The Island Stallion Races (16 page)

He never remembered a more wonderful trip than the one that followed. Oh, it was true they all made
much fun of him and his apparent wealth. They told him that he would never get a job in the factory wearing such beautiful clothes. They passed his black homburg around, each one trying it on while he in turn wore their straw hats. They even took his cane and he thought for a while that he would never see it again. But eventually it came back to him, just as his hat did.

It was all a great deal of fun, and he was sorry when it came to an end. By separate large groups the passengers left the bus at factories along the way, and finally he was alone and the driver asked if he were going to spend the day with him. Only then did Jay think of Havana and the business at hand.

Glancing at his gold watch he said impatiently, “I must get to Havana immediately.”

The driver smiled tolerantly. “Then you must ride back with me to where you got on. Once there you must wait for still another bus.”

“How long will all that take?” Jay asked anxiously, getting to his feet.

“It will not be soon,” the driver said. “I do not leave here for another thirty minutes.”

“Is there no other way to reach Havana?” Jay looked out the windows. “Are there no taxis?” On the gate of a nearby factory he saw a huge poster announcing the great International Race to be run the next day at El Dorado Park, and his impatience to reach the city broke out afresh. “There must be cars to hire out here,” he said.

The bus driver smiled, and his eyes surveyed Jay’s fine clothes again. “If there are any around they will find you,” he said.

“But what do you suggest I do?” Jay asked.

“Get out and walk,” the driver said. “Something should happen very quickly.”

“Thank you. Thank you very much,” Jay answered in his finest Spanish.

He walked past the factory and down the asphalt-topped road, looking for a taxi. But the only signs of activity came from the belching smokestacks. He felt very much alone with everyone working but himself. He hurried along, climbing a steep hill. At the top he could see nothing before him but great fields of sugar cane on either side of the road. He knew then that it would do no good to walk aimlessly along, waiting for something to happen, as the bus driver had suggested.

As he stood there, his eyes on the long empty stretch of road, his ears listening for the sound of a car, he became more nervous than ever. It was most frustrating! He looked up at the sky. There was a large black buzzard circling just above him. Oh, he could get to Havana all right. But his flying was very much against the rules on such a trip as this. They’d leave him here if they ever found out. He’d never see home again.

Pearly beads of perspiration appeared on his forehead and he swept them angrily away. His Earth body functioned in a very strange manner indeed.…

He waited longer, but not patiently. Well, if there was no alternative he had to take a chance of getting to Havana the only way left, although he certainly wished … He looked at the buzzard again. It was such a big bird.… Suddenly he heard the noise of a car’s engine, and with great relief turned toward it.

The car came up the hill, hissing and rattling under
the strain of making the steep ascent. Jay stepped out in the middle of the road and raised his hand high in the air.

The car stopped, but the driver, barely glancing at Jay, got out and went forward to remove the cap from the steaming radiator.

Jay jumped back at sight of the geyser of steam that emerged, and the man laughed at him. He was still laughing when he went to the back of the car and returned with a large can of water which he poured into the hot radiator. Then he put back the cap and turned to Jay, studying him closely for the first time.

His eyes brightened as he scrutinized Jay’s fine clothes and the silver-handled cane. “Sir,” he said anxiously, “you are in trouble, and in need of help?”

“I must reach Havana at once,” Jay said, using his finest, richest Spanish. He had met this type of man before, and had not forgotten how best to impress him. “If I may hire your car and services …”

“But of course,” the man interrupted, opening the car door with a great flourish. “We will waste no time in further words while not in transit. I understand your emergency and quickly respond to your bidding.” He hurried Jay into the car, happy that no fare for the trip had been set and he could demand his own figure upon their arrival in Havana.

Jay made no attempt to carry on a conversation with this man as he had done with his good friends on the bus. He was a sullen person who would not have helped him, or anyone else for that matter, without expecting and obtaining a very high price for his services.

While the man talked on and on, Jay looked out at
the countryside, trying hard to concentrate on the fields of cane, the citrus fruit orchards and finally the long avenues that were shaded by laurel trees, ceibas and stately royal palms. Eventually, the road descended to the sea and a light wind brought the smell of dead sea grass lying in the hot sun. He glanced at his watch again, and seeing that it was almost noon he fidgeted more than before.

