Dante of the Maury River Read online

  I twitched my stifle just a smidgen, testing the lady, for sure.

  Mrs. Eden eyeballed me. “Don’t even think about it, mister.”

  Her sharp tone delivered its own quick kick, so I danced around but figured I’d best keep my feet to myself. All four of them.

  “He may look like Paradiso, but I foresee trouble. That’s my prediction for this one,” said Doctor Tom.

  “Nonsense. Paradiso was a spirited colt as well,” the Edensway matriarch retorted. “Both of them fierce. You know, you’re right about the name, though, Tom. We’ll call him Dante’s Inferno.”

  Mrs. Eden crouched on one leg to get a look at mine. I could knock her over. Easy peasy, I thought. Then my dam nibbled at my neck to distract me. “Stand still,” Marey urged me. “They’re almost done.”

  The horsewoman’s hands traveled up and down my cannon bone. “I see what you mean. Genes. I’m beginning to think that every blasted colt and filly from his sire, Prince Firenze, shows crooked legs. Let’s remember that for the future.”

  Melody asked, “Ya-Ya, is it bad that his legs are a tiny bit crooked?”

  “Oh, a good deal more than a tiny bit. Still, that’s a flaw of fashion more than function.” Mrs. Eden held out her hand, reaching for Melody’s help in standing. She slipped her fingers in her pocket, pulled out a mint, and opened her palm to Marey. “Thank you, Beatrice, for bringing us Little Dante.”

  Doctor Tom sure was determined to pester me. He refused to let it go about how my legs looked. “Mother, is it even a question? A stooge could see that those legs aren’t even close to honest. We’ll send him to the clinic. Let them decide whether to scrape or screw. He’ll come back straight.”

  “Of course that’s what we’ll do, if nature won’t fix itself in a week or two. He’s our top prospect for September. We’re under a microscope with this first foal out of Beatrice. Yes, we’ll fix his legs when the time comes, but I don’t have to like it.”

  She reached the stall door, then said to me before leaving, “We’re all rooting for you. The good Lord knows racing could use a star like your grandfather. And I’m counting on you, so we’ll do whatever it takes, my friend. If success means surgery for you, then so be it.”

  I was beginning to understand that everybody at Edensway Farm was counting on me to do something. I had yet to comprehend exactly what that something might be.

  After Mrs. Eden, Melody, and Doctor Tom left, I swallowed hard and looked up at my dam. “What is everyone counting on me for? I’m just a colt, Marey.”

  “Son, here at Edensway, there’s no such thing as just a colt or just a filly. Our people made their fortune from breeding Thoroughbreds to race. My father, Dante’s Paradiso, is still the most famous racehorse in the world, even though he is gone now. Twenty-two years ago this June, he won the Triple Crown of racing, and no horse has done so since, nor beaten his times on those tracks.”

  “What is the Triple Crown?” I asked her.

  “The greatest sporting event of all time, consisting of three races.”

  “Three tests? Three great tests?”

  “Tests? Why, yes, that’s a way to think of it. A jockey and a horse race together. Sometimes, running so fast and hard that they court the grave. Sometimes, death is the real victor of the day. Three races, run in May and June every year. Each track presenting a different question: Are you fast? Are you powerful? Can you endure?”

  “And Grandfather Dante, was he fast and powerful?”

  “Everyone, the whole world over, agrees that he was!”

  “And did he endure?”

  “Like no other horse before or after! He had an enormous heart. And I suspect you do, too. Since such things come from one’s mother.”

  “Marey, why are you so nice to Doctor Tom and Mrs. Eden when they always bother us?”

  Marey pulled some hay from the fresh flake beside her. While she pondered her answer, I nuzzled close under her, right where her downy winter coat smelled like milk.

  Finally, she answered me. “The Edens are our family, that’s why. Mrs. Eden remembers my sire. So does her son, Doctor Tom. They miss him because they loved him very much, and he loved them, too. Just like we do.”

  “I only like the little girl. She’s nice.”

  “Shhh . . . you mustn’t say that. You’re only here because of them.”

  “Well, I do love you. And Grandfather Dante.”

