Racehoss Read online

  Racehoss: Big Emma’s Boy

  By Albert Race Sample

  Copyright 1984 Albert Race Sample

  Smashwords Edition

  Smashwords Edition, License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  This book is available in print at most online retailers.

  Foreword

  At first the gallop will jar you. Settle into the saddle, don’t pull too tight; let him go. This is an experienced horse with a heart of fire, a long gait and a sure foot. You’ll be happy about this when you realize what you are running from, and elated when you finally see where you are going—the finish gate, all shiny and bright. Your face will be streaked, but the wind will have blown the tears to the sides and your mouth will feel sweet from the thrill of the ride—and the tears will not be salty.

  I have met many illustrious people in my life, but none as memorable as this man. Now, I, too, after twenty years, have to let him go. All I can say about Albert Race Sample is that he is an American treasure. The true spine of his life, of his story, is what our collective conscience is all about … or should be.

  I walked into a bookstore in 1986 when I was twenty-six and saw a book titled RACEHOSS: Big Emma’s Boy on one of those metal-wire, full-size carousels. I spun it once, twice, but those words kept mining at my soul—“One man’s journey to hell and back.” I bought it, all hook, line and sinker. I stayed up at nights, as I do now twenty years later, reading about what it means to look down and see the edge of the universe, the abyss of a tortured soul. Yet, every time, Race heals you—so finely, so precisely, so legitimately—as I wish I could do to him in this instant.

  After I got by the agent who warned me to not call “that crazy old man,” my life was changed as it is by those life-altering moments that make you who you are in the end—the person you love, the birth of your children, the passing of your parents. I, too, was healed and restored and renewed and renewed and renewed. We cried, we laughed, we fought, we made up and we loved each other to death—we even made a movie.

  As you read this book, don’t be shy to cry. It’s okay. It’s okay because Race has forgiven. Even though he had to do it the hard way and sometimes it seemed as if it was an impossible quest, in the end he found what mattered most to him, true love from Carol (his other half), from me and from you. Forgiven but not forgotten like the Holocaust during the war in Germany, in Vietnam, in Rwanda, in Sudan. You must never forget this—any of it.

  When you grow older, you will come back to it because in those moments when all is lost and everything has turned, you will know that Race is there, to hold your hand in a way that no one else really can. Because he knows.

  Sean Hepburn Ferrer

  Author, humanitarian, filmmaker, father, husband, brother, and friend.

  (2005)

  Table of Contents

  Prelude

  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

  The Retrieveites

  About the Author

  Prelude

  1909 Sunday morning … somewhere in western Louisiana

  Standing in front of the mirror, Lillie Barnes hastily fumbled with the pearl-tipped hairpin as she pushed it through the bun in the back. While fitting on the flower-laden straw hat, hurrying not to be late for the eleven o’clock church service, she hollered into the kitchen, “Bama, y’all hurry up now or we gon be late!”

  “Yes mam, we hurryin Mama.”

  “Be sho an wipe that baby’s face an tie her shoes up.”

  “Yes mam.”

  Taking a last quick glance and smoothing down her Sunday gingham dress, she thought about how nice it would be if Son Buddy were here to go to church with them. He was seventeen, the oldest of her four children and already out on his own. Smiling she thought to herself, But even ef he wuz heah, me an him would be goin roun an roun. That boy got slow as cream risin when it cum time to go to church.

  Rushing the children, she called into the kitchen again, “Bama, y’all bout ready?”

  “Yes mam, Mama. We ready.”

  “Well, cum on now, les go.”

  Her husband, Charlie, was already seated on the wagon and waiting for them. Cautioning as she turned the skeleton key in the lock, “One uv y’all betta ketch holt uv that baby’s hand so she don’t fall goin down them steps.” Sally grabbed it—she was eight. Bama was twelve and the “baby,” Emma, was four.

  His patience worn thin, Charlie said, “Lillie, y’all hurry up ef’n you want me to drive y’all down there.” He had other plans. As soon as he dropped them off, he was heading straight for the gambling shack. Grumbling still, “Damn, Lillie, it takes y’all longer to git ready than anybody I ever seen. I been settin out heah nelly a hour.”

