Frank crouched down and peered through a camera lens. Wearing a long-billed cap with flaps covering the back of his neck and ears, he looked like an actor from an old movie about the French Foreign Legion. Now he backed up and moved from side to side, checking every possible camera angle.
“Places, everyone,” he called, ordering the actors onto the set. One of the wranglers brought over a pair of Quarter Horses. The actors swung themselves into the saddles and took up their positions.
“Okay, you guys,” Frank called to the actors. “I’ll run down the situation again in case you’ve forgotten. The colt you’re trying to break just threw Lefty here and ran off. Got it?”
“Sure, Frank. We’re all set.”
“Good.” He nodded to the sound man, who flipped a switch on his console.
The assistant director spoke into a bullhorn. “Quiet on the set. We’re rolling.”
A production assistant stepped in front of the video camera holding a black slate clapboard. He read out the words on the slate for the benefit of the soundtrack. “Drover Days, episode 17, scene 7, take 1.”
A puff of dust blew by and the Black snorted to clear his nostrils—disturbing the quiet. Alec clamped his hand across the stallion’s nose.
“Action!” called the director. The actors twisted their faces into sneers.
“What’s the matter, Lefty? Are you losing your touch?” taunted Jed.
“Let’s see you try him on for size,” Lefty replied.
Jed’s horse shifted his weight from one leg to the other. The cameraman murmured something to the director. “Cut. Cut. Cut!” the director yelled. “Back it up, boys. Horse moved.”
The action stopped and Wes stepped in to reposition the horse. After a moment the director called out, “Okay, let’s take it from the top. Places, everyone. Roll tape.”
The assistant with the slate stepped in again and read, “Drover Days, episode 17, scene 7, take 2.”
“Action!” bellowed the director. The actors delivered their lines and the scene was completed successfully. But the director didn’t want to take any chances. He reshot it three more times.
Alec yawned. He’d read about the tedious, time-consuming nature of film work. Now he believed it. Watching this scene being shot was like watching grass grow. He hoped the others would be a bit more exciting.
“What makes you choose one horse over another for a scene like this?” Alec asked Wes between takes.
“For dialogue? Sore legs.”
“How’s that?”
“A horse with sore legs will stand nice and still. All it takes to spoil a closeup is for a horse to shift his weight a little, like you just saw. A movement of half an inch can throw an actor’s face into sidelight and ruin the shot.” Wes turned his head and spat tobacco juice. “A horse that’ll stay put for dialogue is a very valuable horse. And a horse with sore legs will stay put.”
The dialogue scene took longer than Frank had expected. Alec overheard the cameraman tell Frank that they were starting to lose daylight. Frank asked Wes when the herd would be ready for the next shot. Wes said he’d drive out to see for himself. Alec mounted the Black to ride after him.
A cloud of brown dust swirled over a small gully at the far end of the box canyon. As Alec came closer, he saw the wranglers running the herd in a dried streambed at the gully bottom. The effort spent jogging through the deep sand bore heavily on the horses. They were slathered with sweat and steaming from the heat of their own bodies. Their breath came hard and fast. Even the wranglers’ saddle horses patrolling next to them looked worn out.
Wes was leaning against the hood of his Jeep, parked beside the gully. Next to him stood a man with a long hound-dog face. He wore a short-sleeve shirt and a necktie. The man didn’t look very happy. He kept pointing at the horses and then to his watch.
As Alec dismounted, the man walked down into the gully. Wes motioned for Alec to come closer. “Frank wants the herd to run to water. I’ll have ’em so thirsty they’ll be able to smell a bucketful a mile away.”
“I guess that’s one way to do it,” Alec admitted. Wes must have heard the concern in Alec’s voice.
“Listen, son, with six weeks’ advance notice, maybe I could have done things differently. But I didn’t learn about this shot until yesterday morning. We’re just lucky the wind is in the right direction to carry the scent.”
Down in the gully, the herd labored clumsily through the sand. The man in the necktie stood watching them, a look of harsh disapproval stamped on his long face.
“Who’s that guy?” asked Alec.
