“Go, Black. Go!”
Every muscle of the great stallion was strained to its utmost. He came off the turn, drawing alongside the dark-brown champion in great, sweeping strides.
The roar of the crowd split Alec’s ears, and now it was no different for him here at Preston than it had been at Belmont Park or Churchill Downs. They were in the stretch drive. He strained with his horse, lifting and urging. He hardly breathed. His hat flew off. Night Wind’s jockey was riding as if his very life depended upon it. For a few seconds the brown horse matched strides with the Black, and then Night Wind began to fall rapidly behind. His rider turned to Alec, and sudden recognition came to his eyes when he saw the boy without his hat.
Alec let out a yell. There was nothing more to this race! He remembered all the classic victories he had seen Night Wind win last year, and yet the Black, who hadn’t raced in years, was running him into the ground! The stallion’s strides became ever greater as he swept gloriously down the homestretch. His hoofs pounded with a thunderous rhythm that silenced the voices in the stands. He was a black flame. He was not a horse but a phantom, a flying black shadow in the eyes of the spectators. And they watched him finish the race in quiet homage.
The stands didn’t come to life until long after he had left the homestretch. Even then there was no thunderous ovation, only the cries of people asking if what they had witnessed had been seen by others. There were just nods in reply, and none of the spectators took their eyes off the other side of the track where the giant black horse had been brought to a stop. Finally he was turned around and brought back toward them.
CONCLUSION
21
Ralph Herbert moved dazedly among the people standing at the rail until he had reached Allen. His face was white, and for a moment he had to struggle to make the words come. He knew. He had known all during that last drive, when he had seen the black stallion running so low and pointed, so magnificent in the strides that had taken him far ahead of Night Wind. In flashing seconds, he had remembered another time in Chicago, when he had seen the Black race. And as they came down the stretch, he had identified the Black’s rider.
Finally he was able to get the words out. “Allen, that was Alec Ramsay and the Black!”
Allen was thinking of the ten mares he would get from High Crest Ranch, and what he would do with them. “I don’t care what names you and Slim Gordon give those two,” he said. “They’re Range Boss and McGregor to me.” He paused, studying Herbert’s shocked face. “We won, Ralph. You’re not trying to get out of your end of the purse, are you?”
“But the Black! He and Alec Ramsay are supposed to be …”
“I tell you that horse is what I said he was,” Allen interrupted angrily. He was beginning to get worried. “Ask Hank. Ask anyone who was with us. We caught him on the upper range. Right, Hank?”
“Right, boss.” Larom turned to Herbert. “We still got his band of mares back at the ranch. And if you need more convincing, take a look at those scars on him when he comes up. He didn’t get those in any corral.”
“But … but I … I’m certain,” Herbert stammered.
“I’m certain, too, Ralph.”
The sheriff said, “Let’s go, Irv. I’ve got to take him in now.”
Gordon reached for Allen when the rancher bent to get beneath the rail. “Herbert’s right. You’ve no idea what you’re in for.”
Allen came up on the track side. “Sure I do, Slim. Mac’s being booked by the sheriff on suspicion of robbery, and I’m on my way to help him.” He followed the sheriff down the track.
Herbert asked incredulously, “Do they think they’re taking him to jail?”
Gordon nodded.
“Don’t they know what’s been going on? Haven’t they heard of the Black and Alec Ramsay?”
“There’s your answer,” Gordon said, nodding toward the three men walking down the track. “They don’t have much use for news outside of what goes on in Leesburg.”
“They’ll learn soon enough.”
“Just as soon as I can get to a phone,” Gordon said. He moved quickly through the crowd.
Alec rode the Black into the stretch, hardly conscious of the wild uproar from the stands. He kept repeating his name, just to hear it again. He wanted to get to a telephone right away. He wanted to call home. More than two months had passed since the accident. What did his parents and Henry think had happened to him? What had happened to the plane? To the pilot and the co-pilot? The plane must have crashed. How else would the Black have gotten free? He rubbed his horse’s neck. And what was the Black doing here, so many hundreds of miles from Wyoming? Was it a fantastic coincidence that they were together? Or had the stallion’s wild, uncanny instinct brought him here? Alec knew all his questions except the last would be answered as soon as he could get to a phone.
