Original subtitles

Yes, sir? Boots Malone?

We'll find him. Yes, sir. Right away.

Harry, have you seen Boots Malone around?

He's living on property row, stable 22.

How do you like that? A year ago they'd be calling him at the Ritz.

Hey, Preacher!

Take a message for Boots Malone.

Have you tried calling his hotel?

Oh, you're kidding! He's bunking in your tack room.

Tell him the racing secretary wants to see him.

Come on, Mother.

Now, be a lady, Mother.

Boots, secretary's got a call out for you.

Williams? What does he want?

Maybe it's good news for a change.

Oh, Preacher, can you spare a five?

I'd like to get a haircut.

Wish I had it. After Mother wins a race, I can.

Forget it. Forget it.

- Want me to go in with you? - What for?

Hello, Matson.

You're looking for me?

Save it.

I bet a lot of money on that tip, Malone.

And a thousand for you for the information.

- They told me the horse was going. - You're a liar.

Not the way he ran.

You needed the dough so you decided to gamble with my money.

And not a word from you in six months.

No thanks or anything.

You had your money's worth yet, Matson?

As bad is that, huh?

As bad as that.

If you ever get up off that floor again, you owe me a grand.

Oh, hello, Boots. Glad to see you.

Gentlemen. Hello, Mr. Williams.

Long time since you've been in here, Malone.

I'll make book, it seems longer to me.

Let me show you something.

Earl West's at the track again.

Looks right, doesn't it?

Very nice.

Opening day will be exactly two years since he was killed.

Two years shy a week.

Yes.

Well, uh,

what I want to see you about, Malone...

You'll be at the dedication of course.

We thought you might like to say a few words.

Me?

Who cares what Earl West's agent has to say?

The public doesn't even know characters like me exist.

In any case, Malone,

we think a few words from you would be very appropriate.

Like... Ladies and gentlemen,

when Earl West got kicked in the head rounding the clubhouse turn...

I lost the best meal ticket a jockey agent ever had.

Well, he had a tough streak. You'll find another boy.

What about that Stash Clements? He showed a lot of promise.

Yeah... with a knife and fork.

He ate his way out of the saddle.

Well, can we plan on you Saturday?

- Will West's widow be there? - Of course.

We're flying her in especially.

Queen for a day, huh?

I hear she's flat broke.

Really? I didn't know that.

She needs a job. Any job at all.

She'll have a job. Even if we have to make one.

- What time did you say on Saturday? - 12:30.

Thanks, I'll be there.

Malone!

I hear you're looking for a boy. How'd you like to handle my book?

- When'd you get out of the hospital, Andy? - I've been out a couple of months.

I've been on the horse ever since.

- I'm all licked up, ready to ride. - How are the glimmers?

I'm in the best shape of my life.

Read that.

Blind man's bluff on a racehorse.

All right, you know everything.

Listen, Andy, when the axe falls, it falls.

Ground yourself, get another job. The racetrack's slow poison.

- Walk away from it while you can. - Why don't you?

- Hiya, Preacher, what's the good word? - Hi, Stash.

Hey, told Boots I'll meet him tonight at the Greasy Spoon.

I was so starved, I've already ordered.

Take anything. Take a stake.

It'll go against my month's wages. You got to eat.

Here.

Seven fish. Kinda what I owe you.

Keep two and pay your own check.

You know that Whitehead had a three year old and excercise him?

He's a world-beater.

I got the orders this morning to let him roll... but I didn't

Hey, bud! That ketchup costs 16 cents a bottle.

It's worth a duck every cent.

Boots, coming out of the gate I had this horse bent double.

Gasted him to death but I can't hold him and...

we still finish with the pack. And when I can't hold...

What's an egg's name?

White Cargo.

White Cargo. I remember that pig.

Whitehead imported him from Kentucky.

Got any idea how good he is?

Put me on his back for the last two months?

Don't be splay!

Keep him locked up, we may cash a bet.

Give me the blue plate special on a clean plate.

- Hundred dollar bill? - That's all I've got, sir.

What's the idea? You eat 60 cents worth and pay with this?

I tried to change it mister but...

But you couldn't find a sucker. Where'd you get it?

- I can assure you it's mine. - Where are you from?

The track.

What are you up to? Is this bill good?

- I think it is. - You think it is?

All right, I'll tell you what. I'll take it to the bank in the morning.

You come back tomorrow and if it's good you pick up your change.

- And if it isn't... - What are you trying to pull?

He comes back tomorrow, you'll be in Pomona, this joint's on wheels.

Here, this will pay for the boy.

Come on, let's get out of this crummy wagon.

Thanks, mister. Thanks a lot.

Listen, sonny.

You ought to know better than to go flashing a C-note.

Makes people jittery. First thing you know, some sharp guy will beat you for it.

Yes, sir. Now, if you don't mind, sir... May I please have it back?

Well, I got it?

So I have.

- There you are, son. - Thanks again.

I'm just a stranger around here, mister.

Could you direct me to a nice place to stay?

You mean, you got no place to sleep?

- Come along with us. - Could I? It'll be swell.

How's it going, Mac?

- Where do you think you're going? - It's okay, he's with us.

Say, are you hot?

No, I'm very comfortable.

- I mean, is anybody after you? - No! Nobody's after me.

Where do you come from? What's your name? How old are you?

Leave him alone! Is he asking you any questions?

What are you asking him questions for? That's his business.

You're tired, son. Been on the road all day?

- Yes, sir. - Well, you better turn in.

We get up early around here.

Take that cut.

Is it all right if I use that?

You don't have to use a hanger. Just throw your stuff anywhere.

Isn't there a basin to brush your teeth?

Basin? Oh, that. It's outside.

Well, I have to put my pants back on.

Oh, don't bother, pal.

Here, use my robe.

Thanks.

You can get lost out the, so listen.

Go down this row way down past the commissary until you get the big light.

Then turn left one barn, that's on the right. Got it?

I think so.

He's all right. He doesn't trust us.

Where'd you think you were going with that robe gag?

You steered me wrong talking to him like he's a choir boy.

Maybe he is. Can't you see he was raised on certified milk?

Hey, a medal.

First prize horsemanship, 14 year old class.

He must have won it on a merry-go-round.

Kids. All the same.

A fast two-week fling at the world.

If it isn't the circus, it's the racetrack.

If he was a little older it'll be the marines.

I'm sorry, Mr. Goat.

I didn't have to go way down to the big light.

There's another bathroom right around the corner.

There is?

Well, that's the one we're certainly going to use from now on.

You know, son, uh-- You told that man on the wagon a lie.

You're not from the track.

Well, it wasn't exactly...

That is, it wouldn't have been a lie tomorrow.

That wasn't nice.

You see, I like horses. I always have.

I was planning to find a work around the track.

That's fine.

But first you got to learn one thing:

Around the racetrack you're always on the level.

Yes, sir. I'll remember that.

And another thing.

You're ready for bed. But how about that hundred dollar bill?

Is it ready for bed?

Suppose some dishonest person should get in here...

accidentally.

Where's the first place they'd look for your money?

- Under the pillow? - Right! So what do you do?

You play it smart.

They came to dust you off. So don't disappoint them.

Leave them a little loot, a buck is plenty. Follow this book.

First we fold the hundred in half.

Then again. Then once again.

A nice little patch. Now comes the important part.

Where do we put it? Very simple.

We tuck it way down in your sock...

where you're ticklish.

