Blister Jones Part 17

"'I'd love it,' says Miss Goodloe, 'n' busts out cryin'. 'You'll think I'm an awful baby!' she says to me.

"'I don't mind them kind of tears,' I says.

"'Neither do I,' she says, laughin', 'n' dabbin' at her face with a d.i.n.ky little hankerchiff.

"I wait till they lead the colt out in front of the stand, 'n' put the floral horseshoe round his neck, then I takes Miss Goodloe down to shake hands with the jock.

"'How do you like him?' she says to the jock.

"'Well, ma'am,' he says, 'I've ridden all the good ones, but he's the best hoss I ever has under me!'

"'What's the record fur this race?' I yells across the track to the timer. He points down at the time hung up.

"'That's it!' he hollers back.

"'Didn't he do it easy?' says the jock to me.

"There's no use to tell you what Salvation done to them Eastern hosses; everybody knows about that. It got so the ginnies would line up in a bunch, every time he starts, 'n' holler: '_They're off--there he goes_!' They does it regular, 'n' pretty soon the crowds get next 'n'

then everybody does it. He begins to stale off at Pimlico, so I s.h.i.+ps him to Miss Goodloe, 'n' writes her to turn him out fur three or four months.

"It ain't a year from the time we leaves Miss Goodloe standin' in the road till then. Salvation wins his every start. He's copped off forty thousand bucks. I guess that's goin' some!

"When the season closes I goes through Kentucky on my way South, 'n' I takes a jump over from Loueyville to see the colt. Miss Goodloe's bought a hundred acres around her little house, 'n' the colt's turned out in a nice bluegra.s.s field. We're standin' watchin' him, when she puts somethin' in my pocket. I fishes it out 'n' it's a check fur five thousand bucks.

"'I've been paid what's comin' to me,' I says. 'Nothin' like this goes.'

"'Oh, yes, it does!' she says. 'I have investigated since you told me that _story_. Trainers do _not_ pay expenses on other people's horses.

Now, put that back in your pocket or I will be mortally offended.'

"'I don't need it,' I says.

"'Neither do I,' she says. 'I haven't told you--guess what I've been offered for Salvation?'

"'I give it up,' I says.

"'Fifty thousand dollars,' she says. 'What do you think of that?'

"'Are you goin' to sell?' I asks her.

"'Certainly not,' she says.

"'He'll earn twice that in the stud,' I says. 'Who makes you the offer--Mr. Dillon?'

"'No, a New York man,' she says. 'I guess Mr. Dillon has lost interest in him.'

"I guess he hasn't,' I says. 'I seen him at Pimlico, 'n' he was worse 'n ever.'

"'Did--did he still feed him sugar?' she says, but she don't look at me while she's gettin' it out.

"'You bet he did,' I says.

"'Shall you see him again?' she asks me.

"'Yes'm, I'll see him at New Awlins,' I says.

"'You may tell him,' she says, her face gettin' pink, 'that as far as my horse is concerned I haven't changed my mind.'

"On the way back to the house I gets to thinkin'.

"'I'm goin' round to the kitchen 'n' say h.e.l.lo to Aunt Liza,' I says to Miss Goodloe.

"Liza's glad to see me this time--mighty glad.

"'Hyah's a nice hot fried cake fo' you, honey,' she says.

"'This ain't no fried cake,' I says. 'This is a doughnut.'

"'You ain' tryin' to tell _me_ what a fried cake is, is you?' she says.

"'Aunt Liza,' I says to her while I'm eatin' the doughnut, 'I sees Mr.

Jack Dillon after he's been here, 'n' he acts like he'd had a bad time.

Did you take a poker to him, too?'

"'No, sah,' she says. 'Miss Sally tended to his case.'

"'It's too bad she don't like him,' I says.

"'Who say she doan' like him?' says Liza. 'He come a sto'min' round hyah like he gwine to pull de whole place up by de roots an' transport hit ovah Lexington way. Fust he's boun' fo' to take dat hoss what's done win all dem good dollahs. Den his min' flit f'om dat to Miss Sally, an' he's aimin' to cyar her off like she was a 'la.s.ses bar'l or a yahd ob calico. Who is dem Dillons, anyway? De Goodloes owned big lan' right hyar in Franklin County when de Dillons ain' nothin' but Yankee trash back in Maine or some other outlan'ish place! Co'se we sends him 'bout his bisniss--him an' his money! Ef he comes roun'

hyar, now we's rich again, an' sings small fo' a while. Miss Sally mighty likely to listen to what he got to say--she so kindly dat a-way.'

"At the depot in Goodloe that night I writes a wire to Jack Dillon.

'If you still want Salvation better come to Goodloe,' is what the wire says. I signs it 'n' sends it 'n' takes the train fur New Awlins.

"The colt ruptures a tendon not long after that, so he never races no more, 'n' I ain't never been to Goodloe since."

Blister yawned, lay back on the gra.s.s and pulled his hat over his face.

"Is Salvation alive now?' I asked.

"Sure he's alive!" The words come m.u.f.fled from beneath the hat. "He's at the head of Judge Dillon's stock farm over near Lexington."

"I'm surprised Miss Goodloe sold him," I said.

"She don't . . . sell him," Blister muttered drowsily. "Mrs.

Dillon . . . still . . . owns him."