The Black Stallion Returns (20 page)

In front the course lay open. So far everything had gone as he’d planned. He would cling to Sagr’s heels across the brush-covered flat and into the mountains.
Then as they entered the last half of the race, which would take them over the desert and back to the starting place, he would call upon the Black … and he was certain the great stallion would not fail him.

The Black had hold of his bit, but was not pulling. As he galloped across the plain, swirls of gray dust rose behind them. Abd-al-Rahman, his long black beard whipping in the wind, glanced back as they neared the trail that would lead them through the mountains. Then he sat down to ride, and Sagr leaped forward.

Alec loosened the reins slightly and kept close behind him. Sagr’s powerful quarters rose and fell in front and Abd-al-Rahman’s back and shoulders swayed as he swung with him.

They turned into the mountainous trail without slackening their speed. It was a gradual ascent lined with overhanging brush that tore at Alec’s bare flesh. Turning slightly in his saddle, he saw that the others had slowed down, sparing their mounts. Ahead Sagr was galloping as though it were the finish and Alec wondered whether he could possibly keep up this speed. For a second he drew back on the reins and the Black fought for his head. Sagr increased his lead and thundered ahead.

Finally the trail leveled and they entered a long ravine with towering cliffs on each side. Sagr’s powerful quarters rose and fell fifty yards away. Alec moved far forward in his saddle and gave the Black his head. As the stallion extended himself, his feet scarcely touched the ground and he slowly cut down Sagr’s lead. Alec saw Abd-al-Rahman glance behind at the sound of the Black’s thundering hoofs. Reaching for his
crop, he moved it alongside the chestnut and he sprang forward.

Alec was certain now that it was Abd-al-Rahman’s intention to run the others into the ground early in the race. And with the exception of the Black he was doing it, for the two were far in the lead. Alec wondered whether his horse could keep up with Sagr. The Black was galloping hard, and lather ran from his body.

The trail led up again at the end of the ravine, and Alec felt the Black gather himself and the surge of great muscles. He raised his hands and, responding, the stallion galloped up the trail.

Sweat ran from Alec’s body and painfully entered the open cuts he had suffered from the brush. Sagr was just ahead and Alec could hear the heaving of his body. They neared the top and Alec knew they had covered half the distance. Two more miles to go. He moved farther forward on the stallion’s neck and placed a hand on the wet coat.

Abd-al-Rahman’s swaying body disappeared from view as Sagr reached the summit. Alec knew that the trail would now lead down a short distance to the desert. It would be then that he would have to call upon the Black for every last bit of speed and stamina he had in his giant body.

As he reached the summit, he saw Sagr halfway across the open flat which led down to the desert. Suddenly there was the sharp crack of a gun and the dirt kicked up in front of Sagr! Alec pulled hard on the Black, slackening his speed. There was another shot! It came from the brush to the right of the flat, and Alec, turning quickly in his saddle, saw the outline of a man’s
body.
Ibn al Khaldun!
Alec turned the stallion and bore down upon him.

The white-robed figure, intent upon bringing Abd-al-Rahman in his gun sights, did not see Alec until the black stallion was a short distance away from him. Then Ibn al Khaldun turned, fear showing in his swarthy face as the stallion swept toward him. Screaming, the Black reared with Alec clinging to his neck. Ibn al Khaldun stumbled on the brush and fell to the ground. Rolling quickly, he turned and pointed his pistol at the Black, who rose high above him with pawing hoofs. His pupils were dilated and blood and sweat ran down the fatty crevices of his face as his finger tightened on the trigger of his wavering gun. Alec jerked the stallion’s head, attempting to pull him to one side. Then the crack of a gun shattered the air.

The Black did not shudder. There had been no impact of bullet against flesh. Alec would have felt it had the bullet struck its mark! But how could Ibn al Khaldun have missed at this close range? The powerful forelegs of the stallion descended and struck the ground, close to the body of the Bedouin, who lay flat on his back, his arm outstretched and fingers still clasped on the butt of his gun. A dark red blotch spread slowly over his heart and his beady eyes were rolled back. Alec knew he was dead.

The Black struck at the prone body, the scent of Ibn al Khaldun strong in his nostrils. Pulling him away, Alec heard the sound of hoofs behind. Abd-al-Rhaman rode up, gun in hand, and Alec realized it had been his gun he had heard and not Ibn al Khaldun’s.

