The midland journal. (Rising Sun, Md.) 1885-1947, 1945-11-02

seriously by everyone on the ranch
that summer, and no one rode him
but his trainer, young Ken Nc
Laughlin, who tipped the scale at
ninety-six pounds.
During the winter just past when
the stallion had been kept in, given
a liberal daily ration of oats and
hay and exercise and training by
Rob Mclaughlin, he had achieved a
superb development. He was as tall
as the Percheron-sixteen hands
and would be even taller when he
had his full growth. No longer could
it be said of him that he was I'M
calmly or badly proportioned. All
his parts had grown together. His
legs were long and powerfully mus
cled, his neck massive and arched,
his coat pure dazzling white and
shining with the glossiness of stall
lions skin. Strength, power and
wilfulness were still his outstanding
characteristics.
He was now shod, and Ken was
out with him every day before
breakfast, running him on the track.
He still fought Ken, he still bucked,
but when Ken complained of the
horses dislike of him, his father
said, you've got that wrong, son.
If that horse really hated you he'd
never let you get near him. He
doesn't hate you. He fights you be-
cause he likes to. He enjoys it.
You're his trainer. You've got to
make him do what he doesn't want
to do and he's fighting devil so he
fights you back. But I'll bet, when
he's waiting up there in the morn
ings for you to come and give him
his workout, he'd feel pretty bad
if you didn't show up"
Touch And Go was still the pace
maker for her big brother, and Rob
Mclaughlin said, when I see that
FLY run, damned if I don't think
she's the one that's going to be the
racer"
Touch And Go was a regular
beauty. Tall and daintily made,
with a long reaching neck, straight
slim legs, little feet that would fit
in a cup, and a playful high spirit
that kept her always acting up, al
ways dancing and going sideways.
Her ruddy hide was glorious in the
sun, and the blond tail and name
gave her q de luxe, made-to-order
look.
To Rob Mclaughlin her perfect
conformation was a justification OF
his theories of line breeding, and he
sometimes studied the racing sheet,
making a note of what events were
scheduled for two-year-olds. "We
might run her too," he said, put
her in the baby class"
The summer passed very slowly
for Ken, because it was all tense
waiting for the racing season, and
a tense watching of Thunderhead.
Besides, it was full Of excitement
Just one thing after the other. The
first excitement was when he got
home and found out what was going
to happen to his mother. It was
hard for Ken to keep his mind from
confusion when he thought about
that. She had wanted it. Hadn't she
said at dinner that night, II want
a monkey tree. want a sleigh all
covered with bells, and I want
little GIRL" and Of course it was
right for his mother to have what
she wanted. But it was hard to
take. He had argued with her about
it.
"But mother, you've got us! How
ard and me. Aren't we enough?"
"No, I want little girl"
"Want her much, mother?"
"Want her lots, dear. Remember
how hard you wanted Flicka?"
"It might be boy" said Ken
gloomily, and he added, Besides,
doesn't it hurt awfully?"
Nell was busy putting the laundry
away. She counted the piles Of
sheets she was stacking in the linen
closet.
doesn't it, mother?" insisted
Ken. doc Hicks might have to-"
"Ken! This is going to be babyl
And Doc Hicks won't have any
thing to do with It'll"
ooh, sure-I know that"
Sand as for its hurting-who cares
about that?" She had finished stack
ing and her voice was very gay.
"You don't get anything for moth
ing, dear"
.'No." His father had told him
plenty about that.
"And didn't you" her hand was
lightly on his head, arranging his
soft brown hair SO that it did not
fall over his forehead, didn't you
sit all night in the cold water hold
ing Flicka-just because you loved
her and wanted her so much?"
She was through with the linen
and went quickly back to the
kitchen. Ken watched her, not an
swering her out loud but thinking
to himself that it was different. How
could you love something you hadn't
ever seen and be willing, in adj
vance, to suffer for it? With Flicka,
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