehorse was a loser; but he was a beautiful loser. Standing all of sixteen hands at the withers and brandishing a coat the color of an acorn, he kicked up his heels and pranced into the auction ring. That stallion could run like the wind, but his temperament got his big behind […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[5,7],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-923","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-special-interest-news-in-the-tyrone-pennsylvania-area","category-excerpts-from-the-tyrone-daily-herald"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/tyronepa.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/923","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/tyronepa.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/tyronepa.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/tyronepa.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/tyronepa.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=923"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/tyronepa.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/923\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/tyronepa.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=923"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/tyronepa.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=923"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/tyronepa.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=923"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}