The Black Stallion Returns (3 page)

Henry glanced at his watch. Pretty near an hour since Abu Ishak had left. A few minutes later he closed his knife as he saw a horse van coming down the street. He rose slowly to his feet and entered the barn.

“They’re comin’, Alec,” he said. The boy’s back was toward him, his face hard against the stallion’s neck.

“He saved my life, Henry,” Alec said. He attempted to go on, but his voice broke. His shoulders swept forward and Henry knew that he was crying.

“Yeah, I know, Alec …” Henry stopped and turned back toward the door.

The van was at the gate now and soon would be at the door. Henry walked over to Alec and his long arm descended on the boy’s shoulder. The stallion tossed his head, baring his teeth. “Look, kid … I could tell you about horses that I’ve loved and lost in my time, but it wouldn’t do any good. Guess there’s no love greater than yours for the Black, ’cept maybe his for
you. I’m not goin’ to tell you that you’ll forget him, either, ’cause you won’t. But cryin’s not going to help. You’re a gutsy kid or you wouldn’t be here today, so pull yourself together and let’s try to figure somethin’ out between the two of us.”

Alec’s hands swept across his eyes, then he turned to Henry. “Sure, Henry.…”

“We’re up against a pretty high stone wall, Alec. By law and every right, the Black belongs to Abu Ishak. If he’ll sell him, we’ll get the money some place. If he won’t, the Lord only knows what we can do. I’ll talk to him and tell him what’s grown up between you and the Black and hope he understands. Puttin’ our cards on the table, we know that he’s traveled halfway around the world for the Black. You don’t do that unless you want somethin’ pretty bad and have a mighty good reason for wantin’ him that bad. He doesn’t seem like an unreasonable guy, though, so maybe he’ll listen and understand.”

“You don’t think, Henry, that he had anything to do … with last night?”

“No. Abu Ishak wants his horse alive. Somebody else wants him done away with. Who it might be, I don’t know. Maybe he knows, but he isn’t tellin’. The medallion didn’t mean anything to him, at any rate.”

“I think it did, Henry … for some reason I can’t explain.”

The van had stopped in front of the barn. Henry walked to the door, followed by Alec.

Abu Ishak and a policeman were coming up the driveway. “I’ll talk to him now. You stay here,” Henry told Alec.

The stallion neighed and Alec went to him.

Ten minutes later the Arab entered the barn with Henry close behind. Alec’s eyes swept to Henry’s face and saw what he’d hoped he wouldn’t see.

“He won’t sell, Alec.” It was Henry’s voice. Alec looked at Abu Ishak.

“You won’t, sir … not for any price?” he asked.

The Arab’s eyes met Alec’s. They seemed kind and Alec waited hopefully. “Mr. Dailey has told me how much my horse means to you. But, my son, an Arab’s horse is not for sale; our horses are part of ourselves. At home we have our families, but in the desert our horses are our only company, and men do not sell their friends.” He paused, withdrawing a wallet from his inside coat pocket. “I’d like to repay you for all you have done. Will you take this?”

Alec shook his head. “No, thanks, sir,” he replied quietly.

Abu Ja‘ Kub ben Ishak looked at Henry. They both knew that it was useless to attempt to alter Alec’s decision.

The driver of the van, who had been standing just inside the door, moved toward the stall. In his hand he held a lead rope. Abu Ishak stopped him. “I’ll take him,” he said.

Alec and Henry watched as Abu approached the stall. He moved quietly and without hesitation. Reaching the door, he opened it. The stallion’s body trembled but he didn’t strike, nor were his teeth bared. If Alec had any doubts about Abu’s being the owner of the Black, they were gone, for no one, with the exception of Henry and himself, had ever approached the
stallion without being struck at by hoofs that moved with the speed of a striking cobra.

Abu Ishak walked up to the stallion, unafraid. He placed a hand gently upon the Black’s glistening neck. He spoke to him softly in Arabic and the stallion’s ears pricked forward. Swiftly Abu Ishak fastened the lead rope to the halter. He ran his hands down the stallion’s legs; then, taking a step backward, he stood staring at him. Many men had looked at the Black, but Alec had never seen one look like this. Finally, he turned to them. “You have been good to Shêtân,” he said slowly. “He has developed into a very fine horse.” He lowered his voice until Alec and Henry could barely make out his words. “It is possible that time has not been wasted.”

