The Black Stallion (11 page)

For the first time Alec realized that he had had no breakfast and that his parents didn’t even know where he was. “Mother’ll be wondering what’s happened to me,” Alec said. Late for his first breakfast home!

“And the Missus isn’t going to be welcoming me with eager arms, either,” Henry said gravely. “Promised her I’d go down to the market this morning, but it’s too late now.”

Alec jumped off the Black and walked beside Henry, holding the Black by his halter. Soon they reached the car. “Better go by way of Colden Street,” Henry said, “and miss the traffic. Guess you’ll have to lead him—that’s the only way.”

“You drive ahead slowly, Henry, just in case I need you,” Alec said.

The car rolled out of the park and Alec and the Black followed it. Twenty minutes later, after no mishaps, they neared the stable. The stallion’s ears pricked forward when he saw the barn. “I’m going to have to build that fence higher, Henry,” Alec yelled.

“ ’Fraid so,” answered Henry, “or we’ll be spending half our time chasing this fellow around!”

Henry drove up to the barn, and Alec followed with the Black. “I’ll put him in his stall for the rest of the day, Henry,” he said.

“Good idea,” replied Henry. “He’s sure had enough exercise for one day, and so have I.”

“Me, too,” answered Alec. “I’ll put him away and then go home and eat. I’ll come back later and clean him up.”

“Okay, son. I’ll probably be seeing you—that is,” he laughed, “if I can get out!” He turned and walked toward the house.

Alec put the Black in his stall and ran a brush over his body. He put some hay in the stallion’s feed box. “There, that’ll hold you until I get back,” he said. “Be a good fellow now and take it easy, won’t you?”

The stallion pawed his foreleg into the straw and shook his head. “You’d better behave,” said Alec, laughing. “You’ve caused enough trouble for one day.” He shut the barn door and made his way home.

Alec heard the living-room clock strike nine-thirty as he walked into the house. “That you, Alec?” His mother’s voice came anxiously from the kitchen.

“Yes, Mom,” he answered, as he walked into the room. “Dad gone to work?” His nose wrinkled as he sniffed the appetizing aroma of griddle cakes and sausages.

“Yes,” his mother answered. “He wanted to see you, but he couldn’t wait any longer. Where on earth have you been all this time? And just look at you!”

“I’ve been exercising the Black, Mom,” Alec answered. He didn’t know whether he should tell his mother about the Black running away. He decided
against it—it would only worry her more, and now that the stallion was back, everything was all right.

“You certainly spend a lot of time with that animal,” his mother said. “I don’t know what you’re going to do when you have to go to school.”

Alec walked over to the kitchen table and sat down. He felt the water oozing out of his shoes. “Oh, I’m going to get up early every morning, Mom,” he said, “and feed and groom him before I go to school.” He fumbled with his shoelaces underneath the table, attempting to get his shoes off without his mother’s noticing him.

“When the weather’s nice,” he continued, “I’m going to leave him outside to graze during the morning. I’ll be in the early session at school this term and have classes right through, and get out at twelve-thirty. That’ll give me lots of time in the afternoon to be with him.” Alec slipped his shoes and socks off and wound his feet around the legs of the chair.

“I don’t want you to neglect your studies, Alec,” his mother said. “If I see you doing that, I’ll have to tell your father, and we’ll have to do something about the Black.”

“He won’t interfere, Mom,” Alec answered, as he hungrily applied butter and maple syrup to the griddle cakes his mother placed before him. Life was settling down to normal again—as normal as it could ever be with the Black.

The rest of the day passed quickly for Alec. After breakfast, while his mother was in the living room, he slipped upstairs and put on dry shoes and socks. When he came down, he chatted with his mother, sharing little incidents of his experiences on the island and telling her about Uncle Ralph and the fun they had had together in India. In the afternoon he groomed the Black until the stallion’s black body glistened, and his long mane fell smoothly down on his neck.

Henry came into the stable. “Been cleaning the attic,” he grunted. He carried a large package wrapped in newspapers under his arm. He placed the bundle down on the floor. “Come here and look what I found,” he said to Alec.

