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Updated: June 9, 2025
Chestnut's novels included "The Conjure Woman" and "The Wife of His Youth and Other Stories of the Color Line", whereas Dunbar, who wrote mainly poetry, was best known for his novel "The Sport of the Gods". Chestnut's writing, though moving away from the plantation romanticism which had glorified slavery, developed a more realistic flavor, and it emphasized intergroup relations based on the color line rather than developing the interior lives of its characters.
It might be a miracle, but it was his duty to obey. As he galloped, Carter edged Lucretia to the right. Without looking back he could feel Lauzanne creeping up between him and Diablo. Soon the Chestnut's head showed past his elbow, and they were both lapped on the Black. Halfway up the stretch Allis was riding stirrup to stirrup with her father. Porter's weight was telling on Diablo.
Kitty Wade, turning her head to retort, surprised a quiet, enigmatic smile on Clyde's face. Their eyes met, and keen question and defiant answer leaped across the glance. Kitty Wade let the retort remain unspoken, and contemplated the nigh chestnut's ears, for her husband's last words had given her a clew. "Oh, Clyde Burnaby, Clyde Burnaby!" she said to herself with a little shake of the head.
He made one mistake in the beginning. He pushed the chestnut too hard the first and second days, so that on the third day he was forced to give the gelding his head and go at a jarring trot most of the day. On the fourth and fifth days, however, he had the reward for his caution. The chestnut's ribs were beginning to show painfully, but he kept doggedly at his work with no sign of faltering.
When the starter sent Lauzanne off trailing behind the other seven runners in the race that afternoon, Redpath made a faint essay, experimentally, to hold to Allis's orders, by patiently nestling over the Chestnut's strong withers in a vain hope that his mount would speedily seek to overtake the leaders.
"Drap out'n the saddle, turn the critter loose in the road, an' take ter the woods," urged Ike. "They'll sarch an' ketch me," quavered Jube. He was frantic at the idea of being captured on the horse's back, but if it should come to a race, he preferred trusting to the chestnut's four legs rather than to his own two. Ike hesitated.
"But perhaps he couldn't pull up," Bella defended him desperately, as if she would not believe the truth she dreaded. "There were other ways open. He could have gone at the hedge a yard or two on one side; he could have spoiled the chestnut's take-off and made him jump short.
He did not realize that he had drawn up his horse suddenly at the sight of her, nor did he notice that his host had dismounted, until Roxby was at the chestnut's head, ready to lead the animal to supper in the barn. His evident surprise, his preoccupation, were not lost upon Roxby, however. His hand hesitated on the girth of the chestnut's saddle when he stood between the two horses in the barn.
Indeed, at the light of friendship in his broncho's eyes, as well as at the pony's neigh of welcome, back there at the yard, he had felt a boundless pleasure in his veins. He patted the chestnut's neck, in his rough, brusque way of companionship, and the horse fairly quivered with pleasure. For nearly two hours the willing animal went zig-zagging up the rocky slopes.
"I'm afraid the Chestnut's a bad actor," Dixon said to Allis, after the race. "We'll never do no good with him. If he couldn't beat that lot he's not worth his feed bill." "He would have won had I been on his back," declared the girl, loyally. "That's no good, Miss; you can't ride him, you see. We've just got one peg to hang our hat on that's Lucretia."
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