402
PARTISAN REVIEW
Horace said, "Give me a second, please," and then to Nachman,
"Frenchy is twenty to one. You know something I don't?"
Nachman said, "Frenchy."
Nachman's voice was strong with authority, as if he knew what he was
talking about. In fact, he'd never been less certain of himself but he want–
ed to give something to Horace. Frenchy was all he had.
Horace turned back and slid the money across the counter. Nachman
placed his own bet, then joined Horace and his daughter. They walked
down the steps and worked their way through the crowd to the rail.
Horace didn't look at Nachman.
"You don't win,
I'll
give you fifty dollars," said Nachman, regretful and
anxious. It became worse when Horace said, "I made the bet. I lose, I lose.
Any other day but today, Nachman. Any other day."
"What?"
"I wouldn't have done it."
"You did the right thing," said Nachman, bluffing, unable to shut up.
"When Frenchy wins, you'll make a thousand dollars."
"I don't need a thousand dollars."
"What do you need?"
Horace didn't answer, which made things still worse. Apparently, the
race now meant a great deal to him. The race was on. Nachman had to
force himself to look.
The pack bunched up coming out of the gate and stayed tight until
Night Flower took the lead. Nachman couldn't see Frenchy, but he heard
the announcer say Frenchy was running fifth. Nachman stared strictly at
the horses. He thought he could feel Horace glance at him. Then the
announcer said Frenchy was coming up through the pack, running
fourth, running third. Camille began screaming, "Frenchy, Frenchy," as
the horses came into the stretch. Horace placed his fists on the rail and
hammered it slowly, methodically. Nachman looked at him, hoping for a
connection, anticipating Horace's disappointment and maybe anger.
Frenchy couldn't win. At least he looked better than usual, thought
Nachman. Horace's face showed nothing, but Nachman saw terrible
intensity in his fists. In the stretch, Frenchy pulled ahead fast and won by
three lengths.
Nachman said, "Thank God."
Horace was grinning and shaking his head. "I don't believe it."
"Believe it. Frenchy could have won by more," said Nachman with a
knowing tone.
"He won good enough."
Horace took Camille's hand, then headed off to collect his winnings.
He glanced back and nodded, and his eyes said thanks to Nachman.
