Man O'War Read Online Free Page A

what! And where else could people talk to horses the way they could here? No, there was no other place he wanted to live but in the heart of the Bluegrass Region—Lexington, Kentucky.
    He looked ahead at the foaling barn. There were no bright lights burning, so nothing had happened yet. If the foal had come, the place would have been lit up like a Christmas tree. Who knew but the barn might stay dark all night, like last night and the one before? Then he’d be up all night again for nothing. And he knew only too well what would happen to him at school for being so sleepy. Well, all that would end pretty soon. Pretty soon he’d be working here and spending every minute of his time with the horses. So even if he was tired tomorrow, it would be worth it. Mahubah was a fine mate. Her colt could be the one. He just might be.
    Since he knew he had time, he went first to the stallions, as he did every night. Opening the barn door quietly, he peered into the dimly lit interior. He could just make out Fair Play’s lofty head outlined against the stall window.
    â€œHello, big horse,” he called softly.
    Fair Play moved to the door of his stall, his golden coat picking up what light there was in the barn. He stood before the iron bars, his eyes searching and eager for attention.
    The boy touched him gently, rubbing the white, diamond-shaped star in the center of his forehead. “Your wife’s going to have your son tonight,” he said. “She’s not going to put us off any longer. I’m sure of it. He’ll be a good one. You’ll be proud.”
    Suddenly the stallion moved away, going to his water bucket. The great crest on his neck was arched like a drawn bow as he bent down to the water. He didn’t drink but played, blowing into the water and splattering the spray about the stall. He shook himself and remained where he was, ignoring his visitor’s pleas to move forward.
    â€œMoody, that’s what you are,” the boy said finally. “One moment you want attention and the next you want to be left alone. That was your trouble on the track, too. Maybe you didn’t have your daddy’s bad temper but you had a mind of your own all the same. You could run away with a race when you were in the mood, but when you weren’t you just wouldn’t run for anyone. Worse still, you wouldn’t even train. You just didn’t think it worth your while. Now what kind of colts are you going to sire with that kind of temperament?”
    The boy shrugged his shoulders and turned away. Maybe Fair Play would get
great
colts, who knew? Mr. Belmont believed so, that was for sure. He believed Fair Play would turn out to be the best sire he had ever owned.
    The golden stallion had won ten of his thirty-two starts as a racehorse. Not the best record in the world but certainly not the worst. And Fair Play had proved he could carry weight and go a distance. He wasn’t a big, strong horse, either. He wasn’t quite sixteen hands but he was beautifully proportioned. You couldn’t fault him anywhere. Even if you picked him apart he’d come out perfectly made. Well, maybe Fair Play would turn out to be a top sire and maybe he wouldn’t … only one out of ten thousand stallions ever did.
    Going on to another big stall, the boy peered between its iron bars with the utmost care and reverence. For here was the
king.
Here was Hastings, sire of Fair Play and for many years America’s leading stallion. And now at the age of twenty-four he was still siring winners!
    The boy kept his hands away from the bars, for the aged stallion was as mean and vicious as he’d been as a colt. Had it not been for his evil temper, Hastings would have been a great racehorse. Even the stories one heard about him were enough to stand a fellow’s hair on end.
    Hastings had been so fired-up on the track that nobody could handle him. He wanted action and competition, all right,