The Sport of Kings

"You said Lieutenant Clayton was going to meet us right under this old elm at one sharp with Mercury, this wonder horse of his," Major Butler said, perturbed. "I don't see hide nor hair of either and it is quarter past."

Captain Tom Ely, a lanky, twenty seven year old ex-fireman from New York city serving with the 44th New York looked over at the stocky major and smiled. "He'll be here. He's my cousin from Brooklyn and never on time."

The two of them had been loitering under the tree for the last half hour just watching the daily bustle of activity at their camp near Stoneman's Switch. The April breeze brought the fresh scents of new growth, and Tom was enjoying the warm sun too much to let the antsy major bother him. After all, the race was not until Saturday and this was only Wednesday with entrees not due until before evening mess call. Speculation was already running wild as to what horses were going to be on the card this coming Saturday. Everyone involved had their favorites and some had even developed what they thought were sure fire betting systems.

The races had started only a few weeks ago to break up the boredom of winter around the camps of the Army of the Potomac. The officers instigated it and used their own mounts, with betting open to all. Headquarters turned a blind eye to it, figuring it kept the men busy and was good for moral. As far as Tom was concerned they all needed a boost in moral after the carnage of Fredericksburg in December and the disastrous Mud March of January that cost the bumbling General Burnside command of the army.

The Saturday races had become so popular that even a few generals had gotten involved. And best of all, it lined his pockets with him being a bookie and finding ringers for the races. He rarely lost. All this extra cash was affording him an above average army officer's life style, shopping at the sutlers and finding pleasure with the Washington ladies that the new commander, General Hooker, allowed to visit headquarters in Falmouth just up the road.

Major Butler figured as his partner in crime, helping him spot potential winners. Since he served on Hooker's staff, the major always let him know of any important competitors from the higher ranks that might possibly beat his ringers. This week Butler had the task of taking and listing the entrees. Of course the major got sizable kickbacks for his efforts. Still, there was enough money for them both and no rifts had developed in their relationship.

Major Butler looked at his pocket watch again. "I'll forgive his tardiness only if this Mercury is as fast as you said he is."

"Oh, he's fast all right," Tom said with a sly smile. "He has Lexington behind him in his breeding and he's a full-blooded thoroughbred. Bill bought him from the government's stock of horses captured from the Rebs last fall when he became a courier on General Griffin's staff. They found his pedigree papers in the saddlebag. Wouldn't surprise me if Mercury was raced before the war. You know how some of them southern boys feel about their horses and racing."

The hoof beats of a cantering horse sounding over the daily camp noise suddenly drew their attention. Tom smiled to himself as the lightly built, clean shaven, blond lieutenant, who looked about eighteen at most, headed toward them on a magnificent stallion as black as polished ebony.

"Here’s my cousin, Bill, as promised," Tom announced with a broad smile. Lieutenant Bill Clayton pulled the horse to a stop in front of them. "Sorry I'm late, Tom. Had to deliver a dispatch to General Hooker from General Griffin and wait around for a reply."

Mercury bobbed his head and tugged at the reins as if he wanted to move on. Bill tightened the reins to get better control and stroked the stallion's arched neck. Tom beamed. “Like the old saying goes, there ain’t nothing better for the inside of a man than the outside of a horse.”

"That's one hell of a specimen of horseflesh you got there," Butler agreed. "But, can he run?"

Bill looked insulted. "Can he run? Why, yes, sir, he can run. Just ask anyone on General Griffin's staff." Butler approached the horse and ran his hand expertly down each leg checking tendon and bone, then picked up and examined each hoof. He patted the muscular rump when finished. "He appears sound."

"I'd say we got the other nags beat on Saturday. Even Colonel Crensaw's big bay, Jupiter, the one we cleaned up on last week," Tom said, more sure of this horse than any he'd seen in a long time.

"Jupiter's entered again this week. As to Mercury . . . you'll be riding him, Lieutenant?" Butler asked. "You look like a real light weight."

"Yes, sir, I'd prefer to be the one. If you don't mind," Bill returned. "He can be a real handful sometimes."