  “You mean you love hearing about him.”

  I shook my mane hard. “No, him.”

  “You can’t possibly love a horse you don’t know. Not many people and even fewer horses remember my father. I myself was a yearling when he foundered. I recall once when he was led past the yearling barn. He stopped and turned to look right at me. I lived in the same stall — the one reserved for the top foal — that he had lived in. A tradition you’ll certainly continue. Anyway, that day he nickered at me as he passed by. I cherish that memory.”

  Of course I had met Grandfather! Hadn’t Marey ever visited the ancestors, like I had?

  “But I did meet Grandfather Dante and all the rest of the ancestors.”

  “Is that so?” Marey asked. Marey was the first mare to confound me, but she was not the last.

  “Yes, on the night I was born. First, I heard Doctor Tom telling me to breathe. And then, I got up, walked across some stars, and met Grandfather Dante in a field. He let me graze beside him, and he nickered in my ear, too.”

  Marey tilted her head to get a closer look at me. She nuzzled my neck. “My tired colt. Take some milk, curl up, and get some rest.”

  I was getting pretty riled up that everyone around me was always trying to get me to drink milk and go to sleep. Nothing doing till I convinced Marey to believe me. I met her gaze and shook my mane hard this time. “Really, it happened the way I told you!”

  She nodded and let out a sigh. “True, you didn’t breathe for a very long time last night. I thought — I thought I had lost you. Doctor Tom gave you a shot of Adrenalin to jolt your system. I could only hear what was going on around me. What you experienced was most likely a hallucination. A kind of dream. I’m sorry, darling, but you didn’t leave the barn. I know, I was praying over you the whole time.”

  When she tried to wrap her neck around mine, I pushed her away.

  She whickered. “Good glory, you’ve had a busy day. The air is getting cold in here for a newborn.” Marey pulled some shavings into a big pile. “Come on, my February boy, I’ll keep you warm.”

  The bedding sure did look inviting, I admit. The harder I tried to stay awake, the drowsier I got. But I wouldn’t lie down. I needed to make my point. I surprised myself, and Marey, too, with how hard I stomped my foot.

  Marey stepped back. “Calm down. You’re headstrong like him. I believe you experienced something, little racehorse, but I don’t know what.”

  There was no purpose in fighting my dam or the sleep that was coming on strong. I moved closer to her and flopped right down, near enough to soak in the warmth from her body and deep enough that the winter wind stalking the cracks in our stall couldn’t catch me.

  Though I’d have to wait two years to run my first race, my mind was already racing with thoughts of conquering the three great tests and becoming a champion like Grandfather Dante.

  One morning, while I was napping, a ruckus as loud as I don’t know what startled me awake. Usually, nobody was up and about during quiet time. Doctor Tom and Mrs. Eden were particular about giving Marey and me time to rest and bond. They liked everything to run predictably, day in, day out. Sticklers, Marey called them.

  The hooting and hollering of the crew jarred me right into attack mode. No lie about fight or flight; that’s how it is with us prey animals. I shut my eyes tight and kicked out so hard in all four directions that I splatted right down on the floor when I landed.

  “Glory, son,” Marey scolded me. “Learn to welcome the sound of our people feeling happy. We like those noises.”

  I opened my eyes to
find Doctor Tom and Mrs. Eden gawking at me. Double trouble. I stumbled to my feet and backed into the corner, pretty sure one or the other of them was packing a hypodermic with my name on it.

  Doctor Tom said, “Let Beatrice settle him down. She will. He’s a challenge to be sure, always pacing and snaking that big head of his.”

  When will they realize? I wondered. No one is going to needle me without a fight! I scraped my hoof along the ground.

  “Now, watch. Here he comes with the head again,” said Doctor Tom. “Chill, little guy. You’re already famous! Like your mama and your granddaddy.”