“It won’t be long now,” the man said, letting the car roll recklessly down the hill. “See, there is the dome of the Capitol!”

Jay only nodded, not sharing the man’s jubilation at sight of the city. The important thing was that other cars were now on the road, most of them passing quickly by. If anything happened to the sputtering engine he would not be without further conveyance.

From having studied the ship’s screen the day before, he knew where they were in Havana. The towering National Hotel was near the white dome of the Capitol, and then he could see the Morro Castle, and many other buildings, all looking clean and beautiful in the bright noonday sun.

For a moment he thought of the fun it would be just to sit quietly in some restaurant, watching the people that passed … or, better still, walking leisurely through the streets, talking to passers-by. He turned his gaze away from the buildings to watch a ship leaving the harbor. Still farther beyond were some fishing smacks. His eyes remained on the dark line made by the Gulf Stream, and he thought of the lonely island from which Steve and Flame had come.… Then he remembered all he had promised the boy.

“I’ll be getting out soon,” he told the driver.

“But, sir, this is only the suburbs.”

“I know,” Jay answered, “but there is no need of my going downtown. I must go directly to El Dorado Park.”

“The racetrack? Then I will take you there. It is a much longer ride, of course.”

“No, I will get a taxi, thank you. There’s one now.”

“But there is no need,” the man said insolently. “I can take you there as well. And the fare …”

“No,” Jay insisted, “a taxi suits me better.”

“Better?” the man asked irritably.

Jay’s face flushed. “I mean that it will get me there faster. Please stop now, and I will pay you.”

The driver jammed the foot brake. “I will have to charge you for the whole trip,” he said, smiling. “All the way to El Dorado Park, since it is there that you intended to go.”

“That’s perfectly all right,” Jay said, glad that the car had stopped and he was able to get out. Opening the door, he hailed a taxi, and then turned to the man in the car. “You’ve been most kind,” he said, taking a bill from his wallet and handing it to him.

The driver looked at the bill, and said nothing. It was more than he would have asked for, and he had intended to charge a great deal. When he took his eyes off the bill, he saw his wealthy passenger climbing into the taxi. “Sir,” he called, “one moment, please.”

Jay waited, wondering what the man wanted. Surely he had paid him well.

The man’s eyes were bright, almost frantic, Jay thought.

“Yes?” Jay said.

“Sir, perhaps you know the winner of the great race tomorrow? No doubt you are a famous horseman. And it would help me greatly to know the name of the winning horse.”

Jay closed the taxi door. “It would help me too,” he said through the open window.

“But, sir …”

The taxi moved, and Jay told the driver, “El Dorado Park, please. And skirt the traffic. I’m in a great hurry.”

Jay sat back, content that he had done right in transferring to the taxi. Not only because he would reach the Park much faster, but also because he would make a much better impression arriving there in a taxi rather than in the unfashionable vehicle he had just left. The latter was important because he well knew how much emphasis was placed upon such things by Earth-men. And, of course, he must do his best to impress the racetrack officials with his importance from the very beginning. Yes, he must take the offensive immediately, just as he had told Steve.

He relaxed, unaware of the mounting speed of the taxi, the blaring horn and the many near accidents that were avoided as he was taken from one residential section to another. Instead he was thinking that what he should do at once was to telephone the track and advise the officials of his coming. This, too, would be most impressive, especially if he allowed them to think that it was his secretary who was calling.

“ ‘I am calling for Mr.… Mr.…’ I must have a name,” he thought. “One worthy of such an occasion. I
believe I’ll be Dutch … yes, that’ll be just fine. I’ll say I’m from the Dutch West Indies. What’s the name of that Dutch island off the coast of Venezuela? Curaçao, that’s it. Now for my name. I’ll call myself Van Oss … yes, I like that. I like it very much. ‘Hello. Hello. I am calling for Mr. Henry Van Oss of Curaçao.’ Umm. Hm. Very good.”

