The Black Stallion (10 page)

He turned the faded yellowish pages that were filled with newspaper clippings. Headline after headline caught Alec’s eye as he knelt beside Henry:
DAILEY RIDES CHANG TO VICTORY IN SCOTT MEMORIAL—DAILEY BRINGS WARRIOR HOME FIRST IN
$50,000
FUTURITY—TURFDOM ACCLAIMS DAILEY AS GREATEST RIDER OF ALL TIME
—Henry stopped turning the pages, his eyes gazing steadily at a photograph in front of him. “This, son,” he said, “is where I got the greatest thrill of my life—riding Chang home first in the Kentucky Derby. Wouldn’t think that little guy there was me, would you?”

Alec looked closer. He saw a small boy, with a wide grin on his face, astride a large, powerful-looking red horse. Around the horse’s neck hung the winner’s
horseshoe of roses. Alec noticed the large, strong hands holding the reins and the stocky, broad shoulders. “Yes,” he said, “I can tell that’s you.”

Henry smiled and reached down into the trunk again. He took out what looked to Alec like old dried-out leaves. Then he saw that they were in the shape of a horseshoe. He looked again at the photograph.

“Yes,” Henry said, “it’s the same one they placed around Chang’s neck that day. Not much left of ’em, but they still hold plenty of memories!”

Henry put the dried flowers back into the trunk. “When I finally got too old and too heavy to ride horses any more, I trained them instead,” he continued. “I married the Missus and we were both pretty happy. We had two children—both girls; now they’re married. Somehow, I’ve always missed not having a boy—some-one like you, son, who loved horses, and who would sort of follow in my footsteps, because there isn’t anything so exciting in the world as lining up there at the post with a four-legged piece of dynamite underneath you!

“Well, to go on, I was pretty successful as a trainer, made good money. And then came the day when the Missus thought it was time for us to retire and get away from the track. Can’t say as I blame her, it’s the only life she ever knew after she married me, and I guess it wasn’t in her blood like it was in mine. We did a lot of movin’ around for a good many years, then we bought this place, and here we are. It’s been two years since I saw my last race—two years. I don’t think I can stand it much longer.”

Henry paused again. “You see, Alec,” he said, “I’m telling you this to show you that if there is only one thing that I do know anything about it’s whether a horse is any good or not—and let me tell you we can make the Black the greatest racer that ever set a hoof on any track!”

Henry closed the book with a sharp crack and placed it back inside the trunk. He rose to his feet and put his hand on the boy’s shoulder. “What do you say, son—are you game?”

Alec looked at the old man and then toward the open door where he could see the Black in the distance. “It would be great, Henry!” he said. “And I know he would give any horse in the world a real race—if we can just keep him from fighting.”

“It’ll be a tough job, Alec, but it’s going to be worth it to see him come pounding down the homestretch!”

“Where can we train him, Henry?”

“We can’t do much until spring, Alec—just let him get used to it around here. You can ride him around the field and I’ll teach you all the tricks I know. We won’t be able to do much else with him with winter coming on. I don’t think we’ll even bother with a bridle and saddle yet—we’ll wait until early spring for that, too. By that time we shouldn’t have much trouble putting them on him. Then I think I can find a way to get him over to Belmont for some workouts on the track—that’s when the real training begins!”

“Sounds swell, Henry! Do you think I’ll be able to ride him in the races?”

Henry smiled. “Unless I’m very much mistaken, that horse isn’t going to let anyone else ride him.”

As they walked toward the door, the loud drone of an airplane filled the air. “That fellow’s awfully close to the ground!” said Alec. “His motor seems to be missing, too!”

They ran outside and saw a plane flying low over the barn; its motor stuttered and then caught again, shattering the early morning stillness with a deafening roar. “He’s got it!” said Henry.

But Alec wasn’t watching the plane now; he had heard something above the plane’s roar. The sharp, piercing whistle of the Black! Alec saw the stallion rise on his hind legs and wheel in the air, running at breakneck speed down the field.

“Look, Henry!” Alec shouted. “The Black!” The stallion was nearing the end of the field, his pace never slackening, his long, black mane whipping behind him like waves of smoke.

“Lord!” said Henry. “The plane scared him! He’ll kill himself on those rocks!”

