Black Stallion and Satan (10 page)

“No more visitors today!” the trainer called to the crowd, and his voice had an authoritative ring in it that the people didn’t challenge. Taking Alec by the arm, he moved him quickly up the driveway. “This been going on all day?” he asked.

“Since eight o’clock,” Alec said.

“How is he?”

“All right. No one got close to him.”

They went into the barn, and Alec was on his way to the stallion when he heard Henry ask, “What’s this story Jim Neville’s got about your racing the Black in the International?”

Turning to Henry, Alec saw the concern so evident in his face. “Abu had entered the Black in the race,” he said.

“I know that,” Henry returned curtly. “I read the column. But did you actually tell Neville you’d go through with it?”

“Yes, I did, Henry. I felt I had to do it for Abu. He wanted it that way.”

“What a guy wants and what he can actually have are two different things,” Henry said quickly. “I don’t care how much Abu wanted to see the Black in the
International, he couldn’t have raced that horse. How many times do I have to tell you, Alec, that the Black wasn’t meant to set foot on a track with other stallions? Don’t you believe me?”

Alec didn’t reply, so Henry went on, “You’re thinkin’ that maybe you can handle him in spite of everything … the other stallions, the crowd, everything that goes along with a big race. Is that it?”

“I—I guess so, Henry.”

“Maybe you can, Alec.” Henry’s voice was softer now. “And then again, maybe you can’t. I wouldn’t like to watch you find out.”

“But I did it in Chicago,” Alec said quietly.

“You didn’t, Alec,” Henry corrected. “You had no control over him once he got on that track. He fought you, and you know that as well as I do. It was only by the grace of God that you weren’t hurt and no one else was either. And he hasn’t changed a bit since then … maybe he’s worse for all we know. He’s wild and uncontrollable under those conditions, Alec.”

“Then you don’t want me to race him in the International,” Alec said.

“He’s your horse. I’m just advising you not to do it. For your good as well as for the others in the race … and for the Black, too. Only harm could come of it.” Henry paused. “He has all the natural speed in the world, Alec. But, as I’ve told you many times, his instinct is to fight other stallions, not race ’em. And what about the farm, Alec? What about all your talk?”

“But I
do
want the farm, Henry. I want to take the Black there more than anything else in the world. But don’t you see,” he pleaded, “I know now that Abu
meant to race him in the International … that he made a promise he intended to keep. I feel it’s my job to keep his promise for him.” Alec paused. “And Jim Neville said, too, that I owed it to the sport … that it wouldn’t be right to let the people down.”

“Sure, he said that,” Henry returned. “And maybe he’s right. But they don’t know the Black as well as we do. He could raise havoc on the track, and that wouldn’t do the sport any good either. There are some mighty valuable horses in the International, Alec, an’ I wouldn’t want to be responsible for any damage done.”

“And I wouldn’t either, Henry,” Alec said. “But maybe he won’t act up at all. Maybe he’ll do everything I ask of him.” Alec’s face became eager and excited as he added, “And if he runs, Henry, he’ll show everyone that there’s not another horse in the world like him!”

Henry closely scrutinized Alec’s face. “So that’s it, too. You think he can beat Satan as well as the others.”

“I do, Henry. I really do.”

“And it’s in you to find out, just as I thought it was.”

“What do you think, Henry? Could Satan beat him?” The Black pushed his muzzle toward Alec’s pocket, seeking a carrot.

“It’s not fair to ask me that, Alec,” Henry said, after a long silence. “You know how I feel about Satan.”

“You mean you’re closer to him than to the Black.”

“Guess you can call it that. I’ve done something with Satan. He has the Black’s speed and he’ll turn it off an’ on for anyone on his back. It’s a combination hard
to beat … for
any
horse,” he added, turning to the stallion.

“Henry,” Alec began slowly, “let’s take the Black to the International track for training. If between now and the day of the race he gives me any trouble, you just say the word, and we’ll withdraw him.”

“You’ll let me decide then, Alec? You promise that if I think he’s going to create a lot of trouble you won’t race him? Is that our agreement?”

“That’s it, Henry. Whatever you say goes.”