"Don’t mind at all," Butler said walking around the stallion unable to take his eyes off him.

"Besides, you know all his quirks," Tom added. "Not good to change jockeys on a sure thing, you know." He grinned at his own joke.

"A-a-a-a-a speaking of quirks, Tom," Bill said with a serious look on his face as he pulled a folded paper from his worn blue coat. " This is General Griffin's entry for the Major's list. You know how crazy he is about horses and racing."

Major Butler quickly snatched it from his hand and opened it. He read it and frowned. "Shit."

"Who the hell is Lady?" Tom said with a sinking feeling in his stomach which he often got when his plans were threatened by the unknown.

"General Griffin's favorite horse. A tough, fast little chestnut mare. The operative word here being fast." Butler did not look too happy about this sudden development.

"Before you got involved in these games I saw Lady in the first race we ran. She beat Jupiter by three lengths on that same two mile stretch of dry road we'll be running," Butler said. "And with Griffin riding."

"Griffin's not as light as me and Mercury is damn near seventeen hands with a lot more leg than Lady," Bill added. "Besides, I saw Lady come in second by a nose to Jupiter the following week in the mud."

"I think we can take Lady . . . I know we can take Lady and Jupiter," Bill said.

"Well, you've got my bet," Butler said pulling a pencil from his coat pocket and scratching Mercury and Lady on to his list of entries. "Should be a real interesting race."

"Well, we got Jupiter, Storm, Napoleon, Lady and Mercury," Butler said reading down his list.

"Well, Storm and Napoleon are speed horses, not any challenge after the first half mile. Jupiter and Lady will be your only real competition. Mercury has size and length of stride on them both and a lighter jockey," Tom forced a smile. He still didn't like the idea of not having seen Lady in action. He had nothing to go by but hearsay.

"Speak of the Devil ... look," Bill said pointing across the camp. "Looks like Griffin is getting her ready for Saturday."

Tom and Butler turned. On the other side of camp they spotted General Griffin with Lady at an easy canter. He was minus his sword belt and his coat was open, but he was easily identified by his beat up old kepi and full mustache, not to mention the mare as red as a new copper penny. Tom knew Griffin had a reputation of being very outspoken and that he was liked more among the enlisted me than the top brass. He watched the General ride around the camp and swing toward them on the last turn. He observed Lady's stride and movement. She had good looks and was well-built, maybe the fine carriage horse type, but nothing like the magnificent black stallion before him. The stallion carried himself in a way that spoke of speed and power held in reserve like a genie in a bottle. As Griffin drew close he slowed Lady and came over. They all saluted.

"Getting ready for Saturday, Major?" Griffin said, his dark, penetrating eyes smiling. Lady stood quiet and reserved.

"Yes, sir, and I've got your entry right here," Butler said holding up his list.

"Splendid.," Griffin returned. He looked over at Bill. "Well, Lieutenant Clayton, I take it you are finally joining us in the sport of kings . . . or should I say the sport of those who admire fine horse flesh and have an animal that can run, since there is obviously no royalty among us?"

"Good, I will see you Saturday at one sharp," Griffin said and cantered away, heading Lady along the edge of camp past a few surprised sentries. Tom watched them, but was satisfied. "I'd say we have nothing much to worry about with Lady. Ain’t a mare alive that can beat a stallion in a race."

Butler chuckled. “Looks like a mare my Uncle John has pulling his buggy. He’s a country doctor.”

“If you don’t mind me adding my two cents,” Bill said. “I’d say you can’t judge a book by its cover, but I do think the General will be eating our dust come Saturday.” They all laughed.

Saturday began as one of those rare sweet April days with blue sky and apple blossom petals floating on gentle, warm breezes. Racing fans lined the road hollering to one another, waving and catcalling. Several fine carriages with a mounted escort brought the Washington ladies, officers’ wives and their hosts to a small clearing on a low hill that provided a good vantage point. Betting was hot and heavy with nearly a three way tie between Mercury, Jupiter and Lady as the favorites. Two other horses had been entered, Buckshot and Champion, but most bettors considered them also rans, making them long shots. All the action had Tom ecstatic.