Allen approached him. “Mac, what a race!”
Alec tried to keep his voice steady. “Boss,” he said, “my name isn’t McGregor. It’s Ramsay, Alec Ramsay.”
Allen turned to the sheriff, and then back to the boy again. “I know,” he said kindly. “We’ve heard that.”
No longer did Alec make any attempt to conceal his excitement. “Who could have told you, boss? I didn’t know myself until a couple of minutes ago.”
Allen was puzzled. “Y’mean you didn’t know your own name?”
“I’d been hurt. I lost my memory. I haven’t been able to remember a thing about myself—who I was, why I was here, anything at all.”
“Oh,” Allen said, and then he smiled as he turned to the sheriff. “Tom, you heard what he said. He’s been sick a long time, mentally sick. He didn’t know what he was doing. A good lawyer ought to make a real good case out of something like that, shouldn’t he?”
“I sure would think so, Irv. If he had amnesia like he says, he couldn’t be held responsible for his actions. Providing, of course,” he added hastily, “he was in that mental state at the time of the robbery.”
Alec’s face had frozen. He looked at the sheriff, remembering suddenly why he was there. “But I didn’t …” He stopped, knowing that whatever he said now wouldn’t convince them that he’d had no part in the Salt Lake City robbery. Besides, it didn’t matter. All this could be straightened out later. “Can I use the phone when we get to wherever it is you’re taking me?” he asked.
“Of course you can,” the sheriff said. “As Irv says, we’re going to do all we can to help you, Mac.”
Alec rode the Black toward the track gate. A bugle sounded, calling the horses in the next race to the post. The Black tossed his head, and sidestepped with marvelous ease and swiftness. He seemed eager to race again.
Allen said, “We’ll put Range Boss in the van, and leave Hank here to watch him, Mac. You and I will go into town with Tom. Don’t you worry none. Everything’s goin’ to turn out all right.”
Alec nodded. To Allen he always would be McGregor and the Black would be Range Boss. It would have been funny under any other circumstances.
An hour later Alec Ramsay sat in the Preston courthouse. His fingerprints had been taken and sent to the Salt Lake City police. He had been booked on suspicion of robbery and murder. Finally he was given permission by the Preston police captain to use the telephone.
His voice trembled while he placed the long-distance call. Now the phone was ringing at home. His heart pumped harder.
“Hello.” His mother had answered.
“Mom. Mom! It’s me!” There was silence at the other end. “Mom, can you hear me? It’s Alec!” Now came only terrible, racking sobs from his mother, and he suddenly realized the shock his call must be to her. “Mom. Mom. Don’t try to talk. Just listen. I’m alive, and in Preston, Arizona. Preston, Arizona. Can you hear me, Mom?”
The wire at the other end was dead … no more sobs, nothing at all. Then, suddenly, a man’s voice came on. “Hello … hello.”
“Jinx! Jinx, is that you?” Alec thought it might be the hired man who took care of the f
arm’s broodmares.
“Yes, this is Jinx. Is this really you, Alec?”
“Jinx, listen to me. I’m alive and in Preston, Arizona. Did you get that, Jinx?”
The voice at the other end descended to barely more than a whisper. “Yes, I heard you, Alec. I’ll tell Henry and your father at once. They’re in town. I was just passing by the house when your mother …” Jinx’s voice trailed off.
“Ask Henry to come out here,” Alec said. “He’ll take this better than Dad.”
“Yes, Alec.”
When Alec hung up the phone, the door opened and two men rushed into the room. One said, “We’re from the Journal. We had a call from the track from someone named Gordon who said this kid is Alec Ramsay!”
