The Golden Room

I have forwarded your programme to Berlin via diplomatic pouch, and I expect to have Prince Henry's response soon, certainly before his arrival in Chicago.

I will keep you further informed.

With best wishes,

Sincerely, Hans Schulter Ambassador

Armbruster reread the letter and then, shaking his head, threw it on the mayor's desk. 'It's an acknowledgement, but it doesn't tell us a damn thing.'

'Not yet, perhaps,' said Harrison, trying to pacify Armbruster, 'but it does indicate that the ambassador expects Prince Henry to approve of everything on our programme, including your festivities.'

'You may be right,' said Armbruster, somewhat mollified. 'Still, the prince himself has not yet approved. You must let me know the moment you hear from him. After all, Mrs Armbruster and I have to make special, more elaborate plans for a royal guest.'

Mayor Harrison threw up his hands. 'What can I say, Mr Armbruster? I know only what you know from the ambassador's letter, that he expects to hear from Prince Henry before the prince's arrival in Chicago.'

'That could be cutting it close.'

'I really don't think you have to worry, Mr Armbruster. The prince can only be pleased with your invitation. I feel that you can go ahead and plan accordingly.'

'Fine,' said Armbruster, standing. 'I'll take your word for it and proceed.'

The mayor also rose. 'Are you still expecting to make your request of the prince?'

'My request? Ah, you mean to tell him of my desire to be the next ambassador to Germany?'

'Precisely.'

'I'll be totally honest with you, as I was when I first brought this matter up,' said Armbruster. 'While it will definitely improve my social standing in Chicago to have the prince in my home, it is equally important that he feel obligated to me, his host, and that he find time to speak to me alone.'

'I understand,' said Harrison amiably.

'I want to get him aside. To impress upon him how qualified I am to be ambassador, and to let him know how eager I am to have the post. Obviously, he can't play any decisive part in this except to influence the kaiser, who may then make it known to the White House that I would be most welcome in Berlin. Am I making a mistake in undertaking this?'

'Not at all, not a bit,' said the mayor, seeing Armbruster to the door. 'You do things for people, and then you expect them to do something in return. It is the way of the world.'

'I'm relieved to hear you say so. Thank you very much, and keep in touch with me.' He paused. 'Meanwhile, I wish you luck in your reform campaign. I agree that it is necessary to have Chicago clean as a whistle on the day Prince Henry arrives.'

They were in the stable area of the old Washington Park race track, some distance behind the wooden two-tier grandstand. Bruce Lester and Karen were escorting a horse owner named Robert Clifford to the farthest stall, where Bruce's colt, Frontier, was feeding.

Clifford was the fifth – and last – potential buyer that Bruce was showing his horse to. Of the first four, three had shown no interest and one had offered a meagre $300.

'Here he is, Mr Clifford,' said Bruce, leading the man into the stall. 'A beauty, isn't he?'

Clifford stood away, surveying the horse. 'Rather small for a three-year-old. Is he undernourished?'

'He's well-nourished,' Bruce snapped. 'He's strong.'

Clifford walked around the friendly brown colt, patting his body, then stopped to study his legs.

'Small,' Clifford said again. 'Delicate, I suspect.'

'Strong,' Bruce persisted.

Clifford extracted a card from his pocket and studied it. 'The breeding record doesn't promise too much.'

'His dam showed in the Futurity.'

'A poor third,' said Clifford. 'I don't know. I don't think he'd be much of a horse to run. I might be able to use him for stud. I think I can make you an offer of $500.'

'No more?'

'Not a cent more.'

Karen pulled Bruce aside. 'Don't accept it, Bruce. Someone else will come along.'

Bruce returned to Clifford. 'I don't know. I'd like a little more time to make up my mind.'

'You make up your mind, young man,' Clifford said. 'I'll be leaving Chicago three days after the Derby.'

'I'll give you an answer by then,' Bruce promised.

After Clifford had left, Bruce and Karen remained behind in the stall.

Studying his horse as it munched hay, Bruce said, 'Even if I sold him, the buying price wouldn't go very far. Not enough to restart a stable of my own in Kentucky.'

Karen stared at him. 'Are you saying you'd have to take a job with Armbruster – and what goes with it?'

'I'm not saying anything yet,' Bruce protested. 'I'm only saying I have a father who is an invalid, who is about to lose his home, and I'm the only person who can help him. I'm trying to keep reality in perspective, Karen.'

'What about your sister?' asked Karen. 'She's marrying into the Armbruster family.'

'Impossible,' said Bruce. 'She couldn't ask for money from the Armbrusters. We're supposed to be a well-off Southern family. That's why we're staying with our aunts, so that we'll appear to be more than we are. No, it's all up to me.'

'Well, what are you going to do?' She hesitated. 'Except marry Judith Armbruster.'

Bruce ignored her remark. 'I have two choices for the moment. One is to sell Frontier for what Clifford offered. If I do that I'll have no horse and almost no money. The second is to let Frontier run in the American Derby for the $25,000 purse. I've already had him entered, but he'll be up against big favourites like The Picket and he doesn't stand much of a chance. He doesn't have stamina. He doesn't even have a jockey.'

'Find a jockey,' Karen persisted. 'I see no other choice.'

Bruce sighed. 'I've already tried. The top jockeys are signed for other entries. The rest of them wouldn't ride a long shot without a guaranteed payment and for only a percentage of his winnings.'

Unhappily, Karen turned away from the stall to leave. 'I guess your best bet is still Judith Armbruster.'

Bruce followed her out into the stable area, about to protest, when he was diverted by a red Ford chugging towards them. Edmund was at the wheel with Minna Everleigh, her face covered with a veil, beside him and Dr Herman Holmes in the rear seat.

Minna was waving to them. As the Ford came up to them and stopped, Minna called down, 'Bruce, what are you doing here? We're just having a look around before the Derby. Bruce Lester, meet our family physician, Dr Holmes.' Turning to Holmes, she added, 'Doctor Holmes, meet Karen Grant.'

Karen flushed, and momentarily stammered her acknowledgement.

Dr Holmes touched his derby, smiling. 'I've met Miss Grant. Pleased to know you, Mr Lester.'

Minna was addressing Bruce. 'You haven't told me what you're doing here.'

'Remember, I mentioned I brought my best horse up from Kentucky, a three-year-old named Frontier? I have him stabled here. I've entered him in the American Derby.'

'Wonderful,' said Minna.

'Less than wonderful,' said Bruce. 'I entered him, but I haven't got a jockey – I mean, one who'll ride for only a percentage of the purse.'

Minna stared at Bruce. 'You're looking for a jockey to ride Frontier?'

'Exactly.'

'Have you ever heard of a Garrison finish?'

'Of course. When a horse comes from behind to win.'

'Do you know how the expression Garrison finish came into being?'

'No.'

'About ten years ago,' said Minna, 'there was a jockey named Ed 'Snapper' Garrison. In the Suburban Handicap at Belmont Park, Garrison was riding dead last rounding into the stretch. Then he started a whiplashing run through the

stretch, coming from last to first to win by a head. That was a typically Garrison finish.' She paused. 'Well, Ed 'Snapper' Garrison is here in Washington Park today. Have you tried him?'