He walked over to the chestnut tree where the entries were gathering to check on Mercury and found the big stallion champing at the bit, ready to go. He walked over to Bill. “He looks good,” Tom said and petted Mercury’s sleek neck.

He looked over at General Griffin sitting astride Lady. He was dressed casually with no sword belt, his coat open and his old beat up kepi perched on his head, just like yesterday. The mare stood quietly, head slightly down like an old plow horse, swishing her tail at a few stray flies. No threat there. Jupiter was nervous and sweaty. Colonel Crenshaw was riding him in a circle to calm him down. Burned out before he even starts, Tom thought. He bet everything on Mercury.

“To the starting line,” the major bellowed and a bugle blew. The entries filed away from the tree in an informal post parade with the fiery Mercury leading followed by Jupiter, Lady, Buckshot, Storm, Napoleon and Champion all in the positions drawn by lot. Tom climbed to a low thick branch of an elm to keep everything in easy view.

The track was the main dirt road that ran through the camp at Stoneman’s Switch and, except for a few slight curves, almost a straight shot to the road to Falmouth. To make up the two miles, the course continued for three-quarters of a mile on the Falmouth road. There were few trees left to block the view thanks to the need for firewood that winter. Tom settled on his perch and watched the horses as they lined up behind a white line drawn across the road with lime.

Bill looked his way. Spotted him. Waved. He waved back. Mercury reared unexpectedly and Bill was flung backwards, landing in a heap to the sickening muffled snap of a bone breaking. Bill yelled out upon his attempt to sit up. Colonel Cranshaw grabbed Mercury’s reins and a crowd formed around the downed rider, Major Butler among them.

“Shit!” Tom yelled and scrambled down from his perch. He ran to his cousin’s side as two officers helped him up. Bill looked at him and grimaced. “Shoulder’s broke. Don’t want Mercury scratched. Can you ride him?”

“Tom, you’re a damn good horseman,” Major Butler said with an edge of desperation in his voice. “Nothing in the rules says Bill has to ride. I don’t have to tell you a lot of money is riding on him and a lot of fellows will be in a very black mood if he’s scratched.”

“Come on, Tom. You can do it,” Bill said, holding his shoulder. “I got to get to a surgeon before I pass out.” He left with another lieutenant.

His profits all on the line, Tom swallowed hard and stared at the ground trying to collect his thoughts and avoiding the demanding eyes around him.

General Griffin pulled Lady next to him. He looked up. The General smiled wryly and said loud enough for all to hear, “Go on, Captain, unless you think the stallion’s too much horse for you.”

The words had the effect of fingernails on a blackboard. “General,” he said looking right into Griffins sharp-eyed stare. “Ain’t a horse alive I can’t ride. Ain’t a mare alive that can beat a stallion. Be prepared to eat our dust.”

A cheer went up around him. The major took Mercury’s reins from Colonel Cranshaw and held them while he mounted. The stallion side stepped bobbing and shaking his head, not used to the feel of him. He stroked the stallions neck to calm him. The animal felt tight as a spring between his legs as they all moved into starting positions again.

The starter, a thin captain on a gray horse, raised his Colt pistol skyward. Tom pulled the stallion’s head straight, tightened his grip on the reins and grabbed a good chunk of mane. The pistol cracked. He touched the stallion’s flank with his spurs and the animal bolted forward as if shot from a cannon. Only Napoleon and Storm flew on ahead of him as the stallion collected himself gaining his stride. He wasn't worried. That was expected since they were early speed horses. Bunched around him were Jupiter and Lady, the three of them matching each other stride for stride. Right on their tails ran Champion and Buckshot.

He tucked himself in close to the stallion’s neck, feeling the black stretch out under him in powerful strides that pulled him half a length ahead of Jupiter and Lady. This isn't too bad, he found himself thinking. Not bad at all. He dared to look back under his arm and saw Lady pounding effortlessly ahead of Jupiter and gaining on him. He let out the reins a little and tightened his knees. Mercury gained ground quickly on Storm and Napoleon. Dust flew in their faces and the stallion’s ears were back betraying his annoyance. The stallion’s head shifted slightly to the right. Tom knew he wanted to get around the two horses ahead of him. Could feel the power coursing through him. He let him have his head. At what he judged to be about a half mile into the race, he blew past the two rabbits with Lady right on his tail and Jupiter a half length behind her.

