The Black Stallion Mystery (15 page)

Suddenly he saw the sparks swing upward as if Ziyadah had swerved and then taken a tremendous bound into the air! Startled and uncertain, Alec reached for the Black’s halter to slow him down. But quickly he let go, giving the stallion his head. Better now to trust the Black’s judgment than his own! He regained his balance as the Black swerved, following the sparks. Alec barely had time to get a good grip with his legs when the stallion jumped.

The Black took in the situation before Alec did. He was in midair and flying over a low wall when he sensed danger. Suddenly he changed the direction of his leap by twisting his body to one side. Alec bent his head low over the Black’s neck as the wrenching of the great body almost tore his arms out of their sockets. With folded hocks beneath his quarters and extended forelegs the Black landed at an angle on the other side of the wall, his body scraping stone. He lurched forward, regained his balance, but didn’t go on, for his right hind leg had slipped between
two cut pieces of hard spruce-wood and was held fast!
He made one attempt to break free and when he failed he stood perfectly still, awaiting Alec’s help.

Alec slid off his shaking horse, fury welling up within him when he saw the
man-made
trap that had been set for them. He removed the big stones that held down the long slats at both ends. Beneath them was a hole just deep enough to cause serious injury to any horse. Fortunately, except for one hoof the Black had avoided the trap.

Alec looked up, following Ziyadah’s fiery trail as the horse climbed the mountain. He wasn’t going to follow him any longer … at least, not tonight. Furious as he was, he might make a mistake, and he and the Black might not be allowed another chance. His body trembled in his anger and hot tears ran down his cheeks.

Who had set this deadly trap?

The light of early morning came through the diamond-paned windows. “You should have woke me,” Henry said. “I slept in the chair, sure I’d hear the racket of those door bolts when they let you in.”

“What difference would it have made?”

“We could have found out who was in the house and who
wasn’t!
” Henry exploded.

Alec shook his head, tucking in his shirt tail. “The trap could have been set earlier.”

“Then someone is pretty well acquainted with Ziyadah’s ways,” Henry said.

“Of course,” Alec answered. He pulled his belt tight and squared his shoulders. “And I aim to find out who it is. I’m going to follow Ziyadah’s trail up the mountain.”

“No you’re not,” Henry said quietly. There was a new note to his voice that meant business.

“Why not?”

Henry went to a chair and sat down. At any other
time he would have liked the strong set of Alec’s jaw and shoulders. “Have you considered why somebody should want to set such a trap?”

“To keep Ziyadah from being caught,” Alec replied.

“I don’t think so,” Henry said, his face darkening. “Why would anyone in this house want to hide Ziyadah in the mountains? Can you think of an answer?”

Alec went to the window. “Maybe it isn’t anyone in this house,” he answered quietly.

“Who else then?” Henry rose from his chair and went to the boy, clamping a hand firmly on his shoulder. “I don’t think Ziyadah’s appearance last night was accidental, Alec. I believe it was all planned, including your chasing him. The trap was set for
you.
”

Alec turned to his friend. “But … why?”

“I don’t know the answer to that,” Henry said, beginning to pace the floor, “but it’s the reason I’m keeping you from riding again.”

Alec was silent, stunned by Henry’s words. Why would anyone want to kill him? He had no enemies.

“The whole business of our bein’ here is weird and yet almost as if it was carefully planned,” Henry said, meeting the boy’s eyes. “They figured on our comin’. Abd-al-Rahman told us that.” He paused. “I wonder if it’s the Black he’s after. With you out of the way and then me …”

“I don’t believe that,” Alec said. “No man would kill for a horse … any horse, even the Black.”

“You’re mistaken about that,” Henry said. “Remember the stories we’ve heard of Bedouins fightin’ wars for fast horses.”

“Not Abd-al-Rahman,” Alec said, but like his voice the expression on his face was indecisive.

“Blood runs deep, especially Bedouin blood when there’s a horse concerned,” Henry reminded him.

Alec shook his head. “Abd-al-Rahman could have gotten rid of us long before this if he’d wanted to.”

“Not and have it look accidental,” Henry pointed out, “like a fall from a horse.”