“He’s not going to stop, Henry!” Then they saw the Black gather himself, and, like a taut, powerful spring just released, sail through the air and over the fence.

“Seven feet if it’s an inch!” exclaimed Henry. “Come on, we’ve got to get him!” Together they rushed down the field. They saw the Black in the distance—then he was out of sight! Suddenly Henry stopped. “I’ll go back and get the car, Alec. You keep after him!” he said.

“All right,” Alec shouted over his shoulder. “He’s headed for the park!” Quickly he climbed the fence, and ran as fast as he could in the direction the stallion had taken. Soon Henry caught up to him in the car. “Climb in, son,” he said. The Black was nowhere to be seen.

For half an hour Alec and Henry frantically looked for the Black. Up and down the streets they sped in Henry’s car.

“Lucky it’s so early in the morning, Alec—not so many people around,” Henry said.

“What time is it?” Alec asked, never taking his eyes off the road in front of him.

Henry pulled his large silver watch out of his vest pocket. “Seven o’clock,” he grunted.

“We’ve just got to find him, Henry—before it’s too late!” the boy declared.

“What do you mean—too late?” Henry asked.

“I’m afraid of some cops shooting him. Gosh! That would be terrible!”

Henry nodded and pushed his foot harder on the accelerator. The car jumped ahead.

“Turn down this street, Henry—the park’s just ahead; maybe he’s there.”

Alec saw two men on a street corner. “Pull over
there, Henry. We’ll ask them if they’ve seen him. They seem to be pretty excited over something!”

Alec leaned out of the car. “Say, Mister,” he yelled, “did you see a horse run down here?”

“Sure did,” one of them answered. “He shot past here like a streak of lightning ten minutes ago! Where the devil did he come from?”

“Thanks,” said Alec without answering the man’s question. The car lurched ahead as Henry stepped on the gas.

“We’re on the right track, anyway, Alec,” Henry said grimly. A few minutes later they entered the park. Henry slowed down. “You look over there, kid—I’ll take care of this side.”

“It’s an awfully big park,” Alec said, discouraged.

“All the better,” grinned Henry. “Not much chance of him hurting anyone then!”

The car rolled through tree-lined roads. Henry and Alec both leaned out the sides of the car. After a few miles they approached the rolling green fairways of the golf course.

“He might have gone out there, Henry,” Alec said. “Plenty of hills, just what he’d be looking for.”

“Let’s park the car here and take a look, Alec,” Henry said as he brought the car to a stop.

Alec had to trot to keep up with Henry’s short but energetic strides across the fairway. The air was cool and crisp, but starting to warm up from the bright sun that was climbing higher and higher in the cloudless blue sky. Their shoes made deep squishing sounds in the early morning dew.

“Going to be a hot day,” muttered Henry, never
slowing his pace. Alec jogged beside him. “Hope we can find him before the early morning golfers start coming out,” he said.

When they reached the middle of the fairway, Henry stopped. “You’d better go in the direction of that wood over there,” he said. “I’ll go down this fairway a piece toward that hill. If either of us finds him, give a yell.”

“Okay, Henry,” Alec said. He started off in the direction of the wood. His feet were soaked. He stopped and started to remove his shoes, then thinking better of it, straightened up and continued at a fast pace. He went down into a large gully. At the bottom he turned and followed the gully as it wove in and out across the fairway. Soon he entered the wood. He climbed to the top of the gully and looked about. Henry was out of sight. The dew on the green grass glistened in the distance. The air was quiet and cooler in the shade of the big trees. Alec knew that on the other side of the wood was another fairway. He hastened toward it, following the path which he had traveled many times as a caddy during the summer months.

He reached the other side and looked across the stretch of green carpet spread before him. The Black was nowhere to be seen. Alec whistled—but there was no answer. He started across the fairway. “Still have a lot of ground to cover,” he thought. “He’s liable to be any place.”

For what seemed hours, Alec trudged up and down the hills of the course looking for the Black. The sun was higher now and hotter. He became more and more desperate as he saw no sign of the stallion. He removed
his white sweater and flung it over his arm. He reached the top of a high hill and looked below him. In the distance he could see some men playing golf.