“Marty Fisher. He’s a watchdog for the Humane Council. His job is to make sure the horses aren’t mistreated. Some of their rules are a lot of nonsense. If a trainer knows what he’s doing, like me, he won’t have any trouble with them. But there’s a lot of pressure to do things fast in this business. Truth is, every now and then a trainer will try to cut corners. One bum like that can give the whole profession a bad name.”
The minutes passed slowly. Mike and the other two wranglers refused to let the herd slacken its pace. It made Alec uncomfortable just to watch them. Marty checked the time again and turned to face Wes. The look in the humane man’s eyes said he would tolerate no more.
“Okay, Mike,” Wes called out. “I think we’re ready.” Mike radioed the message to Frank on his walkie-talkie. “And tell him he better make it good,” Wes added. “We’re not going to get another shot at this today.”
Frank radioed Wes that they needed five more minutes to get everything set up. In the meantime, Alec rode back to the location site. He wanted to see what the scene looked like from the camera’s point of view. Finally Frank gave the okay and shouted, “Roll tape!”
On Wes’s signal the wranglers started to chase the horses out of the gully and toward the water hole. They ran along with the herd for fifty yards or so. When the wranglers judged the scent had been caught, they veered off to the side. Their job was done.
The herd streaked across the sun-baked ground, zeroing in on the teasing scent of water. Sleek muscles swelled to push the pack faster and faster. No boot heels dug into their ribs. No bits pressed between their teeth. The unbridled horses were on their own.
Careening between rocks and cactus, the herd scrambled into camera range. The water hole waited for them, inviting and wet. The horses charged straight ahead. Two and three at a time, they plunged into the muddy pool. Some even lay down and rolled in it. Sheets of spray flew through the air as they shook the water from their coats. Alec could almost feel their relief. By the time it was all over, he wouldn’t have minded jumping in there with them.
Frank kept the camera running while the horses played in the pool like a bunch of frisky yearlings. At last he called out, “Cut. That’s a keeper.”
The assistant director put the bullhorn to his lips and announced, “Okay, people. Let’s pack it up.”
“About time something went right around here,” Frank grumbled. The crew gathered their equipment and started loading up for the ride down the canyon trail.
At last, Alec was beginning to understand the reasons for Wes’s reputation as a trainer. Getting the horses to run to the water on their own was a neat trick, simple but effective. His methods might seem primitive, but they produced results. And he was far from the ogre he seemed to be at first. Maybe he really could cure the Black’s shadow fear.
CHAPTER 8
Ellie
The downhill ride out of the canyon took half as much time as the ride in. Alec turned the Black past a barricade, crossed the road and walked onto the ranch driveway. Wes was already there, waiting along one side of the drive by the fence. He waved Alec over.
“So now you see what I’m up against around here,” he said. “Frank thinks I can rig a horse to do a stunt like some guys rig a car.”
“He seemed happy enough with the way everything turned out,” said Alec.
“You never can tell with directors. One minute they’re happ
y. Next thing you know, they want to redo everything and add a helicopter shot. But now that we have a minute, let’s get down to business. Aside from this shying from shadows, has the Black been behaving strangely at all?”
“No, he’s been fine.”
“Maybe what he ate for breakfast didn’t agree with him, or maybe the weather?”
“Everything seemed normal as far as I could tell.”
“You must have crossed through some shadows on the trail up the canyon. How’d he react?”
“Hmmm—I didn’t notice. I guess he didn’t react at all. On the trail or around the barn they don’t seem to bother him. Anything resembling a racetrack is a different story.”
“Think you could put the Black in motion over the length of the drive here? It’s about the closest thing we have to a racetrack.”
“Sure.”
“Good. See that big eucalyptus by the driveway there, the shade falling across the middle of the lane? Try riding him into the shadow at a clip. If he turns out or jumps, go with him.”
First Wes and Alec walked up and down the drive, checking for holes and stones. Then Alec brought the Black to the gate at the beginning of the driveway. The distance they had to run wasn’t much more than a hundred yards, just long enough for the Black to settle into rhythm before they hit the shadow.
The Black edged across the driveway in a sideways crab-step. Alec leaned forward to rub the stallion’s neck. “Don’t be afraid,” he whispered gently. “Nothing will hurt you.”
