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Dobyns Chronicles
Dobyns Chronicles
Dobyns Chronicles
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Dobyns Chronicles

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Dobyns Chronicles is a captivating celebration of the life of Charlie Dobyns. His life began in northeast Texas near Bonham, on the Red River. His Cherokee mother and cowboy father strove to survive on their river valley ranch. Tragedy ended this way of life for Charlie in 1888. Follow him through Chickasaw Territory and on to McAlester in eastern Oklahoma.
This is a story of a changing way of life and adaptations made to survive. Charlie's strong passion for life and dignity equipped him for survival as he raised his siblings with, likeability and dignity. Its a story of loss, misfortune, hard times and heartbreak, but also love, determination, kindness, joy and spirituality.
Follow Charlies life through the adventures that shaped the man he became, and that of his family for generations.
LanguageEnglish
PublisherXlibris US
Release dateMay 23, 2014
ISBN9781499024036
Dobyns Chronicles
Author

Shirley McLain

Shirley McLain is a retired RN, wife, mother, and grandmother of six, currently living in Bristow, Oklahoma, where she is now enjoying her retirement to the fullest. She is working on three projects for publication; One of fictional short stories, a historical fiction novel, as well as a book of poetry. Shirley’s love of travel, adventure and writing, has created a novel which will hold your attention and leave you wanting more.