The Black half-reared when Abu Ishak began to lead him from the stall, and for a moment Alec thought he was going to strike. The Arab stood motionless, although his eyes followed the stallion’s ascent. The Black descended and stood still; his head turned in Alec’s direction and he whistled softly.

Alec stood still, he couldn’t move. His horse … would life be worth living without him? He held out his hand. “Hey, Black” … the words formed in his throat but he could not get them out. The stallion was through the stall door, Abu Ishak beside him. His hoofs rang on the floor as he moved toward Alec. Reaching him, he lowered his small head, the black mane falling down over his bewildered eyes. Alec mechanically pushed it away and rubbed his forehead, as he’d always done. Suddenly he realized that this was the last time he’d hold his horse and his arms fell around the long neck
as he pressed his head hard against the stallion’s forehead.

Minutes passed and it was quiet in the barn. Then Alec looked up and his gaze met Abu Ishak’s. “You’ll be good to him?”

Abu Ishak nodded.

Alec’s hand slipped from the Black’s forehead to the mane. Walking slowly, he passed his horse, his fingers trailing along the black coat; then he went to the small tack room in the back of the barn. There he sat on a trunk, knees and fingers pressed together over the bridge of his nose. He tried not to hear the sound of the Black’s hoofs as he left the barn, the shrill whistle. Then came the roar of the van’s engine, the grinding of gears, and the hard rubber wheels on the gravel driveway.

His horse was gone. Would he ever see him again?

Alec’s father allowed the evening newspaper to fall to his lap and withdrew his long legs from the footstool in front of him. Through the porch screens he could see the sun setting behind Dailey’s barn. He turned to his wife, who sat sewing beside him. “Gettin’ dark, Belle. You’ll hurt your eyes.”

She laid Alec’s corduroy pants down on her lap and removed her glasses. “Just patching up his riding pants again. He might want them, you know.”

“Yes, he might. Hope so.” Mr. Ramsay rose to his feet. “Know where he went, Belle?”

“He said he was going for a walk.” Mrs. Ramsay picked up her sewing again. “I’m worried about him, Bill. He hasn’t eaten much … nothing appeals to him.”

“Glad he’s out of his room, anyway. He’s done nothing but coop himself up there for the last two weeks.”

“But he’s been studying hard, Bill. And he did so well in his final exams.” Then she added proudly, “One
of his friends told me today that Alec got the highest marks in his graduating class.”

“Yes, it’s great, Belle. But it’s still not like Alec to study hard. Of course, we both know the reason was that he wanted to take his mind off the Black. Wonder what he’ll do now, though, with school over for the summer?”

Mrs. Ramsay looked up from her sewing. “Do you think we could afford to get him a horse to replace the Black? It could be his graduation present.”

“Guess we could afford it all right, Belle. Don’t know as it’ll do any good, though. No horse could ever replace the Black as far as Alec’s concerned.” Mr. Ramsay sat down in his chair again and put his legs back on the footstool. “Might ask him tonight how he feels about getting another horse,” he continued. “After all there’s a long summer ahead and in his present frame of mind he’ll want to be kept busy.”

It was after dark when Alec returned. He greeted his parents and then sat down.

After a few minutes’ silence, Mr. Ramsay said, “You certainly did well in your exams, son. We’re mighty proud of you.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

Alec’s father filled his pipe, then lighted it carefully before he spoke again. “Anything special you’d like as a graduation present, Alec?”

“No, Dad, thanks.…”

“Your mother and I thought you might like a horse—.” He stopped. He had been going to add “to take the place of the Black” but thought better of it.

Alec didn’t answer for a minute, and when he did
speak his voice was low, so low that it was hardly audible. “I don’t think so, Dad … thanks … not now, anyway.” He rose to his feet. “I think I’ll go up to my room, if you don’t mind, there’s a book …” He walked quickly inside the house.

The following day Alec visited the old barn for the first time since the Black’s departure. Nearing it, he heard Tony’s voice. “That’sa good-a horse, Napoleon. Tomorrow you feel-a beeg again.” Alec glanced at his watch. It was early in the afternoon for Tony and Napoleon to have completed their rounds.

When he entered the barn he saw Tony alone with Napoleon. The little Italian huckster had the old gray horse’s head between his hands and was looking at him worriedly. “Anything the matter, Tony?” Alec asked after a moment’s hesitation.

“ ’Allo, Aleec. It’sa da Nappy, he no feel so good.”

Walking over to them, Alec ran his hand across the horse’s back. “He’s getting old, Tony. Have you seen a vet?”