Without a word, Abd-al-Rahman jumped off
Sagr’s sweating body and went to Ibn al Khaldun. He bent down over him a minute, then straightened and looked at Alec. Perspiration poured from his face and his black beard was wet. He said something in Arabic, then casting Ibn al Khaldun’s gun aside, he mounted Sagr. His gaze turned to the trail over which they had come. The ring of many hoofs against stone came to their ears. Nodding to Alec, Abd-al-Rahman raised his crop and then wheeled Sagr in a swirl of red dust.

Alec glanced at the lifeless body of Ibn al Khaldun and the fat face which was even more hideous and evil in death. The unwritten law of the desert had been enforced. The deaths of the mother and father of Abd-al-Rahman had been avenged by their son. Alec wheeled the Black and set out after Sagr.

He held the stallion back as they swept down the trail toward the desert which stretched out below them. He noticed that Abd-al-Rahman was now also saving Sagr for the race to come on the flat. The Bedouin sheikh glanced back more often, and Alec knew he wondered how much speed and stamina the Black had left. He had staked much on tiring him before they reached the desert. Alec smiled and was confident, for the Black was running well and pulling at his bit. It was a good sign.

Sagr had reached the desert and Abd-al-Rahman sat down to ride. Alec knew that he would not glance back again for there was but a mile and a half to go and he would drive Sagr hard to the finish.

The Black left the trail and pounded onto the desert. Stumbling as his hoofs sank into the sand, he recovered
and drove forward. Alec moved forward in his saddle and gave the stallion his head. The Black extended his body and with long strides swept over the sand, scarcely touching the ground. Sixty yards ahead thundered Sagr, the white sand flying from beneath his hoofs.

The course led up the edge of the desert, the mountains rising high on the right, and nothing but the broad expanse of white burning sand to the left. Far ahead Alec could see the mountains as they descended to the Plain of Andulla over which they would ride to the finish.

A mile to go and the distance between Sagr and the Black had lessened. Abd-al-Rahman was using his crop lightly.

Alec had not yet called upon the Black for everything. He was content to let Abd-al-Rahman keep his lead until they entered the homestretch across the plain. The footing would be better on the hard ground.

As they swept onto the plain Abd-al-Rahman began using his whip, and under it Sagr pulled ahead again until twenty yards separated him from the Black. The finish was near now and a quarter of a mile ahead Alec could see the Bedouins swarming around the finish line. Moving forward in his saddle, he raised his hands and called upon the Black. “C’mon, fella,” he shouted into the leveled ears. “C’mon!”

Slowly, the giant stallion cut the lead. Slowly, he moved up behind Sagr. Powerful muscles heaved as the two horses extended themselves. Stride for stride they moved forward; and inch by inch the Black gained.

To one side Bedouins galloped, shouting and firing their guns. Several attempted to keep up with them, but even their fresh horses could not stand the swift pace and soon fell back.

Only two hundred yards to go. Alec could see the colored dresses of the women and distinguished the red headdress and gown of the old sheikh as he stood alone and apart from the others at the finish line.

Already the people were opening a path for them to gallop through. Alec knew that the time had come. Leaning forward, he called again to the Black and slapped him with his open hand. The stallion drew alongside Sagr and they rode neck to neck, stirrup to stirrup. Neither horse showed any sign of faltering as they galloped stride for stride, their strained bodies glistening with sweat and powdered with gray dust.

Entering the path to the finish line, Alec saw Abd-al-Rahman glance toward him, then his crop fell heavily on the chestnut’s flank. At the same time Alec slapped the Black’s neck. Simultaneously, both horses shot forward as though hurled from a giant spring. Thundering, they pounded down to the finish line. So close to the Black’s neck that his body was enveloped by the long flowing mane, Alec called upon his horse for the last time. Between his knees he felt the surge of powerful muscles as the Black extended himself. Slowly he inched ahead of Sagr until he was in front by a head … then a neck. As the Black forged ahead, Alec suddenly saw Sagr, his teeth bared, whip his head toward the Black’s neck in an attempt to ravage him! Screaming in anger, the black stallion turned upon Sagr. Alec jerked his horse’s head away from the chestnut,
and as he did he saw Abd-al-Rahman lay his crop across Sagr’s muzzle. As the Black sprang forward, increasing his lead, Abd-al-Rahman’s eyes met Alec’s for a fraction of a second; then he raised his crop in a salute as the Black swept over the finish line.

