his voice. Tom and Uncle Wilmer turned to him, but George kept his gaze focused on the ground and chewed his tobacco.
"Look at that van. How'd you like to travel in that, George?" Jimmy indicated a large green-and-white-painted van that had the picture of a horse's head drawn on its side. Beneath it was lettered:
Ray O'Neil's Stables
—roosevelt raceway—
Westbury, Long Island
.
"It wouldn't be much different from riding in Sadie." George grinned, pointing to the dilapidated Ford horse van that was parked in front of them. "Sadie gets us there. That's all we want."
"But George, they have sleeping quarters in that one," Jimmy said sarcastically. "And maybe a kitchen, too."
"Nothin' wrong with sleepin' in a spare stall," George replied. "Been good enough for me for a long time now."
"Yes, but things have changed, George," Jimmy said even more bitterly. "Harness racing is big-time now. They got night raceways just outside of about every big city. They don't need the fairs no more—or people like us," he added slowly.
"Cut it, Jimmy," George said a little angrily.
But Jimmy Creech only turned to Uncle Wilmer and continued, "You wanta know why this guy Ray O'Neil who owns that fancy van came out to Reading Fair this week instead of staying at Roosevelt night raceway?"
Uncle Wilmer pulled his chair closer to Jimmy Creech, his eyes never leaving the man's lips.
"Wanted to get some sun, that's all," Jimmy said. "That's why he's here." He laughed loudly. "Take a day off and get some sun at a fair for him and his horses."
"You're not being square, Jimmy," George interrupted. "They live one life at night raceways and we live another at the fairs. But it's all harness racing. This Ray O'Neil is a good driver from all I heard. He topped 'em all at the raceways last year."
"Young squirt," Jimmy said. "He can't drive. Why, I—" Jimmy's hand went suddenly to his stomach and his face was white beneath the dark tan. It lasted only a few seconds, and when the pain had gone, Jimmy spat the chewing gum out of his mouth and opened another stick of gum. "Indigestion," he said casually, conscious of the anxious eyes upon him.
"Stop getting yourself all excited about the raceways and guys like Ray O'Neil an' you'll be all right," George said.
But Uncle Wilmer didn't let the subject drop. "No young feller ever could hold the lines as well as us old-timers," he told Jimmy. "You're sure right about that. It takes age, and that's what young fellers ain't got. You'll show this Ray O'Neil this afternoon, Jimmy. You'll show him, all right."
"He'll have his chance," George said. "O'Neil is in the first race, and that's our race, too."
"Jimmy'll show him, all right," Uncle Wilmer said again. "He sure will."
And it was only then that Tom was able to change the subject. But he was worried about Jimmy, more worried than ever before. Jimmy wasn't in any condition to race.
Racing Wheels
9
"Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen," the announcer said over the public-address system. "Welcome to the races at Reading Fair." Pausing, he waited a moment while the huge throng in the grandstand and bleachers turned its attention to him. "It's another beautiful day and as usual your fair committee has arranged another fine day of racing. We've had some stirring races every day this week and I'm certain today will be no exception. It's two o'clock and the horses are now leaving the paddock for the post parade of the first race on your program."
While the eyes of the crowd turned to the horses and the drivers dressed in their colorful silks, the announcer continued, "For your information, this race is restricted to horses having won one thousand dollars or more but less than twelve hundred dollars during their racing careers. And now here they come down for the post parade, ladies and gentlemen. Your attention, please, while I introduce horses and drivers according to post position, reading from the top of your program down. Number one, who will race in
"Look at that van. How'd you like to travel in that, George?" Jimmy indicated a large green-and-white-painted van that had the picture of a horse's head drawn on its side. Beneath it was lettered:
Ray O'Neil's Stables
—roosevelt raceway—
Westbury, Long Island
.
"It wouldn't be much different from riding in Sadie." George grinned, pointing to the dilapidated Ford horse van that was parked in front of them. "Sadie gets us there. That's all we want."
"But George, they have sleeping quarters in that one," Jimmy said sarcastically. "And maybe a kitchen, too."
"Nothin' wrong with sleepin' in a spare stall," George replied. "Been good enough for me for a long time now."
"Yes, but things have changed, George," Jimmy said even more bitterly. "Harness racing is big-time now. They got night raceways just outside of about every big city. They don't need the fairs no more—or people like us," he added slowly.
"Cut it, Jimmy," George said a little angrily.
But Jimmy Creech only turned to Uncle Wilmer and continued, "You wanta know why this guy Ray O'Neil who owns that fancy van came out to Reading Fair this week instead of staying at Roosevelt night raceway?"
Uncle Wilmer pulled his chair closer to Jimmy Creech, his eyes never leaving the man's lips.
"Wanted to get some sun, that's all," Jimmy said. "That's why he's here." He laughed loudly. "Take a day off and get some sun at a fair for him and his horses."
"You're not being square, Jimmy," George interrupted. "They live one life at night raceways and we live another at the fairs. But it's all harness racing. This Ray O'Neil is a good driver from all I heard. He topped 'em all at the raceways last year."
"Young squirt," Jimmy said. "He can't drive. Why, I—" Jimmy's hand went suddenly to his stomach and his face was white beneath the dark tan. It lasted only a few seconds, and when the pain had gone, Jimmy spat the chewing gum out of his mouth and opened another stick of gum. "Indigestion," he said casually, conscious of the anxious eyes upon him.
"Stop getting yourself all excited about the raceways and guys like Ray O'Neil an' you'll be all right," George said.
But Uncle Wilmer didn't let the subject drop. "No young feller ever could hold the lines as well as us old-timers," he told Jimmy. "You're sure right about that. It takes age, and that's what young fellers ain't got. You'll show this Ray O'Neil this afternoon, Jimmy. You'll show him, all right."
"He'll have his chance," George said. "O'Neil is in the first race, and that's our race, too."
"Jimmy'll show him, all right," Uncle Wilmer said again. "He sure will."
And it was only then that Tom was able to change the subject. But he was worried about Jimmy, more worried than ever before. Jimmy wasn't in any condition to race.
Racing Wheels
9
"Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen," the announcer said over the public-address system. "Welcome to the races at Reading Fair." Pausing, he waited a moment while the huge throng in the grandstand and bleachers turned its attention to him. "It's another beautiful day and as usual your fair committee has arranged another fine day of racing. We've had some stirring races every day this week and I'm certain today will be no exception. It's two o'clock and the horses are now leaving the paddock for the post parade of the first race on your program."
While the eyes of the crowd turned to the horses and the drivers dressed in their colorful silks, the announcer continued, "For your information, this race is restricted to horses having won one thousand dollars or more but less than twelve hundred dollars during their racing careers. And now here they come down for the post parade, ladies and gentlemen. Your attention, please, while I introduce horses and drivers according to post position, reading from the top of your program down. Number one, who will race in
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