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In them days he's got a big place not far from Loueyville. They tell me his folks get the land original from the govament, when it's nothin' but timber. I hears once, but it don't hardly sound reasonable, that they hands over a half a million acres to the first ole man Sanford, who was a grandaddy of this ole man Sanford. If that's so, Uncle Sam was more of a sport in them days than since.
"I don't know how they pry it all loose from him, but one mawnin' ole man Sanford wakes up clean as a whistle. They've copped the whole works he ain't got nothin'. So he goes to keepin' books fur a whisky house in Loueyville, 'n' he holds the job down steady fur twenty years. The only time he quits pen-pushin' is when they race at Churchill Downs.
"In two days Duckfoot Johnson leads ole Rainbow into the joint, 'n' I tells Brown it's a hoss fur Mr. Van. I looks him over good 'n' he's O. K. I gets Mr. Van on the phone 'n' he comes up 'n' writes a check fur eighteen hundred, payable to Peewee. He gives this to Duckfoot, slips him twenty-five bucks fur hisself, 'n' hands him the fare back to Loueyville besides. "'What next? says Mr. Van to me.
"The colt wins the Nashville Derby, 'n' then I ships him to Loueyville for the Kentucky. We want him to win that more'n all the rest, but as luck goes, he ketches cold shippin', 'n' he can't start. "Miss Goodloe comes over to Loueyville one mawnin' to see him. She gets through huggin' him after while, 'n' sets down in a chair by the stall door.
He tells me there's a train at nine that evenin'. I sends him to the depot to fix it so I can take the colt to Loueyville in the express car, 'n' he says he'll get back quick as he can. I hunts up Peewee, but he's goin' to stay all night, 'cause the yearlin's won't sell till next day. . . .
He was singing, softly singing. And leaning forward I listened. "Curry a mule an' curry a hoss, Keep down trubbul wid de stable boss!" sang Uncle Jake. "Do you happen to notice a old duck that comes to the stalls at Loueyville just after the derby?" asked Blister. "Was his name Sanford, and did he wish to pat the mare?" I asked in turn. "That's him," said Blister. "Ole man Sanford.
"One mawnin' I'm in the Gait House, lookin' fur a hossman that's stoppin' there, 'n' I see Peewee Simpson settin' in the lobby like he'd just bought the hotel. "'Who left the door open? I says to him. "'It's still open, I see, says Peewee, lookin' at me. "We exchanges a few more remarks, 'n' then Peewee tells me he's come to Loueyville to buy some yearlin's fur ole man Harris.
"'You take them plows to hell 'n' make furrows in the cinders with 'em, I says, wonderin' if I can get a train back to Loueyville anyways soon. "But when we gets to the farm I'm glad I come. Man, that was some farm! Miles of level blue-grass pasture, with white fences cuttin' it up into squares, barns 'n' paddocks 'n' sheds, all painted white, just scattered around by the dozen.
"Well, I brings out Salvation as a three-year-old, 'n' what happens is quite a bunch of chatter want to hear it?" "You know it," I said, dropping into Blister's vernacular. "That's pretty good for you," he said, grinning at my slang. "Well, to begin with, I'm in Loueyville. It's in the fall, 'n' I'm just back from Sheepshead. One way 'n' another I've had a good year.
"It ain't a year from the time we leaves Miss Goodloe standin' in the road till then. Salvation wins his every start. He's copped off forty thousand bucks. I guess that's goin' some! "When the season closes I goes through Kentucky on my way South, 'n' I takes a jump over from Loueyville to see the colt.
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