Black Stallion and Satan (6 page)

Alec turned quickly away from the window as the sports commentator said, “Adding another gem to an already brilliant crown, Satan slammed down the stretch to win the rich Arlington Handicap by ten lengths over Star Pilot in the new world’s record time of one minute fifty-eight seconds for the mile and a quarter!”

Alec let out a yell but cut it short as the commentator went on.

“The burly three-year-old champion clearly established his greatness by decisively beating older horses whom he had not met before today. Lenny Sansone, piloting Satan, displayed a sparkling bit of riding by getting his mount out of a tight pocket coming into the homestretch and bringing Satan on to pass Star Pilot, last year’s Kentucky Derby winner, in the run for the wire. Stepson, the West Coast champion, came in third, followed by …”

When the commentator had finished, Alec switched off the radio, turning again to the window. His eyes were bright as he said aloud, “One minute fifty-eight seconds for the mile and a quarter!” He shook his head in amazement. Never had he dreamed any horse, even the Black, was capable of running so fast!

In the field, the Black left his grazing to move quickly toward the barn. Alec watched his long, effortless strides. “I wonder,” he thought aloud, “if Satan could beat him, too?” He paused, his gaze following the stallion until he came to a stop at the barn fence. “No,” Alec said finally. “Satan couldn’t do it. No horse could.”

With his head craned high over the fence, the Black whistled. His call was echoed by a shrill neigh
from the street, and Alec saw Napoleon coming along at a shuffling trot. Tony sat high in the wagon seat, the long reins held lightly in his big hands.

Alec called to him, and Tony waved back. The boy went downstairs and outside, where he ran across the street to open the iron gate for Tony.

The huckster’s black eyes were bright as he said, “See, Aleec, I no need to cluck to my Nappy when he sees the Black; then he just go like the wind all by himself!”

Napoleon went up the driveway, Alec running beside the wagon, which was now empty of its daily cargo of fresh fruits and vegetables. Tony was the last of his kind in Flushing.

“Satan just won that Chicago race, Tony!” Alec shouted. “And he set a new world record!”

Nodding his heavy head, Tony said, “So I am not one bit surprised, Aleec. I expect him to win all the time.”

When they reached the barn, Tony left his seat to unharness Napoleon while Alec went for a pail of water. The old gray moved about impatiently, and Tony said, “You stand-a still, Napoleon. You think you’re one young colt again!”

Alec returned, lifting the water pail to Napoleon’s muzzle. “But Satan beat older horses today, Tony … and they were the very best in the country!”

Shrugging his shoulders, Tony said, “Satan, he’s-a young horse and very strong. So why should he not beat older horses, Aleec? It’s-a youth that makes him win.” Tony’s hand swept down Napoleon’s neck as he added, “You take Nappy, for example. When he was-a
young, he like to run all the time. But now maybe just once in a long time he feel like it. Or you take the Black.” They turned to the stallion, who was moving uneasily up and down alongside the fence. “He no have the speed he had few years ago, I bet. Satan could beat him now, too.”

“I don’t think so,” Alec replied quickly. “The Black is still young, Tony. He’s as fast as he ever was, and maybe even faster.”

“So you think, Aleec. But I no think so. It’s being young that gives the speed.” Tony turned from the Black and, slipping the halter on Napoleon, said, “Now I put him in the field.”

Alec went to the field gate and slipped through the rails. Coming to him, the Black nuzzled his shirt and Alec pressed his head close to the stallion. “Imagine anyone thinking you’re an old man at seven,” he said softly. “There’s no horse in the world who could keep up with you … even Satan. He did a mile and a quarter in one fifty-eight today, Black. But you could run faster than that, couldn’t you?”

The stallion’s head turned to Napoleon as Tony led the gray gelding toward the gate. Giving the Black a carrot, Alec took him a short distance down the field and held him until Tony had Napoleon in the field.

The old gray didn’t go to the Black but moved past him, going down the field at a slow gallop. For a moment the stallion watched Napoleon; then suddenly he snorted and bolted after the gray.

