Worcester Democrat and the ledger-enterprise. (Pocomoke City, Md.) 1921-1953, 1939-11-03
CHAPTER 1

CHAFIER
Coronado danced out of the paddock
and strobe boldly onto Santa Anita's
dust-smooth track, a slim-legged, mag
nificent symphony in ebony. At sight
of him Heather Mills rose in her box
as if her own shining young beauty
was lifted by the magnificence of the
great race horse.
. coronado" she breathed, and her
hand went to her lips as kiss was
wrung from them and tossed to the
splendid creature shining like polish
ed metal in the sun.
Coronado! The name on her lips
was taken up in the acclaiming roar
of $4,000 Threats. 1t carried to the
purple slopes of the Sierra Madres
rising off the back stretch like giant
stage curtain backdrop.
Coronado Coronado
Did the great race horse under
stand? He staggered postward, toss
ing his name proudly over the impa-
tient heads of his eighteen eager n
walls, all prepared to strain their
hearts this day in an attempt to pass
him.
His challenging eyes were ablaze
with courage. His nostrils quivered
and his long tail swished with the
excitement of the race ahead.
Coronado was still working on
winning streak of fourteen straight!
He had last savored victory on his
sensitive velvet lips months before
at Bay Meadows, when in rattle and
roll finish he had outgamed Stiletto
in the stretch.
Greatest acclaim of all would come
to him this day, with victory that
would hurl the name of Coronado
eastward to the blue rolling hills of
Kentucky, and on in triumph to Bel
mont and Saratoga.
The horse loving world was mus
tered for the Santa Anita Handicap
to watch Coronado, the equine orr
famine, black prince Of the western
tracks, carry its money home in ava
lanches, for the big lights on the mag
ic tote board across the track flashed
him a 6 to 5 favorate.
Coronado seemed to sense this hon
or, prancing, eyes magnificently roll
ing, without a guiding move of the
rein from his 112 pound jockey, Joe
Gardner.
Down the stretch lane, thanked on
both sides with the banked overflow
of admirers, he came.
Then, pausing at the judges stand,
Coronado gave one of the almost hu-
man gestures that had made him the
darling of the western tracks. He
whirled, facing the grandstand.
Like a master Snowman saluting
his public, Coronado reared, flung up
his elegantly arched neck, stood mo-
mentarily poised-a miracle of
strength and beauty-and bowed!
"Coronado!" squealed the crowd,
enraptured.
Heather's small hands were clasp
ed. She whispered, as if she could
not believe it, "My Coronado!" For
her future was Coronado's.
Strange that the life of Cali
fornia girl, freshly home from Mary
land finishing school, should depend
on the long, slim limbs and flashing
speed of a race horse.
But Heather's father, old Dan Mills,
whose spare figure was hunched in
tweeds over the rail by the track, had
lived all his days by the earnings of
his splendid horses.
And Coronado was horse beyond
any of the others. He was every
card in Dams deck. AS he raced to
victory the fortunes of Dan and Heath
er would race with him.
Heather looked lovingly to Dan,
over the cascading tiers of humans
stirring with excitement. A horse
man of the old school her father, born
with the turf in his blood and honesty
in his bones. Not betting man, but
a sportsman whose supreme thrill
came with seeing horse of his win.
Dams gray figure was motionless,
but Heather could sense his almost
prayerful excitement. She herself
was thrillingly aware of that terrible
eagerness for the first time in her 1S
years.
For, while Heather was the daugh-
ter Of old Dan, most ardent of the
Western horsemen, this was her first
horse race!
"No daughter of mine," her San
Francisco Social Register mother had
stated firmly and often, "is going to
track stable dirt into my drawing
room!"