The Black Stallion (19 page)

“Might as well do his fighting, then,” said a man
behind them. “He won’t be anywhere near Cyclone once they’re off!”

“Oh, yeah? It’ll be Sun Raider by two lengths today!” He turned to Mr. Ramsay. “Who do you think is going to win?” he asked.

“I’m picking the mystery horse.”

“Say, don’t you know that’s a publicity stunt,” the man answered. “I’ll bet you there won’t even be a third horse out there today!”

“We’ll see,” Alec’s father said. “We’ll see.”

Alec stroked the Black. “It’s almost time, fella,” he said. The stallion pawed at the straw. Outside a line of policemen kept the eager spectators away. In the distance Alec could see the stands jammed with people. Band music drifted toward them. Henry came back from looking over the track.

“Fast as the devil,” he said. “Better go over and check it out for yourself,” he said. He stopped and his eyes blinked a little as he put a hand on the green shirt Alec wore. “Fits pretty good, doesn’t it?” He smiled.

“Swell,” Alec answered. “So do the pants and the cap.” He put on the cap and pulled the long peak down over his eyes to show Henry.

Henry straightened the number 3 on Alec’s arm. “They’ll bring you luck,” he said. “They did me.…”

Alec was on his way back from the track when he passed the two jockeys who were riding Cyclone and Sun Raider. They looked much older than they did in the pictures he had seen in the newspapers.

One of them saw him. “Say, you’re the kid with the mystery horse, aren’t you?”

Alec nodded.

“So you’re actually going to ride in this race!” Sun Raider’s jockey grinned. “We thought you were just part of a publicity gag, didn’t we, Dave?”

The other jockey pulled him by the arm. “Come on,” he said, “quit wastin’ time.” Then he looked at Alec. “Better take it easy in this race, kid.” They turned and walked away.

Alec’s anger mounted as he walked toward the stables. Who did those guys think they were, anyway! Just because they were old hands at this game they thought they owned the track.

Henry had the Black out of his stall when he got back.

“All set, kid?” he asked.

“All set.”

The noise from the distance made the stallion nervous. Alec rubbed his neck.

“Just a few things I want you to remember, Alec,” Henry continued. “There isn’t much to tell you about handling the Black—you know more about him than I do. You’re a good rider, and I’ve taught you all the tricks I know—now, it’s up to you to put them in use. Those other two jockeys are the slickest riders in the game. They won’t let you get away with a thing—but they won’t try anything that’s outside the rules; they’re smart but not dirty. They’re out to win, but so are you. Remember you’ve got all the horse under you that they have.”

“I’m sure of that, Henry,” Alec interrupted as he looked proudly at the Black.

“I can’t tell you to hold him back,” Henry continued,
“because you won’t be able to. Stay on him and ride like you never have before! If the Black’s the kind of a horse we’ve been figuring him to be, he should win all the way!”

Cyclone was the first out of the barn for the big race. He received lusty cheers on his way to the paddock. He was draped in a flaming red robe and wore red blinkers.

A few minutes later Sun Raider was led from the barn almost wholly concealed in a white woolen blanket. He pranced nervously and his small head turned viciously around. Another cheer went up from the crowd gathered around the paddock rail when they saw him.

Then a hush fell upon the crowd as the Black appeared, covered in his new black robe and accompanied by old Napoleon. Alec held him by the lead rope attached to his halter. The stallion reared and Alec let the rope slip through his fingers until he came down. The Black’s eyes blazed when he saw the other stallions. Alec remembered the fight the Black had had with the chestnut stallion in Rio. He tightened his grip on the rope and walked him far behind the others when they reached the paddock stalls.

The silence was broken by a man’s loud yell, “There’s the mystery horse!” Then everyone started talking. They hadn’t expected to see anything like the Black. “He’s even bigger than Sun Raider!” Alec heard one man exclaim.

A few minutes later one of the track officials called, “Riders up!”

The blankets were whipped off the horses. Henry
saddled and bridled the Black and then boosted Alec into the saddle. “Let the others get out first, so there won’t be any trouble,” he said, as they went slowly around the paddock ring. The Black’s gaze was on the horses far ahead of him. His nostrils quivered and he shook his head nervously. Alec knew that only Napoleon beside him kept him under control.

A long line of policemen kept the crowd back and made a path from the paddock to the track. The bugle sounded. The Black raised his head and his ears pricked forward. Henry led him toward the track.

