Evelyn E. Smith

“ You've made a big impression, I could see that."
"Who cares what people think?"
"I saw Pamplemousse giving you the eye," Watson murmured. "Good-looking horse, isn't he? Any filly'd be glad to have him interested in her."
"Oh, I dunno," Incubus said. "He's all right, I guess, if you like them tall and dark. But, okay, I'll try it again for you, Watson."
Godlove accosted them again as Watson led Incubus into her stall. "I take back what I said about your horse, Watson," he apologized. "She looks like a fiend, but she runs like one too. With the proper handling, she might be a stake horse." ”

“ She simpered. "I've been talking to Pamplemousse—you know, Godlove's horse—and he says it isn't ethical what I'm doing, that I'm competing with horses way below my class, that it isn't fair."
"But there aren't any horses in your class."
"I know," she sighed. "Sometimes superiority can have its disadvantages. That's what Pamplemousse says—he says it isn't fair for me to run at all. Says woman's place is in the home. Do you think woman's place is in the home, Watson?"
Prunella neighed in the adjoining stall.
"That's a dirty lie!" Incubus shrieked, getting up. ”

“ The weather was clear and the track fast. Incubus was running at three to five—Prunella ninety-eight to one. Reuben Godlove appeared with his arm in a sling and a bandage on his forehead and glowered at Watson. "A fine trainer you are," he snarled. ”

“ The racing secretary smiled. "Well, Mr. Watson, you don't have to be afraid that anybody'll claim her. Godlove has spread the word around. Now everybody's afraid to claim a Watson horse."
Prunella won handily in her claimer and Incubus breezed to victory in her allowance. "Bet on Watson horses," the word went round the tracks. Incubus won a Class C, Class B and Class A handicap in swift progression, Prunella came in first in two seven-thousand-dollar claimers and second in a ten-thousand-dollar one. ”

“ Watson," the jockey said as he was assisted from the horse with a dazed but beatific smile on his face, "I'm so steamed up over this win I even thought Incubus was talking to me."
The men standing around laughed. "You've let excitement go to your head," Godlove remarked. "Personally I would never hire a jockey who has no emotional equilibrium."
The jockey reached a tentative finger toward Incubus' nose. "Good horse," he said. "Good Incubus." ”

“ And furthermore I assure you I'm sitting on your chest out of duty, certainly not out of pleasure. If you don't think I have lots better things to do with my nights than go around sitting on people.... ”