Anybody touches you, you wake up like a shot.

- Open your hand! - What's wrong?

You're a dirty thief, mister!

- I dare you to open that hand! - What are you talking about?

Gee, sir...

This is awful!

So that's what you thought?

I'd take you out of the clutches of a gorilla in that eating joint.

You got no place to sleep, I bring you home, give you my bed.

And you got the sand to sit there and call me a dirty thief?

- Now, listen, you'll give me back my buck and get out of here! - Honestly, mister!

- This has never happened to me before. - And I thought you were a decent sort.

I should have known better.

Well, you don't know the first thing about comradeship!

Do you think if I had a hundred dollars,

we'd be sleeping in a dump like this?

Well... Where would be sleeping?

I think I'll have breakfast in bed.

Excuse me but I couldn't sleep.

I just had to apologize again.

I told you forget it, kid.

We all make mistakes. Could happen to anybody.

Now, get some shut eye. Good night.

Good night.

Pajamas!

I ran away from home with nothing but a pocket full of marbles.

There were twelve of us. Rough.

My folks didn't miss me till four years later when I sent them a postcard.

Say, Boots.

Where do you suppose that little satchel comes from?

What do I care? I got problems of my own. Turn out the light.

I hope he don't get homesick before his money runs out.

Turn out the light!

Is it... all right if I pay the check?

Sure, pal, if you want it.

Thanks.

And that was his last race.

I've been asked about it many times.

I'm asked if he had to take the chance he did.

Well, if you knew Earl West, you know the answer.

He was deep through the heart.

Courage was nothing I nor anybody could teach him.

And no part of it could be taken away.

It was in his breeding.

That's how he was born, that's how he had to die.

And that's what made him champ.

Mr. Williams was just wonderful, Boots.

You know I hate to ask but he offered me the job.

I start work monday.

Nice fellow, Williams. Family man.

And thanks, Boots.

Not for the speech you made... for the one you didn't make.

I don't get you, Jenny.

I knew Earl was walking out on you.

A week before he was killed, he signed that Millford stables contract.

Well, number one rider for Millford, barn full of steak horses,

even bigger money guaranteed...

Couldn't blame him.

His chance came along, didn't happen to inculde me.

He was wrong, Boots. You made him.

And there's such a thing as loyalty.

Not on the racetrack.

If that's what I was counting on, that was my mistake.

Goodbye, Jenny.

I guess in a lot of ways that a jockey's agent is as important as anybody at the track.

Picking the best mounts,

he'd have to know all about horses.

And Mr. Malone, he even taught Earl West how to ride.

Excuse me, Mr. Malone.

Who else did you have besides Earl West?

- Who else? Nobody. - Why?

An agent's only allowed to handle one top jock at a time.

- That's a track rule. - Why?

Look, you're a bright boy.

Suppose he handled three and all in the same race.

Why, he could cook something up right in a family.

Now, we wouldn't want anything like that to happen.

But I should think, after Earl West...

anyone of the good riders would want Mr. Malone to handle him.

Yeah, yeah, great.

Except that the good ones are all sold up with contracts.

If you happen to stumble on Johnny Longden's twin brother,

be sure and let Mr. Malone know.

Now, tie off, kid! We're concentrating!

Gin!

Excuse me, Mr. Malone.

Not to boast or anything but... I ride so myself.

Blue ribbon, huh? 36.

Oh, terrific!

Go out and get me a ham sandwich, will you, pal?

It included jumping and everything, Mr. Malone.

I don't say I'm good enough yet for real races...

but with somebody like you teaching me...

Look, kid. You want to wind up a statue? Forget it!

Couldn't you just try me out with a few lessons?

I learn quickly.

I won the school cup for highest aptitude new projects.

Anyway, uh, I wouldn't expect you fellas to do it for nothing.

I'd be glad to pay, Mr. Malone.

It would be like tuition.

So we don't have to be embarrassed about money...

because I've got another hundred dollars.

Hold it!

Lessons never did anybody any good kid...

unless you got talent.

- Take off your shirt. - Yes, sir.

Stick out your chest.

All right, muscle up.

Oh, look at that build! Like a totem pole.

Who'd have thought it?

All right, up you go.

Let's see how you sit on a horse.

Not bad, not bad.

Use the whip.

Kid, you're a natural.

I'll have you on a horse in no time.

New deal.

Hello, Mr. Malone.

Did you see the size of that load, Mr. Malone?

What do you think that load weighed, Preacher?

Good fifty pounds.

Feel my muscle. After only a week.

Here, test them.

Great. Didn't I tell you?

How soon do you think I'll be ready to get on a horse?

Oh, any day now. Just keep shoveling, kid.

Get those muscles toned up.

That's a nice lad, Boots.

But not one of us.

When he's got a nose full, he goes the way he came.

So you made up your mind? You're taken off.

Before I toss myself on that pile.

But the meet's hardly started.

- There must be some boy on the grounds. - Sure, plenty of boys.

They're coming at me in my sleep.

Jocks half-blind,

jocks with kidney troubles who'd get dizzy on a rocking horse,

jocks with steel collar bones who couldn't whip a rug.

Drunks, cripples, boneheads, has-beens.

There isn't even an apprentice boy around who knows which end of a horse to feed.

Where would you be heading, Boots?

Back to the bull rings,

half-milers, state fairs...

Maybe I'll get lucky again...

and dig a sprout out of the ground like I found Earl.

There's a hitch going south in the end of the week.

- Is the mare ready to roll? - Mother've been waiting.

How's Paul Revere?

Take her 3/8, Stash.

Around the clubhouse turn but don't rush her.

Just give Mother a head and she'll rate herself.

She knows how fast she wants to go.

How long do you have the mare, Preacher?

Close to eleven years now.

Mother's got quite a bit of mileage on her.

But she goes right along paying the feed bills both of us.

Gee, look at him ride!

Who's that?

Just Eddie Koch, one of the best riders in the country.

Who handles Koch?

20% Brady. Fella behind the cigar.

Bet Mr. Malone could handle him better.

Hello, Eddie. How's it going?

You mean, am I still satisfied with Brady?

Give up, Malone.

You wouldn't try to submarine a brother agent, would you, Malone?

But Mother can beat almost anything on four legs.

Well, hardly, lad. She's cheap but she's honest.

In a two thousand dollar claiming race she holds her own.

What's a claiming race, Preacher?

Well, that's a race where every horse in it is up for sale.

That means any other owner can put a bid in for your horse and take it.

Why do they have races like that?

Well, they're for the cheaper horses.

In that kind of race you got to be sure the horses are evenly matched.

Now, the thing you got to stop is a fella with a real good horse...

putting him in with the poor ones, just to grab the purse.

He won't do it if he's got to risk having his...

good horse claimed right out from under him at the same price as the rest of them.

That's the mare, Mr. Whitehead. Preacher Cole's horse.

I've been clocking her steady.

And she's entered tomorrow?

In the eighth. But only for the air what we call a tightener.

And with that race under her belt, watch out.

Within a week she's ready to win.

And you're suggesting I claim her?

Figure it out, Mr. Whitehead.

With the kind of money you bet...

why guess what day the horse is gone?

For two thousand dollars you own the animal.

You pick the day.

Pretty old horse to be claiming.

What's the difference? She's sound.

It's the sweetest spot to cash a bet as I've seen in a long time.

What's that business slogan of yours, Mr. Whitehead?

You mean, "I sell everything in the pig but the grunt?"