“Henry might have found him,” he thought hopefully. He had covered more than half the course and the Black surely wasn’t around here. Alec whistled again. If the Black was within hearing distance, he surely would recognize his whistle. But there was no answering call.

Perhaps the stallion hadn’t entered the park at all. Perhaps he was still somewhere in the streets. But Alec felt the stallion was too intelligent for that. His natural instinct would lead him to the open spaces here in the park. He
must
be around somewhere! Alec began to climb back down the hill toward the fairway. He had covered his territory thoroughly. Then he stopped. He hadn’t been to the Hole where he and the fellows always went for a swim after their day of caddying. It was off the course, but there was a chance the stallion’s instinct had led him toward the water.

He had to look there—he mustn’t let even a slim chance slip by. Alec turned in his tracks and went alongside the hill. His legs ached, and his wet feet weren’t helping matters any. He walked about a mile before he came to another wood. He followed a well-hidden path down into a hollow and then up again. It was at least nice and cool in here. The Hole was just ahead now. Alec quickened his steps. He reached the top of the hill and looked down. The water glistened below him. The pool wasn’t large and if the Black was there, he surely would see him. But there wasn’t any sign of him.

The wood was quiet except for the staccato-like tapping of a hard-working woodpecker in a nearby tree. Hope faded within Alec—he had played his last hunch. It was the natural place for the Black to be—the only pool of water for miles around. He took one final look. Even the shadows on the side of the pool wouldn’t have been able to conceal the stallion. He just wasn’t there.

Back along the path he climbed wearily. What had happened to his horse? He saw the Black lying dead in the street, killed by a car or by a policeman’s bullets. It just couldn’t be—it couldn’t end that way! Probably Henry had found him already.

A sharp, cracking noise broke the stillness. He whirled. It came from the direction of the pool. He hurried back and looked down. On the other side, something was making its way through the thick underbrush and coming in the direction of the water! Alec stood still, scarcely daring to hope! There wasn’t any path over there. Whatever it was, was making its own way through the bushes. The noise became louder and louder. Then suddenly a huge black head appeared. It was the Black! Alec saw him reach his long neck down and bury his nose into the cool water.

Relief paralyzed him for a moment. Then he whistled softly. The Black raised his head, water dripping from his mouth. He looked up. Alec whistled again and ran down the slope toward the pool. The stallion saw him. He shook his head and whistled. Alec slowed down to a walk. Cautiously he covered the distance around the pool and approached the Black.

“What’s the matter, fella—scared?” he asked.

The stallion shook his head and moved toward him. His black coat was dirty and his long mane covered with burrs. Alec patted the dripping muzzle. “Had a tough time, didn’t you, Boy!” He ran his hand down the stallion’s neck, wiping the dirt off. “It’s sure good to see you!” he said.

The stallion again pushed his nose into the cool water and drank deep. When he had finished, Alec grasped the halter that was still around his head. “Come on, Boy, let’s get going home.”

The Black refused to move. Alec spoke softly to him and rubbed a hand across his neck, but the stallion stood firm. Alec pulled on the halter again. The Black’s eyes swept around, then rested on the boy. He shook his head and slowly moved after him.

Alec led him up the path through the wood. When they reached the fairway, he stopped and looked at the horse. “Wouldn’t give a guy a lift, would you, Mister?” he asked. The Black moved swiftly to one side, his eyes turned toward the open fairway. “I’m really pretty tired, Black—you gave me quite a chase, you know.” He led the Black over to a tree stump, stepped on it and threw himself onto the stallion’s back.

“Come on, Boy,” he said, “let’s go.”

The Black walked fast out onto the fairway, and then broke into a trot. Alec turned him toward the spot where he had left Henry. “Better get off this course in a hurry,” he thought, “or they’ll have the riot squad after us for tearing up the ground!”

After riding for about five minutes, Alec saw Henry in the distance walking toward them. “Had just about given up,” Henry said when Alec rode up.

“I almost did, too,” Alec said. “Found him away over by the Hole.”

“Looks as though he’s been rolling around in the dirt.”

“He’s had a time for himself, all right,” Alec answered. “Look at the burrs on him—must have gone through a lot of underbrush.”

“We can get those off.” Henry glanced at his watch. “But right now we’d better be getting back—almost nine o’clock.”