  “Here, Tom.” Mrs. Eden held out her hand. “Let me see the magazine.” She stayed quiet for a good long time. Everybody did. Then our matriarch smiled and nodded. “I’ll read it to you. All right, here we go. From the March issue of Kentucky Bloodlines:

  DANTE’S BEATRICE DELIVERS PRINCE FIRENZE COLT

  The first foal out of Dante’s Beatrice, two-time Horse of the Year, winner of the Oaks and the Breeder’s Prize, was born February 14 at Edensway Farm. Edensway representatives confirmed that Beatrice delivered a son of Darley sire Prince Firenze. According to Edensway Farm president, Anita Eden, the jet-black colt is the spitting image of his grandfather Dante’s Paradiso, who won the coveted Triple Crown twenty-two years ago this year. Edensway Farm executive vice president and farm veterinarian, Tom Eden, said the colt came earlier than expected and it was a difficult delivery for Beatrice. Mother and son are doing well. When asked what the colt is like, Mrs. Eden said, ‘Precocious, gorgeous, and powerful. And he doesn’t like Tom!’

  Doctor Eden added, ‘He went to Hades and back to get here. He’s still not happy with me. Here’s the good news; he has Dante’s Paradiso’s large heart, thanks to his mama. We’re pleased with the colt. He’s fiery and strong, and we couldn’t be happier.’

  Edensway Farm released this photograph of Beatrice and her son, nuzzling in their private paddock. They have not decided where the colt will go in September.”

  When Mrs. Eden finished reading, everyone cheered. Marey arched her neck and pranced in place. My proud dam nudged me up toward the stall door. “No fighting, son. This is your moment. No one here wants to hurt you. Trust me.”

  “I just wish they weren’t so loud,” I said. “Now is the time I’m supposed to be resting, and you should be eating your hay. I don’t like all of this fuss.”

  “Hush, hush, now. You need to learn one thing: you and I live under a watchful eye that will never close. You heard what Mrs. Eden read. The entire racing world is waiting. Your father has already proven himself worthy of continuing the bloodlines. He has sired several champions. You’re my first. They want to know if I’m a good mother.”

  “Oh, you’re a fine mother, all right! And I’m a good son.”

  She nickered into my ear. “They want to know if you will be a great racehorse. They’re looking for signs.”

  “They?”

  “The fans. I have a lot of fans and so do you, already.”

  “Will I be a great horse?”

  “Your pedigree says so, for sure. Your family tree includes grandmothers and grandfathers who were among the finest racehorses in history.”

  “And you, too!”

  “You’re right. I was a very good racehorse, faster than your father, even.”

  I shook my mane and nudged her shoulder. “What is racing like?” I wanted to know.

  “Oh, very hard work. The race goes off in a flash, after days and days of training and practicing. Horse and jockey learn to work as one. I loved my jockey most of all.”

  “Did you try to win one of the three tests?”

  “I did,” she said. “I won the first but came up short in the second, finishing fourth, just out of the money.” Marey nudged me playfully. “I met your father at a big track in New York. He posted to the inside, and I drew up beside him. Racing is in your blood, as sure as the sun is shining on your poll right now.”

  Marey was right. The sun was shining into our stall and washing right over me. The morning air carried sounds from the pasture of broodmares ripping out grass from the earth, and foals whinnying across the fields.

  Almost springtime. Too good to be true and too sweet to last.

  My break from Doctor Tom didn’t last, either. He came back later in the afternoon with a halter for Marey and a smaller one for me. Now I had to be on my guard. Best to keep alert and ready to defend myself.

  “No funny stuff, little star,” Marey said. “Watch what I do, and do what I do. Start learning this lesson now: the easier you are with people, the kinder they treat you, and all the better your life.”

  Marey lowered her head right into the halter that Doctor Tom held up. When he stepped out, she moved with him. On the contrary, one of the interns started tugging on my lead before I could even try to mind my manners.

  “See, Marey? Did you see them yanking on me?” I asked later. “All of them, they always come around with injections and pointy things, or if they don’t, they’re pulling on me, and it hurts. I don’t like being hurt.”

  “No, they’re trying to help you. You have to trust that sometimes even something you dislike can help.”

  “I hate shots.”

  “They keep you healthy.”

  “Those ones who come to take my blood? They hurt me today.”

  “Most foals don’t need three people holding them down in order to draw blood. I hope you were nice to them. Were you?”