I like that.

Well, we got one in our business too.

"Better to cash a bet than win a purse.

Uncle Sam isn't your partner."

You can still have a bet on the horse and not go to all that trouble.

Besides, there's an understanding around the tracks.

A man with one horse, you don't claim it.

You don't put him out of business.

Who you training for, Beckett? Me or Preacher Cole's?

Put the claim in.

They're on! Fast going.

Limitless's in the front. Gilpin is second.

D-Major is third. Jungle-Jim is fourth.

Don't you understand? They took her!

- They took Mother! - Who? Who did?

- Butchers! That dirty butchers! - But who?

I'll see them all dead first!

- Have you seen Mr. Malone? - No.

Old-timer, I brought Mother's...

Beckett.

Have you gone off your rocker? Put that gun away!

Preacher went in there with a horse pistol.

You did it to win a dirty bet for a greedy slob!

- Hand over the iron, Preacher. - Out of my way!

- What's going on here? - What's this about a gun?

Somebody said the old man had a gun.

You got totted, Frank.

This is just a friendly scam between neighbors.

- Tell them, Beckett. - That's all, nothing to it.

I... I lost my head.

I'm sorry.

All right! Let's go home! Beat it everybody! Get lost!

I'm quitting. Everybody wouldn't provided on to quit.

All you'll quit is eating.

Unless you ring the necks of those ducks in the infield.

Whitehead will never know you're gone.

What happened to the cannon?

I've got the cannon.

- Shouldn't Preacher back by now? - He's cooling himself out. He'll show up.

This is just crazy!

Mr. Whitehead's got so many horses, he's even selling some.

Now, why does he go and take Preacher's?

Don't you ever stop asking questions?

But we'd get even with Mr. Whitehead.

How?

Well, uh...

someway.

Justice catches up.

There's only one way.

If we could just figure how to get another horse.

Yeah, that'd be nice.

I think I'll take a walk.

Oh, remember, Mr. Malone.

You don't have to go way down by that big light. There's that one just around...

Look, Boots. It wasn't my idea.

I know it was hands-off the old man's horse...

but Whitehead's went crazy.

Ever since that touting clocker got him in tow,

he's soaking up the dirty tricks like a pawnbroker.

Anything to win a bet.

So the butcher wants to learn the angles, huh?

How about you and me teaching him a few? The hard way.

How many Whitehead lemons' going to that dispersal sale?

Eighteen.

We make the final selection in the morning.

Why?

How about seventeen lemons and one orange?

One orange for us.

You're crazy!

Nobody's asking you to throw in a steak's winner.

Not in this is raw-jaw as that.

Just a fair horse that doesn't come along in training.

And a few of the boys can buy him cheap for poor, old Preacher.

I can't get away with anything like that.

I just got this job. I want to keep it.

How long do you think it's going to last?

You said yourself the guy's went crazy.

He fired three trainers in less than a year...

and the last one he bounced couldn't even get a letter of recommendation.

I can't do it, Malone.

Who you're loyal to, Beckett? A slaughterhouse?

Before Whitehead's through with you,

he takes your eye out and use it for a grape. Now, sober up!

It'll never work.

What horse?

Or have you got that figured out too?

This one.

White Cargo?

It's just a fair horse that isn't coming along...

but could, I know.

That buddy of yours, Stash.

You see, you didn't know it, so Whitehead doesn't.

Not even a touting clocker.

- We're halfway home. - But the other half is tougher.

How do I get Whitehead to give up on that horse?

He paid a fortune for him.

Well, it takes one more little step.

You almost caught some lead in your skull today, Beckett.

Let's put the right kind of lead where it'll do some good.

There's one you can dump.

- Which one? - Pulling up the rear. White Cargo.

Notice that leg in action, Mr. Whitehead. Up and down instead of forward.

Wasted motion.

I paid 25 thousand for that horse as a yearling.

He's what we call a climber. Never amount to anything.

He's well bred enough...

but your records show he didn't stand training last year.

Well, that settles it.

I'm not feeding another horse that can't pay it's own way.

- Put him in the sale. - Just as you say, Mr. Whitehead.

Preacher, the goose is in the oven.

- Hey, Goofy! - Hi, Quarter Horse.

Well, what's the good word?

Barn 22 tonight. The goose is in the oven.

Bring the bankroll.

I had enough lead on that right front foot.

The horse looked like he was running upstairs.

But we're not home yet.

No tellin' what price he'll bring up the sale.

Say, you really think we got a chance to buy him, Boots?

- What about Whitehead's friends? - Don't worry about them.

Whitehead will tip his friends off.

Well, we got to worry about is somebody's around the track gettin' snoopy nose.

So spread the word:

White Cargo is an eighteen-carat slowball.

What do you have left out of the claiming money?

1.100, after the bills were paid.

Now, the horse will be in Preacher's name and he trains him.

- Agreed? - Sure.

All right. And remember what you put up is your share.

Dig deep everybody!

- Seventy fish. - Goofy Gordon, seventy.

Here's my watch. It's worth two-hundred.

- What'll sold for a pawn ticket? - Oh, uh... twenty.

- Quarter Horse Henry, twenty. - Put me down for fifty.

You still got that counterfeit rag. How much cash?

- Cash? I got a sawbuck. - Louie the Louse, ten dollars.

- Fifteen. - Foxy Farrell, fifteen.

Hancock, twelve.

Thirty.

Spainard, thirty.

- I bid eighty thousand dollars. - Eighty thousand dollars.

- Who bid ninety? - Ninety thousand!

Ninety thousand dollars. Who bid a hundred?

I bid ninety thousand dollars. Now hundred thousand dollars. Who bid a hundred?

One hundred? Yes, a one hundred thousand dollars' bid.

I bid one hundred thousand and ten.

Ladies and gentlemen!

Very seldom is a horse of this caliber ever offered for public sale!

Winner of the Saratoga Special, the Derby Trial.

Do I hear a hundred and ten? I bid one hundred thousand.

Now one hundred thousand and ten. Are you all through?

One hundred thousand dollars. Any more? Time's up.

I sold him one hundred thousand dollars to the Tripple X stables.

Next number: number 48.

What do we have here? Number 48 on your catalog: White Cargo.

From the consignment of Mr. Howard Whitehead.

This three-year-old gelding of the distinguished bloodlines,

unraced...

but at the present time in training and in sound condition.

- How much is in the pool, Boots? - Fourteen hundred.

- Do I hear a bid? - Howard, darling?

- Do I hear a bid? - Two hundred dollars.

Two hundred dollars?

In the sell of a wild horse flesh?

- Five hundred. - Five hundred dollars. Thank you, sir.

Five hundred dollars bid.

- Six hundred. - Yes, a six hundred bid.

- A thousand! - A thousand dollars' bid.

I never figured on a drunk in the crowd.

- Thousand and fifty. - A thousand and fifty dollars' bid.

Any more?

I got one thousand and fifty over here. All done?

Thirteen-fifty.

Thirteen hundred and fifty dollars. Thank you. Any more?

Now fourteen hundred.

- Fourteen hundred. - Yes, fourteen hundred dollars. Now fifty.

Fourteen hundred and fifty.

Fourteen hundred and fifty bid.

Now fifteen hundred? I bid fourteen-fifty dollars. Now fifteen hundred dollars.

Even added fifty to get fifteen hundred. Are you all through?

Fourteen hundred and fifty dollars. All done?

Fifteen hundred!