Alec put on his shoes. He thought of another night, when a lone bull had come out of the darkness to attack him. Had that, too, been accidental? He got up and went to the door.

“Where are you going?” Henry asked.

“To feed and rub him down. His leg is all right but needs attention.”

“I’ll go with you,” the trainer offered.

“All right,” Alec said. “I wanted to tell you something anyway … something that happened that first night at Angel González’. I went to the big bull pasture …” The padded leather door closed behind them.

It was six o’clock by the stableyard clock when they reached the stallion barn.

“Then Angel González could be mixed up in this dirty business more than we figured,” Henry said when Alec had finished his story of the lone bull. “I’m not exactly surprised.”

The Black reached for the grain as Alec poured it into the feed box. Kneeling in the straw, the boy felt the stallion’s right hind leg and found it cool without any noticeable swelling. Nevertheless he began rubbing it with a leg liniment he’d found in the tack room. It had a strong, sharp smell that smarted his eyes and nose.

Henry said, “I want you to keep quiet about what happened. Tell them you saw nothing.”

“Why?”

“Only one person will know we’re lyin’. Maybe he’ll give himself away.”

“All right,” Alec agreed. “We’ll try it your way. It’s easier than climbing mountains.”

“And a lot less dangerous.”

They went to breakfast totally unprepared for the shock of seeing Don Angel Rafael González sitting at the table. Behind him hovered the old woman María, her heavy body wobbling from side to side as she passed the hot dishes.

“Good morning! Good morning!” González boomed, rising to greet them. “We meet again under far more pleasant conditions, heh, my friends?”

“At least the sun’s shining,” Henry said bitterly, recovering before Alec did.

Abd-al-Rahman sat at the head of the table with Tabari on his right. Behind them stood Homsi.

Tabari said, “Then you did not hear their plane last evening? Ah, but it was very late and you were sleeping heavily. Tell us, Alec, how was your hunt?”

Before answering, Alec turned to those sitting at the long table—to Abd-al-Rahman, who had stiffened in his chair, looking every inch the hard desert hunter he was—to Tabari with the arched smile on her lips—to Angel González, who was helping himself to more eggs and meat—to María, who stood behind him, more mother than servant, pouring hot milk into González’ big coffee cup—and finally to Homsi, whose frail body could hardly be seen behind Abd-al-Rahman’s chair.

“Not very successful,” Alec replied at last in answer to Tabari’s question. As far as he could tell there was absolutely no change of expression on the face of any of his listeners.

González was the first to speak. He shrugged his big shoulders gracefully and said, “You hear, María? You have been worrying needlessly about our young friend. He goes hunting alone at night! He is very brave.”

“I know that well,” she said quietly, “and so should you. Did he not save your life?”

“And I shall be forever grateful!” González said, turning to Alec and smiling.

“A nice way you had of showing it,” Henry interjected. “Leaving us like you did.”

The big man shrugged his shoulders again. “I did not think it so bad at the time. I was eager to return home and thought your wait would be but a short one. It was María who took me to task for leaving you as I did. She was furious. She insisted upon our coming back and finally I consented.” He turned toward Abd-al-Rahman. “We are here,” he concluded, “to make sure they arrived safely in your home.”

The young Sheikh smiled graciously. “We can still conduct business,” he said. “Your trip has not been for nothing.”

“Yes, there is always business,” González agreed.

“Perhaps when it’s done we can fly back with you,” Henry suggested, trying to conceal his eagerness.

The big man’s scowl deepened the long scar across his cheek. “Of course,” he said, “it is perfectly all right
with me.” He turned to Abd-al-Rahman, his eyes questioning.

Homsi’s face was a mask of cold scorn. Tabari’s sandaled feet scraped the bare floor. María’s heavy lids lifted, disclosing the keen interest she, too, had in the Sheikh’s answer.

“Alec and Henry are free to go whenever they please,” Abd-al-Rahman said kindly although his eyes belied his gracious manner. “It is they who have given up the search for Ziyadah,
not I
!”

Henry pretended to eat, while speaking softly to Alec. “Keep your eyes down and keep still. All he’s got to do is to look at you to know you’ve got the wind up about something. Let me handle it.”