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  • Rating: 5 out of 5 stars
    5/5
    Highly recommended and inspirational story!This is an amazing 'chronicle" of the life of Charlie Dobyns, created soon after his parents (Pa and Ma) married in 1872. It was a poignant, heartbreaking and yet compelling story. Charlie had to be strong at a very young age, when tragedy hit his family. He is a remarkable hero of the story, but not just to the plot, but to his family. The clinging of his siblings as he takes the reins to take care of his family is remarkable and triumphant. I loved this story and it was so well written. I felt so engrossed in the story, that I was transported to a time where I could've been Charlie's shadow. Highly recommended and inspirational story!
  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    The Finest Generation – A review of the novel ‘Dobyns Chronicles’“It is so much simpler to bury reality than it is to dispose of dreams” - Don DeLilloAuthor Shirley McLain’s latest novel ‘Dobyns Chronicles’ is a historical fiction loosely based on the life and times of her grandfather Charles Kenly Dobyns. Charles or Charley to those close to him was the eldest son of Kennerly, an American cowboy and Eliza, a Cherokee Indian and was raised in a farm in Red River in Bonham near Northeast Texas. The book chronicles his life story from the late 1800’s when he was a young boy in a Texan farm to mid 1950’s when he became a great grandfather in McAlester, Oklahoma. The book paints a moving real life story about a young man’s resolve dealing with the various tragedies life threw at him while also caring for his two siblings, younger brother David and sister Viola. This novel presents a fascinating look at vintage Americana and will fill your mind with nostalgia about a simpler life led in much simpler times.Right off the bat, the first thing that you are going to notice and that too barely a couple of pages into the book is the wonderful use of the English language. It has become almost a rarity in mainstream literature to come across such beautiful phrases and prose that make you stop and read a line twice just for the sheer literary pleasure it gives you. The next best thing about this book is the pitch perfect way in which the author has been able to portray the laid back and lazy times with the back breaking, difficult and adventure filled day in an old western town. It is so descriptive that the character’s spirituality, the numerous odd jobs done around the house, cattle drive and horse breaking somehow become second nature to you by the time you are done with the book. And for people of this century where everything is available to them at the touch of a button, this book will be a throwback to our older and harsher times when day to day living meant a constant battle with the various elements of the nature. Blending the fiction seamlessly with the many historical and factual events of the late 18th century and early 19th century, Shirley has made good use of various events like the yellow fever epidemic, the great depression and the absurd tax laws to good effect and has used them strategically at various points in the novel to underline the emotions of her characters in that setting beautifully. The changes happening over time and the various developments too have been captured nicely; case in point is Charley staying at a hotel for the very first time. Shirley also seems to have a knack in getting children’s behaviour and their conversations right, the change in tone and content when the conversation moves from a child to an adult is always bang on target. The entire book will tug at your heart strings and make you think about your own family, it will also make you reminisce about your childhood as you read about the childhood of the Dobyn kids. And even though your childhood may have been vastly different from theirs, you will still feel a connection to the various commonalities that affect us humans across time and different nationalities. The epilogue and the photographs at the end really get to you and even though a life that you have been witness to from a young age has come to an end, you are in a strange way left with so many memories of this man. And this is because of the way the author has captured these scenes and emotions, by taking you right into the lives and homes of these people instead of merely narrating a story.Great authors have often talked about the secrets that make a book appeal to audiences everywhere. They stress upon having a standout first chapter to make the readers commit to the book, a good first page that will blow them away and a great first line that will stay etched in their memory forever. If they are right then Shirley’s book has scored a definite ace on all three fronts and has emerged a clear winner.
  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    Told mostly in first-person, Dobyn’s Chronicles recreates the America of the 1800s and 1900s very convincingly, peopling it with characters from the author’s family history. There’s a wealth of fascinating detail woven into the story, and a great sense of place and space. Characters and the hardships they endure all seem real, from children orphaned by Yellow Fever, to threats of the evil tax-man and financial ruin. Train travel is new. Medicine is growing by leaps and bounds. Banks may or may not be trusted. And indoor plumbing in an hotel room is an amazing luxury. The protagonist goes through life with genuine good-hearted faith, accepting trials and joys and always willing to move on. He has a nice steady voice in the narration, obscured sometimes by long-winded dialog, but a delight in its honest and pleasant musings. The reader quickly believes a real person is telling this tale.I loved the sense of change in this novel, where characters don’t stay in one place, where homes are left or lost, where the past doesn’t have to define the present, and where risk and reward both engender hard work. I enjoyed the reminder that in simpler times, young people grew up faster and absorbed the family responsibilities at an early age. And I liked the gentle insights into modernity’s invasion as the lives of cowboys changed.It’s not a perfect novel, and it’s not a quick read, but Dobyn's Chronicles is an enjoyable tale, the characters are pleasingly memorable, and the story leaves reader with a gentle realization that, however much control we think we exert, lives can be changed completely in the short time lightning takes to strike.Disclosure: I was given a free ecopy and I offer my honest review.
  • Rating: 3 out of 5 stars
    3/5
    What would you do? You’re only sixteen years old and your parents die within minutes of each other due to yellow fever. You have a ten year old brother and a four year old sister looking up to you. You can’t call family to come to your aid; there are no phones and especially no cell phones. The year was 1888. Charley’s parents were Kennerly and Eliza Dobyns. A few years before they died, Charley remembered the family had spent some time with Willis and Martha Holmes, friends of his parents. He buried his parents as best he could, packed the wagon with what they would need and headed from Bonham, TX to McAlester, OK, hoping the Holmes would help them in their time of desperation. The Holmes’ took them into their lives giving Charley a job working the ranch and educating his siblings, David and Viola, along with their own children. A few years later, tragedy struck the Holmes family and once again the Dobyns were on their own.Due to the circumstances, Charley became more like a father figure to David and Viola. This is a very warm and gratifying story of the endurance of a family when people had to work hard, make do with what they had, and share their goods and their lives with others. This read so true that I thought it was a real story of someone in the author’s own genealogy and in fact it was (see the interview below). The story from the beginning was a fairly detailed account of Charley and his siblings and the start of his life with his wife, Mila – it was almost too detailed. Then, the last 10% altered pace and began to summarize the remainder of their lives very briskly. There were many characters brought into the story with little background so the reader had no reason to care about them as they did with Charley and his siblings and his wife. I rated Dobyns Chronicles at 3 out of 5.

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Dobyns Chronicles - Shirley McLain

Dobyns Chronicles

Shirley McLain

Copyright © 2014 by Shirley McLain.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

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.

