Page 171 - Speedhorse February 2018

It wasn’t hard to remember the name “Spider,” since the name suited the little man so well.
The name of Spider Gaines was new to me
at that time, but we were to hear a great deal about him later on. He, as we learned later, had the reputation of being one of match racing’s winningest riders in that part of the country. Some people said that he would do just about anything, both ethical and unethical, to win a race.
Spider looked Clabber over with a quick look, stopping momentarily at his hips.
“It’s a piece of cake,” Spider said to Yates. “Smokey can beat the farmer’s buggy horse without taking a deep breath.”
Yates didn’t seem convinced. “Personally,” Yates said, “I’m not at all sure this man’s a farmer and that don’t look like a buggy horse to me.”
“Just leave it to me, Yates,” Spider said. “Have I ever lost a race on Smokey?”
“There’s always a first time for everything,” Yates said. “And I have a feeling that there’s a lot more here than meets the eye.”
“I’ll win it, Yates,” Spider said. “One way or the other.”
Yates turned and walked over to Ab then and said, “All right, old timer, we’ll run it your way. We’ll run Smokey at him for the 440.”
“Now just which one is Smokey?” Ab asked. “I don’t believe I’ve seen that one.” Spider Gaines walked around the far side of their camp and came back leading a slender grullo gelding, Smokey looked nothing like Clabber. He was very thin, and had a greyhound appearance.
He was so narrow across his chest it looked like both front legs came out of the same socket. His pasterns flexed so much when he walked that
he looked like he was coonfooted. Some of the people standing around started laughing. It was readily apparent that these people didn’t think much of Smokey. And, of course, that was exactly what the Gypsy group wanted them to think.
Ab wasn’t laughing, however. He looked Smokey over from head to tail.
“Mr. Yates,” Ab said, “that’s what I call an honest to goodness race horse.”
“Well, sir,” Yates said seriously. “He’s better be if he’s going to beat that colt of yours.”
It appeared that both Ab and Yates knew running horses very well and also that they respected each other’s knowledge.
“Get your gear Clabber,” Ab said to the small boy. “This thing has gone too far to back out now.”
Spider Gaines got busy saddling Smokey and was ready to go in short order. It was apparent that he considered the small boy and Clabber no competition. Ab gave the boy a hand as he mounted Clabber.
“You left your bat,” Ab said.
“I won’t need it,” the small boy said. “Clabber don’t need any whipping.”
“You take it this trip,” Ab said as he handed the bat to his rider. “It just might come in handy somewhere along the line. And another thing,” Ab said. “Keep your eyes on that other rider. If he gets the break on you, you’re going to have trouble getting by.”
A large crowd had gathered by this time and were impatient for the race to start. People were standing all along the track. They were on top of cars and trucks, and if the mesquite trees hadn’t of been so small they would probably have been hanging from the limbs.
At long last the two horses moved down the track to the starting line. The race was to be a lap and tap start for 440 yards. The distance could have been slightly shorter or longer than 440 yards, however, since it wasn’t measured. Two men had “stepped it off.”
In a lap and tap start, there was no starting gates. Someone would take a stick and draw
a line across the track to make a starting line. The horses would go on past the starting line, turn around and come back, usually at a slow gallop, and if there was no daylight showing between one horse’s nose and the other horse’s tail (a lap) the man starting the race would drop his hat and the horses would be off. If there was daylight showing between the horses (no lap), the starter would not drop his hat and the horses had to come back and try again.
I was standing on the back end of a truck that had been backed up to the side of the track very close to the finish line and had about as good of a view of the race track as was possible. Ab, Yates and the fat man were standing just in front of me. I saw the starter drop his hat and both horses make the first jump. Smokey was off like a flash straight down the middle of the track. It looked like Clabber stumbled on the first jump. But I couldn’t be sure. He may have been bumped or the loose ground may have given away under him. He ran with such power it took a good firm footing for him to have his best race. The starter said later that Clabber was throwing dirt over a hundred yards behind him.
By the time the horses reached the 100-yard point, Smokey had 2 lengths in the lead and
it appeared he had the race well in hand. The fat man looked at Yates and smiled and said that he might as well go collect their money. I understand that Gypsies had made a number of side bets on the race. But just about that time, Clabber started stretching out. It looked like he had fired a rocket or something. It was the most awesome display of speed and power by a horse that I had ever seen. His stride, we stepped it off later, was over 25 feet and he was moving his
legs like they were pistons. They were moving so fast that they were just a blur. He was hitting the ground so hard it looked like he would knock the wind out of himself.
Spider Gaines looked over his shoulder and saw Clabber coming. He started working old Smokey over with the bat, first with the right hand and then with the left. Clabber kept coming and just as he started by, Spider tried to move Smokey over in front of him. But Clabber had
up such a head of steam by that time it didn’t work. As Clabber moved about a half of a length in the lead, the horses seemed to be tied together. I couldn’t tell for sure what was going on, but
it looked like Spider had grabbed a hold of Clabber’s saddle blanket. About that the time he small boy raised his bat and hit something real hard. I think he hit Spider’s arm because Clabber immediately moved into the lead. It looked like Clabber was mad about something. The farther they ran the faster he went. By the time they crossed the finish line, Clabber was over 3 lengths in the lead and pulling away very quickly.
The fat man stood looking at the end of the race as if he couldn’t believe his own eyes. “Just like a streak of lightning,” he said.
“I swear I’ve never seen anything like it in all my born days. That big horse is as fast as a streak of lightning,” he repeated.
Yates pushed his hat back on his head and said, “Well there’s a first time for everything. I guess old Smokey had to meet his match sooner or later.”
People were shouting and waving and jumping. They knew that they had seen a good race and, of course, they were happy their champion Clabber had won. Most of those local people were big Clabber fans, and few if any would ever bet against him even in those very early days of his racing career.
“What happened to old Smokey, Spider?” the fat man asked. “Is he sick or something?”
“No,” Spider said as he dismounted. “Smokey ain’t sick. He just got beat by a better horse. I took at least 3 lengths away from that big colt, and he still beat us going away.”
Ab showed just a little bit of emotion then. He took off his old floppy hat and slapped his leg with it and said to Yates, “By golly, that gawky old colt can run some now, can’t he?”
“Yes, old timer,” Yates said. “I’d say he can run more than some.”
Clabber was very young and green in the ways of racing in those days, and while the local people all thought very highly of him, very few of them had any idea that he would develop into the race horse that he did later on. In the year 1940, Clabber was awarded the honors
he so richly deserved: World Champion and Champion Stallion.
“... That big horse is as fast as a streak of lightning,” said the fat man.
SPEEDHORSE, February 2018 169
LOOKING BACK - AN EXCERPT FROM JANUARY 1980 ISSUE
E