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Authors: Walter Farley

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BOOK: Son of the Black Stallion
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It was more than a half hour later when Alec entered the barn. Henry’s face lightened as he lumbered forward to greet the boy. “It’s good seeing you, Alec,” he said, his arm going around Alec’s shoulders.

“It’s good seeing you, too, Henry,” Alec returned, looking at him searchingly.

Their eyes met, and Henry’s sobered with Alec’s. It was just as he’d figured, he thought. The kid knew, and they might as well come right to the point.

“You were here last night,” Henry began.

Nodding, Alec said, “For a little while.”

“What do you think of him?”

Looking at Henry quizzically, Alec asked, “What do you mean, Henry? He’s going to be burly, as you said. And it’ll take time, as you also said. He didn’t seem to remember me very well last night. But Satan will come around, Henry. I know he will,” Alec concluded convincingly.

Henry shot him a rueful glance as he muttered, “Mebbe, Alec, an’ mebbe not. I’m not so sure
now.

Alec turned to Satan’s stall, and his eyes were upon the long chain hanging on the post as he said slowly, “How much trouble are you having with him, Henry?”

“Enough,” Henry replied gravely, “an’ he’s gettin’ harder to handle with every pound he puts on.”

Alec turned to Henry again, and what he had to say came hard. “You wouldn’t be using that chain on him, would you, Henry?”

The color left Henry’s face, leaving long, heavy lines etched deep against the whiteness of his skin. He suddenly looked very old and tired, and Alec’s gaze dropped before the anguish and disappointment in Henry’s eyes.

Before answering Alec, the old man looked at the chain. Finally he said slowly, “That was below the belt, Alec.”

“I didn’t mean it to be, Henry,” Alec said sincerely. “It’s just that I saw it there last night, and I thought …”

“That I was using it on the colt?” Henry interrupted. “You couldn’t, Alec! Did you really think I was trying to bring him around by beating him?”

“I didn’t know, Henry,” Alec replied, trying to explain. “I didn’t know what the colt was like, or what you were going through with him.”

“You should know me better’n that though, Alec,” Henry said. Then, seeing the despair in the boy’s face, he placed his hand on Alec’s arm. “But I understand how you musta felt, finding the chain like you did,” he said. Pausing, he added in a low voice, “Fact is, Alec, I do have it there to use … but only providin’ I need it.”

Alec thought of his visit to the barn the night before and of how narrowly he had escaped the colt’s hoofs as he was leaving the stall. “You mean, Henry,” he asked slowly, “he’s that bad?”

“It’s been pretty bad sometimes,” Henry replied, “and I’m not gettin’ any faster in my old age. The chain is there for my own protection, and I’ll admit I’d use it
if he got me in a spot where I had to save my own skin.”

At the other end of the barn, Satan craned his head over the stall door. When he sighted Alec and Henry he pricked his ears forward, snorted, and withdrew inside.

“I’m sure we’ll win him over, Henry,” Alec said determinedly. “He just can’t live here months on end without finally coming around, learning to trust us.”

Henry stood looking at Alec as though undecided whether to go on or not. Finally he said, “Alec, we’re both in this together, right up to our necks, so I’m thinkin’ I oughta tell you exactly what I think about Satan. An’ I’m goin’ to let you have it with both barrels, even knowin’ how much you love him.” Henry paused and led Alec over to a couple of chairs, where they sat down. Then he said, “Alec, I’ve been around horses all my life, thoroughbreds and broncs, but I’m tellin’ you that this is the first time I’ve ever been really worried about a horse. An’ I’m rememberin’ the Black. But I’m also rememberin’, and you should too, ’cause it’s important, that you won the Black’s love by findin’ some food for him on that desert island when he was starvin’. He loved you, so you could control him … an’ there wasn’t any need of my worryin’. But it’s different with Satan. He doesn’t love you … he doesn’t love anybody, even hates old Napoleon. He ain’t even capable of lovin’, to my way o’ thinkin’.”

“But,” Alec interrupted, “you could have said that of the Black too before we were together on the island.”

“Sure, I know, Alec. An’ mebbe someday you’ll be able to get it out of Satan, too. I hope so, but right now
I’m doubtin’ it.” Henry’s voice rose slightly as he continued, “To my way o’ thinkin’ Satan is a throwback to that wild sire of the Black’s whom Abu never could keep in that mountain stronghold of his and who mebbe even today is roamin’ wild and free. The Black had that wildness in him, all right, and from the looks of Satan it’s in him, too, mebbe even worse this time. Take a good look at his eyes, Alec, an’ you’ll see it there … the desert burnin’ right in ’em. We can handle him now, but in six months or so, with him puttin’ on weight like he is, this barn ain’t goin’ to hold him. Mark my words.”