  I turned away and pretended not to hear.

  “Oh, no, don’t tell me. Did you kick out again?”

  I considered fibbing, but Marey already looked disappointed. I nickered softly as I tried to explain. “They don’t act nice or gentle. They don’t ask or warn me or anything. They poke me as if I’m not even there, like I have no feelings. I don’t like needles. Not how they look and not how they sting.”

  Marey tilted her head toward me and angled her eye right up near mine. She peered way deep into me, the way she sometimes did when a cricket landed in the water tub. I didn’t dare move away.

  “What?” I finally asked. “Are you looking for something?”

  She swung her head across the grass and aimed her muzzle at the sprouty dandelion leaves. “You’re a different sort, son. I’ve never known another like you.”

  I walked away to get out from under Marey’s gaze.

  “Oh, glory.” Marey whickered after me. “Come back. I need for you to cooperate. The Eden family is judging me by you. You nearly died, and that’s on me.”

  I spun around to face my dam. “Nearly? I did die! Mrs. Eden said so.”

  “Whether you died or not, Edensway Farm is a business. Doctor Tom and Mrs. Eden have spent more time and money to get you here alive than either of us can understand. They fret over economics, those two. You and I, we are their future and their security.”

  “Is that why Doctor Tom pulled me out of the ancestral plains?”

  “Precisely why he wouldn’t give up on you, yes. And because he is a good man who loves horses.”

  “A grouchy man who likes to bother me.”

  “Have I not already said this? Get used to being bothered. Anyway, you return the favor and then some.” Marey sounded harsh.

  “He’s the pest, not me. I only protect myself.”

  I looked down at a spider crawling across my hoof; her legs tickled me.

  “Isn’t that bug pesky?” Marey asked.

  “She’s not hurting me.”

  “Nor is she helping you. You don’t blow her across the paddock, yet you could. Why are you so angry with Doctor Tom? Have you ever seen me bite, kick, or head-slam anyone?”

  She had a point there.

  “Son, I want you to start imitating me. I’m not asking you; I am giving you a command.”

  “Marey, I will try.”

  No more coddling from Marey. “You’d better do more than try. With every action and every reaction we are borrowing against or building up our futures. Both
of us must be successful in order to have good long lives. No choice.”

  Marey snapped me with her tail. She had my full attention. “Listen to me. Your entire life was planned out for you before you were born, before you were even bred. Down to the amount of water you will drink and the kind of feed that goes into your bucket.”

  “My whole life? Everything about me?”

  “Everything. So you might want to wise up and get with the plan.”

  I looked around the pasture. All the fences were painted white, and the fence lines were clear of brush and weedy plants. Even the empty fields were trimmed and neat.

  “Marey, but I didn’t arrive as planned, did I?” I knew I was as right as the sun. “I was born different. So maybe I’m supposed to be a different kind of Thoroughbred. Did you ever think about that?”

  Marey stood as square and stiff as the life-size statue of Grandfather Dante out front. “No,” she huffed. “The best thing for you, me, and this farm is for you to do as you’re told, so that you can be sold at the best September sale.”

  I reckoned everything was running exactly according to the grand plan to get Edensway back on top. Everything except me.

  Over the next few weeks, more fillies and colts were born. Mrs. Eden paid me regular visits to check on my progress. She spoke freely and with no shame about how there was money to be made and a reputation earned from selling the right foal to the right sheik, prince, or oil tycoon. The matriarch wanted the entire crew to know that any one of her new horses could end up worth millions. She also knew that any one of us could be worth nothing. Nothing’s exactly what she was scared of. I appreciated her honesty.

  What I needed, if you’d have asked me, was to play with Marey and the foals of Kentucky on those graceful bluegrass hills outside the foaling barn without everybody watching me. With so much at stake, it was all eyes on the mamas and the babies, at all times.

  Believe you me, Mrs. Eden was all business about getting us foals ready for September. I heard her and Doctor Tom discussing which ones of us they thought they might send to Lexington’s prestigious Thoroughbred foal sale. Every dam hoped her foal would represent there.