  “Oh bosh,” she said, “you ain’ been settin out heah no hour. Quit yo fussin. You’ll have plenny time to gamble,” settling herself on the hard oak seat.

  Looking back over his shoulder, “Bama, y’all hurry up an git in.” Sally couldn’t lift Emma up onto the wagon bed alone; Bama had to help her. “Y’all on?” Charlie asked.

  “Yessir we on.”

  “Y’all set down back there an behave,” he ordered.

  Lillie added, “Bama, you an Sally bet not let that baby fall out.”

  Charlie snapped the reins and started the mules in motion, “Cum up heah Jake, Ol’ Blackie!” whacking them on the rump as they struck up a trot.

  Bouncing on the springless seat and holding her hat down on her head, “Charlie, don’t git to gamblin an forgit to cum back an git us.”

  Irritated, he said dryly, “Don’t worry Lillie. I won’t forgit y’all.”

  It was miserably hot and each time the wagon ran over a bump in the dusty road, Lillie complained. “Slow down a little bit Charlie. You ain’ gotta be in such a great big hurry to git rid uv us. I’m gon make a cushion for this hard thang or start brangin me a pillow to set on.” She was nine months pregnant and expecting their fifth child any day now.

  “Oh shet yo mouth Lillie. I ain’ goin all that fass.” Aggravated, he coaxed the mules to speed up. They had less than a mile to go after crossing the branch. The mules were trotting at a rapid pace when the front wheel on Charlie’s side bounced over a big rut and suddenly rolled off.

  Everyone was thrust sideways when the wagon jerked and tilted to the left. Frightened, little Emma started crying. Charlie had his hands full getting the spooked mules to slow down. Lillie grabbed onto the seat tightly with both hands. When she let go of her hat, the wind whisked it away and it was crushed beneath the wheels.

  Pulling back on the reins with all his strength, “WHOAA! WHOAA! WHOA BLACKIE! WHOA JAKE! WHOAA! WHOA!” The mules slowed down and finally stopped.

  “Y’all awright?” Lillie quickly asked the children. “Is the baby hurt?”

  “Yes mam, we awright. No mam, she ain’ hurt, she jes scaid,” Bama answered.

  “You awright Sally?�
�

  “Yes’m, I’m awright Mama,” she sniveled.

  It took some slow doing for Lillie to climb down the jacked-up side of the wagon. Nervously rubbing her overswollen belly, she told the girls to unload as she walked around to Charlie’s side. While he stood looking down at the wheelless axle she nagged, “I tole you to slow down but you so bullheaded an won’t lissen to nobody. At least you could’ve cum roun an hep’d me git down.”

  “Lillie, jes shet up an lemme alone so I kin fix the damn wagon! Sally, go back down there’n git that wheel an roll it up heah.”

  “Yessir.” Sally about-faced and took off down the road.

  “Take Emma witcha so she kin git my hat,” Lillie yelled. Adding to herself sorrowfully, “I know it’s all messed up.”

  “Yes’m, c’mon Emma.”

  While they waited for Sally’s return, Lillie asked, “Do you thank you kin git it back on?”

  “Yeah, I bleeve so,” he said while rummaging through the junk he stored underneath the seat. “Gotdammit!” he bellowed. “I thought I had anutha pin but I ain’. Well, ef I kin jes git the wheel back on the axle I’ll use a nail, maybe it’ll stay on long nuff to git y’all to church.”

  Emma had found the hat and ran back eagerly. “Mama, is all broke,” she said, handing it over to Lillie.

  “Yeah baby, I know.”

  Sally rolled the wheel up to the wagon and leaned it against the side. Charlie bent down and lifted the bed up. The beads of sweat popped out on his forehead as he strained to keep it hoisted. Realizing he needed help, “Bama git over heah an ketch holt.”

