The All-True Travels and Adventures of Lidie Newton_ A Novel - Jane Smiley [105]
"That gray is mine. And the boy hiding behind him is mine, too. And I don’t want my horse racing in the snow, if at all."
"Already raced, ma’am. Won, too. This snow an’t bad. Too dry to be slick. Hosses can really dig into it and git some speed. That gray’s a fine hoss. Beat Ben Matthews’s black over there all to—all to—all to pieces, ma’am."
I coughed to refrain from smiling and tried to marshal my most disapproving face. I said, "If he already raced, why is he standing around in this cold?"
From behind Jeremiah, Frank’s voice shouted, "I cooled him all out, Lidie! And his legs are tight as can be and cool, too!"
"He’s got another heat, ma’am. I mean, if you’ll let him, of course." He moved closer and lowered his voice. "The boys’ll be disappointed if he an’t gonna run, as they’ve got a load of money on the animal."
I didn’t answer immediately but instead kept quiet, looking at the man and at the horse, who looked at me, his gray, furry ears alert and his dark eyes in his white face intelligent and interested. Though he looked happy enough, I did not think that Jeremiah himself wanted to race. Frank peeked under Jeremiah’s neck, then eased around between me and the horse.
"He won by four lengths," said Frank. "And he wasn’t even trying."
"Did you gamble, Frank?" The man who was holding the mule’s bridle had by this time let go. Now he looked at the far horizon.
"Well, of course I did," said Frank, indignantly. "You think I’m a fool? I won six dollars."
"Frank! If your mother knew I let you—"
"On a dollar bet! That’s good investing, Cousin Lydia. And you know Pa don’t hold betting on horses against anybody. Betting on horses is a natural human act! Pa says you got to do it."
I was sure that Roland did say so, but I was equally sure that Thomas Newton did not say so. I hated Thomas’s disapproval. "Ma’am?" Another man came up behind me, and as I turned, he said, "Do you remember me? I am the Reverend Moss."
He was, indeed, the man who had sold me Jeremiah, and he was dressed in his Sunday preaching clothes, perhaps—a black suit, with a heavy Indian blanket over his shoulders.
"I recognize you, Reverend."
"Horse looks very good."
"He’s been satisfactory. Now, I think, I had better take him home. Frank, you find Roger, then you have to ride this mule. You’ve ridden Jeremiah enough today."
"Ma’am, my doctrinal view is that no harm and considerable good might be done for all these boys here if they were to see that horse run again. That horse is a beautiful example of God’s work, an inspiring example. Perhaps you know the Book of Job? He saith among the trumpets, Ha ha, and he smelleth the battle far off. That passage could easily describe this horse."
I regarded Jeremiah, who regarded me in turn. He was calm and relaxed. The reverend remarked, idly, "The price I’d put on that horse now? Two hundred U.S. dollars. New York dollars. Philadephia dollars. In Lexington, Missouri, where they are indeed fond of horseflesh, I could get three hundred for this horse."
"My nephew took the horse without permission. My husband is out even now, beating the bushes, trying to find him. We were extremely concerned."
"I myself asked the boy, as soon as I recognized the horse, whether he had permission to bring him out, ma’am. And he said he did."
"Frank," I exclaimed, "lying, stealing, and gambling are enough sins for one Sunday! You get up on this mule and start home. Where is Roger? I will follow you smartly." I dismounted and hoisted him onto the mule, then slapped the animal’s rump so that he trotted quickly away. Jeremiah was wearing a saddle I didn’t recognize. I undid the girth and handed it to the reverend, then led the horse over to a tree stump and