Carl Dean slept little. He was up as usual at five. He and his partner Fred Archer were living for the duration of the National Championship in a former tenant house on a farm ten miles east of the Ames Plantation. This was the trial’s last day, and Fred Archer’s sole entry, Arkansas Andy, would go down in the afternoon brace. Carl would scout.
His inability to sleep last night was due to his knowledge that his own entry, Rambunctious, which had run three days earlier, was the leading contender for the Championship. He knew this because the judges had sent him word via the secretary that he should have Rambunctious’s owner on hand for the trial’s conclusion. Rambunctious had scored six finds in his three hours, run a race to the Amesian standard and finished strongly.
Neither he nor Fred had ever won the National. They had been scouting for one another and summer training together for four seasons. They had a good relationship and trusted one another to do the right thing when scouting. Still, he recognized that scouting for Fred with Rambunctious being carried by the judges for National Champion would in the minds of many seem an opportunity for mischief or misunderstanding at best.
He had told Fred of the secretary’s message that Rambunctious was being carried by the judges for Champion and offered to step aside as scout for Andy in favor of anyone Fred preferred. He had also told Rambunctious’s owner he would decline to scout Andy if he preferred that. But both Fred and Rambunctious’s owner were comfortable with his scouting Andy which frankly seemed odd to him.
Fred had said, “You know the dog and I trust you.”
Rambunctious’s owner had said, “If Fred wants you I have no problem just because Andy might beat my dog.”
Andy’s owner too had signed off, accepting Fred Archer’s statement that Carl knew Andy best and Carl was the man he wanted to scout Andy.
So Carl was set to scout in the day’s second brace. Only he seemed uncomfortable with his conflict of interest. He kept asking himself “what if” questions about the brace ahead. He told himself that he would simply do his best for Andy and Fred whatever happened, but in his heart he wondered whether he would be able to do that if by his actions or inactions he could hurt Andy and thereby help his own entry Rambunctious.
Carl had been a pro fifteen years. He had never handled a dog to be winner of the National. He had scouted a National winner thirteen years earlier. He had that day vowed to handle a National winner and he had been pursuing that goal ever since. Now it seemed within his grasp.
Winning the National required a strong well trained dog, but much more than that it required good luck and lots of it. Temperature, humidity, barometric pressure, breeze, all the mysterious elements characterized by dog folk as “scenting conditions’” had to line up. Birds had to be moving about to be found.
Every bird hunter and field trial handler knew that if quail decided not to be pointed they would not be pointed, sometimes for hours or days at a time. To win a dog must draw a time when the mysterious elements making the finding and pointing of quail feasible line up.
Rambunctious had not had ideal conditions but enough favorable elements had lined up to enable him to score his six clean finds spread evenly over his three hours. He had not suffered an unproductive. His closest rival to run so far had scored five finds and suffered an unproductive in a race some thought inferior to that of Rambunctious.
The morning braces were abbreviated, both handlers picking up at the half way mark after scoring one find each.
When Carl lead Arkansas Andy to the line at 1:30 conditions seemed to be improving. It had turned from sunny to overcast and the temperature measured fifty F. Whether birds would be out and about feeding remained to be seen. Andy and his bracemate were announced by the secretary along with their owners and handlers. Carl heard the words, “Let ‘em go” and unclipped the rein from Andy’s collar.
* * * * * * *
From his opening cast Arkansas Andy seemed charmed. Carl found him pointed in cover on the left edge of the course at 15 as he dragged that edge in response to Fred’s hand signal. For an instant he considered riding by in silence but he heard himself bellowing “Point!” (His horse had seen Andy first and abruptly stopped on his own motion being a veteran handler and scout horse).
All was in order for the flush and shot and Fred watered Andy, then signaled for Carl to ride forward to restart him while Fred gathered his reins and swung effortlessly into the saddle, then canter up to resume handling. Andy’s next cast carried him across the front three hundred yards ahead, then Andy turning forward with a right field edge as if he were following a map. His strides were long and powerful and he exuded confidence.
Carl rode the rest of the three hours as if in a trance. Birds were feeding, scenting conditions seemed ideal, and Andy was inspired. Carl found Andy pointed four more times (in truth his horse saw Andy first and signaled it by stopping twice).
When Carl heard the senior judge call “Pick him up!” he had scored nine finds, all letter perfect. His race had been smooth and consistently forward, and while he had been a bit more ambitious than some liked to see at Ames the true all-age fans in the gallery judged the performance spectacular and the handling and scouting inspiring.
Andy’s finishing cast had carried him a third of a mile forward where he had grown smaller and smaller to viewers, then disappeared. Carl had found him buried in cover just off the course path at ten minutes past call of time but since the judges had not seen him at time it counted so Andy’s official covey count was ten.
Only on the initial find had Carl considered riding by without calling point. And half way through the heat Carl had sensed this was Andy’s day and he would soon replace Rambunctious as top dog in the judges books. When the race ended there was no doubt about that.
Gallery riders were ecstatic and heaped praise on Fred and Andy as Carl lifted Andy up to ride in on the pommel of Fred’s saddle.
Carl dreaded seeing Rambunctious’s owner John Pettus and feared he would take the dog from him. But to his surprise he found Pettus riding beside Andy’s owner and both men grinning. The reason became clear at the Ames Manor House after Andy had been named winner of the 2018 National Championship. Pettus had contracted to buy Andy before he ran. That explained why Pettus had not objected to Carl scouting Andy.
When he told Carl this after the ceremony ended and the two men were alone he concluded, “Of course I’ll move Andy to your string.”
Carl shook his head. “No Sir. Andy is Fred’s dog. He bred him, raised him, trained him. I won’t be a part of separating them.” John Pettus admired Carl for that. Carl had by that instinctive reaction assured that he would have Pettus as an owner as long as Pettus stuck with the game.
“Well, you can always scout him for Fred,” Pettus said.
Andy’s bracemate had been picked up at thirty minutes on a second unproductive.