Alec helped Tony close the gate before turning once again to the horses. The Black was playfully circling Napoleon as the gray continued his slow gallop.
But finally Napoleon came to a stop and lowered his head to graze. The Black halted, too, inquisitively watching him. He waited for a short time with only his eyes moving; then he was off again, charging back and forth before the gray. Napoleon went on with his grazing, seemingly unmindful of the Black’s furious action. But when the stallion lowered himself to the ground and rolled over on his back, Napoleon raised his head to watch; then he, too, carefully got down and pushed his back into the soft earth.

“Nappy no fear him,” Tony said proudly as they watched the thrashing legs.

“No reason why he should,” Alec returned. “The Black is his best friend and he knows it.” Pausing, the boy added, “If you want to go home, Tony, I’ll bring in Napoleon when it gets dark.”

“Okay, Aleec,” Tony said, moving away from the fence. “I think I go then. It’s-a been one hard day.”

Long after Tony had gone, Alec remained beside the fence, watching his horse. Until today he had felt confident that no horse in the world could match the Black’s speed. But Satan’s new world record for the mile and a quarter had changed things. Now he wasn’t sure. And he knew he wanted to be sure before he took the Black to the farm.

There was an easy way to find out, and Alec decided to try it … the next morning, at dawn, in the park.

Alec had his clock beneath his pillow, so when the alarm went off at four o’clock the following morning he alone heard its muffled ring. Hurriedly he reached for
it and silenced the alarm. He lay there for a moment, listening to the incessant chant of the katydids in the field. But there was no sound of rain, and only this could have postponed his plans. Silently he got out of bed and pulled on his jeans and sweat shirt. He sat down to put on his socks and boots, all the while listening to the snoring of his parents, who slept in the next room. When he rose from the chair, he went quickly across the darkened room to the desk near the window; there he found his baseball cap and pulled it snugly about his head. Opening the top drawer of the desk, he removed a silver-cased stopwatch and wound it before carefully placing it in his pocket.

One minute fifty-eight seconds for the mile and a quarter
. The Black was going out to beat Satan’s record!

With the watch ticking inside his pocket, Alec went down the stairs. He moved slowly, quietly, for he didn’t want anyone to know what he was about to do. It would take only a short while. There would be no traffic on the back streets at this hour, and the park would be empty. He knew exactly where he would go. The stretch of bridle path from the seventh tee of the park’s golf course to the towering elm tree opposite the ninth hole green was just a mile and a quarter. He and Henry had measured it accurately over a year ago, when they had jogged Satan there prior to his going to the track. But this morning the Black wouldn’t be jogging. He’d be going all out, running his very fastest! It would be over and done with in a very short time. They’d be back at the barn even before Tony and Napoleon left for the market.

Leaving the house, Alec ran across the street to the
iron gate. He opened it wide and didn’t shut it behind him. Reaching the barn, he went inside without turning on the lights. The Black whinnied and Alec went to him, stroking the small head for a few minutes before going on to the tack room. He returned, carrying the light racing saddle and bridle.

Alec worked quickly in the darkness. The Black moved uneasily when the saddle pad, followed by the saddle, was put on his back. But he quieted at the touch of Alec’s hands and the sound of the boy’s voice. “You’re going light right now,” Alec said. “No feed until later.”

After Alec had the bridle on him, he led the Black from the barn. The stallion’s nostrils dilated and he snorted repeatedly as he moved beside Alec. The boy took him to the bench in front of the barn and mounted from there.

His knees pressed hard against the muscled withers, Alec took the Black down the driveway. And only for a fraction of a second did he hesitate before riding him through the gate and out onto the street.

Henry wouldn’t approve of what he was doing, he knew. For just before Henry had left he had cautioned him to do nothing that might arouse anyone’s suspicions that it was the Black which was stabled in the barn. But Henry wouldn’t know, neither would anyone else. This was something just between him and the Black.

After a few minutes Alec turned the stallion onto a narrow back street, where the shoulders were of dirt. And as the Black’s hoofs struck the earth in place of the hard pavement Alec let him go into a slow canter. He’d
be at the park just at dawn … he’d be back at the barn soon after. There was nothing to worry about. The Black was ready for a fast workout, after having spent the last few weeks running about the field. It would do him a lot of good … Alec’s hand went to the watch within his pocket. “I’ll know,” he said aloud, “even if no one else does. And I want to know.”

