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You Can't Win Backin' Up
By Homer Long AuthorHouse
Copyright © 2013Homer Long
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4567-3789-4
Excerpt
CHAPTER 1
An ordinary horse racing family in mid-Illinois consisted of a father, mother, two sons, and a daughter. However, the youngest, Zachariah Butler, was different. He was an excellent groom, always around when needed, and would give an extra look to a horse nobody else seemed to see. His eyes were kind. He could and would go the extra mile with you, but the niceties stopped there. His mother suspected Zach had teeth of iron. Those teeth ground together when Zach was absorbed in his horse business. Zach's particular knowledge of a good horse was thoroughly embedded within and don't bother him with thoughts, simpleton. Talking to Zach was a chore - he was always looking past the ones talking to him at something seemingly far off. Mother Butler kept her thoughts to herself and many times she wondered about her son. Was he an enigma? What drove him? Who was his drummer? She also noted Zach dropped his left eyelid whenever he saw a horse that touched the bottom of his heart.
PARTING OF THE WAYS
As the Butler children matured a family judgment was assessed. Jim, the oldest, would stay at home and be incorporated into the family operation. Beth, the daughter, married outside the family business interests; and Zach was more or less told to look for other employment. The situation suited Zach just fine as he relished going his own way.
He was loosened from family ties; and, with a deep faith in the eternal God and the crucified Son, he set out on his own. There was only one thing he wanted to do and that was to race horses some day. To do so took land and money. He had neither. So, he took his strong back, kind eyes, and iron teeth to a local contractor and applied for work. His boss put him in cement work. He was an employer's dream always on time, adept, and healthy. He soon moved up the pay scale, living in Spartan conditions and saving money. In a year he had enough money saved to make a down payment on a small forty-acre, run down farm. The dilapidated barn had poor, see-through siding and a sagging roof. The first priority was to repair the roof, replace rotten lumber, and shore up support beams. The second was to build five fifteen-foot square stalls within the tired old walls.
Zach's construction job allowed him access to surplus materials. He fashioned stall corner posts from broken telephone poles chain sawed to the proper lengths. He used second-hand bridge planks in the sides of the stalls to give them a massive look of strength. He didn't want to come to the barn some morning to find the sides of the stalls kicked down and a horse full of splinters. Things had to be done right or not at all. The horse smells, the shedrow, the racetrack, and derby days were still far away but Zach was on his way, and he was confident hard work and determination would soon pay off. Tunnel vision had no better vessel.
ZACH BUTLER COMMENCES
In a high risk endeavor like racehorses, a limited finance posture requires defensive wisdom. Zach chose to buy fillies. If they didn't pan out, he could always sell them or put them in a brood mare band. By buying yearlings, he had time to sharpen his horsemanship skills, and they were something that fit his pocketbook. He bought six hoping one would make it to the racetrack. None did, but Zach wasn't unnerved. The six had given him a polished horse education and Zach was ready to sally forth again.
One fall day, the whole Butler family went to a thoroughbred sale. As they looked over the offering, a groom led a gray yearling colt past them. Mother Butler observed something she hadn't seen in a long time - the gray got Zach's complete attention, for his left eyelid dropped to half-mast. She knew Zach had found his horse. He was sold near mid-sale when some of the crowd's enthusiasm waned and Zach got him for a nominal fee. Zach had his foot in the door of quality horses and the race crowd would soon know it. A plain, cheap quarter horse gelding of the same age was purchased as a companion to keep the new horse, Monk, company. Zach's train was beginning to chug, slowly but surely.
Since Zach was away at his construction job every day, a day man had been hired. His name was Roy Brown. He was given two jobs: working with the two colts, and building one five-acre pasture paddock to the rear of the barn and a one-acre exercise lot in front in which to break the two colts for riding. Money was scarce, but Zach Butler wasn't to be denied. He had a good horse in his barn and Roy was a faithful worker. Winter came and Roy went back home with the promise to return in the spring. The two horses had plenty of barn and a five-acre paddock to roam and play. The winter winds blew through the gaping cracks of the barn siding, but the two horses had thick coats and their bellies were full of grain and hay. Life couldn't be better.
Spring finally came. Monk was now shed off and was a big strapping two-year-old. Roy came back and was now breaking the two horses to ride and was doing an excellent job with them. Zach decided to stay clear of Roy - leave him alone. Only when major decisions were made did Zach intervene. Time went on; Monk was now twenty-eight months old. The ugly duckling look was gone and he had a lot of that "He" look to him. Zach's only directions to Roy about Monk's training were that there should be no speed work, only long walks, trots, and slow gallops.
Summer grew into fall and fall into winter. Zach's parents knew a good trainer in the South where Monk was shipped for serious training. Monk ate it up.
THE FIRST RACE
In the midst of the training reports and Zach's work schedule, Zach was making frequent trips to the South and the training track where the other competitors were also training; a harried lifestyle developed. But again, Zach was up to the task. He watched the other horses in training and mentally catalogued each one that would be in Monk's first race. He noticed that one such horse, the favorite, didn't like close competition and was rope- walking badly behind; he wasn't shod right. If and when that horse straightens out, he would be tough competition in the future. So, he decided they would keep the pressure on him in the race so that he could very well ruin himself for future races.
Monk had only one exercise rider and he was told never let Monk out; keep the wraps on him.
Race day finally came. Zach's iron teeth began to grind. His instructions to his jockey were twofold: First, ruin the favorite; we don't want to meet that horse again - "he didn't suffer fools gladly;" and second, if possible, barely win the race. By keeping Monk on the favorite's off shoulder, at the quarter pole the favorite should start to come apart. Swing wide; you should have enough horse to win, but don't win by very much. Again, the goal was to keep Monk's talents covered as much as possible. The big derby in late July had a $100,000 purse that Zach was after.
The race came and went as planned. The favorite made his surge with Monk close to him. At the quarter pole, the favorite began to come apart behind as Zach had figured, and the big gray Monk swung wide and won by a half a length.
Monk was raced again in June, winning only by a length as planned; again the wraps were kept on him as much as possible. In the leaky roof circuit, winning a race was barely noticeable in the high echelons. However, just enough news had begun to drift upward to the higher-ups about a power horse from the corn country. For that reason, Monk wasn't taken to the derby track for training for the big derby in July but was trained at a private track twenty miles away. He trained well and with good competition in the derby the best of Monk would be demonstrated.
Zach had three things on his min
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Excerpted from You Can't Win Backin' Up by Homer Long. Copyright © 2013 by Homer Long. Excerpted by permission of AuthorHouse.
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