“Well, who’s going to be your rider?” asked the man of my daddy.
My daddy looked at me. “This boy Paul here.”
The man gave me a look-over and said, “He seems a bit mite to me.”
My daddy nodded, as if he hadn’t considered that. “Could be you’re right. He sits a horse well, though.”
“Well . . . it’s your money,” said the Missourian.
“That it is,” agreed my daddy. He and the man shook hands and we prepared to race right then. My daddy and the Missourian found themselves a stretch of road for the race while Willie Thomas and Mitchell brought my daddy’s horse, a mare by the name of Starburst, over to the field and the Missourian’s folks brought down his stallion. Folks around the fair soon heard about the upcoming race, and as I mounted Starburst, I saw that a goodly number had gathered to watch. My daddy told me to mold myself right into Starburst, to become as one with her, just as I always did when I rode. “Keep that in mind, Paul,” he said, “and Starburst’ll do what needs to be done. You’re no more than a feather on her back.”
I glanced over at the other rider. The fellow was older than I, and had the weight of a man on him. He glanced over at me and he grinned, but it wasn’t a friendly grin; I knew he was mocking me. “Pay him no mind,” said Mitchell. “He’s all teeth, nothin’ else.” I nodded and cleansed my mind of all except Starburst and me. The marks were set, the rules explained, the gun was shot. The race was on. I became one with the mare. Starburst crossed the finish by a full length.
Afterward the Missourian congratulated my daddy and paid him the wager. Other people came around and said Starburst was a mighty fine horse and that I was a fine rider too.
A man out of Alabama, man name of Ray Sutcliffe, told my daddy I was such a good rider, he wanted me to ride some races for him. “That boy of yours got a mighty light weight on him and he sure enough knows how to handle a horse like he was full grown. I’ve got myself a good rider, but he’s been feeling sick of late, and I need another rider. Could sure use that boy of yours.”
My daddy shook his head. “Paul only rides horses he knows.” “Horses I’m talking about aren’t wild or anything,” said Ray Sutcliffe. “They’re my own horses, come straight out of Alabama, not any of these wild, new-breed western horses. In fact, I’ve got a fine stallion, a grey, I want to race, a real winner if he’s got a good rider on his back. I’d pay your boy well. I’d pay you a fee too, on the wager, if I win.”
My daddy smiled. “Well, if anybody could ride a horse and win a wager for you, it would be Paul here. But I still have to say no. I don’t want this boy or the horse getting hurt. Like I said, my boy rides only horses he knows. I thank you, sir, though, for the offer.”
When Ray Sutcliffe left us, I said to my daddy, “You didn’t ask me if I wanted to ride that man’s horse.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“Well, why not? Maybe I wanted to ride for him.”
“Well, if you did or you didn’t, I know better about these things,” said my daddy. “Some of these horses around here aren’t half trained, some of them are skittish, and some of them are just plain mean. Now, I’ve seen some of that man’s horses, and maybe you could ride that grey he was talking about if there were training time, but not just on a first ride. Not all folks train their horses same as we do, and you riding a stranger’s horse is just asking for trouble. You could get thrown, you could get run over; in either case possibly get yourself seriously hurt. No, I’m not about to let you ride any horses except the ones we brought here.”
“Well, I still say I’ve got a right to decide what I ride and for who. I’m not your slave anymore.”
I remember my daddy got real quiet. If I just hadn’t added that last bit, maybe he would have taken the time to talk more to me. Now his mind closed. “Makes no difference about that. I’m still your daddy, and you’re still a boy with a boy’s judgment. I say no about a thing, then it’s finished.”
The young manhood in me got my back up. “Well, you didn’t tell that man from Alabama anything about you being my daddy, just that I was ‘your boy’! Figure that says more than anything else! Now, I want to ride that stallion!”
I’ll never forget the look on my daddy right then. There was temper in him and he could have given me a good walloping right there, but he stayed his hand and gave me my warning. “I’m telling you this just once, Paul,” he said. “You ride that horse or any other horse I say you don’t ride while you’re under my care, I’ll whip you ’til you bleed. ’Til you bleed, do you hear me? Harsh as that might sound to you, a whipping’ll be less painful to you than some crazy horse that could kill you or maim you for life. I’m not going to have that, you understand? That’s all I’m going to say about it, so you mind my words.”