He began unwrapping the package, as Alec knelt beside him. The papers, brown with age, cracked and fell apart as he took them off. Inside was a small racing saddle and bridle. Henry gently lifted them out and looked at them. He didn’t say anything. A minute
passed and then he reached down into the bundle again. Almost caressingly he drew out a blazing green jockey cap and shirt. Alec looked down into the bundle and saw a faded pair of riding pants and black boots.

Henry spoke softly. “Everything’s here—even my number.” He held the shirt in his hand. Around the sleeve still hung the white number 3. “Seems like only yesterday I wore ’em in the last race I ever rode.”

Henry stopped. Alec didn’t speak—he could tell from Henry’s face that once again he was living that race over.

“We went to the post,” the little man said, as if to himself. “It was the largest crowd ever to see the International Cup. They were all for Chang, too—he was the greatest race horse of the day. How they roared when we lined up. The other horses wouldn’t stand still. But nothing ever bothered Chang—he let the others do the frisking. He just waited quietly for the barrier to go up.

“I never saw the rest of ’em in that race. Chang leaped ahead at the start, and I gave him his head—we won going away.” Henry swept a hand across his eyes. “It wasn’t until he had come to a stop that he suddenly trembled, staggered, vainly attempted to keep his feet, then fell to the ground dead. The doctors never knew what actually killed him—finally said that it was a blood clot or something like that. I never knew what to believe. The only thing that mattered was that Chang was gone—but the record he set that day still stands.”

Henry stopped and his gaze turned to the Black.

“I never thought I would see a horse that could break that record—until now,” he said. The Black’s
long neck stretched far over his stall door. He shook his head and whinnied.

Carefully Henry put the shirt back into the bundle and rose to his feet. He carried it over to the corner of the barn and placed it inside the trunk. Then he turned around and faced the boy. “There’s just one thing that stands in our way of putting the Black in a race, Alec.”

“You mean because he’s so wild, Henry?”

“No, I don’t mean that. By spring we should have him calmed down a bit. But I read in the paper just now of how you got the Black. You didn’t tell me this morning.”

“I was going to, Henry, but why does that stand in his way?”

“Only that you don’t have any record of who his sire and dam were, and, Alec, a horse must be registered to run in a race.”

Alec felt a sick feeling in his stomach—he hadn’t realized how much he had looked forward to seeing the Black race. “You mean, Henry, we have to find that out before we can put the Black on a track?”

“ ’Fraid so, kid,” Henry answered. Alec could see that he was as disappointed as himself. “Isn’t there any way you could possibly get that information?” the little man asked.

“I don’t see how, Henry. I know the name of the port in Arabia where he got on, but that’s all. Everyone on the ship was drowned, so there aren’t any records we could possibly get.”

Henry thought a minute. Then he said, “I’ll drop a line to a friend of mine in the Jockey Club. Maybe he can help us—some way.”

“Gee, Henry, I hope so!”

“We have all winter to try and find out,” Henry said. “Maybe they can trace him from the town or somethin’. He looks like too valuable a horse not to be registered in a Stud Book somewhere!” He walked toward the door. “Have to be gettin’ back now or the Missus’ll be comin’ down for me!” He stopped and put a hand in his pocket. He took out a piece of paper. “Wrote down what we need for the Black to eat, Alec,” he said. “After you get finished, you can go down to the feed store and get ’em. We can’t have the big boy eating all of Napoleon’s grain, you know.” He paused and his hand went once again inside his pocket. “Seein’ that we’re goin’ to work together, it’s only fair that I share some of the expenses, Alec, so I want to pay for this.”

“You don’t have to do that, Henry. Dad’s going to give me a regular allowance for the work I do around the house.”

Henry smiled. “Sure,” he came back, “and we’re going to need all the money we can get—it takes money to make a champion, y’know. And we can’t skimp on the Black’s food. That’s why we’re going to have to work together just like partners. C’mon now, take this money and beat it down to the store.” Henry shoved the money into the boy’s hand.

Alec looked from the old jockey to the stallion. “Okay, partner,” he said, smiling.

The next morning Alec went back to school. Whiff Sample and Bill Lee fell in beside him as he left the building at 12:30.

“What’s all this about you bein’ in a shipwreck and everything?” Whiff asked excitedly.

“Yeah, it was in the paper yesterday morning, and you even came home with a horse,” Bill finished.

“It’s the truth,” Alec answered. “And if you don’t believe me, come on along and I’ll show him to you. I’m going over to the stable now.”

