The Black Stallion Legend (7 page)

When the dust cleared, Alec saw that a few horses had stood their ground without fleeing. There were six mares, all with suckling colts at their sides. Just behind them were an old stallion, who looked too tired to run anymore, and two yearling colts who ran about as if undecided which to choose, freedom with the large herd or the chance to lead a small band of their own. Alec knew it was the water that had kept the mares behind, for they needed it more than the others if they were to continue nursing their foals.

They came closer to the waterhole, leaping and stomping, raising a cloud of dust around them as if that would conceal their presence. Alec watched them
closely, for they seemed more playful than fearful. But they were cautious of the black stallion, circling downwind, the better to smell his odor.

One mare was more curious, more adventurous than the others, Alec saw. She was the only black in the small band, but as raw and rough as the others. What set her apart was a long, raven tail that reached to the ground and a foretop that fell to the tip of her nose. In order to see, she constantly tossed her knobby head, throwing the forelock back over her ears. Her interest in the Black set her apart as well.

She left the other mares, daring to come closer to the waterhole, quivers running along her flanks while she continued to toss her head in a series of impatient and coquettish jerks. Alec wondered if she had an affinity to stallions of her own color, for the foal at her side was black too. It happened sometimes, regardless how one explained it. The other mares were white, bay, roan and dun, and they all stayed put while the black mare moved ever closer to the black stallion. Her snorts were loud and startling, rolling over the desert, but they were not alarming, not the signal for flight.

The other mares seemed to want her decision as to whether or not it was safe to approach the waterhole. They stood still, waiting, while the two young yearling colts, who coveted the mares for their own, stood with them, too immature to assert themselves. The old stallion was far away and alone, no longer possessive of the mares; he was content to give way to the young stallions, whose vigor and aggressiveness he could no longer match. It was only a question of time before the yearling colts drove him away to become an outcast.

Alec knew this small group would rejoin the large herd as soon as their suckling foals could keep up with the others. Then the yearling colts would have to withstand combat with other stallions in order to maintain their monopoly on these mares. His eyes returned to the black mare, who was moving ever closer, still sniffing the wind but seemingly sensing no danger.

Alec rubbed his face, wiping the sweat from him. Perhaps the smell of him, so much a part of the Black, was the reason she scented no danger in his own presence. Perhaps she understood from the smell of him that he had the nature, even the mind, of a horse. It did not seem odd to him at all that he was there, alone with wild horses.

The Black uttered a soft, muffled neigh and the black mare came forward eagerly at his call, followed quickly by the others. Reaching the water, they all drank deep, ignoring Alec. He watched them without moving so as not to frighten them. Some mares pawed and rolled in the muddy sides of the hole, and when they were done they came out of the water, full and logy, and stood still, waiting. It was as if they welcomed the Black as their new monarch.

The black mare circled about, tossing her mane and forelock the better to see the black stallion. She uttered raucous neighs, eyes sparkling with fire, implying that he should be well aware of the incredible honor that had befallen him by her attentions.

The Black tossed his head, sniffing the scent of his new harem. Within his great body was a wild, fierce, almost intolerable longing for a mate. He became more excited and gave a sudden, shrill neigh.
Gathering himself, he rocked back on his hindquarters; then he plunged forward, running around the band at a powerful gallop that brought him back to the waterhole, scattering the mares and foals. He wheeled sideways to avoid the black mare, as though to tease her, then he sped off again without slowing his pace. The muffled and thunderous beat of his strides seemed to echo his exaltation, his renewal of life.

Alec watched him, knowing that this vast land with its wild horses made the Black act as he did because it was
his
way of life as well as theirs. His memory was fixed to what he had known long ago and now had found again. No longer did the Black have to dream of freedom; it was his for the taking.

The black mare had not scattered with the others. She stood alone, unafraid and waiting for the tall stallion to stop his vigorous display of leadership. Her eyes were bright and searching as her gaze followed him—and, for whatever reason, Alec saw his Pam in those wild eyes, so intense and curious, questioning and, above all else,
unafraid
. The mare snorted occasionally, but the sound of it was almost musical—and Alec thought of Pam’s laughter, which meant to one and all the love and joy of life itself.

Alec lowered his head and wept for the girl he had lost.

The black stallion returned to stand beside the expectant black mare and continued his courtship of her. He was ardent but without brutality as he nibbled at her sides and neck, infecting her with his own maddened excitement. He rose to his full height, a gigantic figure on his hind legs, striking the air with his forelegs
to maintain his balance, his long black mane waving from his efforts. He was the picture of superb power, his head stretched over the mare’s neck, his nostrils dilated, his eyes darting fire.

It was many moments later when Alec washed away the tears that had racked his body. He went to the Black and told him, “Go where you will. You have done all you can for me.”

Alec gave the Black a soft clap on his wet neck, and it was the only signal the giant horse needed. He trotted off to gather his small band together; then with a mighty snort he wheeled and led them across the desert.

In a state of shock over what he had done, Alec watched them go, wild and free. The black mare raced close beside his horse and Alec thought that it, too, was the way it should be. The Black had found a mate, but Alec had lost his. What was a man born for? To find a mate, wasn’t it? To have Pam, to make a home for her, to have children with her, was what Alec had wanted most of all. It didn’t matter what happened to him now.

In the distance Alec saw the Black turn the small band and drive it back toward the waterhole. He tried to focus his mind on what he had done in setting the Black free. To what end? he asked himself. Nothing made sense to him. He no longer knew what he was doing and was acting on impulse only.

The black stallion drove the band across the desert, tolerating the two young stallions for a while by allowing them to race alongside. He punished any mare that lagged behind by ramming his head into her ribs or nipping her ear. Neither did he allow the foals to lag behind, prodding them to stay close to their dams. He turned them just before reaching the waterhole and sent them in the direction he wanted them to go, westward toward the high mountains.