Rev. date: 11/16/2014

Xlibris

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Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Epilogue

Photo Gallery

Cherokee%20Nation%20logo.jpgMap%20of%20Indian%20Territory.jpg

CHAPTER 1

O LD AGE IS hell, but it’s something all of us have to go through. Here I stand looking out across this land dotted with trees and cattle. This land has nurtured my family and me since 1928. It’s hard for me to believe the world I’ve known will end tomorrow with our move to McAlester. I’m too old now to work. It’s too hard to take care of the things on the farm. Mila has diabetes, and I’ve got high blood pressure. Both of us have painful arthritis. There’s just too many aches and p ains.

The good and bad this life’s brought remains etched in my mind and my heart. Invisible bonds will forever tie my heart to this land even after we go. My body won’t physically be on this mountain, but my heart will. All I ever wanted was the stability of owning my own place and providing a decent home for my family.

You never know what road life will lead you down. Pa told me when I was a little boy, You just have to take a deep seat and hang on for the ride. He sure told the truth.

Now here I stand, knowing tomorrow I’ll be giving up my home and the way of life I’ve known for the past eighty-one years. I think giving up this mountain life is the hardest thing I’ve done. My consolation is my lifetime of memories.

I look back over my life and remember all the stories Pa told me about his own life. Now I’ve got my own life’s story. I’ve told it to my kids and grandkids over the years.

In 1820, the year my pa was born, my grandpa Dan decided he’d seen enough of Indiana and moved his family to Grayson County, Texas. They got a farm right on the Red River. Pa lived his whole life on that Red River farmland.

I said he lived there his whole life, that’s not entirely true. After Grandpa Dan died in 1845, and his mama died in 1850, he went back to Indiana for a while to meet relatives there. He even married in 1854. I know I have brothers and sisters there, but I’ve never met them. It seems my pa and his wife couldn’t get along. She went to a state asylum after a nervous breakdown. Pa stayed until she passed away, and then he headed back to Texas and the Red River farm. He even brought a woman back with him who was to be my mother, Eliza. Pa and Ma married in 1872 and then proceeded to produce me, Charles Kenly Dobyns. In 1878, my brother David was born, and then in 1884, my sister Viola came into the world.

Why they spaced us kids so far apart, I didn’t find out until later. My ma had several babies who died soon after they were born. No one actually knew the cause; they said it was God’s will. As Ma was Cherokee Indian, she had some different ways about her, but she was a Christian. I think Pa said she was Church of Christ, so I think that made us Church of Christ also.

Ma was strict on us boys. I can’t tell you the number of times she warmed our backside with Pa’s belt or washed our mouths out with soap for saying a curse word. Pa could get away with it, but my brother and I sure couldn’t.

Since Viola was too small to be of help to Ma, until Viola was old enough, David and I helped with house chores. We also helped Pa out in the field. Most of the time, I was the one in the field and David took care of the chores around the house. He may have been small, but he sure was strong. I guess we were all strong from cutting wood, pulling water from the well, and general hard work.

It seemed like Ma was always making clothes and cooking, even though I knew she did other chores. She taught Viola how to make butter at an early age. Ma let her move the dasher up and down in the churn for as long as she could. I think Ma was helping Viola develop muscles like us boys. Sometimes Ma would have Viola go out to the woodshed and pick up small pieces of wood for kindling. That sturdy old wood cookstove used lots of wood. That stove would use a couple ricks of wood a year.

In the summertime, Ma got up early and got the rest of us up and built a fire outside to cook so we wouldn’t have such a hot house. She’d usually cook enough at one time to keep us fed all day. I can still taste those biscuits made in the Dutch oven. We always had fresh honey or molasses to eat with our biscuits. Times were good then. It’s strange what kids think they know but really don’t.

*   *   *

The summer I turned six was a dry and hot one with plenty of lightning storms but no rain. We had a large crop of corn standing in the field ready to harvest for livestock feed. I’d eat my fill of fresh corn, so now the stalks and ears were continuing to dry. Pa took some of the ears and had it ground for Ma so she could make her crackling corn bread and mush during the winter. We loved that sweet corn meal mush for breakfast. Sometimes she would put it in a bread pan and let it get cold, slice it, and then panfry it for lunch.