Alec’s hands were clasped upon his lap and he was looking at the floor when Henry finished. “What are you suggesting, Henry?” he asked without looking up.

“I’m not suggestin’ anything, Alec. He’s your horse, an’ I’m only tellin’ you what I think and feel about him. He’s goin’ to be a very dangerous horse, Alec, an’ mebbe I’m thinkin’ of you climbin’ up on his back next summer. An’ mebbe, too, I’m thinkin’ of your folks.”

Alec’s eyes met Henry’s, and he was silent.

Then Henry said, “They’ve given you a free hand all along because they figure you’ll do the right thing. I wouldn’t like to see anything happen.”

“You don’t think I’ll be able to handle Satan then. Is that it, Henry?”

The old man placed a gnarled hand on Alec’s knee. “You can ride with the best of ’em, Alec. An’ you know horses, there’s no doubt about that. But it’s goin’ to take more than that to handle Satan. Remember, son, you’ll have to do more than just stay up there on
his back. You’ll have to control him so he’ll never give way to the fury that’s inside him. It’ll be important when you’re out there alone, an’ even more important when he’s with other horses. He’ll want to fight, Alec—it’s in him, every inch of him.” Henry lowered his voice as he concluded, “I thought it was goin’ to be different this time, but it ain’t … and as things stand right now I can see it gettin’ worse.”

“I’ll win his love some way, Henry,” Alec said determinedly. “Give me next summer to work on him!”

“Our workouts should start then,” Henry said, “if we want to have him ready for the Hopeful.”

“He’ll be ready. I’ll get to him, Henry.”

“You still want to enter him in the Hopeful? Even now, after hearin’ what I’ve told you about him?”

Alec nodded.

“It’ll cost money, Alec,” Henry warned. “Lots of money, to start him in that big race.”

“I know, Henry,” Alec replied. “But I’ve got a lot saved and I’m saving more by working nights on the local town paper up at school.”

“I’d just hate to see you lose your dough if things don’t work out an’ he ain’t safe to put in the race,” Henry said. “You’ll lose every nickel you’ve shelled out in nominatin’ him and keepin’ him eligible, y’know.”

“I won’t lose it,” Alec returned slowly. “He’ll be in the race, and I’ll be up on his back, Henry.”

Henry smiled for the first time. “You’re a cocky kid, Alec … an’ mebbe it’s better that way. I hope so.” Rising to his feet, he walked to the barn door, opened it, and looked out. “It’s gettin’ warmer,” he said.

“About six months until summer,” Alec said.

Henry looked at him, then said thoughtfully, “Yeah, six months. He’ll be a year and a half old by then.…”

“And a yearling in a few more days from now,” Alec added. “We’ll have a party right here in the barn for him, won’t we, Henry? We’ll ask Tony and my folks.…”

“You want your folks here?” Henry asked, walking back to Alec.

“Yes,” Alec replied quietly. “It’ll be better that way. If we didn’t ask them they might think something was wrong.”

“Not that it is,” Henry said slowly.

“No … not that it is,” Alec repeated.

They were silent for a while; then the sound of Satan’s hoof striking the sides of his stall attracted their attention. Alec rose to his feet and, standing beside Henry, asked, “Have you had him outside much?”

“Not this past week,” the old trainer returned. “It’s been snowin’ a lot an’ I thought it best to keep him in.” Pausing, he met Alec’s gaze. “He could use a little exercise this morning, an’ the footing ain’t so bad out there.”

“He’s restless. It might help some to get him out, Henry. Let’s do it.”

They walked the length of the barn in silence until they reached Satan’s stall. As Alec put his hand on the door Henry asked, “You want to take him?”

Alec nodded and Henry turned over to him the longe line he had picked up on the way. “Careful,” he cautioned. “He’s fast and tricky.”

Well remembering the close call he’d had the previous evening, Alec replied, “I know, Henry.”

Satan turned around restlessly inside the stall, his eyes upon the two figures. Opening the door, Alec began talking to his horse. And behind him he heard Henry say, “Move fast, when you move.”

Watching Alec with a fixed, stony gaze, the colt shook his disheveled head and his black mane fell low about his neck and over his forehead, blanketing the white diamond there.

“You’re going to stretch your legs, Satan,” Alec said softly. “You’re going to play. You’ll feel better, boy.” And as he continued talking, he awaited his chance to move in and around the colt’s haunches.