“Okay, Alec,” Henry said, extending his hand, which the boy clasped. “We’ll do it. We’ll take him to the track tomorrow and start working him. None of the other horses will be there yet, and Satan won’t be shipped from Chicago until next week. So we’ll have the place to ourselves for a while, which is good. I’ll stick with you all along, but remember our agreement. If I say he’s out of the race, he’s out.”

Nodding, Alec turned to his horse. “You’re going to the races, Black. You’re going to have one last crack at all of them … and you’ll give them something to remember you by, long after you’re at the farm.”

The stallion neighed, and Alec flung his arms around the sleek neck.

It was dark the next morning when the van went down the driveway, with Henry driving and Alec beside him. In the back was the Black, his legs well bandaged to prevent injury during the long trip ahead. He was halter-tied close to the small open window of the driver’s cab, and Alec was able to reach through it and touch his horse.

Long before it became light they had driven through New York City’s empty streets; and they were well on their way to Albany when the first streaks of dawn creased the sky.

“How much longer, Henry?” Alec asked.

“We won’t be there till around noon,” Henry replied, without taking his eyes from the road. “No hurry. Have to take it slow with him.”

“I know. I was just wondering when we’d be there.” Reaching through the window, Alec fed the Black a carrot, then once more settled back in the corner of his seat.

After a long while Henry said, “The International track is about forty-five miles north of Albany. It’s a new one, y’know. They’ve only just finished it.”

“How come they’re holding the Cup race there, Henry? Why not at Belmont or one of the other tracks close to a big city?”

“Because the International was their idea. And what better send-off could you give a new track than to sponsor such a race? I guess the track’s board of directors figured it that way. And the International Cup race is just before their first regular meeting, so the people coming to the International will most likely stay on for the meeting.” Henry switched off the van’s headlights, for now it was light enough to see the road.

It was ten o’clock when they drove through Albany’s heavy traffic and found their way out of the city, continuing to the north. Henry glanced at his watch. “Around noon we’ll be there,” he said, “like I told you.”

The countryside became slightly rolling, and after a little while they were able to see the towering peaks of the Adirondack Mountains far in the distance. Alec settled back comfortably in his seat. “This is the way I like it,” he said.

Henry glanced at him, then turned back to the road.

“I mean, just the three of us again,” Alec explained. “The way it was when no one knew about us.”

Nodding, Henry said, “I know, Alec. There’s no thrill like bringing a horse along like we did the Black … and Satan, too … then springing him in a big race without anyone’s knowin’ what we had.” Pausing,
Henry looked at Alec again. “But once you do that, y’got to go along with the crowd.”

The Black had his muzzle in the window and Alec rubbed it, saying, “Anyway, I’m glad we’re going to have a week alone. You said it’d be about a week, didn’t you, Henry?”

“It should be, Alec. I learned that Phar Fly, the Australian horse, arrived in California yesterday, but they’re not flying him east until next week. El Dorado, the South American champ, is already on his way, too; he’ll be one of the first to arrive. The European horses and Kashmir, who was in England, are coming together; they’ll arrive late next week, if they stick to the schedule released. And, as I told you, I’m having Satan shipped here early in the week.”

“I wonder if they’ll know each other.”

“Who?”

“The Black and Satan.”

Henry smiled. “No. They’ve forgotten all about each other. Satan was only a few months old when they were separated.”

Alec turned to the Black. “Anyway, it’s going to be interesting to watch them together.”

“Yeah,” Henry muttered. “Mighty interesting.”

During the next hour they drove through many small towns and penetrated ever deeper into the Adirondack foothills.

“Just a few miles now,” Henry said.

Alec was fingering his stopwatch, pressing the stem and following the second hand as it swept around the face. Finally he looked up at Henry. “Do you have your stopwatch with you?”

Henry’s hand went to his pocket and he removed the watch, which he gave to Alec. The boy pressed both stems simultaneously.

“Think your watch is off?” Henry asked.

“I don’t know. I just thought I’d check it.”

When the hands of Henry’s watch came to two minutes, Alec stopped both watches. He found the hands of his watch registering exactly two minutes also.