I remember the temperature being so hot outside; I could feel my skin burn through my shirt. The hot Texas wind blew the dirt around. Ma couldn’t keep the dust out of the house. She kept what she could covered to keep the sand out of it. We watched dust devils moving from the chicken yard to the barn all the time. Pa was always talking about needing rain or winter would be brutal.

Not long before the sun went down, we’d sit outside enjoying the coolness of the air. Ma fixed each of us a cup of fresh cool water. It was so refreshing coming out of our well. The well was spring fed, and that’s what made it cool to drink. I remember hearing thunder and seeing a flash of lightning in the distance.

Maybe it’ll rain, Pa.

I hope so, son, but at this time of year, it’s usually dry lightning with thunder. We’ll just have to watch the clouds and see what happens. You be a good boy and help me watch for fires. If lightning strikes, it could cause the grass to catch on fire.

I watched the fields from the barn loft for the rest of the evening to make sure we didn’t have a fire. Ma said it was time for me to get in the bed. I fussed until Pa stepped inside, and then I knew it was a lost cause. Lying in my bed, I could hear the thunder and see flashes of lightning though the window.

Sometime during the night, I woke to Pa yelling, Ma, get the buckets, we have a fire!

I jumped out of bed and headed outside. I didn’t take time to put my clothes on ’cause I could see the grassland to the south of the house was burning and moving fast. That hot wind kept it moving.

Pa went to the barn; let the horses and the two Jersey milk cows out. Ma opened the gate to the chicken yard and started shooing chickens out of the hen house. By the time Ma handled that chore, Pa had two buckets full of water and some burlap sacks soaking to fight the fire.

Ma was drawing water as fast as she could and putting it in her wash pot in the yard. I helped her carry the buckets of water.

Every once in a while, Pa would yell, Charley, bring me another bucket of water, hurry!

I thought my arms were going to fall off when I was carrying that water. Carrying one bucket of water to the house is a sight different than carrying a full bucket in each hand as fast as you could.

We fought fire for an hour before it burned past our place. We managed to keep our house and barn but lost the chicken house and the corn crop. A fire like that does impress a young boy’s mind. To this day, I can’t help but watch the sky for that dry lightning.

After daylight, we headed to the river to remove the black soot off our bodies. Ma brought us a bar of lye soap to wash with, and we all had clean clothes to put on after we got out of the river.

The river was shallow in most spots, but there were holes that could swallow a person. I would have drowned on one of those holes one summer if Pa hadn’t been with me. Pa and I were playing in the river one evening after he got through with his chores. I was running in the shallow water and stepped in a suck hole. It was as if the bottom of the world had fallen out from under me. I remember Pa reached down and grabbed my hair and pulled. He got me up enough to get under my arms. My blasted head stayed sore for over a week, but I was alive.

I liked to walk out to the sandbar and sit down and let the water swirl around me. It felt so good, especially after being so hot and nasty. Pa was right beside me, and we played a lot. Ma sat on the bank and watched us.

After we cleaned up, we began to play. Ma told Pa to get me back to the house. She would be there after she got her bathing done. The next thing I knew, she was at the house, all shiny and clean, putting water in the wash pot to start heating water to wash our dirty clothes.

Ma always made sure we had clean clothes to put on. She was boilin’ and punchin’ clothes every day in that big black kettle. We had three sets of clothes each but actually only wore two of them around the house. The other set was used when we went into Denison for supplies. They were our dress-up clothes.

Since the corn crop was lost in the fire, Pa began planning on how to get us through the winter and feed the livestock. He was quiet for a couple of days after the fire. I think he was trying to decide what he was going to do. One evening, I overheard Pa and Ma talking.

We will lose everything we own if I don’t do something, Eliza. I’ve made up my mind. I know you don’t approve because you consider it gambling, but it’s the best chance we have to be able to keep our place and eat.

Kennerly, it is a long trip there, and so much could go wrong. What if you lose?