The road led directly to the park, and within fifteen minutes after leaving the barn Alec and the Black were on the bridle path. The stallion was pulling now, but the boy was able to hold him to a slow gallop. He talked to him all the while, well knowing that no bit would hold the stallion once he took it in mind to run. He was not up on Satan, he reminded himself. He must remember he had no control over the stallion other than the Black’s willingness to obey him. The stallion was eager to go, his every movement showed it.

“Just a little while now,” Alec told him. “Just a few minutes more, then it’ll be all right.” Once he gave the Black his head, there would be no stopping him until he had run himself out.

The bridle path encircled the baseball diamond, and just on the other side was the golf course and the seventh tee. It was from there he’d start.

The gray light of dawn had come. He had figured everything just about right so far. The Black shook his head, his strides became longer. Alec rose high in his short stirrups, standing almost upright in them, his weight forward of the horse’s center of balance. He knew he wouldn’t be able to hold the stallion in check much longer. But they were almost at the start now, and he wouldn’t need to.

They had left the baseball diamond behind and were nearing the seventh tee. Far across the green fairway of the golf course Alec could see the tall elm tree that for them would be the finish of this race against time. The tree was directly opposite from where they were now, with the bridle path encircling the far edges of the fairway in the shape of a horseshoe. There was a long stretch ahead of them, a turn, then another stretch down past the tall elm.

Rising still higher in his stirrups, Alec worked hard to bring the Black under control. “No running start,” he said. “It’s got to be just as it would be in a race. Easy now, fella … wait a minute … slow … let’s walk now. That’s it. Nice and easy.”

They were just about opposite the seventh tee. Alec removed the stopwatch from his pocket, and his thumb was on the stem. A slight touch was all that was necessary to set the hands in motion.

“Steady,” Alec said softly. “Down to a stop now. We’re at the barrier. No moving forward. Stand still now, boy.” He knew this would be far different from riding the Black in the field, and his excitement was transmitted to the stallion. The Black’s ears pitched forward and didn’t move again; his eyes were fixed straight ahead. It was very evident he knew what was coming.

Momentarily his prancing stopped and he was still. Now Alec’s weight rested just off the saddle and only his knees gripped the stallion. Simultaneously he released the Black and pressed the stem of the stopwatch.

He was ready for the break. He had no doubt that the Black could get away from a standing start faster
than Satan. He was expecting the swift surge forward, the great strides that would send the stallion into full gallop almost immediately.

But when it actually came he realized that even he had underestimated the speed of the Black’s break. It was like being hurled from the mouth of a giant catapult! And as he pressed his head close to the Black’s straining neck, his breath came short at the sheer, uncontrolled power unleashed beneath him!

The stallion raced down the bridle path, his hoofs sending the soft dirt flying behind him. Already he had leveled out and was running wild, with no thought of anything but to run as he had been born to run.

The wind tore at Alec’s face and blurred his eyes so he could not see. The reins were still clenched between his hands, but he knew they were of little use to him now. Nothing could stop the stallion. Not until he had run himself out would he respond to the reins. But it didn’t matter now. Nothing mattered except the watch ticking off the seconds until they reached the tall elm.

The Black bore down upon the turn, and as he swept into it, Alec’s hand touched his neck and the stallion moved close to the inside. Alec heard himself clucking to the stallion, urging him on to still greater speed as they passed the halfway mark. Once again the bridle path straightened and the homestretch was ahead of them!

Alec called to the stallion, but his words were lost in the wind created by the straining body. Tremendous strides brought them down to the elm tree with lightning swiftness. There was no need to urge the Black to
run faster, for he was going all out. The tall elm tree was but a hundred yards ahead … then fifty, ten and five! Alec’s thumb pushed the stem of the watch as they swept past.

The race was over, but there was no slackening of the Black’s speed. After going another quarter of a mile, Alec drew back on the reins, but still there was no response from the stallion.

A park road now ran parallel to the bridle path, but Alec knew there were no intersections for three miles and the Black would have run himself out long before then.