Elizabeth Letts - The Eighty-Dollar Champion (Adapted for Young Readers): The True Story of a Horse, a Man, and an Unstoppable Dream

The Perfect Horse

The Eighty-Dollar Champion

Text copyright 2020 by Elizabeth Letts

Cover art copyright 2020 by Nina Guffi

All rights reserved. Published in the United States by Delacorte Press, an imprint of Random House Childrens Books, a division of Penguin Random House LLC, New York.

This work is based on The Eighty-Dollar Champion, copyright 2011 by Elizabeth Letts. Originally published in hardcover by Ballantine Books, an imprint of Random House, a division of Penguin Random House LLC, New York, in 2011.

Delacorte Press is a registered trademark and the colophon is a trademark of Penguin Random House LLC.

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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Names: Letts, Elizabeth, author.

Title: The eighty-dollar champion : a man, a horse, and an unstoppable dream / Elizabeth Letts.

Description: New York : Delacorte Press, [2020] | Based on the nonfiction book of the same title originally published: New York : Ballantine Books, 2011. | Includes bibliographical references and index. | Audience: Ages 812. | Audience: Grades 46. | Summary: In 1958, a horse bound for the slaughterhouse is purchased by a man who names him Snowman and takes him to the top of equestrian show jumping.

Identifiers: LCCN 2019043390 (print) | LCCN 2019043391 (ebook) | ISBN 978-0-593-12712-4 (hardcover) | ISBN 978-0-593-12714-8 (ebook) | ISBN 978-0-593-12713-1 (lib. bdg.)

Subjects: LCSH: Snowman, 19491974Juvenile fiction. | CYAC: Snowman, 19491974Fiction. | Show jumpingFiction. | HorsesFiction.

Classification: LCC PZ10.3.L5534 Eig 2020 (print) | LCC PZ10.3.L5534 (ebook) | DDC [Fic]dc23

Ebook ISBN9780593127148

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This book is dedicated to Harry and his family and to the memory of the gallant horse Snowman

So many of our dreams at first seem impossible, then they seem improbable, and then, when we summon the will, they soon become inevitable.

CHRISTOPHER REEVE

NEW HOLLAND, PENNSYLVANIA, 1956

One Monday morning in February 1956, a big gray horse stood quietly in a small wooden pen, waiting patiently for his turn. He wore only a rough rope halter. A number was pasted on his bony hip. His coat was marred with dirt and his mane needed a trim. But despite his condition, he had a kindly look in his big brown eyes. In a minute, it would be his turn to trot across the auction ring. People who had come to the sale to purchase a horse would look him over, and with luck, someone would offer to buy him. If this happened, hed leave this rough wooden enclosure for good and head to a new home. But this large gentle creature with the soft look in his eyes had clearly been neglected and did not look his best. Would anyone choose him? Or would he soon return to his paddock, unwanted?

A handler jerked the big grays lead rope, and the animal perked up, as if he wanted to put on his best show. In spite of the handlers rough movements, the gray followed willingly, trotting briskly across the sales arena, his head held proudly high, his ears pricked forward, his ragged and tangled tail appearing almost to float behind him. His eager manner seemed to say, Look at me! But the people watching the horse as he passed hardly seemed to care. Some glanced briefly and looked away, while others frowned. Did they see only his dirty coat and missing shoe? Did no one notice the proud look in his eyes?

Once, twice, three times, the man jogged the gray across the arena. But not a single person raised a hand to signal they were interested in buying him. After the third turn, the handler shrugged, dropped to a walk, and headed the horse toward the exit as the auctioneer called out, Next! The gentle grays head seemed to droop a bit as he returned to his rough pen. What would happen to him next?

On that same Monday in February 1956, a horseback riding teacher named Harry de Leyer was running late. The headlights didnt work on his beat-up old station wagon. A new car would have been far more than the Dutch immigrant could afford. And now, although he had woken long before dawn on this wintry morning, the snow and a flat tire had set him back. He was headed toward the small town of New Holland, Pennsylvania, where one of the biggest horse auctions in America was held every Monday. He had driven hours from his home in New York, hoping to buy a quiet lesson horse for his riding pupils at the Knox School on Long Island, New York. But he was behind schedule because of the snowstorm and was worried that by the time he got there, all the good horses would have already been sold.

Harry didnt have much money to spend. He had brought along just eighty dollars, all he could spare, which wasnt much for a horse. Fancy horses cost hundreds, even thousands of dollars, but Harry knew that the auction might be a good place to find a cheap one. Some of the animals at the auction would be too old, too feeble, too lame to make good riding horses. Still, Harry knew that sometimes there were decent mounts to be foundsturdy, kind, quiet horses. Horses who just needed another chance. Maybe, just maybe, eighty dollars would be enough.

The stables on the auction grounds were not fancyjust simple wooden structures to hold the horses while they waited their turn to go up for sale. Every Monday, the pens would fill up with horses of all sizes, ages, and breedspalominos and Percherons, trotters and Thoroughbreds.

The best horses were snatched up early; sometimes more than one person wanted the same horse, sparking a bidding war. Some were giant workhorses, strong enough to pull the heaviest plow; some were adorable ponies, just waiting for a child to love. But others were ordinary animalsmaybe a little old, or tired, maybe a bit dirty, or down on their luck. Those horses needed good homes, too, but the good homes were sometimes hard to find.

Handlers led the horses one by one across a large arena while families leaned up against the railings to take a good look at each prospect. If you wanted to buy one, you had to raise your hand quick. You had only a minute or two to make up your mind. By the end of the auction, two to three hundred horses would have trotted across the arena. Most of them found a buyer and headed off to a new home, where they would be loved and treated kindly.

But every Monday, some horses were left behind. Big ones and small ones, dark ones and light ones. Horses too old, too thin, too sick, or sometimes just too plain to win a buyers heart. They trotted across the big sales arena once, twice, three times, and prospective buyers looked them up and down, but no one raised a hand to buy. Sadly, the horses returned to their stalls, unwanted.