Felix Francis - Triple Crown

‘I knew old Tiger would win sometime,’ he said, punching the air in delight. ‘I’ve been telling Mr Raworth so for ages. He’s such a sweet old thing. I hope he hasn’t been claimed.’

It made me smile to think that a six-year-old was called a sweet old thing. American racing was almost exclusively for horses aged two, three, four and five, and there were very few horses still in training over seven. In England a seven-year-old was a youngster, especially in steeplechasing. No horse under eight has won the Grand National steeplechase since the Second World War, and Red Rum is one of thirteen horses that have won the race aged twelve or older — one was fifteen.

‘How long has Teetotal Tiger been here?’ I asked.

‘On and off since he was two. He’s been claimed a few times and has spent short spells in other barns but his owner, Mrs Crichton, always claims him back the next time he runs. She loves him.’

‘Then why does she allow him to run in claiming races in the first place?’ I asked.

‘That’s the way the system works, especially for a six-year-old maiden. Not many of them left at the track, I can tell you. Most would have gone for dog meat long ago — old Tiger as well, if it wasn’t for Mrs Crichton.’

Keith stepped outside looking for the returning horse, leaving me alone in the office.

Apart from the desk, there were two chairs plus a four-drawer filing cabinet up against the far wall near the corner. Alongside the cabinet, hung on a row of hooks, were a series of multi-coloured racing silks, complete with caps. I presumed that there was at least one set for each of Raworth’s owners.

I glanced down at the desk. It was about six feet wide by three deep, kneehole style, with three drawers on either side of the central space. The surface was covered with several stacks of papers, a china mug full of pens and a heavy horseshoe-shaped clock in one corner.

I was tempted to go behind and have a quick look through the drawers but Keith would surely be back soon. Indeed, no sooner had I dismissed the notion than he returned.

‘There’s no sign of them coming back,’ Keith said. ‘I’m worried he’s been claimed.’

‘Maybe he’s been sent for testing,’ I said. ‘Who’s over there with him?’

‘Diego.’

I’d have been happier if the groom had been claimed instead of the horse.

No such luck.

Shortly thereafter, both Teetotal Tiger and Diego returned to the barn and George Raworth and Charlie Hern arrived with them. Keith and I went out to greet them and there was a party atmosphere in the shedrow with everyone in good humour.

Even Diego grinned briefly at me as I congratulated him, but then he remembered and the smile instantly vanished as he took the horse off to be washed down.

‘I told you he’d win eventually,’ Keith said to George.

‘And about time too. If it hadn’t been for Mrs Crichton, he’d have gone to the glue factory years ago.’ We all laughed, even though it was hardly funny. ‘Now, how are preparations progressing for Pimlico? We have five going down altogether. Fire Point, Classic Comic and Heartbeat in the Preakness, Ladybird in the Black-Eyed Susan Stakes on Friday, plus Debenture in the Maryland Sprint Handicap. Although God knows why we’re taking him. He’s good enough for claimers but he’ll surely have no chance in that company. But his owner has insisted, and he’s paying for the transport, so he goes. The truck for the horses is booked for Monday morning, nine o’clock.’

‘Are we using the Stakes Barns?’ Charlie asked.

‘Yes,’ George said. ‘I’ve reserved stalls for all five. Pimlico would like to have Fire Point in Stall Forty.’

‘We’ll need a minimum of three grooms for the Preakness itself, one for each runner,’ Charlie Hern said. ‘Keith with Fire Point, plus two others. They will be more than enough to cover everything else while we’re down there.’

‘Hot-walker?’ George said.

‘The grooms can do most of that but we’ll take Maria as well,’ Charlie said. ‘She’s experienced enough by now to act as an extra groom if one of the horses plays up. We’ll also have Victor. He’ll be getting there Tuesday morning to ride exercise. And Jerry will be riding Fire Point. We have plenty of manpower.’

‘Right,’ said George, turning to Keith. ‘That’s sorted then. We have a runner here at Belmont on Wednesday and another on Friday, so Charlie will stay here until Preakness Day itself, overseeing things. He’ll come down to Pimlico early Saturday morning. Keith, tell Rafael to sleep in your room Friday and Saturday nights. He’ll be in charge when Charlie’s gone. No track exercise Saturday. Back to normal Sunday. Got that?’

‘Yes, Mr Raworth,’ Keith said. ‘Any particular grooms you want to take?’

‘We’d better take Diego,’ Charlie said. ‘He does both Classic Comic and Heartbeat. Keith can also keep an eye on him.’

I was still standing in the shedrow nearby, and now I moved forward.

‘Paddy,’ said George Raworth, looking straight at me. ‘You look after Debenture, don’t you?’ I nodded. ‘Want a trip to the Preakness?’

‘Yes, sir,’ I replied enthusiastically. ‘I sure do.’

‘But Paddy has been with us only a few days,’ Charlie said with doubt in his voice. ‘The others won’t like it.’

Bugger the others, I thought. I wanted this gig.

‘I promise I won’t let you down, sir,’ I said quickly before George had a chance to reply. ‘Please, sir.’

He hesitated.

‘Paddy’s been very good,’ Keith said in a surprising vote of confidence. ‘He cheered on Teetotal Tiger with me just now.’

‘OK,’ George said. ‘Paddy, you’re in. We leave Monday morning.’

‘Great,’ I said out loud, almost forgetting to use my Cork accent.

Charlie wasn’t very happy. Perhaps he thought his authority had been undermined. But I didn’t care — I was going to the Preakness. I felt like a child on Christmas morning who finds his stocking full of gifts.

Indeed, the level of my excitement rather surprised me.

I had been to most of the world’s major horseraces but, I realised, this was the first time the decision that I should go had been out of my hands, and not as a result of my position within the BHA.

In spite of the ache that still persisted in my groin, I went to work at evening stables with a spring in my step only slightly dampened by the knowledge that Diego would be another of the grooms going to Pimlico.

‘Why did Charlie say you needed to keep an eye on Diego?’ I asked Keith when I got him alone.

‘No idea,’ he replied. Something in his tone told me he was lying.

‘Will I have to share a room with him at Pimlico?’ I asked.

‘All three of us will have to share,’ Keith said. ‘We’ll have only two rooms down there and Maria will be in the other one.’

I could always share with her, I thought.

‘Rafael says no bedpost. He says he find you lying on ground, beat up. Who do this to you?’

Maria was standing in front of me as I ate my supper.

‘I didn’t see,’ I said, lying to her just as I had to Rafael.

‘Was it Diego?’ she demanded loudly.

‘I didn’t see who it was,’ I said again, looking down at my food.

What would be the point in telling her the truth? She would only have a fight with her cousin and that would hardly make my life any easier. In fact, it would surely make it worse.

‘Why you lie to me about bedpost?’

‘I didn’t want you to worry,’ I said. ‘I am fine now, so forget it.’ I waved a dismissive hand at her without looking up, hoping that Diego had spotted it from where he was sitting with his three chums at the far end of the dining hall. I was uncomfortably aware that he had been watching the whole exchange.