Minna had brought the opera glasses to her eyes, and now Bruce lifted his binoculars once more, focusing on the starting post.
A new saddle girth had been brought for Garrison and had been speedily exchanged for the broken one.
Satisfied at last, Snapper Garrison sprung up, mounted Frontier, and was firmly astride. Bruce followed Garrison's gaze as the jockey studied his rivals. The other horses appeared wilted, even tired. Bruce focused on his own colt. He could see that Frontier remained cool, quiet, rested – and yes, ready.
Bruce's binoculars arced towards the starter, who had the field lined up in place.
And then the webbing flashed upwards – and they were off.
Bruce leaned over the rail trying to make out how they'd started. Some unknown had gone to the front. The favourite, The Picket, was second by a half-length. Bruce scanned the rushing field driving for the first turn, but he couldn't find the green and white colours. Then he did – Frontier was in twelfth place, dead last and galloping lazily. Garrison's whip was still in his boot as they drove around towards the halfway mark.
The horses were pounding into the backstretch. The unknown leader had fallen back into the pack. Two hours at the post with a jockey on his back had begun to take their toll. The Picket had gone to the front by a length, then two lengths. Frontier was no longer in last place. The green and white colours were moving up. Bruce counted. Frontier must be eighth, no, seventh, no – sixth.
The horses galloped through the backstretch, rounding into the homestretch.
Bruce groaned. The Picket was opening up a three-length lead. Frontier moved into fourth place, but time was running out. Bruce shut his eyes. His baby would never make it.
When Bruce opened his eyes, the horses were pounding into the homestretch. At first, Bruce was unable to find Frontier because he wasn't in fourth place, nor was he in third place. He was in second, and Garrison had his whip out at last and was steadily fanning Frontier with his crop.
Heading towards the wire, Frontier was full of heart, full of compact, conserved strength, hardly working up a froth. He was making his bid. Moving like a whirlwind, Frontier was fast closing the gap between The Picket and himself. Snapper Garrison, riding low and hard, was driving for one more Garrison finish.
The crowd noises were thunder behind Bruce. The approaching horses were clouds of swirling dust and beating hoofs as the field approached.
Bruce did not need his glasses now.
What was happening was clear to the naked eye. Frontier had closed the distance between himself and the leader. It was neck and neck, stride for stride with The Picket as they streaked for the wire.
Suddenly, other spectators jammed in front of Bruce, pushing him backwards.
Momentarily, he lost sight of the finish.
Jumping on a free chair, Bruce had a glimpse of one horse flashing across the finish line, leading by a length. The dust blurred his vision, and for an instant he couldn't tell the colours of the winner.
Then he could make out the winning colours.
Green and white!
Frontier, Snapper Garrison up, had won the American Derby of 1903. It was Frontier at fifteen to one. It was the $25,000 first-place purse.
Bruce found a breathless Karen Grant coming towards him, hugging him, kissing him.
Then she stared up at him. Bruce was unable to read her mind, but Bruce guessed what was on it.
Karen was telling herself that maybe she had not actually won – but she was damned certain that Judith Armbruster had lost.
The telephone on Minna Everleigh's desk was ringing. She hurried across the room to answer it. 'Hello.'
She recognized the man's voice immediately. 'This is Harold T. Armbruster,' he said. 'Is this Miss Minna Lester?'
Minna, from long habit, almost corrected him by saying she was Minna Everleigh. She caught herself in time. 'Yes, this is Minna Lester.'
'How are you? Actually, I'm calling to speak to your nephew. Is Bruce around? I want to congratulate him on his horse's magnificent winning of the American Derby.'
Minna was enjoying this. 'He's out at Washington Park, turning away all the bidders for Frontier.'
'I can understand that,' said Armbruster. 'I was hoping he'd treat me as a special bidder. I'd certainly like to buy that horse, run him a little longer, put him to stud. Will you tell Bruce I'm interested?'
'Gladly,' said Minna. 'But I'm afraid it won't make any difference to Bruce, Mr Armbruster.'
'You're sure of that?'
'I'm positive,' asserted Minna.
'A $25,000 purse may seem a fortune to him now as a young man, but later he'll need all the money he can get.'
'He made $15,000 on his win tickets.'
'Even that can run out,' continued Armbruster. 'I want to tell him that for his future he will still require a steady, well-paying executive job. The offer I made him is still open.'
'You mean provided he marries your daughter Judith.'
'Why, yes, of course. He'd be in the family then, he'd be one of us. Then I'd know I could trust him wholly even in the most sensitive financial matters.'
'I think I can answer for Bruce,' said Minna. 'Nice lady that your daughter is, I don't think Bruce has his mind on marriage today. Or, in fact, on any pursuit other than breeding horses in Kentucky.'
'Too bad. Becoming vice-president of one of the country's largest meat-packing firms is nothing to sneeze at.'
'Mr Armbruster, in that regard, I remind you that Bruce is still a vegetarian. You can speak to him yourself at the
wedding next week. But I must tell you it will be one wedding – not two.'
With that call out of the way for Armbruster, and having concentrated at the work in his plant in the afternoon, his mind returned to a more immediate concern that evening after dinner.
The memory of his own marriage in Milwaukee was still vivid. Or rather, more exactly, the event that preceded his marriage so many years ago. Armbruster's father had taken him aside and told him that any young man unschooled in sex should gain some experience before his wedding night. One sexual encounter with a professional would relieve his tension about what was ahead with Pearl. Therefore, as a pre-wedding gift, his father had taken him to a well-known Milwaukee brothel for his first knowledge of sex with a woman.
Armbruster recalled that he had been terrified, yet he could not deny his father, and besides, he wanted to satisfy his curiosity and get it over with.
At the brothel, the young woman had been advised in advance that her customer was a virgin, and she had been instructed to treat him with consideration.
It had worked out well, better than he had hoped, and when he and Pearl had undressed for their wedding night, he had been ready. He had felt experienced, unafraid of sex with his bride.
Now, with Alan about to be married, Armbruster felt that his own son should enjoy the advantage of the same initiation into the mysteries of sex that he himself had undergone as a youth.
His mind made up to provide Alan with a sexual encounter the following evening, he had gone to the plant to make inquiries about the best brothel to which he might treat his son. For himself, Armbruster knew very little about brothels, except what he had overheard from his friends' bantering gossip. He had never been to one himself in his life with Pearl; in fact, had never been unfaithful to her even once.
Sometimes he saw stories in the press about the city's notorious brothels, but he had always ignored them as wasteful pornographic trash. In truth, he did not know the name of a single brothel in Chicago, but he was not above making inquiries to find out which was the best.