You know that’s not going to happen. I have the best horse in the state, and he runs like the wind. All I have to do is get a message to Mike Hurley in Fort Worth, and he will set up the race. He’s tried to convince me to run Lightning against his thoroughbred since the first time he laid eyes on him. When Lightning wins this race, we’ll have enough money to get us comfortably through the winter. I’ll also be able to make extra money by getting stud fees.

"Kennerly, you know how I feel about this. I don’t want our son to grow up thinking that horseracing and gambling is a good thing.

I wouldn’t be doing this if it wasn’t necessary. Don’t you understand?

I do understand, and I want you to have the burden off you this fire has caused. I’ll agree as long as you take Charley and me with you. Those are my terms, Kennerly.

Eliza, we are going to Fort Worth as soon as I can get it arranged with Mike Hurley.

Pa rode into town the next day and sent a telegraph to Mr. Hurley. I don’t think five days passed before there was a rider at the house with a message for Pa. Pa couldn’t wait to open that message up. He read it aloud to Ma and me,

Kennerly race fifth of next month, stop

Three horses to compete stop

See you at the track stop

Signed, Mike C Hurley

We had almost three weeks before we’d head for Fort Worth.

Pa stayed busy all the time, either cleaning up after the fire or training Lightning. My pa thought Lightning was the greatest horse alive. His breed was unusual, Anglo-Arabian, or something like that. He was a gray horse with black stockings on all four of his legs. For a boy of six years, I didn’t think anything about him. He was just a horse that could run fast.

I asked Pa how he got that horse. He said, I had to make a trip into Chickasaw territory a couple of years ago, and I met this man who was dreadfully down on his luck. He had a wife and four kids, and they wanted to go back east. He told me he had a horse he’d sell me for $100. That was a lot of money, but I knew the horse was special. The horse had distinctive breeding, and he could run. He told me Lightning was a cross between an Arabian and a thoroughbred. I’d sold a herd of cattle to the Chickasaw Nation, so I had money in my pocket. I took one look at the horse and bought him on the spot. I rode Lightning back to Texas and led Baldy. Baldy was a good horse, but I wanted to get a feel for Lightning’s gait.

I didn’t care about Pa’s story, but I knew I was getting a trip to Fort Worth. It was going to be a thrilling adventure. I hadn’t been any further away from home than Denison, which was only about twenty miles away. I couldn’t wait for the big adventure to begin.

CHAPTER 2

T HE THREE WEEKS before time to leave for Fort Worth went by fast. Pa spent all of his time training Lightning. He did his work around the place, but most of the time, he was on that horse’s back. Pa was a small man, and he rode bareback, so the horse didn’t have to carry much weight, which made him run that much faster. He knew Lightning could outrun any thoroughbred, but he wasn’t takin’ any cha nces.

Ma spent her time getting supplies together for the trip. She made sure we had food to eat and pots to cook in. It was eighty-five miles for us to go by wagon, so it would take a few days to get there.

It was right before that trip I found out I was going to have a brother or a sister. I heard Pa ask Ma if she could make this trip in her condition.

She said, Kennerly, I told you before, if you are going to Fort Worth, and then me and Charley are going with you. I’m fine, and there won’t be a problem. Stop worrying yourself.

Of course, I had to ask what he meant by her condition. Ma sat me down at the table and explained to me about having a new brother or sister in a few months. I was six years old and took the new baby for fact. I didn’t ask any more questions.

The event was scheduled to be ran on September 5, so we left the farm a week early to give us plenty of time to get there. Pa tied Lightning to the back of the wagon. We headed south to Fort Worth. We camped every night, and Ma would fix us an excellent meal. I slept in the wagon, since I didn’t take up much space, and Ma and Pa slept underneath it.

They kept a fire going all night to keep the varmints away. Besides, Ma would have lots of hot coals to use for cookin’. The best I can remember, we only had one problem on the trip south. The front wheel on the driver’s side broke and fell off, and Pa had a cursing fit. Ma scolded him, of course, and he continued to change the wheel. He had brought a spare wheel in case something happened. He had the wheel fixed while we were in Fort Worth.