  Obediently, she rushed to his side and began lifting. Bama grunted and strained shoulder to shoulder with her father. When the heavy oak bed was up a little higher Charlie yelled, “Sally, roll that wheel roun heah ‘n git ready to shove it on.” Sally quickly rolled the wheel in front of the axle and stood waiting, but they couldn’t raise it high enough before his arms gave out. “Les ease it down Bama,” he said winded.

  After wiping away the sweat with his bandanna and catching a breath, Charlie bent back down. “Okay, les try it Bama,” prodding, “but this time lift hard is you kin.”

  “Yessir.” Bama drew a deep breath and bent over.

  Before they could start lifting, Lillie, with motherly instincts, stepped up and nudged Bama away. She took her place saying, “Charlie, you know this thang’s too heavy for that gal to be tryin to pick up.”

  Shoving Lillie away from the wagon, Charlie snarled, “I didn’ tell you to do it! I tole her to do it! Bama git back over heah!”

  “Naw Charlie, I dun tole you thas too heavy for her,” Lillie persisted.

  Charlie stood up, “Thas whut’s th’ Gotdam matter now. You pamper these rotten chillun all the time an won’t let ‘em do nuthin. You the reason they ain’ worth a shit.”

  Angered, Lillie blurted out, “Charlie Barnes, sometimes you make me so mad I could jes wring yo neck off! Lemme—”

  “You jes git yo ass outta my way!” Charlie hollered. C’mon Bama.”

  Unhesitating, Bama tried to heed his order, but Lillie would not relinquish her and got a lifting hold on the bed. Without looking back, Lillie snapped, “Ef you tired uv foolin roun, les git this thang up. We late enuff as it is.”

  In deathly silence, Charlie reached into the wagon and grabbed the extra singletree. Gripping one end in both hands like a club, he raised it high above his head and powerfully crashed it across Lillie’s lower back. As she lay writhing and gasping on the roadside, he stared at her a long moment, then dropped the singletree and fled into the woods. Bama took off running for the church to get help. A few minutes later, Lillie was dead. Horror stricken, Sally and little Emma clung to each other and looked while their new baby sister was born.

  As soon as she got word of her daughter’s death, Louduskie came down by train. Her husband had been dead for years, but she brought along the rest of her family for the funeral. Lillie, at thirty-six, was the oldest of her nine children. The other four daughters and four sons, whose ages ranged from fourteen to thirty-two, still lived at home with her. In addition, the clan also had four grandchildren belonging to two of her unmarried daughters, and one daughter-in-law.

  After the funeral and the man came and got his wagon and mules Charlie still owed him for, there was no more business to transact. Lillie and Charlie had been renting the house, and the meager insurance policy on Lillie was just enough to cover her funeral and burial. With no reason to remain any longer, the tribe would be leaving in the morning.

  Louduskie dug deeper into the large purse, corralling and smoothing out the crumpled dollar bills as she laid them on the ticket counter. Good thing she thought to get some more money from the coffee can before she left; she was buying three extra tickets for the trip back to Big Sandy, Texas. The infant that Bama named Elzado could ride free. “Grandma Duck,” as she was known to her grandchildren, held onto the round-trip tickets she bought in Big Sandy for the others, and handed Bama their three tickets for safekeeping.

  Apart from the others, sitting on one of the waiting benches to give her feet a much needed rest, Grandma Duck watched her grandchildren playing on the station platform. Noticing they were getting too close to the tracks, she yelled, “Y’all git back away frum the edge uv that platform!”

  Her mind drifted, We barely makin it off them three acres as it is. Fo mo moufs to feed sho gon be hard on me an wit that lowdown Charlie in jail, he won’t be no hep atall. Only reason I’m takin his chillun in’s cuz nobody else would. His mama an papa both dead an his fo brothers an sister didn’ even show up at the funeral. They ain’ nuthin but a lowdown stankin bunch uv thievin, gamblin heathens whut ain’ hit a lick a work since they be grown. An Son Buddy can’t keep ‘em. He jes a porter livin in the back room uv a hotel where he works at in Gilmer. He never did git ‘long wit that ol’ devil an got away quick as he could. First time Lillie Mae cum draggin him up to my house, I tole her then. She wuzn’ nuthin but a baby, not even eighteen. Everbody in town knowed bout his drankin, fightin an gamblin an carryin on. Bless my po chile’s heart, she wouldn’ lissen. Hard as I tried Lord, she jes wouldn’ lissen. I know you do’s thangs fur a reason. She’s in yo hands now Lord, rest her soul.