Alec watched them leave, dazed, his mind drugged by the desert and the solitude of his own making. He was desperate and alone. He knew no yesterdays or tomorrows. He had relinquished all desire to
judge or act. His thoughts came only in splintered flashes. He knew he really had come to the end of the line this time.

The sun’s rays glittered on the sandy gravel before him. He was content to die alone, knowing the Black was free to live as he pleased and no longer needed him. But somewhere in his chest sobs were heaving. There was no reason not to cry if he felt that way, he told himself. He could spend whatever time he had left in any way he chose. No one would know.

Alec watched the horses as they moved across the desert, more slowly now, for the foals were having a difficult time keeping up with the mares. Finally the black stallion brought them all to a halt to rest the foals.

Alec’s eyes were fixed on the band as he drew a bare arm across his face, smelling not his own sweat but that of his horse. Ever since he was a small boy he had thought only of horses, even of
being
a horse. He had acted like a horse, run like a horse, neighed like a horse. “So maybe that’s how it should end,” he told himself.

Alec’s eyes darkened as he saw himself as a wild and free mustang. His mind was taking a twisting, curious turn that he could not understand, but accepted.

Suddenly he began moving in the direction of the band, not knowing exactly what he was doing but not caring either. He felt strength returning with his exultance in a new way of life. A defiant look replaced the dazed redness in his eyes, a look similar to that of a young, unbroken horse. He strode faster over the ground until he had broken into a trot. Throwing back his head, he uttered loud, wavering neighs to the
distant horses. Then he broke into a run, his muscular legs moving rhythmically, effortlessly.

The black stallion moved the band again, now traveling in a more northerly direction. He drove the group rather than led it, still punishing laggards, the young stallions as well as the mares and foals. He seemed to know exactly where he wanted them to go.

Alec called to him repeatedly from far behind. He felt new strength in his legs and was able to keep the horses in sight while pretending to be one of them. He raised his head high to sniff the wind as they did. He wanted them to see him, smell him, accept him. He wanted to be as wild and free as they were!

As time passed, Alec found that he could travel in sort of a trotting walk for a long while, breaking into a run whenever necessary to keep the band in view. He was proud of his endurance, his ability not to fall too far behind. And when the horses stopped to graze, he gained on them, wishing he too could live off whatever grass they found. So for a long while he was able to stay within sight of the wild horses and think of himself as one of them.

Far in the distance, too, Alec saw the dust clouds raised by the larger herd of mustangs and he knew the Black was on his way to join them. For what purpose? To enlarge his band? To make new conquests?

The Black moved his mares even slower because of the tiring foals. As the sun set behind the western mountains and twilight fell over the desert, Alec ran faster, hoping to reach his horse before the land was in complete darkness. Finally he realized he could not
catch up to the Black in time, no more than he could have caught up to his own shadow.

Alec no longer felt the power of the wild life that had beckoned him so strongly and had given strength to his mind and body. Slowing to a tired walk, he began looking for anything to eat, anything at all. He combed the mesquite for beans and the cactus for buds or fruit. But he found nothing to sustain him and knew that it was only a question of time before he died of hunger and thirst. He had put off the end only a short while by acting out a childhood fantasy, believing he could be one of the wild ones.

He could no longer see the band, for the desert was dark and cold. Looking up at the ever brightening night sky, Alec stood still for a long while. A cool breeze swept across his forehead, and he found himself thinking of a night a few months ago when he’d watched Pam drive away in her car, looking forward to a trip to Europe from which she was never to return.

Alec recalled the words he’d said aloud in the night: “
Until she’s back, the wind will be her fingers and her fingers the wind. And all space will be the smile of her.”

Alec remained still, his gaze on the stars, the desert wind on his face. He listened and waited until, finally, he believed with all his heart that he heard Pam’s voice in the dead silence. It was as distinct as if she were next to him again, her body pressed close to his.

“Go on, Alec. It is not the way it should be. You must live. I love you. I am with you always, always …”

Then, with the wind caressing him, he felt Pam’s hands upon him; life ran out of her fingers into his own
tortured body. He peered into the night in a kind of fear, believing he was going insane. Or was it that his senses were so heightened by grief and fatigue that he was receptive to anything in the night air, anything at all?

When Alec moved, finally, it was not to follow the horses, for he was leaving them forever behind. Instead he made for the mountain range silhouetted against the night sky. There in the foothills he might find food and water to survive, as Pam had told him he must.

Alec walked in the middle of nowhere with not even a coyote breaking the silence. Life without Pam was a kind of doom, but something had finally stirred within him, something that was not just his but that he shared with Pam. He was not alone, not inside himself, even though he walked alone, without place or people. He would have to find his way to wherever his life led.

Hours later he fell down on the cold sand of the desert, exhausted. He fell asleep immediately, to awaken only once during the night when he thought he heard a loud nicker on the breeze from the north.
Maybe the Black misses me
, he thought.
Maybe he’ll be back
.

The sun came up like a great ball of fire. Alec pulled himself to his feet and looked around. There was neither water nor grass, only cactus. To the southwest were the foothills of the mountains, his only chance to find water. He traveled slowly toward the hills, every step one of torture. His tongue became so swollen from thirst that it lay heavy and large in his mouth. He went on for a long while before he fell and could not get up.
His gaze covered the great, empty sea between him and the hills he could not reach. It was a far, far country.

As he lay there exhausted, helpless in the sand, he thought of Pam’s violent death in the car accident, so different than his own would be. He felt the first twinge of anger rising within him at the thought of such an ignoble death. His anger was deep-seated, a fathomless spring of slowly moving, invisible fire that prodded him into opening his heavy-lidded eyes.