Highest Stakes (68 page)

  "I have gleaned little of his history beyond his meeting Philip Ludwell upon my son's return to Virginia after Eton. You know how retiring these Englishmen are," the matron said.

  "I have since learned that he was an English cavalry officer, discharged after an unfortunate injury to his right arm. 'Twas undoubtedly in battle, though he understandably refuses to talk of it," Mrs. Lee added with a note of sympathy.

  "Is he quite incapacitated?" Mary asked.

  "Indeed not, my dear! One thinks it should have crippled him, but Roberts has proven very resilient. Despite his disability, he has made quite a prosperous living as well as a name for himself among the first families of Virginia. He has a remarkable ability with racing horses, you know. Truly a fine young man, dear Mary." She ended with an encouraging wink and then excused herself to attend her hostess duties.

  From that moment on, the previously unassuming Mary Griffith set her cap most resolutely for Daniel Roberts. Allied with the formidable Hannah Lee and her substantial influence, Mary soon found an army of accomplices at her back. Once her campaign commenced, they laid an indefensible siege. The betrothal was announced the autumn of 1748, with plans of a spring wedding. With resignation rather than delight, Daniel Roberts prepared to enter the next phase of his life.

  Though it was no love match, Roberts had acquiesced, vowing to be a kind and compassionate husband to Mary and a benevolent stepfather to her sons. Fate, however, intervened in the form of smallpox. Mary Griffiths was taken early that winter, leaving her orphaned sons with no guardian.

  Having come from a world where greed and unchecked ambition ruled, Roberts stepped in to protect the young boys and their estate. His public betrothal to Mary had placed him in a strong position to petition the court for guardianship. Suddenly Roberts found himself with a ready-made family and steward of five hundred fertile acres, and under his careful management, the small plantation burgeoned to more than triple its original size.

  Daniel Roberts, now having garnered both name and modest fortune, was finally in a position to pursue his lifelong dream. As a Virginia landholder, he had made his mark, yet true happiness remained elusive. Only thoughts of his own racing stud inspired any true passion in him. His time had come.

  Breaking amicably with John Tayloe, who desired breeding rights to Mars, Roberts negotiated options on the first of the get from Tayloe's half-dozen prized broodmares. He then scoured the countryside for broodmares of his own choosing.

  Although none in Virginia's racing set questioned Roberts' s knowledge of horseflesh, he was reckoned to hold some curious notions regarding his breeding shed. Contrary to the designs of his neighbors, who looked solely upon importation to improve their runners, Roberts sought foundation stock amongst the native Chickasaw horses.

  Originating from Colonial Spanish horses, this hardy and muscular little breed was highly prized by natives and colonists alike for its practical utility, but these horses were also amazingly swift in shortdistance racing. In Roberts's earlier years of short racing, they had proven his strongest competition.

  With the growing English trend to run younger horses at shorter distances, Roberts's desire was to produce the ideal middle-distance runner, one with the sprinting ability of the best Chickasaw and the staying power of the English racers. Of all the mares bred to Mars, it was out of his Chickasaw stock that Roberts achieved his greatest success, a blue roan colt with the best qualities of both his sire and dam: speed, strength, stamina, and a powerful will to run. Roberts christened him "Retribution."

The subscription race, organized by an elite group of plantation owners, was touted from Maryland to the Carolinas as akin to no other in Colonial history. A test of both raw speed and endurance, the race would pit the top short- and long-distance racers against one another in three heats of varying distance. The victor of the three would be crowned the indisputable king or queen of racing; and with a subscription fee of sixty hogsheads of Orinoco per entry, the winner stood to collect a purse equivalent to seven thousand five hundred pounds sterling!

  Roberts's Retribution would be competing in a field of representatives of the premier racing studs from Baltimore to Charleston, the colonies' finest hot-blooded horseflesh, and he was resolved to ride.

  For two years, he had not only trained his colt to run but had also prepared his own body for this trial. Light, lithe, and stronger than he had been in a half decade, he willed that this new strength and twenty-plus years in the saddle would compensate for any other limitations he might have.

  Aside from the subscription fee, Roberts had wagered the equivalent of an entire year's tobacco crop in a side bet with Maryland's most notorious gambler and horse breeder, William Byrd III. At the current market price of twenty shillings per hundredweight, his combined winnings from this race would amount to a fortune of over twenty thousand pounds should they prevail; but winnings aside, it was something he desperately needed to do.

  Though he daily counted his blessings, in seven years he had never lost sight of his objective, to exact long-overdue recompense for all he had lost, and vengeance over those who had deceived and betrayed him in the name of selfish ambition.

  Only with this victory could he ever hope to resurrect the man who was buried but far from dead.

The gathered crowd went wild as the baker's dozen, collectively representing the Colonial embodiment of equine perfection, were led out for the first of the three contests, the quarter-mile sprint.

  The favored of the lot were Mr. Tayloe's Childers and Jenny Cameron, Benjamin Tasker's imported Selima, Francis Thornton's Chieftain, Governor Ogle's Queen Mab, and William Byrd III's pride, the young stallion Tryal. Mr. Daniels's Retribution, with his peculiar blood cross, was deemed by all to be completely outclassed in the field of thoroughbreds.

