The Horse Tamer by Walter Farley Read Free Book Online Page B

down the newspaper. “It sounds as though you talked to this reporter,” he told Finn Caspersen.
    “Not at all. Had nothing to do with it.”
    “Then someone ought to tell him that there was no witchery to what I did in Pottstown. Those who attended my classes can now do what I did.”
    “I wouldn’t say that,” Finn replied quietly. “But they’re better off than they were.”
    “So are their horses,” Hank spoke up from a nearby couch.
    “So are their horses,” Finn repeated. “Say, Bill, now that you’re a success and going on …”
    “To Reading?” Bill asked. “Did you make the arrangements?”
    Finn nodded his head. “The circulars are printed and up. I rented a bigger place this time, an old riding school.” He ran a hand through his unruly hair. “You didn’t whisper to the horses last week as you said you would occasionally. I was figuring that maybe in Reading …”
    Bill Dailey left the table to get a drink of water. When he returned he said, “I’m goin’ to be honest with people, Finn, and if you don’t like it that way …”
    “Aw, Bill, don’t get sore now. I’m not asking you to be dishonest, just a little more of a
showman
. Give the people what they want, that’s all. If you’re going to talk to horses—and you do, you know—why can’t youwhisper to them once in a while? It’s not going to do any harm and the people will love it. Besides, if they want to smell your hands and clothes, let them. Don’t keep
insisting
there’s no magic to what you do.” He paused, his eyes holding Bill’s. “There is, you know.”
    “You too?” Bill Dailey asked with bewilderment.
    “Walking into that Clayton horse’s stall and coming out alive was magic,” Finn answered quietly. “He didn’t
have
to get over as you told him to do. He could have kicked you into the stands before you got that rope rig on him.”
    Bill Dailey laughed and suddenly all the tension between the two men was gone. “That’s not magic, Finn, that’s
pretendin’
. When I looked him straight in the eye he had no idea how uneasy I was.”
    “You’re not going to teach people things like that,” Finn argued. “They either have it or they don’t have it. So what I’m getting at is this: if they want to call what you do magic, let them. Don’t just keep insisting it isn’t.”
    “But that’s exactly what I’m tryin’ to accomplish,” Bill explained again.
    “You’re trying to
reach
people,” Finn corrected. “And unless you give them what they want you’re not going to have an audience big enough to fill even a small livery stable. I know. I’m outside trying to get them inside. I know what they want. We ought to have a band and some trained ponies and horses to go along with us, too. You could show them how you drive without reins. We’d really pack them in, Bill. Just think of the number of people you’d be reaching and educating!”
    Bill Dailey went to the kitchen window and lookedout at the stable below. “If I did all that, you’d want to sell taming medicines next,” he said, suddenly very tired. “You’d turn us into a medicine show.”
    “No, I wouldn’t,” Finn answered. “But even you said that the Arabian Secret stuff worked as well as apples or anything else a horse was fond of. The point I’m trying to make is that if people want to buy something more expensive than apples we might as well sell it to them.”
    “It’s dishonest. If you start doing that, you’ll end up selling—well, tincture of lobelia.”
    “What’ll that do?” Finn asked curiously.
    “Two ounces of it will make a vicious horse so sick he can’t resist handling or anything else.”
    “Oh,” Finn said. “A gypsy told me about something like that once. He said all you had to do to handle a bad horse was to boil a plug of tobacco in a gallon of ale and give it to him. What’s wrong with that kind of taming?”
    “The same as what’s wrong with tying a horse down without food or