Yes, fifteen hundred dollars. Thank you. Any more?

Sold him fifteen hundred.

Honestly, Mr. Malone, on my word of honor. It's the last one!

Cold as ice!

He's sound as a bell of brass.

You could have him up to his race in six weeks.

Look, Preacher, you can't train the horse here.

Not under Whitehead's nose. We don't want to bury Beckett.

Yeah. Well, I've been thinking, Boots. You're aming South.

Why don't we all go together?

I could train him on a half-miler.

Good idea. That's what we'll do.

Oh, Preacher, about the kid...

You know, he's just goofy enough to want to go along and that's out of the question.

Is it?

Well... We don't even know who he is. Why get involved?

It's gonna be rough down there and we're crowded anyway.

Now, somebody's got to tell him it's a kiss-off.

Look, Preacher, he likes you. You tell him.

Start him on his way home but... but do it nice, huh?

Down in the valley.

The valley's so low.

Turn your head over.

Hear the wind blow.

Hear the wind blow, boy.

Hear the wind blow.

Late in the evening...

hear the wind blow.

Down in the jailhouse...

down on your knees...

praying to heaven...

to relieve your heartache.

I don't want to be nasty, you know.

No cooking allowed in the stable area.

Look, I told one of you guys before.

This is a private party for Mr. Williams, the racing secretary.

Now, get on your bicycle and start pedaling, huh?

Oh, uh... Hello, Mr. Williams.

At least the guest of honor can do is put in an appearance.

Sure! Come in! Have some chicken.

- It's mighty tempting. - Sit down, please.

I've dropped in to tell you I'm sorry you leaving us, Preacher.

You know what's best for yourself.

Best of racing luck with your new horse.

Oh, thanks... Thanks, Williams.

Remember, anytime you decide to come back to Dellington,

we'll find stall space for you somehow.

He may take you up on that, Williams.

Preacher tells me, he'll have that horse back here and run.

Well! Let's hope he fools all of us.

My... My, this chicken is delicious!

Never tasted anything quite like it.

It's a new kind, Mr. Williams. All dark meat.

They've crossed them with ducks.

Hey, where's the kid think he's going? Didn't you tell him?

No, I couldn't. I couldn't do it.

Don't ask me! I'm not washing any dirty laundry.

All right, I'll tell him myself.

Now, listen, kid! We, uh...

I, uh...

What's the matter? Anything wrong?

I'm sorry. It didn't work out.

- What didn't? - This riding business.

Well, for a while I thought you had possibilities but...

How do you know? I haven't even been on a horse.

I can tell from a lot of things. Do I have to give you reasons?

So we'll be moving on and you better beat it on back home.

Your old man must be a pretty lonesome guy by now.

I haven't got a father.

Well, then your mother.

Now, won't it be nice to have your mother tuck you in under those downy covers...

in your own soft bed and kiss you goodnight, huh?

Gee... I thought we were getting along swell.

Preacher, Stash, you and me... The whole gang of us.

Even if I can't ride I could go along and help.

Preacher says I'm doing half a man's work!

Now, look...

- Hey, what's your name anyway? - Tommy.

Now, look, Tommy, you're a swell kid. I even like you but enough is enough.

If you've got a beef at home, be a man about it!

Go back and straighten it out! Okay?

Maybe we can drop you off someplace.

Okay.

But fork over that money!

What money?

For the tuition and my share of the horse.

Now listen, I haven't got the dough. You know, I can't pay you right now.

You pay or I'm in! And I'm going!

All right, big britches.

Looks like you're going. Come on.

What happened, Boots?

He muscled me.

Let's get this rotten car moving.

Bye, Preacher.

- Bye. - So long, guys. See you later.

That horse's cut up more ways than a Bourdinghouse pie.

Unload the horse! She'll make it.

White Cargo can use a little walking.

Hey, look it! Oranges for nothing! Hold this.

Come on, Preacher!

Hoo, boy! Hoo!

Good old boy! Hoo!

Hold it, kid!

Hoo!

If you want to be a jock you learn to take orders.

I'll tell you when you get on a horse.

It'd be nice if we lock up and find the boy who's going to ride White Cargo.

Get him acquainted with the horse. Sort of train them along together.

Let's quit kidding, fellas.

What we're looking for is walking around right on our eyebrows.

Well, that kid came riding over the hill...

I want to tell you Earl West couldn't done no better.

Well, I'm crazy or somethin'?

- Yeah, it was quite a ride. - What's stopping you?

I guarantee you, Boots, you start training him...

like you trained me, in a month or so his Mother won't know him.

- What about his Mother? - Well, what about it?

Yeah, if my guess is right, she's not an old lady.

I think somebody's gotta be looking for him right now.

So what? Right now we need a boy.

And another thing. You've got to be sixteen to ride...

- and he isn't there by at least a year. - He's sixteen.

If you don't believe me I'll print you a birth certificate.

What do you got to lose? You'll find another kid and you dump him.

But till then, put him in training! And it don't cost nothing. Simply he's got!

All right. If you feel that strong about the kid, go ahead. Put him on the scales.

- Me? - You don't want to doing all the talking!

Now, that's the spot. Right there. You balance yourself on his withers.

That's where he won't feel your weight so much. See?

Now, come here.

This is the saddle.

Surprised, huh? Nothing to it. It weighs 32 ounces.

Just enough to hang the stirrups.

Be right back, Stash.

- Where are you going? - Put up the saddle on the horse.

There's your horse.

Stash, fasten those reins on the door.

Hand me the girth.

All right, off you go.

What do you lower the stirrup for?

What do you think you're doing? Riding to the hounds?

- But Colonel Summers always said... - Summers? Who's he?

The headmaster in school. He was in the United States Cavalry.

He should have stayed in the infantry.

Forget anything he or anybody else ever told you about riding!

That's where the right iron belongs.

They're not even! This one's too high!

Look, the racetrack isn't a straightaway. It's got turns.

That's why you ride acey-deucey. One short, one long.

Otherwise what do you think could happen to you going full clip into those turns?

What are those toes down for?

Keep them cocked.

If your horse decides to stop, you got something to brace against.

Give me the reins.

Remember...

These horses don't neck rein like a cow pony.

Your hands tell them what to do.

You want to go to the right? Pull to the right!

You want to go to the left? Pull to the left!

And get one thing in your head!

A racehorse is a dumb brute.

The intelligence has been bred out of him.

All he respects is your strength.

All right. Take a half-cross.

That's it! Keep your left hand open.

What for?

Coming out of the gate that hand's gonna be full of mane...

that leaves your right hand free to use the whip.

Once you got him rolling take a full-cross.

Full-cross?

Full-cross. Both hands. That's for reining him.

Half-cross for breaking out of the gate.

Full-cross. Half-cross. Full-cross. Half-cross.

Try it.

Full-cross. Half-cross. Full-cross. Half-cross.

Good!

Now, eat it, drink it and dream it!

Until you can do it in your sleep.

Start practicing!

Say, Mr. Malone... I don't like to keep asking...

but could you give me an idea just when I'll be able to get on a horse?

Sure, I'll give you a good idea. When you can do this.

Is that all? I can do that right now!

I did it!

I did it, Mr. Malone! I did it! Look!

Watch, Mr. Malone! I can do it! I can do it!

You did it alright, kid!

Gosh, I was beginning to think I'd never get on a horse.

But Mr. Malone, I thought you meant White Cargo.

You crawl before you walk. Give me that leg!