They stopped at the entrance to the track. Cyclone and Sun Raider were already walking past the grandstand on their way to the post. Henry looked up at Alec. “Well, kid, you’re on your own now,” he said quietly. “Go to it!”

Alec’s heart pounded as he saw the solid mass of people stretched out before him. “Okay, Henry,” he said. Old Napoleon neighed plaintively as Henry kept him from following the Black out on the track.

Every vantage point in and around the outer fences of the course was jammed with excited fans. Many perched on roof tops fully a mile from the starting point. Their attention was focused on Sun Raider and Cyclone as they passed the stands. Then suddenly they saw a giant black horse, his mane waving like windblown flame, coming down the track. Spectators rose in their seats and excited hands raised glasses to their eyes.

“It’s the mystery horse!” shouted a well-known sports commentator to a network audience. “He’s listed as the Black and ridden by Alec Ramsay. He’s raising
quite a commotion around here! He’s one of the biggest horses that I’ve ever seen—if not
the
biggest. He’s black, coal black. He’s big and strong and doesn’t seem to want to go near the other horses. Alec Ramsay on his back is having a very difficult time controlling him. Lord! I’ve seen plenty of horses in my time, but none with action like that! I’d say that this horse that most of us have labeled ‘Neville’s Folly’ is going to be very much in the picture of this race. Yes, sir, it’s shaping up to be the greatest match race of all time or I miss my guess!

“Now he’s approaching the post. Cyclone doesn’t want to go near him and moves away. Sun Raider stands his ground and his teeth are bared. The starter’s having quite a time. That black horse is a devil! He wants to fight! They’re lining up. There he goes up into the air! He’s plunging at Sun Raider, striking! Listen to that black devil scream—never in my life have I heard anything like it! It’s risen to such a high pitch that it’s practically a whistle—you probably all can hear it! There, Alec Ramsay’s got him down—that boy sure can stick on a horse. What a struggle is going on out there, folks! Over eighty thousand people here, and I can say without fear of contradiction, they’ve never seen anything like this before! Take it from me the Black is a wild stallion—never clearly broken. A savage on the race track!

“You folks who have seen Sun Raider know that they don’t often come much wilder, but he’s certainly met his match today—in fighting, anyway! He’s backing away from the Black now! They’ve got Cyclone in between the two of them. That’s better. Alec Ramsay is
managing the Black now. That boy is doing wonders—I wouldn’t be in his shoes for all the money in the world! Sun Raider won’t stand still. He’s furious—he hates the Black. He’s broken out of line. There he goes striking at the Black! He’s hit him! Oh, oh, the Black’s leg is bleeding—that was a pretty hard blow. Alec Ramsay can’t hold his horse any longer—he’s on his hind legs and plunging at Sun Raider. There’s no way of stopping this thing! Sun Raider is backing up again—he doesn’t stand a chance with that black devil! Wait, there’s Alec Ramsay pulling on his horse’s head—he’s turning him off. He’s getting him under control again. He’s got him on the outside. Sun Raider doesn’t want to fight any more. He’s back at his position on the pole.

“Looks as though the starter is going to send them off—while he’s got them there. The Black’s leg is bleeding pretty badly. Sun Raider doesn’t seem to be much the worse off for the fight. Alec Ramsay is leaning over looking at the Black’s wound. He’s getting off—he’ll probably leave the race, too bad—
They’re off!
The starter wasn’t watching Alec Ramsay—he was climbing out of his saddle.

“Cyclone and Sun Raider are fighting head and head as they flash past the stands. The Black is left at the post; he’s out of the race. No, no, here he comes after them! His jockey is only half in the saddle. Now he’s on! He’s trying desperately to pull the Black to a stop; he doesn’t want him to run with his leg in that condition. He’s pulling furiously on the reins, but it doesn’t seem to be doing any good. The Black wants to run—he’s fighting for his head! He’s almost pulling Alec Ramsay straight up in his saddle. Now he’s ripped
the reins out of his hands! He’s close to a hundred yards behind, too far to catch up—but he’s going to run!

“Cyclone has beaten Sun Raider to the first turn—they’re both running under the whip. Each wants to set the pace! Cyclone’s jockey is deliberately pulling his horse up, so that Cyclone’s churning hindquarters are right in Sun Raider’s nose. That’s a shrewd move as it gives his mount a breather after that stretch sprint and forces Sun Raider to check his speed from running on Cyclone’s heels!

