“Let’s put it on the filly and see how she works with it.”

“What about walking the Black?”

“We’ll do it later in the morning, when things quiet down around here.” Henry paused, turning back. “And, Alec, get your silks. I want you to wear them.”

“You mean now?”

“Yeah, put ’em on. I’ll get the filly ready.”

Alec stared at the empty doorway for several minutes before removing the all-black silks from the trunk. It wasn’t his job to question orders and at the track Henry was a strict taskmaster, more trainer than friend. He’d find out soon enough what the old man was up to.

Pulling off his sweater, he wondered if Henry meant him to wear his jockey pants too. He decided he’d better do so, rather than take any chances of getting Henry started on one of his long tirades. He’d go all the way.

He put on his skin-tight white nylon pants and the long white cotton stockings, then he pulled on his high black boots. Standing up, he slipped on the black silk blouse and tucked the rich fabric into the top of his pants. He put on his black cap but left his goggles in the trunk; certainly there wouldn’t be any need for them during his ride on the black filly.

He went to the door, stopped, and then retraced his steps to get something else from the trunk. When he left the tack room there were rubber bands around the wrists of his silks and he wore goggles over his black cap. He would have been dressed no differently on a race day.

Outside he stopped a moment, startled to see Wintertime over by the backstretch rail. Don Conover was at the colt’s bridled head, waiting for the boy who came running across the track toward them. Alec recognized Billy Watts, and Billy too was wearing silks!

“What are you up to anyway?” Alec asked of Henry, who was adjusting the old saddle on Black Minx.

“I’m goin’ to show you how I can get this lady to work,” Henry answered.

“Is Wintertime part of it?”

Henry grunted in reply and then, taking Black Minx, he led her over to the occupied benches before the stables. Alec saw him remove his battered hat and give Jean Parshall, owner of Wintertime, his special smile for young ladies, particularly pretty ones. Alec didn’t go any closer but he did listen to their conversation.

“I sure appreciate your letting Wintertime go along with us on this work, Miss Parshall,” Henry said.

She laughed. “If it’s all right with Don, it’s all right with me, Henry. Although I honestly don’t see why he wants to help you train the horse we’re out to beat.”

Henry chuckled. “Don wants a run for his money, I guess. We can’t give it to him unless I can keep her in condition. She can’t win on class alone, not over the Preakness distance.”

Jean Parshall rose from the bench. “You had her ready for the Derby all right.”

“I was lucky,” Henry said, “and I had a good rider.”

“And a good filly,” Miss Parshall added.

“The best, when she wants to run or I can make her run.”

“Temperamental?”

“Unpredictable, anyway.” Henry smiled.

“Wouldn’t you know it would be a filly?” she asked.

“I’ve known colts as bad,” Henry answered.

“Horses are like humans. You must treat them no differently.”

Henry straightened the filly’s mane. “That’s just what I’m about,” he replied quietly.

Alec walked over to Billy Watts, who was about Alec’s age and size. “What’s going on?” he asked. “Are we racing the Derby all over again?”

“Could be.” Billy smiled, pulling up the sleeves of his red silks. “Nobody’s told me anything but I seem to be dressed for a race.”

“So is Wintertime,” Alec remarked.

Together they turned and looked at the colt’s red-hooded head. The cup over his right eye was almost completely closed. Wintertime had had a tendency to run out, swerving to the right, before Don Conover had used the hood on him. Usually he wore it only on race days.