  Louduskie’s shoulders sagged and her tears flowed freely. While dabbing them away, she heard the train whistle in the distance. She stood and yelled, “Git back frum that edge! Rat now!” The ducklings scampered over to their mothers and started shouting and pointing at the huge rumbling mass of steel coming down the tracks.

  Bama quickly covered the baby’s face with the blanket to protect her from the swirling dust storm the engine kicked up as it went by. Emma’s dress blew over her face as she gleefully jumped up and down, excited about her first ride on a “choo-choo.” When Grandma Duck heard the porter’s “All aboard!” she gathered “her” flock together at the coach’s boarding steps and stood to one side, making sure everybody got on. Then she boarded.

  Afterwards Bama stepped on carrying Elzado in one arm and lugging a cardboard suitcase. Sally helped Emma up the steps and they trailed behind Bama as she looked for seats. She found two with the backs already flipped the right way so they could sit facing each other. Taking a window seat, Bama told Sally to sit next to her so the active Emma could have the whole seat to herself.

  The train slowly pulled out and then picked up speed. The telephone poles went zooming up through the window. Emma was taking it all in and merrily swinging her feet back and forth when she asked, “Sally, how cum Mama didn’ go on th’ choo-choo wit us?”

  “Cuz she can’t Emma. Mama dead.”

  “How cum she dead, Sally?”

  “Cuz th’ preacher say it wuz time for God to cum ‘n take her away to heaven.”

  “Is God gon let her cum back?”

  “Naw, she ain’ never comin back.”

  Well, God ain’ nice an I don’t lak Him no mo if He ain’ gon let Mama cum back frum heb’n.”

  Rocking
Elzado motherly, Bama gently scolded, “Sally, y’all hush up. Emma, you look out the window at th’ moo-cows,” quickly turning her face toward the window to keep them from knowing.

  When Emma saw some she pointed out the window exclaiming, “Look Bama! Look! There go sum moo-cows!”

  “I saw ‘em Emma.”

  “How cum you cryin then?”

  “Watchin moo-cows thru a train window always make me cry.”

  “Oh,” Emma answered and looked back out the window.

  Chapter 1

  When the Barnes girls walked into the house, Grandma Duck told them to wait in the hall. She went in one of the rooms, put away her hat and purse, and returned. At fifty-six, she was a robust giant of a woman, standing nearly six feet tall and weighing over two hundred pounds. Ill-tempered and worn out from the funeral and trip, she didn’t mince words.

  “Y’all kin cum to the table to eat afta we git thru. Bama, fur as I’m concerned, them chillun b’long to you an you gon hafta keep that baby quiet. I hear enuff cryin in this house. You gon hafta see afta ‘em. I dun raised all the young’uns I’m gon. Sally kin hep you wit y’all’s washin an ironin. She tend to them other two while you hep in th’ kitchen wit the cookin.”

  With hands on her hips, Grandma Duck towered ominously over the girls as she continued, “I’m tellin y’all rat now, I ain’ gon put up wit one bit uv y’all’s foolishness. An y’all bet not be sassin out none a these grown folks roun heah neitha. Ef you do, I’ll burn y’all’s hind-ends up. Do y’all hear me? Did you hear me, Bama?”

  “Yes’m, Grandma Duck.”

  Beckoning for them to follow, “Y’all cum on in heah an put y’all’s thangs up under one a these beds.”

  Bama’s arm was cramping from holding Elzado for so long, and she asked, “Grandma Duck, where kin I lay the baby down?”

  Pointing to the open entry door, “Take her in yonner an lay her on one a them beds. Make sho you put sump’n else under her so she won’t pee all over everthang.”