“No. Napoleon, he no need a vet. He still wan young feller. Know what’sa da matta with him? He misses da big Black, that’s all.”

“Yeah, Tony … guess that’s it. And I’m sure the Black misses him.”

Tony led Napoleon into his stall, and Alec walked to the barn door. Outside he saw Henry. Calling, he ran toward him.

Henry smiled as Alec came up. “Missed you,” he said, “but imagined exams were keepin’ you pretty busy. How’d they go?”

“Okay,” Alec said, “passed ’em all.”

They walked to the barn and sat down on the bench. Finally, Tony came out. “ ’Allo, Henree,” he said, “what’sa new?”

“Nothin’, Tony. Same old stuff. Napoleon any better?”

“He’s-a okay. Just what ya call it … depressed? Anyway, he miss-a da Black.”

“He’ll be all right in a few days,” Henry assured him.

“You betch. Time-a heals everythin’.” His black eyes shifted to Alec. “Well-a hafta go home to da wife and bambinos. Addio!”

A few minutes after Tony had left, Alec and Henry saw a limousine pull up in front of the gate. A tall man got out, pushed his hat to the back of his head, and looked inquiringly in the direction of the barn.

“Say, Henry!” Alec shouted. “That looks a lot like Mr. Volence!”

“Bejabbers! It sure does. C’mon.”

The two ran toward the gate. Neither had seen the wealthy owner of Sun Raider since the big race in Chicago, when the Black had beaten his horse.

Alec was the first to recognize him. “It’s Mr. Volence all right, Henry,” he shouted.

“Yeah. Wonder what he wants?”

Mr. Volence met them at the gate. “Henry! Alec! It’s good seeing you again!” His large, heavily jowled face creased in a big grin.

A few minutes later they walked toward the barn. “So this is where you keep that black devil,” Mr. Volence said. “Tell me, has he calmed down any or is he as wild as ever?”

Henry looked at Alec. Alec shoved his hands in his pockets and said quietly, “He doesn’t live here anymore, Mr. Volence.”

“You … you mean you sold him?”

“No,” Alec explained. “His real owner turned up.”

Then Alec told him the whole story. When he had finished, Mr. Volence walked slowly over to the bench and sat down. “That’s like something out of a book,” he said. “You know,” he continued, “one of the reasons I came to New York was to see if you wouldn’t sell the Black. I’ve retired Sun Raider to stud at my farm in Kentucky, but I still need a few more good stallions. The Black could have done much to improve the bloodline of the American thoroughbred, you know. At least, that’s my belief.”

“That’s just what I said,” Henry agreed.

Alec looked at Mr. Volence. “There’s still more to the story … something that happened the night before Abu Ishak showed up.” Then he proceeded to tell him about the mysterious night visitor who had attempted to kill the Black.

“Whew!” Mr. Volence said when Alec finished. “And you don’t think there’s any connection between Abu Ishak and the Black’s attacker?”

Alec’s gaze shifted to Henry, then back to Mr. Volence. “There may be a connection somewhere,” he said. “I’m sure he recognized the medallion on the gold chain.”

“He may have recognized it, Alec,” Henry insisted, “but I’m certain he didn’t have anything to do with the attack on the Black.”

Mr. Volence nodded. “I’m inclined to agree with
Henry, Alec. Abu Ishak would have no reason for wanting to harm his own horse.”

“You’re probably right,” Alec said, “but still …”

The three sat in silence for a few minutes. Finally, Mr. Volence slapped his hands on his knees and said, “Well, I guess it’ll be one of those unsolved mysteries. Too bad the Black got away. We’ll probably never see another like him.” He stood up. “I plan to go abroad in a few weeks to see if I can’t pick up some stallions.”

Alec eyed Mr. Volence. “Where do you think you’ll go, sir?” he asked. Henry noted a strained note in his voice.

“Probably England, Alec. Have a better chance of getting some good stock there than any place else.”

“Why?”

The tall man looked down at Alec and there was a slight twinkle in his eyes. “Say, what are you driving at, Alec? As far as I know, and I’ve been in this business a long time, the English are pretty good at horse-breeding. Take a look at the records,” he added, smiling. “You’ll find I’m right.”

Alec’s face was serious and his gaze didn’t waver. “How about the Black, sir? Do you think that he was born, well, overnight? Don’t you think a horse like that … you said yourself that we’ll probably never see another like him … don’t you think he’s the result of years and years of careful breeding?”

Mr. Volence looked at Henry and they both nodded.