Measure the reins off and tie a knot to his neck mane.

Down! Keep that keister down!

You're setting up like a Central Park policeman.

Forward a little! On the withers!

You tire a horse in three blocks.

These beasts don't push themselves with their hind legs.

They pull themselves forward with their front legs.

So get up there with him, where you can help him.

What did I tell you about those toes? Up! Keep them cocked!

Those are your emergency brakes.

When you want to stop some iron jawed, cement headed ox...

take a full-cross and settle him to it.

Let's do it together! Now!

This is where most races are won or lost.

Right here in the iron monster.

And the trick is to get out first. And that isn't easy.

Because all the other jockeys got the same idea.

But if you know your business you can break on top most of the time.

Now, get yourself set.

What are you doing?

- Those feet! - My toes are cocked.

You're not gonna stop the horse, stupid. You're gonna start it.

Now, get those legs way back.

Ready to throw yourself with him. Or you'll wind up on your caboose.

You're going from a dead stop to forty miles an hour in two jumps.

What did you win that aptitude prize for? Pealing bananas?

Even a monkey can do that!

What about that open hand? Don't you remember anything?

Lock it at the mane!

Now, you secure front and back.

- Where are you looking? - Straight ahead at the gate.

Let the horse look at the gate.

He'll see it open before you do. He's closer to it.

Watch the starter! Watch Preacher!

When he puts that button behind his back, be ready!

You'll be on your way in a hurry.

On line?

Bell.

That's it. Controll him with one hand. Go to the whip!

No, don't look back!

You'll be whipping and the horse will be through the fence.

Good! Whip with your left hand.

I can't! I'm right-handed.

What do you think you were squeezing that ball for?

You got a left hand. Now, use it!

How do I switch the whip?

Like this.

Try it! Whip with your right hand.

Change over!

You'll find out someday when you're pinched in next to the rail...

you'll be forced to whip left-handed or blow the race.

I'll remember.

Okay. On your stomach.

Mr. Malone...

Where did you ever learn so much?

The old country.

Part of Ireland I come from.

People weren't land-poor, they were horse-poor.

You walk through the stable to get into the parlor.

I smelled the hay before I smelled my mother's cooking.

How old were you when you came over here?

Were you ever married or anything?

Put a zipper on it! I'm trying to give you a rub.

I only asked him a civil question...

and I only expected a civil answer.

Yeah? What did you ask him?

Just if he was ever married. That's all.

Was he?

Yes, he was married...

the prettiest bride I ever saw.

Where is she?

He lost them both.

Her and the newborn in childbirth.

- How long ago was that? - Oh, about fifteen years now, I guess.

Hey, cabbage head! State board's here today.

If you gonna ride today, you better get your license.

Next.

- How old? - Sixteen.

Under eighteen you need parents consent.

Got is signed.

Name.

- Tommy. - Tommy what?

- Malone. - Malone?

Junior.

Where have you been? You know lunch is 11:30.

- This is a training table. - I was applying for my license, Mr. Malone.

- You what? - It's all right.

I told them I was sixteen. All you have to do is sign this.

Malone, Jr.? Who told you to use that name?

Well, I had to give some name.

And Malone's a pretty good name, Mr. Malone.

I can go back and change it.

They give you credit for know your own name.

Harm's done. Sit down and eat.

I don't mind, Mr. Malone, if you don't mind.

- And stop calling me Mr. Malone! - Okay.

Call me Boots!

Okay, Boots.

Well, what do you know? A papa in three minutes flat. Without a wedding.

You put him outside in a sleeping bag, huh?

- A little kid on a raw night like this. - He's smaller than me!

The bag fits for him perfect. He's been sleeping there all the time.

From now on he sleeps in the tent. You take the bag.

Did White Cargo work yet?

- No, he's waiting for you. - Me?

Do you want me to...?

You've been griping about nothing else for the last five weeks.

I know, Boots, but honest, I can wait. There's no hurry.

Up you go.

Take your instructions from the trainer.

Break from the quarter pole.

Work him a half mile with a snug hold.

- You've got a lot of horse under you, lad. - Yes, sir.

- Now, watch it kid if he's pricks this... - Leave him alone!

You're ready, kid.

Don't think about anything. Just ride him.

Half in fifty-three.

That shrimp was born a clock in his head.

Boots, you've got yourself a boy.

Yeah, the kid's coming along.

Preacher, one tightening and that horse can head back to Dellington.

Wait a second! You turn that speed boy loose with these pigs, he'll run away and hide.

Next day it's in the Racing Record...

- and where's our good thing? - Who says we turn him loose?

He won't run until the first hard rain.

Cabbage head!

Cutting the inside! Save that ground!

Don't be such a coward! Afraid of the rail!

Cabbage head! That's a good name for you!

He's blowing the race on the favourite!

Lady Gentry should have win on the walk!

But that cabbage head smells out loud and his agent with him!

Hey, watch that language!

Okay, Malone.

Right here.

Kenny Garden owns that hook.

The clerk assigned me here. I'm riding tomorrow.

- Scram or I'm bashing you mush! - You couldn't bat a horse!

Not with your left hand, you couldn't. I saw the right you gave Lady Gentry.

You're rail larry!

Stay out of it!

If he doesn't establish himself with these jocks they'll push him off the track.

Are you gonna get up?

Or you gonna lay there and geek it?

You were there. Why didn't you stop it?

It was in the jock's room, I told you. Boots wouldn't let me.

Well, I was right again. Whitehead canned Beckett.

In the Racing Record. Read it.

If you want to tamper the kid like a piece of steel...

why don't you put his head in the fire and be done with it?

Pretty bad, huh?

I can see you're in no shape to ride tomorrow.

Well, don't worry about it. We can get another boy.

Nobody's riding White Cargo! Nobody but me!

Get that in your head!

Hold this beefsteak on your eye.

And remind me someday to teach you how to handle your dukes.

You're as wide open as a barn door.

Kid's pretty terrific, huh?

Took a lacin' like a dock wall upper and not a tear out of him.

I'm going out for the heavy shoes. You'll get to the barn.

I'll need your help shoeing White Cargo.

I've been saving something for you, kid. Guess what!

You know who these belong to?

The boots, the pants. Earl West.

Jenny gave it to me when she thought I was gonna fill his shoes.

But the boat sail. I ain't gonna make the play.

Four hamburgers a day ruined me.

Here.

You'll fill them, kid. You'll make the grade.

You've got class.

I knew that the first night I've seen you wearing pajamas.

With those steel plates he'll move in the mud like a deep sea diver.

- What story you'll be given the kid? - What do you want me to tell him?

We're stiffing the horse under him? This kid?

You know what I mean! He'll be in there crying. Give him an out!

At least tell him the horse is in no shape to win.

Tell him nothing!

What do you want better than a jockey that's in there trying all the time.

Gets him in the right habit. We know where we stand.

That doesn't go for this boy!

You'll train the horse. I'll train the jock.

Remember one day you asked me what the big secret was between me and Earl West?

It was time to tell you.

There was a partnership straight down the line.

Nothing ever came between us.

We always knew where we stood with each other. No shenanigans.

And when the riding started he was always on his belly.

In there trying every race, every inch of the way.

I promise, Boots.

The track's gooey but that won't bother you.

Just put White Cargo in the lead and never look back.

- Riders up! - Just be careful with one thing.

Don't hustle this horse too fast. He's liable to run out of gas.

Not a tear, huh?

