You Can't Win Backin' Up

You Can’t

Win

Backin’ Up

A Novel by:

Homer Long

AuthorHouse™

1663 Liberty Drive

Bloomington, IN47403

www.authorhouse.com

Phone: 1-800-839-8640

©2013 Homer Long. All rights resered.

Fourth Edition

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 03/08/2013

ISBN: 978-1-4567-3789-4 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4567-3788-7 (e)

ISBN: 978-1-4567-3787-0 (hc)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2011901896

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only. Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

This book is printed on acid-free paper.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Contents

Forward

Acknowledgments

One Episode

Book I   The Rookie and the Legend

Chapter I

Chapter II

Chapter III

Chapter IV

Chapter V

Chapter VI

Chapter VII

Chapter VIII

Chapter IX

Book II   Lurking Shadows

Chapter X

Chapter XI

Chapter XII

Chapter XIII

Chapter XIV

Chapter XV

Chapter XVI

Chapter XVII

Chapter XVIII

Chapter XIX

Chapter XX

Chapter XXI

YOU CAN’T WIN BACKIN’ UP

What People Are Saying About This Book

Before April 1, 2002 and the First Edition, these six comments had been made by people who had been reading bits, parts and the whole manuscript.

Excellent book. Maybe even a great one.—Mark Wright, Salesman

Couldn’t put it down.—Gary Hanus, Farmer

Excellent. Excellent.—Less Harper, Farrier at Prairie Meadows

Excellent. Excellent book.—Mrs. Dean Eslinger, Housewife

It is a good family story. It is easy to read and understand. It is a moral story of jealousy, care of animals, family love, Biblical reference once in a while. I wouldn’t hesitate to recommend it to any one, young or old, and in between. I would like to see a movie of it.—Marjorie Rouse, Retired Elementary School Teacher

Couldn’t put it down.—Linda Hanus, Housewife

This is about the fastest selling book in mid-Iowa. This includes an excellent report from a movie producer in Hollywood, plus a very high recommendation from a judging connoisseur of dairy cattle.

You Can’t Win Backin’ Up

HOMER LONG

Forward

Tears of sadness, tears of laughter-You Can’t Win Backin’ Up has it all. The setting is the thoroughbred racetrack and a family on the racing circuit. The story has sort of a hambone touch that includes intrigue, the spiritual, tragedy, romance, devastation, and wild success all laced with masculine charisma.

What started out as a short story for the Thoroughbred Times publication, turned into a tantalizing novel. Spurred on by a friend’s encouragement to expand the story, this short story has become a forty thousand-word book.

The wholesome words talk to the flesh, but also to the spirit of man. It certainly doesn’t leave you gaping for an answer. Time and again it takes you to the edge of your mental stability, but brings you back safely to sound footing. We’re talking about racehorses, and the raising, training, and racing of them, with much family life thrown in.

This book is dealing with racehorses and racehorse people who have an idea that someday they just might have that winning horse that puts them in the limelight. Football has its Superbowl, basketball has its Final Four, the Kentucky Derby has 100,000 well-wishers and back slappers. Anybody in horse racing can aim for the big race.

After you look at the author’s hands you probably will say those hands are made to fit around a pitchfork handle or a scoop shovel, even a button weed. How could they possibly write a story that can take you through tragedy, the depths of despair and then up into the stratosphere of cloud nine? How? I don’t know but they do. Believe me; they really do. Those hands describe the pounding feet and the beating drum-but, also, those same hands will secretly reach inside your heart and gently touch and caress it.

There are some thoughts and ideas that only the thoroughbred horse and his trainer can spawn, and vividly. These words are only for the most discriminate reader to appreciate.

I have read nearly all of the horse stories ever written. This will rank with any of them, better than most. Not only will racehorse people enjoy it, but also will the general public. Put You Can’t Win Backin’ Up on your must read list.

Publisher

Acknowledgments

My first typist, Kathy Zeiner, told me after she finished typing, I think you can go all the way with this story.

One Episode

The morning prior to the prestigious Buckeye Bonanza Derby, Zach loaded Monk into an old rusty trailer pulled by an equally old pickup. They pulled into the backside¹ of the derby track, and many watched with amused eyes out of simple curiosity. So this is what the horse from the corn country was all about, was it? When Zach cut the ignition, the old rusty pickup back-fired and amusement turned to hilarity. To top it off, when Zach opened the rear door of the trailer, it nearly fell off. Yes, the salty doyens of the racetrack, the trainers and grooms, found occasion to be out where they could see the probable fiasco. What they didn’t suspect was that the rookie Zach was gleaning an audience-free of charge!

The simple country boy stepped into the trailer to find Monk all wound up and ready to go. Zach and the horse came out loaded with charisma. Never before had the latent adrenaline-fed engines of both man and beast fired like they did today. Out they came in a hailstorm of kicks and squeals. Up went Monk on his hind legs, whistling, screaming, and pawing the crimson skae. Zach had all he could do to manhandle him back to the ground. Monk’s high-up action and He-man attitude, plus his history of winning two races, gave the audience all they could swallow. Their expected critical analysis of the corn country horse was dashed. Any doubt about the capabilities of the savage gray quickly evaporated. Watchers turned away with crooked grins, binoculars were lowered, hats flung to the floor and chairs kicked. Where did this young Butler guy come from? was an expression exchanged in the crowd.

