Gabriel's Horses Read Online Free PDF

“Maybe after I grow into a man strong as you, I’ll join up to fight for freedom.”
    Corporal Blue laughs. “I believe you will.” Then his face turns grave in the firelight. “’Cause freedom, why, that’s worth fighting for, Gabriel Alexander. We may be digging latrines today, but one day, we’ll be battling those Rebels. Now stay a spell.” He steers me toward the fire. “We wants to hear more about tomorrow’s race!”
    ***
    The next morning, Pa and me are awake before the sun. We feed Tenpenny half-rations, wrap his legs, and rub him glossy. Mornings like this, Pa and me work silent, but companionable. We don’t need to talk. We know each other’s minds as well as we know horses.
    Part of me wants to tell Pa about meeting Corporal Blue and the colored soldiers last night, but another part says, “never mind” ’cause we need to concentrate on winning this race.
    When I fetch the bridle from the spare stall, I see Jackson sprawled on the pallet, his mouth wide in a snore. The ladies must have kept him late.
    I bridle Tenpenny and lead him from the stall. Pa hands me a cold hoecake. “Walk Penny around the entire track,” he says as he throws me up on the colt. “Let him stretch his legs and look at every rock and tree. I don’t want him spooking in the middle of the race.”
    Pa has magic ways with horses, and his ways usually win races, so I don’t question him. Chewing my hoecake, I rein Tenpenny toward the track.
    The colt wants to play. He bucks in place, rattling my bones.
    â€œPenny, you got four miles of race this noon. You best save your fire,” I scold as we jog through a break in the fence. Fog shrouds the grandstand and far side of the track. I aim Tenpenny to the right, and he prances around the bend, his muscles rippling under my legs. Joy fills me. How I long to hear the sound of the starting drum. How I long to race!
    When we pass the line of trees bordering the Union camp, I steer Tenpenny to the outside rail. The rising sun illuminates the hillside, and I see soldiers shaking blankets and making coffee. Several lean over basins set on a plank table. Steam rises from the basins, and the soldiers splash water on their faces and lather up to shave.
    I hear Corporal Blue’s words, “’cause freedom worth fighting for,” and for a moment, I pine for camp life.
    Tenpenny snorts at a mockingbird. He careens sideways, almost dumping me in the dirt. I squeeze my legs into his side, pushing him forward. The mile track flows and winds like a river. It’s smooth in the middle, but banked and crusted along the inside rail. Rocks have been kicked up along the outside rail.
    By the time we’ve walked around the track, the sun is up and the grounds are stirring with folks. Tenpenny’s loose, relaxed and hungry. With every step, he tries to snatch a bite of grass or leaves. Jackson’s sitting by the fire, head cradled in his hands.
    â€œDid you find some pretty ladies last night, Mister Jackson?” I tease.
    Opening one eye, he glares at me.
    Pa’s in front of the stall with a bucket of molasses, corn, and oats. He pulls off Tenpenny’s bridle, and the colt attacks the bucket, tossing grain everywhere.
    â€œEasy, hoss,” Pa says as he wraps a rope around Tenpenny’s neck. “Don’t want you getting colic.”
    I slide off the colt’s back. “Jackson needs to keep to the middle of the track,” I tell Pa. “Against either rail be hard on a horse’s legs.”
    Pa nods. “How’d he feel?”
    â€œRight smart.” I scratch under Tenpenny’s mane. He’s happily slobbering grain. I figure the colt doesn’t know what he’s in for. The race for three- and four-year-olds is two heats of two miles each. By the last mile, he’ll be leg sore and heart weary.
    â€œPick out his stall, Gabriel,” Pa says.