“We sure will,” they answered together.

When they reached the barn, Alec saw Henry. “Hello,” he yelled.

“So you brought along some spectators, heh, Alec?”

Whiff’s and Bill’s eyes were turned toward the field where the Black grazed in a corner. “Gosh,” they said.

The Black raised his head when he heard Alec’s voice. His ears pricked forward and he whistled. Alec whistled back. Suddenly the horse broke toward them. Whiff and Bill hung back with Henry, as Alec walked toward the fence.

The Black hesitated when he saw the newcomers. He screamed and trotted back down the field. Henry didn’t have to urge Whiff and Bill to move out of sight. They ran into the barn—their eyes wide with excitement. “Did you see him!” gasped Bill.

“Boy, he’s the biggest horse I ever did see and what a mean look!” answered Whiff. They watched from the window of the barn.

The Black broke into a long, loping gait and ran toward Alec, as he walked into the field. “Better get back, Alec,” yelled Henry. “If he doesn’t slow up, he’ll hit you.”

The stallion thundered down upon the boy. Five yards away he swerved, barely missing him. He ran to the fence, turned and once again ran toward him. He swerved as he had done before. “Better get out of there, Alec,” Henry warned.

“He just wants to play, Henry,” Alec yelled over his shoulder. “We did this all the time on the island! It’s like a game of tag.”

“Yeah,” Henry called, “some fun!” He watched as Alec ran after the Black until he got him into a corner. The stallion reared and pawed the ground. He ran to one side, then to the other. Alec slowly approached him, both hands spread apart. The Black snorted, his long mane falling over his eyes. Suddenly Alec ran toward him. The stallion whirled and broke for the side. Alec reached out and slapped him on the hindquarters. The Black ran to the center of the field, then turned and looked back, shaking his head.

“What a pair!” Henry said to himself.

The stallion charged back at the boy, again swerving when he was almost on top of him. For ten minutes Henry watched the strangest game he had ever witnessed. And slowly he began to understand the strange understanding that had grown between this wild stallion and the boy.

A few minutes later Alec came up to him. His shirt was wet with sweat and his blue eyes glistened with excitement. “Do you see, Henry,” he exclaimed, “he just wanted to play! Look at him, Henry—did you ever see anything so great in all your life?”

The Black had broken into a gallop and was running around the field. His mane flew back in the wind,
and as he neared them his powerful strides shook the ground. He swept past. Henry didn’t say anything until the stallion had come to a stop at the other end of the field, had whirled and looked back at them. Henry’s own eyes were bright, too. “No,” he said, “I’ve never seen anything like him—not even Chang.

“I wrote to my friend in the Jockey Club,” he continued after a moment’s silence. “I explained the situation and asked if there wasn’t some way we could check up on the Black’s pedigree. He should be registered somewhere.”

“How long before he’ll answer you, Henry?”

“Should be sometime this week, telling us what to do, anyway.”

“I hope so,” Alec said. “It can’t be too soon for me.”

“Me, either.… Guess we’d better bring him in now; he’s been out long enough. Then we’ll make the fence a little higher in spots, so we won’t be chasing him through the park like we did yesterday.”

The boy whistled and the Black came running toward him. Alec grabbed him by the halter and rubbed his nose. He was leading him toward the barn when he heard someone shout, “Hey, Alec, keep away! Don’t bring him in here! We’re here!” The stallion snorted.

“What do you know, Henry, I forgot all about Whiff and Bill,” Alec said. “They’re still in the barn.… Come on out, fellows. I’ll hold the Black here.”

The two boys came out, a little sheepishly.

“Guess we’d better get home to lunch,” Whiff said. They hurried down the driveway as the stallion screamed softly.

“Guess they believe me now,” Alec said, grinning.

After dinner that same night, Alec went back to the barn. Tony had already stabled old Napoleon for the night. Alec saw him shove his white nose over into the Black’s stall to steal some of his oats. The Black playfully nipped him, and Napoleon quickly withdrew his head. Alec couldn’t get over the fancy the Black had taken to Napoleon. He wasn’t afraid to leave him alone now, for as long as the old, gray horse was around, the stallion was quiet. A little later Alec bedded the Black’s stall, turned out the lights and went home.