Allen and the Leesburg sheriff nodded their heads. “That might be his name, all right,” Allen said. “At least he said so before. But what difference …”
The Preston police captain turned quickly to Allen and the Leesburg sheriff. “But you booked him as McGregor! If he should be Alec Ramsay …” He swept a startled look at the boy. “Is that your name?”
“Yes, that’s my name. I’ve had amnesia.”
For a moment the police captain just stared at Alec, and then his face turned red in anger. His eyes raked Allen. “Why didn’t you tell me that when you brought him in here!”
Allen said sheepishly, “It’s hard for me to think of him as anyone but McGregor.”
“And the name Alec Ramsay meant nothing to you when he told you who he was?”
“No,” Allen said. “Should it have?” He glanced worriedly toward the newspaper men, who were already taking pictures and making notes.
The police captain turned to the Leesburg sheriff. “And you, Tom? It meant nothing to you?”
“Now that you mention it, I think I might have heard something a couple of months ago about an Alec Ramsay …”
The police captain threw up his hands in disgust. “He’s only been the subject of one of the biggest searches ever conducted in Wyoming,” he shouted furiously.
One of the reporters spoke to Alec. “That horse you rode today. Was he really the Black, as we’ve been told by this man Gordon?”
“Yes,” Alec said. “Somehow he got here, too. I didn’t know it was he until the race, when my memory came back.”
“You mean,” the reporter said, “that you didn’t know who you were or what horse you were riding until the actual running of the race?”
Alec nodded. “Not until almost the end of it,” he said.
The reporter grabbed the phone. “I got to get this to my editor,” he told the police captain. “This news is going to ‘make’ Preston like nothing ever did before. Once it goes out on the wires, we’ll have a representative from every big paper in the country coming here!”
The police captain nodded. He turned to Allen and the Leesburg sheriff. “And you two never even heard of Alec Ramsay and the Black,” he said, shaking his head. Finally he turned to Alec. “I guess you’d better stay here for the night. We can make you comfortable and afford you some protection from all the newsmen who’ll be arriving before long. And, since we’ve already sent out your fingerprints to the Salt Lake City police, we’d better wait for an answer from them. That’ll clear that incident up, and satisfy him.” He nodded his head toward the Leesburg sheriff.
Alec turned to Allen. “You didn’t know, boss,” he said. “Believe me, I sure appreciate all you did for me. There are a lot of others who wouldn’t have known, either. It isn’t as bad as you’re being led to believe.” He paused, waiting for Allen to lift his gaze. “I wish you’d do me a favor. Go to the track and have Hank take the Black—or Range Boss, if you want to call him that—back to the ranch. It’ll be better if he’s kept away from all this.”
“Sure, Mac. I’ll do it right now.” Allen hurried to the door, glad of an opportunity to escape the scathing remarks of the police captain.
The reporter had finished the telephone call to his editor, and was now bombarding Alec with questions. The boy answered quickly. He realized this was just the beginning, and that his call home hadn’t been necessary at all in order for his parents and Henry to learn of his whereabouts. Within a few short hours the news of his being in Preston would be in every newspaper in the country. He hoped Henry would get here soon.
By late afternoon, newspaper correspondents from nearby cities had arrived. And by evening the number had grown considerably. They descended upon Preston’s small courthouse, jamming the room. Alec sat in a chair answering all questions put to him, cooperating in every way he could by telling the reporters the complete story. The newsmen listened attentively to him, to Allen, to anyone who would give them something they could telephone to their papers. They learned of the match race, and soon the story of Night Wind’s crushing defeat by the Black was released to the world.
All that night, the reporters and photographers stayed in Preston, knowing that before many hours Henry Dailey would arrive by plane. Alec slept on a cot, waiting, too, for Henry’s arrival.
By morning, word was received from Salt Lake City that Alec Ramsay’s fingerprints were not those of the boy wanted by the police there. This information the police captain turned over to the Leesburg sheriff. “They must think we’re fools down here,” he said gruffly.