After a few minutes Satan’s ears pricked forward and his eyes, leaving Alec, turned to Henry. Moving fast, Alec was close beside Satan, his hand slipping quickly to the colt’s halter.

“Good boy,” Henry said, opening the stall door.

Feeling Alec’s hand upon his head, Satan uttered a short, shrill whistle and half rose. But Alec held him close and snapped the longe line upon the halter. Coming down, the colt turned upon him with bared teeth, and Alec hit him lightly on his muzzle. “None of that, Satan,” he said sharply.

It was a good while before Alec felt the colt quiet down beneath his hand. “I think he’s ready now, Henry,” the boy called.

Mindful of Satan’s cunningness, Alec led him cautiously from the stall and through the barn. As they passed Napoleon’s stall, the colt stopped and uttered
his piercing challenge once more. Old Napoleon raised his head over the door and neighed back.

Henry grunted. “Guess Satan never will get used to havin’ Napoleon around.”

As they reached the barn door, the colt’s ears pricked forward and his attention was held by the white carpet spread before him. The air was crisp and cold, and Satan’s vaporized breath could have been smoke from the smoldering fires that burned within him.

“He’s everything a horse should be, Henry,” Alec said.

“Beautiful … arrogant … ruthless,” the old man muttered. “He’d be wonderful if we didn’t have to control him.”

The wind whipped through Satan’s mane as Alec led him into the snow. Moving lightly, as though he could have stepped on eggshells without breaking them, the colt pranced beside Alec as they moved away from the barn.

They came to a stop near the gate leading to the field. “The snow ain’t so deep here,” Henry said. “I’d give him the length of the longe line, but no more. We’d have a tough time catchin’ him in this snow if he got away.”

Nodding, Alec stroked the neck of his horse and, as Satan pulled away, allowed the line to slide through his fingers. The colt sidestepped away quickly, and only when he had reached the length of the line, a good twenty yards, did Alec draw him up. For a few minutes Satan fought the line that kept him from his freedom,
then turned his attention to the snow beneath his feet. He pawed it furiously.

“It’s pretty new to him,” Henry told Alec. “I only had him out once since we had this snowfall.”

“He probably thought it was the desert again until he stepped on it,” Alec said, watching his horse.

When the colt turned in their direction again, his heavy ears swept back, then pricked forward. Snorting, he circled the two figures and, longing to be free, pulled on the line.

“Keep a good hold, Alec,” Henry warned.

The colt trotted for a long time, sometimes stopping and reversing his tracks on command, his eyes never leaving Alec and Henry. And the two turned with him, their eyes always on the horse.

“I wouldn’t trust him any farther than I could throw him,” growled Henry, as Satan paused and stood watching them. “Look at those eyes, Alec. You never saw that look even in the Black. It was there when we first got him. It’ll always be there.”

The colt was again moving around them as Alec said, “We’ve got to trust him, Henry, if he’s ever going to trust us.”

“Don’t you think that for one minute, Alec,” Henry said sternly. “For that’s all the time it’ll take for something to happen. I’ve been around him, Alec, an’ I know. You let Satan show you he’s trustworthy first, before you go trustin’ him. I know how much you love him because he’s the son of the Black, but don’t you go forgettin’ that he’s not the Black. An’ I’m sure no one ever told him that his sire loved you. An’ mebbe it wouldn’t make no difference with him even if
someone had. That baby’s sure got a mind of his own,” he concluded.

Alec smiled at Henry’s last remark, but his face sobered as he realized how serious Henry was.

“You’re a horseman, Alec,” Henry continued, “so don’t you go forgettin’ that y’can’t let your heart rule your head with Satan. Remember, there’s a whale of a lot of difference between bein’ afraid of a horse and appreciatin’ the power in his body and what he’s capable of doin’ with it. Keep your head, Alec.”

“I will, Henry,” Alec promised. After pausing, he added, “But you’ve sure been painting a black picture.”

Jerking his head toward Satan, the old trainer said, “Look for yourself, Alec. His eyes haven’t left us for one minute since we’ve been out here. One of these days it wouldn’t surprise me to see him come plungin’ at us instead of just tryin’ to get away. I’ve thought of it many times, standin’ here just like we’re doin’ now.”

Alec shook his head. “I can’t see him doing that, Henry, even though I respect everything you’ve said about Satan. He’d give anything to be free … he still doesn’t trust us, and maybe he’s even afraid. But he’s no killer, Henry. I’m sure of that.”

BOOK: Son of the Black Stallion
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