Strength-Vision-

Talent-Know How

1.   Backside = barn area

2.   Shedrow = area between stalls within a barn

3.   Pole = See diagram

4.   Maiden = what a horse is until he wins his first race

5.   Backstretch = From 3/4 Pole to 3/8 Pole

6.   Far Turn = 3/8 Pole to 1/4 Pole

7.   Stretch = 3/8 Pole to Finish or Wire

8.   Wire = Finish

9.   Shod horse = Metal U-shaped shoes nailed to the bottom of all four feet

Book I

The Rookie and the Legend

YOU CAN’T WIN BACKIN’ UP

One early morn, rising from the tall grass-

a muscular form vigorously shakes the dewdrops far-

athletic actions for him are par.

With blaring nastrils and weick’d aye,

he shakes his haid at the crimson skae.

He circles the pasture, ears pricked,

knees, hind feet, and tail high up.

The king of the court hears a low motherly nicker,

it calls to his empty stomach.

He pushes his head into a field of velvet

and a warm sweet breakfast.

—H. Long

A stock saddle on Monk in training!!!? Yes, safety is the better part of valor.

Chapter I

An ordinary horse racing family in mid-Illinois consisted of a father, mother, two sons, and a daughter. However, the youngest, Zachariah Butler, was different. He was an excellent groom, always around when needed, and would give an extra look to a horse nobody else seemed to see. His eyes were kind. He could and would go the extra mile with you, but the niceties stopped there. His mother suspected Zach had teeth of iron. Those teeth ground together when Zach was absorbed in his horse business. Zach’s particular knowledge of a good horse was thoroughly embedded within and don’t bother him with thoughts, simpleton. Talking to Zach was a chore-he was always looking past the ones talking to him at something seemingly far off. Mother Butler kept her thoughts to herself and many times she wondered about her son. Was he an enigma? What drove him? Who was his drummer? She also noted Zach dropped his left eyelid whenever he saw a horse that touched the bottom of his heart.

PARTING OF THE WAYS

As the Butler children matured a family judgment was assessed. Jim, the oldest, would stay at home and be incorporated into the family operation. Beth, the daughter, married outside the family business interests; and Zach was more or less told to look for other employment. The situation suited Zach just fine as he relished going his own way.

He was loosened from family ties; and, with a deep faith in the eternal God and the crucified Son, he set out on his own. There was only one thing he wanted to do and that was to race horses some day. To do so took land and money. He had neither. So, he took his strong back, kind eyes, and iron teeth to a local contractor and applied for work. His boss put him in cement work. He was an employer’s dream-always on time, adept, and healthy. He soon moved up the pay scale, living in Spartan conditions and saving money. In a year he had enough money saved to make a down payment on a small forty-acre, run down farm. The dilapidated barn had poor, see-through siding and a sagging roof. The first priority was to repair the roof, replace rotten lumber, and shore up support beams. The second was to build five fifteen-foot square stalls within the tired old walls.

Zach’s construction job allowed him access to surplus materials. He fashioned stall corner posts from broken telephone poles chain sawed to the proper lengths. He used second-hand bridge planks in the sides of the stalls to give them a massive look of strength. He didn’t want to come to the barn some morning to find the sides of the stalls kicked down and a horse full of splinters. Things had to be done right or not at all. The horse smells, the shedrow², the racetrack, and derby days were still far away but Zach was on his way, and he was confident hard work and determination would soon pay off. Tunnel vision had no better vessel.

ZACH BUTLER COMMENCES

In a high risk endeavor like racehorses, a limited finance posture requires defensive wisdom. Zach chose to buy fillies. If they didn’t pan out, he could always sell them or put them in a brood mare band. By buying yearlings, he had time to sharpen his horsemanship skills, and they were something that fit his pocketbook. He bought six hoping one would make it to the racetrack. None did, but Zach wasn’t unnerved. The six had given him a polished horse education and Zach was ready to sally forth again.

One fall day, the whole Butler family went to a thoroughbred sale. As they looked over the offering, a groom led a gray yearling colt past them. Mother Butler observed something she hadn’t seen in a long time-the gray got Zach’s complete attention, for his left eyelid dropped to half-mast. She knew Zach had found his horse. He was sold near mid-sale when some of the crowd’s enthusiasm waned and Zach got him for a nominal fee. Zach had his foot in the door of quality horses and the race crowd would soon know it. A plain, cheap quarter horse gelding of the same age was purchased as a companion to keep the new horse, Monk, company. Zach’s train was beginning to chug, slowly but surely.

Since Zach was away at his construction job every day, a day man had been hired. His name was Roy Brown. He was given two jobs: working with the two colts, and building one five-acre pasture paddock to the rear of the barn and a one-acre exercise lot in front in which to break the two colts for riding. Money was