After three days, we finally made it to Mr. Hurley’s house. It was a large spread, and Ma said the house was a mansion. I never did see inside of it, but it sure looked like it from the outside. Mr. Hurley had a small house out by the horse track where we stayed. It suited us real fine. As soon as we settled in and cleaned up, Pa and Mr. Hurley sat down to talk. They wanted to get the details of the race settled.

The other man in the race would be Mr. Greenleaf Simpson from Boston. Mr. Hurley bought a horse from him, and he brought it to Fort Worth. They thought it would be an excellent time to see what the new horse could do. Mr. Simpson was staying in the big house, so everyone was there who should be.

Kennerly, we have one day left before the race. I think you and I should talk a little bit about a wager. What do you say?

Just so you know, Mike, my wife does not put up with gambling, so if you get a harsh look from her, I want you to understand what’s goin’ on.

Laughing, Mr. Hurley said he understood and asked, Now, Kennerly, what about the wager?

I don’t have any money, Mike, but I will put Lightning up against $5,000. I’m either going to be destitute without my horse or we’ll go home and make it fine through the winter. I do have one other request. If Lightning wins this race, I would like for you to send breeders my way, so I can collect some stud fees.

You drive a hard bargain, Kennerly, but you have a bet I can already see the horse in my stable. Mr. Hurley has a wide grin on his face

Mike, the only reason you would have Lightning in your stable is if I let him rest there after I win the race.

Both men got up laughing and slapping each other on the back. Even as a young boy, I could see and feel the excitement this race was causing.

*   *   *

I was so excited when I woke up Saturday morning I couldn’t stay in the bed. Ma was cleaning up Pa’s breakfast dishes. He’d already gone to the stables to get Lightning ready for the race.

I jumped into my clothes and headed for the door. Ma caught me before I could get out the door.

You sit yourself down at that table and don’t move. You will have a good breakfast to eat, and then you’re going to clean up. You will put on your best clothes. There’re going to be lots of folks here today, and I’m not going to have you looking like some dirty kid right off the farm.

I wanted to tell her I was a kid right off the farm, but I knew she would box my ears if I said anything back to her. I sat there at the table as I was told and ate breakfast. Every muscle in my body wanted to run and see what was going on outside.

Ma put some water on to heat and told me I was going to take a bath. That was almost more than I could stand. I opened my mouth to say something, and those eyes of hers cut through me, so I knew I was a goner again. I took my bath in the washtub Ma had brought along with us and put on my best clothes. She did let me go outside while she got ready.

I went out on to the porch, fussed, and fumed to myself because I couldn’t go where Pa and the other men were. Finally, Ma came out of the house. She was dressed the prettiest I’d ever seen her. She wore a brand new dress for the occasion. I can still see her in my mind even after all these years. The dress was navy blue with pearl buttons on the front. The collar and cuffs had lace around them. She even had a bonnet to match.

I guess she wanted Pa to be proud of her since we were going to be mingling with all of the people who were coming to the race. Pa said Mr. Hurley never acts as if he has a lot of money, but from what I saw of Mrs. Hurley, I don’t think she was like that. I remember Ma saying to Pa how rude she was when they met.

Pa came out of the barn and met Ma and me. They talked for a little bit, and then Pa said he had to get back.

Pa, can I go with you? I want to see the horses.

Sure you can, you can come back to your Ma when the horses leave the barn for the track.

Charley, if you get dirty, I am going to bust your bottom for you. Do you understand me, little boy?

Yes, Ma, I understand. I’ll stay as clean as I can.

Pa smiled as he put his hand on my shoulder, guiding me toward the barn.

What kind of horses are you racing against, Pa?

Both of them are thoroughbreds. Thoroughbreds are tall, leggy, long horses that come in many colors, although solids are most prominent. They often have white markings, prominent withers, and handsome heads on an elegant arched neck. Thoroughbreds usually stand around sixteen hands high and weigh about eleven hundred pounds. They are several hands taller than Lightning. They’re a horse bred for running, but Lightning is smaller and faster. Mr. Hurley’s horse is a bay by the name of Majestic, and the horse Mr. Simpson brought is solid black with a white star on his forehead, and his name is Midnight Magic.