  Thirteen horses were slated to run, but the track could barely contain ten once gathered abreast. To the jockeys' peril, the horses crowded, milled, and nervously jostled one another as they awaited the starting signal.

  The roan jigged in nervous anticipation of the signal, tugging on the bit and pushing his nose out with an irritated snort. He was raring to go. Roberts couldn't be more pleased that the first race was a sprint. There would be no reason to hold back.

  His confidence, however, was shattered by the reckless jolt of another horse and rider.

  Sizing up the offenders, Roberts recognized the horse as Byrd's Tryal. The bay stallion was known to be a fierce competitor with a vicious temperament. Casting Roberts a malevolent stare, the jockey spurred his horse again and bumped Retribution a second time.

  Most times, jostling was unintentional, but there were many jockeys who would use this technique and any other they could command to intimidate the competition. There was no question of this jockey's intent.

  Unnerved, Retribution angrily pinned his ears and gave a warning swish of his tail, but the bay struck swiftly with sharp, bared teeth, tearing a chunk of flesh from Retribution's flank. Like lightening, the colt spun to retaliate and poised to strike back. Fearing a disqualification, Roberts hastily spurred his colt forward to disengage from the fracas, but his opponent's goal had been accomplished; Retribution had become distracted and jumpy.

  Roberts had taken a huge gamble in believing this colt the answer to his prayers, but perhaps he needed more seasoning. Perhaps the youngster wasn't ready. Roberts was suddenly beleaguered with doubt that gripped and threatened to paralyze him.

  Although their position on the inside distanced them from the bay stallion, the roan sensed his rider's lingering tension as the racing stewards gave the call for the contenders to line up. Roberts battled his own nerves, fighting to regain his equilibrium. Only by conquering his doubts and fears could he attend to the needs of his mount.

  Blocking out all else, Roberts now focused his attention on soothing his jangled mount. When the moment of truth arrived, he sensed a subtle change. Roberts could feel the stoking tension in the horse, but on the outside, Retribution was deceptively, dangerously quiet, marking his anticipation in subtle signs—in the forward and aft twitch of his ears, in his inflamed nostrils, and in his deeper respirations. He was poised like a tiger readying to pounce and seize its prey.

  The trumpet blasted with the reverberation of echoing thunder.

  Roberts released the predator, and all apprehension of his colt's readiness evaporated with the blistering speed in which they charged down the track. Roberts hung over his horse's neck, willing him for speed, pushing, driving. Breaking cleanly free of the mill, they blazed past half the pack by the first post and pummeled the turf beneath them. There was no room for error in this brief and frenzied run, and they ran faultlessly.

  The crowd went wild. It was later remembered of Retribution's extreme velocity over those four hundred yards that a blink of an eye would have missed it altogether.

  While proven quarter-miler Primate, by imported Monkey, came in a distant second, easily defeating Selima and Jenny Cameron, he was believed to lack the bottom to prevail in the longer four-mile run, where the two English thoroughbreds were most favored.

  Although Retribution would surely meet with stiff competition against these two mares in the next heat, Roberts had unwavering confidence in his ability to rout them all in the final one-miler.

  Following their victory, Roberts proceeded to the rubbing house, where he dismounted to inspect the raw and ugly wound inflicted by Tryal. After applying salve to the injury, he handed the horse off to his groom to rub down, and then he and the other jockeys met with the stewards to determine their positions in the next race.

  The second heat found the field narrowed to an even twelve. A fouled sinew had reportedly eliminated Mr. Tayloe's Childers, but Roberts suspected Tayloe's embarrassment of his poor showing, rather a legitimate leg injury, had led to the forfeit.

  In the distance race, each rider drew straws. The longest straw would be closest the rail, the shortest, the farthest, and so forth. With four full laps of the one-mile oval required to complete the course, the inside track was held to offer a significant advantage. This position required less distance of the runner, but in Roberts's view, it ofttimes became an inescapable trap. As the competitors bunched up, all vying for the coveted spot, a horse could find it impossible to break out from the pack. As a rider, maneuvering on the inside would put Roberts at the greatest disadvantage. Contrary to the other jockeys, he hoped for the outside.

  Fifth to draw his straw, he waited expectantly and breathed a sigh of relief. They would be seventh from the inside rail. In this position, Retribution could ignore those fighting for the inside and run independently until the final furlong, when it would be open for their taking.

  His strategy formed, Roberts advanced to the start, discovering to his consternation that Tryal's jockey had drawn the position to his immediate right. Having already shown his colors in the earlier sprint, Roberts tagged him as a jockey with few scruples. Tryal's rider was markedly disinclined to make any attempt to control his mount's rancorous behavior.

  Already leery of the pair, Retribution shifted nervously. Roberts circled him before taking his position, but as soon as he turned his back, the bay stallion reared and struck out with his foreleg. His iron-shod hoof missed Roberts's head by mere inches.