“What made you think it was off?” Henry asked, without turning to the boy.

“I just wanted to make sure it was right,” Alec replied evasively.

Henry was silent for a few minutes; then he said thoughtfully, “You never did say why you took the Black to the park that morning the cop picked you up.”

“You never asked me, Henry.”

“Well?”

“I wanted him to stretch out.”

Henry turned to the watches Alec held in his hand. “For any particular reason?” he asked.

For a minute Alec was undecided whether or not to tell Henry; then he said, “He did it in one fifty-nine, Henry.”

Henry kept his eyes on the road as he said, “From the seventh tee to the elm tree?”

“A mile and a quarter, isn’t it, Henry?”

“It’s that, all right. We measured it together.”

“The bridle path is pretty soft and deep,” Alec said quietly.

“Yeah, I know.”

“And it was the first time in a long while he’s stretched out.”

“I realize that, too, Alec.”

“What are you thinking?”

“It’s going to be mighty close, if the Black races.”

“With Satan?” Alec asked.

“Mighty close,” Henry repeated. And that was all he said.

They were silent after that, each alone with his thoughts. Finally they saw the great grandstand and buildings of the International track.

The stallion struck his hoof soundly against the side of the van, and Alec turned to him. “Just a few more minutes now,” he said.

They drove along the high fence for a few miles before coming to the barn entrance of the track. Henry turned into it and drove the van up the tree-lined road that wound its way toward the stables. Some workmen landscaping the grounds stopped to watch them as they drove by. A short distance farther on was a white wooden-framed building, and Henry brought the van to a stop before it.

“Must be the offices,” he told Alec. “I’ll find out which stalls we’re in.”

After Henry had left, Alec turned to kneel upon the seat and press his cheek against the Black as the stallion pushed his muzzle through the window. Alec felt the stallion’s quivering lips and said, “We’re here, Black. You’re going to take it easy, aren’t you? You won’t give me any trouble as Henry thinks you will.”

Alec was still talking to the Black when Henry reappeared and climbed into his seat. “Stalls Nine and Ten in Row C,” he said.

As the van started forward Alec settled back in
his seat again. They passed the long stands and went toward the many rows of sheds a half-mile away.

“We’re the first here, just as I thought we’d be,” Henry said.

Now, with the great stands behind them, they were able to see the track, and Alec looked at it for a long time before turning to the green infield with the lake in the center, over which glided a small group of white swans.

Bordering the track at the far turn were the sheds, and as they neared them Henry asked, “What row was it?”

“C,” Alec told him. “Stalls Nine and Ten.”

They passed rows A and B and turned down C.

“I guess they’re figuring on putting all the horses running in the International in this row,” Henry said.

Stalls 9 and 10 were only a short distance down the row, and Henry stopped the van before them. First out of the cab, Alec went to the bales of straw piled high beside the stall door. “Which stall will we put him in, Henry?”

“Either one,” Henry called back. “We’ll use the other for bunking down in until Satan gets here. But let’s get the tack out first,” he added.

They opened the back door of the van, pulling out the ramp. Whinnying, the Black moved his hindquarters uneasily and tried to turn his head toward them, but the rope held him close. Going into the van, Alec spoke to him and went to the tack trunk, which he pushed toward the door. Henry took hold of it, carrying it into Stall 9. Alec followed him, carrying the pitchforks, and went to the bales of straw. He took one and
spread the straw about the stall. When he had finished, Henry had the pails and feedbags off the van.

“I guess we’re about ready for him now,” Henry said.

Carrying a lead shank, Alec went into the van. “Whoa, boy,” he said, walking to the side of the Black; and his hand ran over the stallion’s body. He fed the Black a piece of carrot before untying the ropes and snapping the lead shank onto his halter. Slowly he turned the stallion and led him to the ramp.

The Black pricked his ears far forward as he looked out of the van, and he hesitated at the ramp while Alec stepped upon it. “There’s nothing here to bother you,” the boy said, breaking off another piece of carrot and giving it to the Black.

The stallion stepped onto the ramp, then stopped again while Alec waited, talking to him all the while. Curiously the Black moved his head about, his eyes constantly shifting.