Come on, Pa, let’s get into the barn so I can see them. Besides, I need to give Lightning his carrot. He is used to getting one from me every day. I snuck one out of the kitchen when Ma wasn’t looking.

You know if she ever catches you taking things without asking, you will be in very big trouble. Don’t do it again. You hear me, son? Pa didn’t get on to me very much, so it made me feel bad. It took all I had inside to keep from crying.

Yes, Pa, I hear you. I promise I won’t do it again.

It was the biggest barn I had seen in my life. He had at least thirty stalls that each held a horse. They had their own door that let them out into an exercise area. There was also a loft over the bottom floor. It was loaded with feed. Along each side of the loft, there was an opening, which let the men put feed directly into the horse’s trough without having to carry the feed to the bottom floor.

I bet they had ten cats up there prowling around. I asked Pa why they had so many cats. He told me it was to catch the mice so they wouldn’t eat the horse feed.

After I had the tour of the barn, I gave Lightning his carrot, and I went back to where Ma was standing.

Did you enjoy your visit to the barn, son? I’m proud of you because you managed to keep your clothes clean. Let’s walk over to the track so we can watch the race.

Are we going to sit up there with those other people?

No, son, I want to be by the fence and see exactly what is going on. It shouldn’t be too long before they’ll be bringing the horses out.

Do you know how big the track is, Ma?

Your Pa told me it’s one mile around the track. This is going to be a two-mile race. It’ll be fun to watch the horses race each other.

We watched as they brought the horses to the track. Mr. Hurley had other men riding his horses, and Pa was riding Lightning. Ma told me jockeys are the men who ride horses in races.

So Pa is a jockey?

No, Charley, your Pa is a horseman. He doesn’t ride in races like jockeys do. The men draw numbers to determine their horse’s position on the track. That’s a fair way to do things. Your Pa and Lightning must have gotten the rail because they have moved him to the inside. It shouldn’t be long now.

We heard a bell ring, and the horses took off running. Lightning was running, but it looked like Pa was holding him back a little. The other two horses were ahead of him. The thoroughbreds were neck to neck, and Lightning was still holding back. They made it around the track once, and nothing changed. Halfway around the second time, I saw Pa give Lightning his head. That horse ran like the wind. He was a half-length ahead before those other two riders figured out what happened.

Ma and everyone in the stands were yelling and screaming. When Pa crossed the finish line a full length ahead of Mr. Hurley’s horses, Ma broke down and cried. I thought some of the other women were crying too, but I don’t think it was because they were happy.

Pa got off Lightning, and Ma was right there, hugging him. One of Mr. Hurley’s men took Lightning to cool him down. Pa was smiling from ear to ear.

Eliza, we have done it. We have the money we need. We’re going to be in grand shape this winter.

Mr. Hurley walked over to Pa and patted him on the back. Kennerly, you were right about that horse of yours. Do you want to sell him?

No, thanks, Mike. Come tomorrow, me and the family will be heading back home with my horse in tow.

I will wire your money to the bank in Denison as we agreed. I hope you and your family have enjoyed yourself while here. I can’t believe your horse won so far ahead of mine.

Mike, I had told you all along I had the best horse, but you wouldn’t believe me. Pa and Mr. Hurley both laughed. Thank you, Mike, for your hospitality, we did have a grand time here. Will I see you in the morning before we pull out?

You certainly will, Kennerly. You go, relax, and don’t worry about anything. The groomers will care for your horse. Would you and your wife like to join us for dinner tonight at the main house?

No, thanks, Mike. I appreciate the invitation, but I figure we’ll get to bed early tonight so we can get an early start. It’s a long drive home. Besides, we still have to get the wagon packed.

Not a problem, I’ll see you in the morning. Have a good evening.

Mr. Hurley walked back to where his other guests were, and we headed back to the house where we stayed.

Ma and Pa were so happy, and it really was the biggest adventure I’d ever had. The

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