From the book:True Stories of Dogs and Horses and their Service to Man
Two Bits was never in any historic battle, nor did a famous general ever ride him. The highest he ever rose in the ranks was to the saddle of a captain-Captain Charles A. Curtis. Until then, the big bay had known a dozen masters for he was one of a cavalry pool at Fort Craig, New Mexico.
It was between the 1870's and '80's. The United States was trying to persuade the Indians to stay on the reservations appointed to them. The Indians, largely Apaches, Comanches, and Navahos, were not taking kindly to the Government's methods of armed persuasion. Bands of warriors still roamed the high mesas. In the vast emptiness of the landscape, a troop of soldiers could be seen for miles, but the Indians seemed to melt into the background. The old-timers had a saying, "When you don't see an Indian, you're looking right at him."
That was the reason for the forts with their high stockades. They were constantly being raided by the Indians, more for the horses than the men. Among the redskins, it was considered an act of greater courage to slip a horse out of a corral than a knife into a soldier.
It was at Fort Craig that Two Bits caught his first scent of the red enemy. Here, too, he was given his name.
Men cannot be continually on nerve-taut guard without some relaxation, and so a race was arranged one bright June day when the great half dome of the sky was filled with clouds as small and white as baby lambs.
The swiftest horses of the Mounted Rifles had already been chosen by the riders. One horse was left, a big bay. An Irish fifer boy named Cain decided to ride him. As they trotted to the starting line, a soldier shouted derisively, "I wouldn't give two bits for that horse."
Two Bits won by three lengths.