The Eighty-Dollar Champion - Elizabeth Letts [84]
Joe and Jim approached Harry with a plan: they had a friend who was pretty good on horseback. If Harry would let him ride Snowman, they could split the small purse three ways.
Harry gave Snowman a pat and handed over the reins. “Sure, no problem,” he said. He knew that Joe and Jim had worked hard all weekend in the rain, and he wanted to pay them back. When Snowman, who had just come into the ring to receive a silver plate and a tricolor ribbon, sauntered back in with a groom astride his broad back, the crowd erupted in approval.
And sure enough, Snowman piloted the groom around the course with a clean round. Joe and Jim made sure he had an extra measure of carrots that day.
This was a horse that made everyone love him. Snowman had proven himself twice in succession, taking home the championship at two top shows back to back.
Entering the winner’s circle, Harry often brought one of the kids along for the ride. (illustration credits 15.2)
Something in the way he climbed up the ramp into the big green de Leyer van, as well as the calm look in his eye all weekend, his patience with everyone, whether children, adults, or grooms, and his seeming delight at the crowds told Harry that maybe Snowy somehow knew how close he had come to the end, and how much he should love life. Harry—who had watched young paratroopers perish, shot down by German snipers in the short distance between jumping from an Allied airplane with a parachute and floating to the ground—believed that, too.
After Fairfield, horse show fever hit the de Leyer household. School was out for the summer, Knox was closed, and the de Leyer family caravan became a familiar sight at every show. Everything the de Leyers did, they did together, and people smiled when pretty Johanna walked through the show grounds, shepherding her adorable towheaded children in front of her. No matter how hot and dusty it was outside, Chef, Marty, and William were neatly groomed, as well turned out as the horses. Even tomboy Harriet always wore a clean dress.
From one horse show to the next, it was the same routine: late nights braiding and washing in preparation for the show; early mornings, Harry up before four; and the long trailer trip to the next show—Lakeville in Connecticut and Stony Brook on Long Island, then out to Paramus, New Jersey.
The jarring trailer rides, the punishing show schedule, and the strain of the classes took a toll on most horses—but Snowman held up well. Every weekend, on the way home, the dashboard of the old station wagon was covered with silken ribbons. A few days later the preparations started again. The weeks passed in a whirlwind.
Johanna managed the family with skill and love, keeping the household going from dawn to dusk, keeping everyone happy, fed, and clothed and looking presentable. Harry had to care for the entire string of Knox horses with just a little help from Joe and Jim around the barn.
But through June and into July, Johanna and Chef, Harriet and Marty, were all rooting for the family horse: Snowman. It seemed as though the big gray, with all he had achieved, had shown that they, too, could achieve something. Every blue ribbon he brought home represented a triumph for all of them—a sign that this new life they were building was full of hope and promise.
But something troubled Harry. He’d begun feeling run-down. His tongue was sore. He tried to ignore it, just drinking milk and eating soft foods, but his weight kept dropping, and Johanna started pestering him to go to the doctor. Harry was too busy to think about himself, but by the middle of August, it was clear even to him that something was the matter.
16
The Things That Really Matter
St. James, Long Island, 1958
Growing up on a farm, Harry had learned to ignore