Well, maybe you've learned something.

Give anybody the right reason and they'll cry.

They'll cry their hearts out.

Will you stop blubbering and dry up?

What did I train? A crybaby or a jock?

You don't learn anything from winning a race. Only from the one's you blow.

I told you I was satisfied with the ride. What more do you want?

This isn't a recognized track. The race didn't count. Today wasn't a day.

That isn't it, Boots.

I let you down.

All of you. I didn't listen.

You told me not to hustle the horse too fast.

Let's get out of here. Start packing, everything.

I want to be on my way in an hour.

Do you hear me? Start packing!

Who elected you captain?

Say, Evans, that horse of yours, Lady Gentry.

What price do you expect on her tomorrow?

Nine to five. She'll be the favourite again.

How would you like five to one for your money for the sure winner?

I'd like that. How do I get it?

Put a jock on her who'd never rode a winner.

Not that bug boy who rode White Cargo?

Since when do you believe your eyes around the racetrack?

That horse was a lob. This kid rides like gangbusters.

Don't even pay us. Just bet the jock's fee.

Unpack. We're laying over another day.

An owner has twisted my arm to let the kid ride tomorrow.

Some horse called Lady Gentry. He thinks he's got a sure thing.

Ride him, jock! Hold him together!

Sit back and curl your moustache! You're all free!

Hey, bartender! Pour them up all around. Four lemonades.

Yes, sir. We're celebrating the winning jock.

Yes, sir. A jock, nobody ever heard of and a horse that never won a race.

We go back to Dellington with two hundred bucks, we empty the...

Watch your language!

- To the jock! - To the jock!

A lot of jocks are signing contracts with their agents.

You've never asked me, Boots, but I'm ready to sign.

Why? Would you take off if I didn't have you on a dotted line?

No. Gosh, no. I just thought you'd feel better if it was more legal.

Contract's just a hunk of paper, kid.

Paper wears out.

I guess you're right.

We don't have to write it down. We'll remember, Boots.

We'll just remember.

Don't worry about it, sprout.

Nothing's gonna split us, huh? After all you're my boy.

You know, Boots...

I wish you were my father.

I'll catch up with you, guys. I got to say goodbye to a fella.

Hey, killer!

Ever seen this kid before?

Yeah. That's Malone's kid.

Where do I find this Malone?

Somewhere on highway 66. They headed north early this morning.

You don't need a new radiator.

You got to pull this whole engine apart.

How much?

A hundred and fifty in parts. Cash on the barrelhead.

You'll get your money. Where's the phone?

- Lunch counter. - Start working.

Lexington, operator.

The Lexington Steamship Company, collect.

Yes, sir.

Who?

Yes, I accept it.

Malone? Who dug you up?

Where?

And I'm gonna bail you out, Matson. Both of us.

The kind of betting proposition you like.

Small investment, boxcar figures.

I've had a bad season, Malone.

You're not just coming at me for a second helping.

Of course not. I've sweated over this one.

I'm counting on it to put me back on my feet again.

Write this down.

White Cargo, seventh race, Friday, Dellington.

How much is the odd this time?

Okay, I'll think about it.

Malone's got a firecracker ready to pop.

- Mail five hundred for this, Western Union. - Hold it.

What's the matter?

Jump out of the gate and keep your ears open.

The blue coupe's been following us for the last fifteen miles.

The goose is home! The goose is home!

- Hey, Clint, come on! - Yeah?

The goose is home!

Hey, fellas! The goose is home.

Hi.

Hi, fellas.

Hiya, Quarter Horse.

Glad to see you, fellas. How are you feeling?

White Cargo looks tight as a drum.

Best stakes horse I've ever seen in my life!

White Cargo!

Is that third-rate climber's gonna run against my best three-year-old?

Well, maybe not against it, Mr. Whitehead.

But according to Friday's entries, he's sure gonna run with him.

Who's riding into the money, Preacher?

Malone's new boy. Fits the horse like a glove.

That blue coupe's going around asking about the kid.

Smells private copper all over. What are we gonna do?

No wonder he smelled so sweet that night.

His mother manufactures that stuff. Perfume. What a business!

They put some hopped-up stink water in a fancy bottle and...

Say, Boots, how much dough do you think she has?

After the first five million what differences does it make?

Pretty clever the way the lad had them thinking he went to Paris...

and the mother thinking he was in school.

Why don't we take his old lady in on this game?

I don't care how loaded with dough she is. I've never seen a dame yet...

who couldn't use a little extra for stockings and things.

Stop thinking, Boots. From now on the lad's out.

You don't fool around with a woman like this.

I know. I know. Troops will be moving in by morning.

Where are you going?

To beat that detective to it. I'm gonna salvage what I can.

He's your son, all right.

I've recieved a dozen calls like this.

How can I be sure he's my boy?

He's got the kind of eyes that change with the weather.

A noisy sleeper.

Tugs in his hair when he's tired.

A tooth that points at you when he smiles.

Yes! Yes that's Tommy!

Just hop a plane and be at the stable gate of Dellington racetrack....

at 8:30 tomorrow morning.

Ask for... Tommy Malone, Jr..

I won't eat more than three eggs for breakfast this morning.

I want to weigh in for the race tomorrow 203 with tack and all.

Eddie Koch on Meatloaf can't make under 214.

It gives us an eleven pounds edge.

What's the matter with you, guys? Aren't you hungry?

Tommy Malone, Jr.'s wanted at the stable gate.

Hey, that's me. What do you suppose they want?

You won't find out sitting there.

You kids finish before I get back. Meet you at the barn.

You've had us a little worried, Tommy.

Get in the car, dear.

My blood pour down the sewer.

Wasted it on a spoiled, rich runt.

I'll miss him too.

It's a fact, son.

It was Mr. Malone who turned you in for the five thousand dollars reward.

He wouldn't! He wouldn't do it!

What's more, your friend was in a big rush to do it.

Half an hour after our man was attacked outside the racetrack,

your mother recieved the phone call in New York.

- You're a dirty liar! - Tommy!

Take it easy, son.

You didn't give him your mother's private phone number, did you?

Well, then where else did he get it?

Lots of ways. I don't know.

You get out of here you, you... muck sack!

Yes?

Yes, have Mr. Malone come right up.

I'll ask him myself. I'll talk to him.

That's a good idea, Tommy.

As a matter of fact, you'd like to.

This is what he's coming for.

A check for five thousand dollars.

Why not give it to him yourself?

- Mrs. Gibson? - Yes. Come in, Mr. Malone.

Sit down, Mr. Malone.

I've been rather curious to meet you.

In a way Tommy talks about you,

it's been a rather extraordinary attachment.

You know kids. They run off the chin.

Knowing Tommy and his love for horses, I can understand that.

Being a jockey isn't exactly what I had in mind for Tommy's future.

Although I can see how it would be very useful to you.

It's a little more than that.

- We got along. - Of course you did.

You took the dream of every youngster his age and made it something quite real.

But it's preposterous, Mr. Malone.

Tommy's going right back to school.

And nothing would be accomplished by you're ever seeing him again.

We'll have no beefs, Mrs. Gibson. He's your property.

Property?

What do you call it?

No boy runs away from a pair of loving arms.

Is he any better off belonging to you like a well-trained dog?

At least he'd belong to somebody.

This isn't getting us anywhere. We both know what you're here for.

If you're talking money that would help.

There won't be any money, Mr. Malone.

Under the circumstances I believe you understand.