A week after the race Abd-al-Rahman came to the home of Abu Ja‘ Kub ben Ishak. With him he brought the fifteen horses which Abu Ishak had selected from his herd after the Black’s victory. Raj, who accompanied him, told Alec, “My brother says that the Sheikh Abu Ja‘ Kub ben Ishak does not have faint eyesight when he looks for fine horses. He has taken the best of our stock.” He paused and smiled. “It will be different, the next race.… There will be no Shêtân.” Then he added admiringly, “That was a fine race you rode, Alec. My brother said that no Bedouin could have equaled it. He was very much impressed for he did not think you could handle the black stallion.”

“He is all horse, Raj, and we have gotten to know one another well.” Alec’s voice was soft as he added, “I wouldn’t be too sure about winning the next race. Abu Ja‘ Kub ben Ishak will not sit idly through the next five years. No, Raj, the blood of the Black will be in the horse that Abu Ishak sends to the next race. You can be
sure of that … and he, like the Black, will be hard to beat.”

Raj looked at Alec. “It will be difficult for you to leave him behind, will it not?”

Alec nodded. “But it is better … for he belongs here. I know that now.”

They walked to the porch of the big house in silence. Then Raj asked, “Will Mr. Volence take any of Abu Ishak’s horses back with him?”

“Yes, he has given him four.”

“Mr. Volence … he is pleased?”

“Very much,” Alec replied. “For they are four of Abu Ishak’s finest, and much better than any he had hoped to find in Arabia. We’re taking them with us tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” Raj asked, his inquisitive brown eyes seeking those of his friend. “But that is too soon. Can you not stay longer? We could have many good times together now that there is peace between my family and that of Abu Ja‘ Kub ben Ishak.” His voice lowered to a whisper. “Can you keep a secret, my friend?
Ê
 … yes, you must, for if you do not and my brother hears of it, I fear he will send me back to Haribwan.”

“Sure, Raj. What is it?”

His friend’s voice was so low Alec could scarcely hear him. “There is to be a wedding,” he whispered. “My brother has asked the Sheikh Abu Ja‘ Kub ben Ishak for the hand of his daughter, Tabari, and he has given his consent. My brother speaks to Tabari today, if he has not already, and if she agrees to become his bride there will be much feasting and celebration among our people. Could you not stay for it, Alec?”

Alec shook his head and smiled. “I’d like to, Raj, very much. But by starting tomorrow we’ll arrive at Aden in time to meet a freighter which Abu Ja‘ Kub ben Ishak told us is scheduled to stop there in three weeks.” He paused. “I’m sure there will be a wedding for I saw your brother walking with Tabari a short while ago and she didn’t look as though she would refuse him.”

Abu Ja‘ Kub ben Ishak, with Henry and Mr. Volence, walked toward them from the direction of the stables. When he reached the porch steps the sheikh asked Alec to come with him into the library. There, he shut the door behind him and said, “I wish to have a few words with you, Alec, and would rather not have the others hear what I have to say.”

Alec sat down in the chair Abu Ja‘ Kub ben Ishak offered him. He watched the sheikh as he stood silently looking out of the long window. Finally, turning to Alec, he spoke. “I need not tell you,” he said, “that I am very grateful.… That you know, I am certain. I know also of your great love for Shêtân, and his for you.” He paused, then after a few seconds continued. “It is not possible for me to give him to you, for to do that would be to throw away all the years of careful breeding that have been spent in the development of such a horse. And from Shêtân I must breed others.”

“I didn’t expect you to give me the Black …,” Alec interrupted. “I know how valuable he is to you. It isn’t necessary for you to explain.” He rose from his chair.

Abu Ja‘ Kub ben Ishak moved over to Alec and placed a hand on his shoulder. “There is just one thing more, Alec,” he said. “As you no doubt have guessed I
now plan to place Shêtân in stud, and before many months there will be a foal.” He paused. “It will be yours, Alec, and I shall send it to you.”

“Y … You mean, sir,” Alec stared at him incredulously, “that it’ll be mine? The first foal by the Black …”

Abu Ja‘ Kub ben Ishak smiled. “Yes, Alec, and out of Jôhar, the finest pure-blood Arabian in the world.”

“Gosh!” Alec said dazedly, walking to the window. The view overlooked the valley, and in the late afternoon sun he could see the grazing horses. Apart from the others stood the Black, his head raised high as he surveyed his herd. He, Alec Ramsay, was to have the Black’s first foal. His throat tightened at the thought. Perhaps it would be a colt … a son. The son of the Black! And it would be his, his alone … to raise, to take care of, and eventually to train for the track. What a horse he should be, with the Black for a sire and Jôhar for a dam! His eyes shining, he turned to Abu Ja‘ Kub ben Ishak and together they walked from the room.