González had sat back in his chair and was patting his big stomach. He said with feigned casualness, hoping to relieve the tension that had descended upon the room, “It is all muscle, like a bull’s.”

Henry turned to Abd-al-Rahman again. “Will your business with González take long?” It was impossible for him to read anything in the Sheikh’s set face.

“Only a few hours,” Abd-al-Rahman answered finally.

“Then …” Henry turned back to González and found that the big man’s cheek had begun twitching.

“We’ll leave tomorrow morning,” González said.

María shifted her big bulk and nodded her gray head approvingly. She poured more scalding milk into González’ cup.

Abd-al-Rahman’s face darkened despite Tabari’s quick movement of a hand on his arm. He fixed piercing
eyes upon Alec as he said scornfully, “
Âfferin!
You came here crowing like a young cock. Now you run like a jackal! Go home and take your black stud who knows nothing but soft tracks that are kind to his feet!”

The Sheikh rose from his chair, shaking off Tabari’s hand. Taking his brass key ring from his pocket, he flung it across the table and it slid into Alec’s lap. “Play everything safe, my young friend. Lock up your black treasure so he will not disappear like Ziyadah! Close yourself up within these fortress walls! Flee tomorrow to your safe, soft, and comfortable world! Leave me to find Ziyadah alone. You are not worthy of such a chase!”

“Easy, Alec,” Henry said aloud, for the boy’s face was pinched and white. “Keep your eyes down.”

The Sheikh angrily left the room.

Tabari was the first to break the silence that followed. She tried to make light of her husband’s furious outburst. “He’s like a little boy sometimes,” she said. “He wants to play
Follow the Leader
and always be the leader. You, Alec, have spoiled the game for him. He wanted you to follow him after Ziyadah.”

Alec looked at her and said, “I can’t agree with you, Tabari. I don’t think he’s ever been the little boy you claim him to be. He’s rough and tough and hard beneath all the polish you’ve tried to give him. He’ll get what he wants,
even Ziyadah.
”

She didn’t answer but fear showed in her eyes as she left the room.

That evening Alec and Henry were the only ones at dinner. Afterward they went to the living room, where they found Tabari standing in front of the roaring flames in the fireplace.

“Where’s everybody?” Henry asked, trying to appear casual.

She turned around and appraised him. Finally she smiled as if deciding that she too would pretend nothing had happened that morning. “I believe they’re still talking business,” she said lightly. “Angel is very anxious, it seems, to get more yearlings to sell in the United States.”

“They brought good prices, then?” Henry asked.

“
Very
good, I understand. But I’m afraid he won’t get any more like the ones he had. Not unless Ziyadah is caught.”

“I thought you believed Ziyadah to be a
ghost
horse,” Alec said quietly.

“Isn’t he?” she asked, smiling as she lowered herself into a chair.

“Not if you believe he sired the Sales yearlings.”

“I’m only guessing,” she answered. “Really, Alec, you never joke at all.”

Henry had begun pacing the large living room, winding his way around furniture that was beautiful and polished with age. “The point is, do you think he’s goin’ to let us go tomorrow?” he asked, coming to a stop before Tabari.

“Of course. Why not? He is a man of his word.”

Her gaze shifted to Alec, who was nervously toying with the key ring Abd-al-Rahman had given him that morning. “Did you lock your horse’s stall?” she asked, her brows arched.

Alec nodded in embarrassment. “Not that I was afraid anything would happen to him,” he said lamely.

She looked at him as if they were the only two persons in the room. “I know,” she said evenly, “and you’d better leave him there for the night. No more hunting.”

Henry bumped into a couch. “He’s goin’ nowhere but to bed,” he promised.

Tabari rose from her chair and went to the fireplace. Her walk and manner were casual but she said with sudden coldness, “You have made my husband more determined than ever to capture Ziyadah. He is a fool running after folly!”

Henry said, “You’d better not let him hear you say that because first of all he’s a
horseman
.”

She whirled upon him, her eyes still cold and steady. “You men are all alike,” she said evenly. “And the more I watch you work with horses the less I believe you know anything about the treatment of them
under heavy strain. Only my father …” Suddenly all the vitality left her and she appeared tired and lonely as she went on, “… he could put iron in their bodies and fire in their spirits.”