All right, so Boots's boy is out.

There's other jocks, ain't there?

- Maybe we can get Pearson. - Pearson? He'd kill us!

We couldn't get better in four to one with him.

- Not if the horse had three legs. - Four to one?

That's no price with our bankroll.

Say, Boots. How about Slippery Smith?

- Boots! - Huh?

How about Slippery Smith? He knows his way around the track.

Forget him! He blows a horse out in the morning, calls ten of his clients...

and by noon our good thing splashed all over town.

Well, Stash can blow out the horse.

Slippery don't have to know nothing till the last minute.

Till Preacher gives him his instructions in the paddock.

I don't care what you tell Slippery Smith in the paddock.

It's still a 50-50 chance whether he lets any horse run.

Well, then I'm for scratching the horse.

If we've carried the proposition this long we can carry it a little longer.

You can't scratch!

Stewart would never okay it.

How did you get here?

The train stopped at Dellington and I got off.

- What about your old lady? - She knows I'm riding tomorrow.

Look here, lad. You're speaking the strict truth, aren't you?

Sure.

I... I just promised my mother I'd be back at school on Monday.

You've been out in the night air and only a robe?

Come on, get some duds on!

I'm alright.

You fellas didn't have to worry.

Nobody but me was going to ride White Cargo.

Everything's settled. We got our jockey.

- That's great! Good luck, kid. - Everything will be all right now.

Hey, you look sharp in that new fiddle, kid.

It's like having the whole family together again.

Ain't it, Boots? Just the four of us.

Come on, Stash. I feel like having a cup of coffee.

I don't care how much money you got, kid.

I really like you.

Don't you get any funny ideas.

I hadn't come back on account of you.

There's Preacher, Stash, Jenny, Quarter Horse and the others.

After all I know where we stand.

Things got a little tough. You needed some cash.

So you turned in the first handy thing.

Me!

You could have found some other way.

You could have sold the horse...

or robbed a bank.

But I was always easy pickings, wasn't I?

The first night you had me walking all over the track...

looking for a washroom so you could rifle my clothes.

And taking my money for riding lessons...

when you had me shoveling out Preacher's barn.

Well, I'm caught up with you.

You don't want any part of me?

I've got news for you. I don't want any part of you.

After tomorrow we're through!

And another thing.

There was the time you slapped my face.

I owe you one back.

If it were a little bigger I'd give it to you right now!

Think I will anyway!

Boots! Boots!

It wasn't any of them I came back for! It was only you!

You know that, don't you?

We can be together, Boots.

We can find a way.

Don't split us out.

Don't split us out!

Better get some sleep, Tommy.

Tomorrow is a big day.

Boots...

Will you come back with me?

What makes you think you're a jockey?

Just because you won a two-bit heat down the Tully's?

This is the Big Apple.

You might turn out to be just another morning glory.

Get some sleep, I said. There's a race tomorrow.

Hey, Boots, there's a long distance call for you at the stable office.

Yes? Put him on. Here he is, Mrs. Gibson.

- Malone? - Hello, Mrs. Gibson.

Malone, I just want to know one thing. Is Tommy with you?

Yes, he's here.

Take my advice, Mrs. Gibson.

Let him stay just one more day and ride that race.

You're insane! Now listen, Malone...

Wait a minute! You listen to me!

If you ever want this boy,

you better find the answer why he came back here tonight.

You proved to him I was a crook, yet he came back.

And I'll tell you why.

These have been the two happiest months of his life.

- That you have nothing to do with. - All right, so what now?

So everything.

This race is what those two months were for.

And if you cheat him out of it, you may be the great Mrs. Gibson...

but as a mother you're blind and stupid.

- Malone! - You'll have him.

The question is how.

If he goes tonight,

it'll take two cops and a pair of handcuffs to keep him on that train.

And you'll never have a son as long as you live.

My way you got a chance someday but you'll have to earn it!

Think it over, Mrs. Gibson.

If you want him tonight, come and get him.

Are you sure you heard Malone right?

I wrote it down. White Cargo.

The horse never won a race in his life.

A maiden, three-year-old with some kid riding we never heard of.

What's Malone trying to do? Steal the racetrack?

What's so funny?

Yes, sir?

This is Brady.

Listen, you don't know what I promised you? Goes tomorrow.

A mortal lock.

Whitehead's three-year-old. Best on the grounds.

Eddie will be in the saddle. Horse call Meatloaf.

Meatloaf, seventh, Dellington.

I've got a horse in the seventh, White Cargo.

White Cargo? Somebody's kidding you. The horse don't figure.

You sure you know what you're doing?

Course I'm sure! Start betting with both hands!

Yeah.

Yeah.

No, we got all the help we need in the race.

Bet the usual for us.

Meatloaf! That's more like it. The best horse, the best jockey.

Protecting the public again. The favourite wins!

Well... It's Meatloaf, isn't it?

Yes. Call New York, Miami, Vegas, the whole list.

Get us down for the limit. Bet every dime they'll take.

Then call the boys, tell them to go with it.

And get us on the early plane for Dellington.

- We can make a four o'clock post. - What for?

Malone's nobody's patsy.

I want to know that horse of his is in the sack.

All right, riders! Let's check for the seven!

113. Take him away.

- Who you got, Warren? - Number five, T. Malone.

Okay. Take him away.

Hi, Malone

Glad to see you, Matson. I didn't expect you to come.

I want to see the seventh.

You won't believe it. It's a fairy tale.

A man waits all his life for one of these.

A forty to one shot while you're cakewalking.

With a big bet. We're down, aren't we?

Yeah, we're down. But not on White Cargo.

We're betting the favourite, Meatloaf.

Meatloaf?

What's the matter with you, Matson? I told you what to do.

- White Cargo run all over them. - Then White Cargo isn't moving today.

- Well, he's got to move. - Relax!

What's the difference? We're betting for you.

Go with White Cargo next time.

- There is no next time. - What are you talking about?

I mean, we wound him up for this race.

Well, then unwind him.

Go two months from now six months.

- It'll be the same 40 to 1 shot, won't it? - Matson, listen!

Property row chipped in to buy this horse.

They've grabbed bucks to bet on him. Their money's in the machines right now.

What? Five? Tens? Give it back to them!

Are you batty or something?

There's a fortune on this horse. The whole country's betting.

And it's too late to off the bets.

Look. Do you want to square yourself with me or bury yourself?

Now, go on in there and tell your boy to stiff the horse.

If he has to tell him to fall off.

I'll wait for you. We'll watch the race together.

- How do you feel, kid? - Fine.

- Nervous? - Bah! This little race?

"Put this horse in the lead and never look back."

Yeah, that's the idea.

Look, Tommy, that was the plan but...

I just talked it over with Preacher. We're worried.

We think this isn't the right race for the horse. He's overmatched.

- Overmatched? - Yes. The idea is to save him.

If you break on top, take him back.

If you left at the gate don't press him.

Don't try to make up the ground.

White Cargo can do it, Boots.

Oh, maybe he can but this isn't the race to prove it.

Look, we're not talking about win.

We're talking about what's good for the horse.

- But they're all betting on him today. - So what?

Next time they get bigger odds.

Now listen to me.

This kind of race the chips are down.

The jocks are riding for blood. It's dangerous.

So stay out of trouble. Race wide. Keep away from the pack.

Now, is that clear?

Is that what you're really worried about, Boots?

What do you mean?

Because I know all about this race. It's crooked.