“I won’t be eating your dust long,” the General called to him as Lady’s hoof beats drew closer behind him.

He said nothing, too intent on the empty road ahead lined with shouting men on each side. “Git up, Mercury,” he yelled as Lady’s bobbing head appeared in his peripheral vision to his left. There was a fire in her eye that told him she was not a quitter. He heard Jupiter’s pounding hooves on his right.

“Nice day for a race,” Griffin returned as Lady brought the general even with him.

"Yes it is,” he said and dared to look under his right arm to check for Jupiter. Jupiter had dropped back directly behind him. He glanced quickly at Griffin. Lady was pulling ahead and there was still about a mile to go.

“Eat your words, Captain,” Griffin teased as Lady gained a head on Mercury.

“No I ain’t.” He squeezed the stallion’s sides and loosened the reins. There wasn’t a mare alive that could beat a stallion, his words repeated in his mind. That was a natural fact, he told himself as the black inched ahead..

They were running in a dead heat. The crowd along the road was cheering wildly, some waving their hats. He could see the finish line. Men were running toward it. He looked behind. Jupiter was fading, burned out. There was only Lady, and she showed no signs of tiring. Impossible, his mind screamed out.

At a half mile, he spurred Mercury and whipped his shoulders with the reins. Mercury put on a burst of speed. The big black pulled a half length ahead of Lady. He could feel all that money in his pocket. It would buy him the life of a king with the Washington ladies on the weekend leave he planned to apply for once this race was over. Then Lady was suddenly beside him again, slick with sweat and breathing hard. But, so was Mercury. He asked for more speed at the top of the stretch. Mercury pushed, but Lady pushed harder. For a hundred yards they were in a dead heat again. Then the mare seemed to dig into reserves she had not used. She stretched her neck and plowed on to a half length lead seconds before they hit the finish line. All he could see was the mare’s bobbing red rump in front and his world shattering around him as the wildly cheering crowd of soldiers closed in on the finish line behind him.

It took a few strides to slow the horses rushing over the finish line. He rode on numb with disbelief as he turned the stallion and headed back. A crowd was gathering near Griffin and Lady. It wasn’t natural. How could Griffin’s mare ever beat such a horse?

“Maybe it was the extra weight,” Bill’s familiar voice chimed in. “Still, sorry I missed it.” Tom looked left and saw Bill passing around the crowd, his arm in a sling.

“Maybe, you’re right, Lieutenant” Major Butler said. Tom did not find the words comforting at all. He was out money. Too much money.

And now to add insult to injury, he had to pay off the gloating winners. Griffin road through the crowd over to him. “Mighty fine race, Captain. Very sporting of you to be substitute rider on your cousin’s fine stallion.”

“Better luck next time,” the general added as he walked Lady away to cool her down.

He slid off Mercury and handed the reins to Bill. “If there is a next time, you’re riding and I’m hedging my bets if Lady is running. That mare ain’t natural.” He walked away to pay off the bettors and lick his wounds.

Nick Korolev has been a serious student of the Civil War since age 12. He is a professional published writer and artist and his interest in the Civil War has provided many subjects for both. He is author of a Civil War novel entitled Silver Eagles, about Cols. Ames, Chamberlain and the 20th Maine from the formation of the regiment to Gettysburg. Silver Eagles was nominated for the 2003 Michael Shaara Award for Civil War Fiction. He is currently working on a novel about McClellan and Stanton titled The Sword and the Lightning and a screen play about Brig. Gen William Averell's Salem Raid in December of 1863 currently titled Averell and the Raiders of the North Wind. He is a member of the Civil War Heritage Foundation for whom he portrays Gen. George McClellan and the First Regiment of West Virginia Cavalry, for whom he portrays Gen. William Averell. Nick is Secretary for the local Sons Of Union Veterans of the Civil War and recently joined the Falling Waters Battlefield Association.