came out with a wooden spoon in her hand. There was a whinny from the mares, and then there was a whinny from the geldings. Gee Whiz pawed once, flared his nostrils, and answered. He was loud, no doubt because he had a huge chest. I said, “Is that horse over seventeen hands?”
“Seventeen-one,” said Danny.
Seventeen hands and one inch is big for a horse—and I could see that his withers were above the brim of Danny’s hat.
“What in the world would you do with such a big horse?” said Dad.
“Well, he’s been a racehorse his whole life. He’s eight, he’s had sixty starts, he’s won a hundred thirty-four thousand dollars, and he’s finished. Mr. Pelham will think of something to do with him, but they are full up for now, so I said we could put him up for a month, seventy-five dollars, until some of the two-year-olds go to the track and open up some space. As far as I can tell, he’s sound as can be.” Danny turned him in a little circle, then took him into the barn, where he put him intoa stall. That seventy-five dollars was another little reason not to sell Oh My too quickly, or to find a place for Lady before she really knew what to do with a calf. Marcus, Beebop, and Gee Whiz. Looked like we were in the boarding business.
Danny was excited, which was unusual, because Danny was like Dad—he thought getting excited was a pretty sure way to get disappointed. About the most Danny or Dad ever did was hope for the best. But after Danny cleaned out the trailer and turned it around, then came in for supper, he was smiling and bouncy. I was setting the table. I said, “You didn’t buy yourself a horse, did you?”
Danny laughed. He said, “I
have
a horse. No, I just … I don’t know. There’s something about this guy, the way he’s been around, done his job. I mean, he’s a beauty.”
“He’s a giant,” said Dad. “I’m surprised he’s still sound.”
“Yes,” said Danny as we sat down, “but look at his bone. He must have nine inches of bone.”
This was, basically, the circumference of his foreleg below the knee. The more the better.
All through dinner, Danny babbled on and on about Gee Whiz. It was like he had never seen a racehorse before, and maybe he hadn’t. I couldn’t think of any racehorses we knew. But he was working at Vista del Canada now, and they had won him over.
Did we know who Hyperion was?
Of course not.
Well, Hyperion was an English racehorse, born in 1930. In thirteen starts, he had nine wins, one second, and two thirds. Two of his wins were English races like the KentuckyDerby and the Belmont Stakes. And he was maybe the greatest sire of the twentieth century, with winning offspring all over the world, in Australia and France, and everywhere. Had we heard of Pensive?
Mom said, “That’s a nice name.”
“Pensive won the Derby and the Preakness, and almost the Triple Crown—he was second in the Belmont Stakes.
And
he sired Ponder, who won the Kentucky Derby, and was the sire of Needles. Needles won the Derby in 1956.”
Dad said, “I do remember Needles. He was a good horse.”
“Well, he was named Needles because he got pneumonia as a foal, and they had to give him so many shots, that’s what they named him, but he was a great horse. In the Derby, he came from fifteenth out of sixteen, and in the Belmont Stakes, he came from behind to win again. Anyway, this horse, Gee Whiz, is from Hyperion’s last crop, and he is related to all of those other great horses. Of course, he got his size from the dam’s side, because Hyperion was tiny, maybe the size of Oh My.” Danny took a deep breath and actually started eating his food. I hadn’t seen many things that prevented Danny from diving into a minute steak with baked potatoes and gravy, but imagining all of Gee Whiz’s relatives had done the trick.
I knew how he felt. When Warn Matthews had sent me Jack’s probable pedigree (
if
he was the real son of Jaipur and Alabama Lady, and these days everyone
“Seventeen-one,” said Danny.
Seventeen hands and one inch is big for a horse—and I could see that his withers were above the brim of Danny’s hat.
“What in the world would you do with such a big horse?” said Dad.
“Well, he’s been a racehorse his whole life. He’s eight, he’s had sixty starts, he’s won a hundred thirty-four thousand dollars, and he’s finished. Mr. Pelham will think of something to do with him, but they are full up for now, so I said we could put him up for a month, seventy-five dollars, until some of the two-year-olds go to the track and open up some space. As far as I can tell, he’s sound as can be.” Danny turned him in a little circle, then took him into the barn, where he put him intoa stall. That seventy-five dollars was another little reason not to sell Oh My too quickly, or to find a place for Lady before she really knew what to do with a calf. Marcus, Beebop, and Gee Whiz. Looked like we were in the boarding business.
Danny was excited, which was unusual, because Danny was like Dad—he thought getting excited was a pretty sure way to get disappointed. About the most Danny or Dad ever did was hope for the best. But after Danny cleaned out the trailer and turned it around, then came in for supper, he was smiling and bouncy. I was setting the table. I said, “You didn’t buy yourself a horse, did you?”
Danny laughed. He said, “I
have
a horse. No, I just … I don’t know. There’s something about this guy, the way he’s been around, done his job. I mean, he’s a beauty.”
“He’s a giant,” said Dad. “I’m surprised he’s still sound.”
“Yes,” said Danny as we sat down, “but look at his bone. He must have nine inches of bone.”
This was, basically, the circumference of his foreleg below the knee. The more the better.
All through dinner, Danny babbled on and on about Gee Whiz. It was like he had never seen a racehorse before, and maybe he hadn’t. I couldn’t think of any racehorses we knew. But he was working at Vista del Canada now, and they had won him over.
Did we know who Hyperion was?
Of course not.
Well, Hyperion was an English racehorse, born in 1930. In thirteen starts, he had nine wins, one second, and two thirds. Two of his wins were English races like the KentuckyDerby and the Belmont Stakes. And he was maybe the greatest sire of the twentieth century, with winning offspring all over the world, in Australia and France, and everywhere. Had we heard of Pensive?
Mom said, “That’s a nice name.”
“Pensive won the Derby and the Preakness, and almost the Triple Crown—he was second in the Belmont Stakes.
And
he sired Ponder, who won the Kentucky Derby, and was the sire of Needles. Needles won the Derby in 1956.”
Dad said, “I do remember Needles. He was a good horse.”
“Well, he was named Needles because he got pneumonia as a foal, and they had to give him so many shots, that’s what they named him, but he was a great horse. In the Derby, he came from fifteenth out of sixteen, and in the Belmont Stakes, he came from behind to win again. Anyway, this horse, Gee Whiz, is from Hyperion’s last crop, and he is related to all of those other great horses. Of course, he got his size from the dam’s side, because Hyperion was tiny, maybe the size of Oh My.” Danny took a deep breath and actually started eating his food. I hadn’t seen many things that prevented Danny from diving into a minute steak with baked potatoes and gravy, but imagining all of Gee Whiz’s relatives had done the trick.
I knew how he felt. When Warn Matthews had sent me Jack’s probable pedigree (
if
he was the real son of Jaipur and Alabama Lady, and these days everyone
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