The money's on the favourite. Eddie Koch is supposed to win.

How do you know that?

Koch tried to talk to me about helping to shoo him in.

What did you say?

I told him to take his business to Macy's.

No shenanigans between you and me, Boots.

No. Of course not.

But don't you see, kid?

All those jocks... the word's out on you.

- They'll knock you around. - I can take care of myself, Boots.

That's not the point! It's all the more reason to listen to what I told you.

Now, stay back of the pack!

I can break on top and steal the lead then I'm in the clear.

How many times I have to tell you? It's the horse we're talking about.

And it's orders. From Preacher and me!

Okay.

But Boots, we don't know if I'm ever gonna ride again.

- And I wanted to win it for you. - I know...

Maybe I'm no Earl West, but you taught me a lot.

And there's one thing, Boots, you always said.

In a race if a boy's worth anything,

he can judge the horse under him what he can do.

- A boy's got it or he hasn't. - Tommy...

If you'll just believe I've got it, Boots, I promise I'll never hurt the horse.

But if I feel I can get him home... You got to leave that to me.

You gotta trust me, Boots.

Okay?

Okay.

I told you a year ago to quit burying your money in tin cans.

There it is!

I knew I planted one in Dellington.

The horses are on the track...

for the seventh race at one mile and a furlong.

He's not a good-looking horse of mine?

Say, how about this new kid of yours, Boots?

Is he worth the bet? Is he worth the sable? What do you think? Can he ride?

He can ride.

The horses have reached the starting gate.

Preacher, you realize you own two-thirds of a horse...

running in a feature race of the day? I'm happy for you.

Yeah. I'm happy too.

But sometimes it bothers me the way I come by him.

Eh! Whitehead, he never needed the horse.

But a guy like you without a horse you might as well be dead.

All right. Let's go now! Lead him in!

All right, boys! Let's go now.

Hey, number six!

Get in there now!

Hey, Malone! Watch it out there. The ground's pretty hard.

Don't get in my way.

Watch out, Malone! This horse lugs in. I don't want to hurt you.

Come on, jock! Let's go!

Whichever land did you find this Malone kid? A relative of yours?

No relative. Just a coincidence.

The flag is up.

Forty to one! It's like roulette! Only the numbers run.

You bet your money and sleep in the streets.

If the kid doesn't break in front he's in for a rough trip.

Bright Gleam breaks on top. White Cargo's second.

White Cargo's getting bumped.

Arriving in the first turn Bright Gleam's leading by a length.

Big Guy is second by a head.

White Cargo's third by two legs.

Far Quest is fourth by a length.

And White Cargo is dropping back.

Big Guy is in front by a length.

Bright Gleam is second by a length.

Far Quest is now third by two legs.

Zirocco is fourth by a length.

Meatloaf is next.

In the clubhouse turn Big Guy is in front by a length.

Bright Gleam is second by about a length.

Far Quest on the inside is third by two legs.

Zirocco is fourth by a length.

Meatloaf is fifth by a half-length.

Punch Bowl is sixth, following by Chomont.

Out of the turn Big Guy is leading by a half-length.

Far Quest is second by a length.

Bright Gleam is third by a half-length.

Zirocco is forth by a quarter.

Punch Bowl is fifth by a half-length.

Meatloaf next by one and a half length.

And White Cargo is moving up.

In front Big Guy's leading by a head.

Far Quest is second by a three-quarter point.

Bright Gleam is third by a half-length.

Zirocco is forth by a length.

Meatloaf is fifth, and White Cargo's closing up quickly.

Turning to home Far Quest is leading by a half.

Big Guy is second by a half-length.

Bright Gleam is third by a half.

Zirocco is fourth.

And Meatloaf is moving fast on the outside.

White Cargo is getting through on the rail.

It's Meatloaf and White Cargo.

It's Meatloaf by a head.

White Cargo is inside second by two length.

Zirocco is third, and Big Guy is fourth.

Come on, Tommy! Come on, Tommy! Come on!

We still have chance!

White Cargo is on the rail. The run-through will be heavy.

Meatloaf and White Cargo.

- Ride him, jock! Ride him! - It's White Cargo. Now leading.

It's White Cargo in front.

Stay where you are! We're gonna have our pictures!

- Where's, Boots? - Hold it, jock!

Honest, Boots. He did it easy.

He really had it or wouldn't turned him loose.

It was perfect, kid. Everything's perfect.

I wish to claim a faul against Malone on White Cargo.

- What happened? - In the run-through on the stretch...

that bug rider hit my horse over the head two or three times.

I'll hurry in change. Meet me front of the jock's room.

Quiet please! Attention! Hold all tickets!

The stewards are inquirying the running of the race.

Inquiry? What's that for?

Eddie Koch on Meatloaf...

has lodged a claim of foul against T. Malone on White Cargo.

There will be a slight delay...

while the stewards view the motion pictures.

A foul? He's a liar!

Don't worry about it, Boots. I won it fair. I know I did!

Now, don't fret about it. We'll always know you won.

We'll even have a picture in the winner's circle to prove it.

Now, go on! Weigh-in!

Weigh-in!

Run it.

It's Koch on number seven.

There's T. Malone on number five.

Approaching the point where the foul is claimed. Slow it way down.

Koch is squeezing the boy against the rail.

Hold it!

Why, the boy's whipping left-handed.

He couldn't possibly foul Koch.

Have Koch report to my office tomorrow at eleven.

The claim of foul is not allowed.

Mr. Williams!

Malone, quite an ambitious youngster you've got there.

He won it with a clean, hard ride.

Before we had the use of motion pictures...

I wouldn't believe what I just saw in there.

An apprentice boy outriding Eddie Koch.

Switching the whip to his left hand like Earl West in his prime.

Congratulations. Glad to see you back in action again.

Attention please!

The claim of foul has been refused.

The result as it now appears on the totalizator board is declared efficient.

Well, I think I'll celebrate. I'm gonna pay my rent.

Who won that race? Who won that race?

Hey, you're wearing blinkers.

I'm wearing the winner. Number five. White Cargo.

Best tip you ever gave me, having me phone my mother.

I thought she'd be a little hot about my ditching the train last night...

but she wasn't at all. She was swell.

Asked me all about the race. Couldn't believe I won it.

And you know what else?

- Boots, are you listening? - Oh, sure. Sure.

When I told her you're coming to get me the day school's out,

she said she'd be there too. She wants to talk to you, Boots.

Take it easy, Tommy.

Your mother and me, it's like oil and water. We don't mix.

Ah, don't be a worry willy. She'd get to like you... after a while.

I know she would.

And Boots... It's supposed to be a secret but I got no secrets from you.

She's gonna buy a string of racehorses.

- Boots. Something wrong? - Oh, no, no.

You weren't listening. We're going to have our own stable.

Oh, that's swell.

Boots, why don't you hop this train with me?

- Right now! - I couldn't do that.

I told you I'd be back to get you.

Just as soon as I... get a certain matter cleaned up.

You won't let me down on that. You'll be there for sure.

I told you I would, didn't I?

Remember, the day school's out, June 15.

That's a date, pal.

Up you go, jock.

Oh, hey, Boots. She isn't gonna like it but whenever we work together around the track,

it's gonna be T. Malone, Jr..

Whenever we're together, that's great with me.

Scram!

Matson's in the tack room waiting for you with three of it's hoods.

Tell him I'll be there in a half an hour.

Better make it six months.