“But now as they round the turn, Sun Raider, the California comet, is moving up alongside Cyclone, and as they enter the backstretch they’re running neck and neck—”

Suddenly a deafening roar rose from the stands. “Look, look,” yelled the commentator hysterically. “The Black is coming up like a house on fire! You’ve never in your life seen a horse run like this! He’s all power—all beauty. The distance between him and the others is lessening. How it’s lessening! I wouldn’t believe it if I wasn’t seeing it with my own eyes. The Black is running the others down! Cyclone and Sun Raider are fighting for the lead going into the last turn. The Black’s almost behind them. What action! What a tremendous stride! The crowd is going crazy. Sun Raider is passing Cyclone on the turn and going into the lead! Here they come down the homestretch—”

The crowd began to scream as the fighting horses came thundering toward them. Sun Raider was surging ahead. Cyclone was falling back—the Black had him! Sun Raider was two lengths in front, his jockey batting
away with his whip. The Black started moving up. Now he was a length behind. No whip was being used on him—his jockey was like a small burr lost in the stallion’s thick, black mane.

Hysteria swept the crowd as the horses passed them for the second time—the finish wire only one hundred yards away. “He’ll never get Sun Raider!” yelled the sportscaster. The stallion flashed by the stands, going faster with every magnificent stride. With a sudden spurt he bore down on Sun Raider. For a moment he hesitated as he came alongside. The crowd gasped as the Black’s ears went back and he bared his teeth. There was a movement on his back; his jockey’s hand rose and fell on the stallion’s side for the first time in the race. Into the lead the Black swept, past the cheering thousands—a step, a length, two lengths ahead—then the mighty giant plunged under the wire.

The Black rounded the first turn and had entered the backstretch again before Alec was able to slow him down. He knew that only the pain in the stallion’s leg enabled him to do it then. Finally he brought him to a stop.

Alec forgot the cheering thousands as he slid, exhausted, from the stallion’s back. He bent down to look at the wound. There was so much blood! Alec took his handkerchief and wrapped it around the Black’s leg to try to stop the bleeding. “You shouldn’t have done it, Boy,” he said.

A station wagon roared around the track toward them, leaving a cloud of dust in its wake. The Black reared as it pulled up to them. Henry and another man jumped out.

“Is he hurt much?” he asked Alec anxiously. “Here’s the track veterinary—”

“Can’t tell. It’s bleeding pretty bad and I know it’s hurting him!”

The veterinary bent down to examine the wound. Henry went to the wagon and returned carrying a pail of water, sponge and bandage. The veterinary cut off Alec’s handkerchief, which was now covered with blood.

The voices of the clamoring thousands stilled, as they realized what was happening on the track. All eyes were upon the small group.

The veterinary straightened up. “He’s lost a lot of blood, but it’s only a superficial wound. Nothing to worry about. Give him a rest and he’ll be as good as new!”

Alec and Henry looked at each other and their eyes were moist. No word was spoken while the veterinary bandaged the Black’s leg. Then Henry broke the silence. “Well, Alec,” he said, “guess you and the Black did it!”

The veterinary stood up. “Okay,” he said. “And now I think they’re waiting for you over at the winner’s circle.”

As Henry boosted the boy into the saddle, an avalanche of cheers rose from the crowd. The stallion’s ears pricked forward and he looked wildly around. Alec patted him on the neck. For the first time he realized that the race was over, that they had won. “You did it, Boy,” he said proudly. “You did it!” The blood raced through his veins and his heart pounded against his ribs
as the crowd cheered them on their way back. The stallion reared as they approached the grandstand.

Thousands of pairs of eyes watched the Black as he pranced out there beyond the crowd. He did not want to come closer. Yet he did not seem to fight his rider. Some of the crowd broke through the police line and rushed toward him. They stopped suddenly when he reared, and moved back quickly as he came toward them, head and tail erect. His action was beautiful, springy, and every few steps he jumped with marvelous ease and swiftness. Experts shook their heads knowingly at the Black’s performance. “Here,” said one old man, “is the greatest horse that ever set foot on any track!”

Alec rode the Black up to the judges’ stand, and into the winner’s circle. The stallion stood still for the first time. Alec and Henry could hardly believe their eyes. Even flashlight bulbs exploding close at hand only caused him to toss his head. They put the horseshoe of roses around his neck.