Jay saw the drug store on the corner just ahead. Surely he’d find a public telephone there. “Driver,” he called, “stop here a moment. I want to make a call.”

A little later Jay returned to the taxi, very pleased with his telephone conversation with Mr. Garcia-Pena, Race Secretary of El Dorado Park. Mr. Garcia-Pena had been most gracious. He was awaiting Mr. Van Oss of Curaçao with the utmost pleasure, eager to assist him in every way possible, whatever his wishes might be.

Jay smiled as the taxi moved on again.
Whatever his wishes might be
. Little did Mr. Garcia-Pena realize what Mr. Van Oss would ask of him!

“Sir …” the driver began, turning his head around so he could look at Jay.

They almost collided with a passing car, and Jay said quickly, “Please keep your eyes on the road!”

Chastened, the driver obeyed. Then, without taking his eyes off the boulevard, he said, “May I ask if you’re an owner of a horse in tomorrow’s great race?”

“In a sense,” Jay answered, enjoying the man’s deference. “Yes, I suppose you might call me a part-owner. Although we’re undecided about starting tomorrow. I’ve only just arrived.”

“The fifty-thousand-dollar purse would decide me pretty quick about starting,” the driver said, laughing.

“Yes,” Jay admitted, “it
is
an impressive purse.”

“I guess everybody’s figuring on Kingfisher taking it home with him.”

“Kingfisher?” Jay asked.

“Sure … the
big
horse from the United States. He’s handicap champion there, as I guess you know.”

“No, I didn’t know,” Jay answered. “I haven’t kept in touch with races in the United States. You said his name is Kingfisher?”

“Yes,” the driver said. “It’s a good name, don’t you think?”

“Kingfisher,” Jay repeated. “Yes, the name appeals to me, too.”

“Then you like him for the big race, sir?”

“I like anything that has to do with birds,” Jay answered quietly.

The man glanced back at him. “What have birds got to do with it?”

“Watch the road, please,” Jay repeated nervously. “Nothing, I suppose … except that kingfisher is also the name of a bird.”

“It’s an easy name to remember.”

“Yes,” Jay said thoughtfully. “But come to think of it, it’s strange that they should give such a name to a horse. A kingfisher has very weak feet, and I’m sure you’re acquainted with the old saying, ‘No feet, no horse.’ ”

“You don’t have to worry about his feet, sir. They’ve carried him a long way. He’s six years old now and hasn’t been beaten since he was three.”

“I’m surprised,” Jay said. “A kingfisher’s feet just don’t stand up under hard going for a very long time.”

Bewildered, the driver looked back at his passenger again. “
This
Kingfisher’s a horse,” he said.

Jay said nothing more for the main entrance to El Dorado Park and the high fence surrounding it were directly ahead. He settled back in his seat, concerned now only with Mr. Garcia-Pena and all that he had to say to him.

They passed through the gate, and Jay wouldn’t let himself look at the gigantic grandstand and clubhouse or, a little later, at the horses being walked beside the stable sheds. He shut his ears, too, to the loud voices of caretakers calling to each other and the neighs and nickering of the horses.

Oh, he wanted so very much to look, to listen, for he had waited a terribly long time to enjoy once more the activity of a racetrack. But today was not the day. Tomorrow, yes, but not today. He must think only of his coming session with Mr. Garcia-Pena. He must be fully prepared to outwit the Race Secretary no matter how formidable an opponent Mr. Garcia-Pena might turn out to be. He must not return to Steve with anything but the happiest news, that Flame would be going to the post tomorrow. Nothing less would do, so every move, every remark, must be well planned. He must not let Mr. Garcia-Pena put him on the defensive at any time.

“Sir, are you not getting out?”

Jay glanced at the driver, then with further surprise he saw that the taxi was parked in front of a low building. He wondered how many minutes they’d been parked there.

“Why, yes … yes, of course,” he answered, a little flustered. He got out of the taxi, furious with himself for
his hesitancy and embarrassment. This wouldn’t do at all. This was not a good start for what he had to do.

Lifting his cane deftly with a quick, confident snap of the wrist, he told the driver to wait, and then walked into the building.