A plane from the East was due in Preston at seven o’clock, and the reporters, having learned that Henry was on it, went to the airport. A short while later they returned, and Henry strode belligerently into the courtroom. Yet when Alec ran to meet him, Henry’s stocky body slumped, and he wept unashamedly with his arms around the boy.
Finally he said, “Y-you’re all right, Alec?”
“Sure, Henry. Mom and Dad? Are they …”
“They’re okay now … they’re waiting. You’re certain you’re all right? The reporters in New York said …”
“I’ve had amnesia, but I’m fine now. I’ve felt pretty good all along, except that I couldn’t remember anything.”
“Have you seen a doctor?”
“No, it’s not necessary. I’m all right, I tell you.”
“You’re going to see one. Here and in New York, too.”
The photographers were taking pictures of them, and the reporters pushed close. Henry answered their questions for a while, and then decided he’d had enough. “That’s all,” he said. “We’re going now, and we don’t want anyone following. Alec needs a rest, and you’ve got everything there is for your stories.”
Outside, Henry had a taxi waiting. Alec glanced back and saw Allen standing silently among all the newsmen, “Come on, boss,” he called to him.
When they were in the taxi he said, “This is Mr. Allen, Henry. I’ve been working for him. He raises quarter racehorses.”
Henry turned quickly to Allen. “You call yourself a horseman an’ you didn’t even recognize him all this time,” he said angrily.
Allen’s slight figure slumped in the corner of the seat. “I—I only follow q-quarter-horse racing,” he said.
Alec said, “Please, Henry. You’re expecting too much from him. Of course he wouldn’t know. He didn’t have any way of knowing.” Alec paused. “And without him, the Black and I might not have gotten together. I owe him an awful lot, Henry.”
The trainer said softly, “I know, Alec. I’m sorry, Allen, and I apologize. It’s just that it’s been so long … and we’d given up all hope.” He turned to look out the window of the moving taxi before adding, “And now I want to have a doctor see you, Alec. Maybe you know a good one here in town, Allen.”
“Yes, I do,” the rancher said, eager to be of help.
“After that,” Henry added, “we’ll go to Leesburg. I want to see the Black, and then we’ll have to make arrangements to take him back with us.”
“I wish you’d spend a few days as my guest,” Allen said quickly.
“Thanks, but I know Alec is eager to get home, and his folks are just as eager to see him.”
Alec thought of his
mother and father waiting, and his eyes blurred. I can phone them when we get to the ranch, he thought. This time it’ll be all right, I know.
Henry said, “We’ll take the Black home by train.”
“We sure will,” Alec said. “No planes for us, not for a while, anyway.”
Toward evening of the same day, they arrived at the ranch. Alec and Henry went directly to the big corral. The Black saw them coming and, snorting, moved over to the bars. Alec put his hand on him. He noticed that the stallion’s eyes were on Henry, never leaving him for a moment.
“I’m getting old,” Henry said. “I don’t trust my sight anymore.”
“It’s the Black, all right, Henry,” Alec said. He couldn’t smile, couldn’t make light of Henry’s finding it so difficult to believe they were all together again.
“He’s been cut up pretty bad.”
“Yes, some scars, but he’s fit, Henry.”
“I know,” the trainer agreed. “He never looked better. His good physical condition carried him through these last two months, the same as the doctor said about you. I guess you were both ready for the punishment you had to take.”
Alec said nothing. The Black turned away from Henry to nuzzle the boy’s hand. Alec stroked him for a few minutes, and then said, “He got more freedom than either of us bargained for, all right.”
“Yeah, a lot more. Alec …”
“Yes, Henry?”
“It must have been a race to see, his whipping Night Wind like they say he did.”
“It was a race to ride, I know that,” Alec answered.
“He didn’t have any trouble at all with Night Wind?”
“No, not once I stopped fighting him and gave him his head.”
“He didn’t make any attempt to attack Night Wind during the race?”
“No, Henry, not at all. Perhaps he got all the fighting out of his system while he was running wild. I don’t know.”
The Black Stallion Revolts Page 20