Alec sat still for a moment and thought about what he planned to do. He had to keep the Black on track. It might help if he shifted his weight farther forward as they closed in on the shadow. Alec knew it was risky to put himself even more off balance. He decided to give it a try anyway.
Set in motion, the Black sprinted up the hard flat drive. The shadow came closer. Alec clenched the reins tightly and leaned forward. Within ten yards of the dark curtain, Alec got nervous. He could feel something disturb the flow of the Black’s hoofbeats and break the supple rhythm. Alec flinched. The Black hopped over the line of shadow and came down hard. The landing threw Alec completely out of his saddle. It was a miracle that he managed to keep from being pitched off.
The Black continued on to the end of the drive. Despite what happened, Alec only murmured softly to his horse. There was no point in getting angry. Slowing the Black to a walk, Alec shifted back in his seat and loosened his grip on the reins. Now there could be no doubt, he thought. What happened on the training track wasn’t an isolated incident. Alec rode over to Wes and dismounted by the pasture fence.
Wes looked the Black up and down. “If he was a green colt, I’d have a better idea what to do. But a seasoned racehorse suddenly acting up like this? That’s not something you see every day.”
“That’s what Henry said. He was stumped and thought you could help. So what do you think?”
“Let me chew it over awhile and we’ll see what happens tomorrow. Don’t worry so much, Alec. We’ll get a handle on this thing. But right now, you’re going to have to excuse me.”
“But don’t you think …” Alec started to say. Wes had already begun walking back to the ranch house.
Alec stood in the middle of the driveway, stunned. That was it? “We’ll see what happens tomorrow”? Why would the situation be any different then? Alec’s disappointment turned to anger, most of it directed at himself. How had he talked himself into thinking that anyone could wave a magic wand and solve the Black’s troubles? He felt like an idiot.
For the rest of the afternoon, Alec helped Mike, Patrick and Julio around the ranch. They fed and groomed the horses and replaced a few split rails along the pasture fence. Alec was more than glad to lend a hand. It kept him busy so he wouldn’t have to keep worrying about the Black.
As the sun set, Patrick and Julio finished up their chores and went home and Mike headed into town to get something to eat. Alec tended to the Black and then walked over to see what was up at the ranch house. Wes met Alec at the porch door, welcoming him inside. The old cowboy led Alec through the kitchen and into the wood-paneled living room.
They sat down together on a brown leather couch to talk. Times were tough in the horse-racing business, Alec said. One horse farm after the other was going belly up. As they spoke, Wes watched Alec with cool, penetrating eyes. “Couldn’t have hurt winning the American Cup yesterday.”
“Sure. I think we’ll get the prices we want for our yearlings at the sale. But I hated winning a race the way we did. And now look at what’s happened to the Black.”
“He’ll be all right.”
An awkward silence filled the room. Alec decided it was time to level with Wes. When he spoke again, his words carried the weight of his true emotions. “I can’t tell you how helpless I feel about this. Nothing ever stopped the Black before. He loves to run. Usually he’ll run through anything. This shadow business scares me.”
Wes continued to eye Alec with that cool, penetrating gaze, as if he were figuring something out. “Try to quit worrying, son,” he said. “It won’t help. Besides, there’s not much you can do to help the Black tonight.”
For their dinner, Wes ordered a couple of pizzas delivered from town. Ellie was still working on some papers in the office. When the pizza arrived, Wes called her to come eat. She yelled back for them to go ahead and start without her.
After supper, Alec excused himself and stepped onto the porch.
A gust of cool wind blew by. Alec pulled his jacket closer to him. After a long walk around the ranch, he decided to check on his horse and took the path to the Black’s corral. A lone figure sat on the top fence rail in the moonlight. As he drew closer Alec recognized Ellie. The Black was nowhere to be seen.
“Came out to have a talk with your friend,” Ellie said when she saw him. “But he’s hiding from me.”
Alec whistled once, a long, low sound. Soon the black stallion stood before them, silent and unmoving in the moonlight.
“Eerie the way he blends into the night like that,” Ellie said. “No wonder I couldn’t see him. He’s beautiful.”
“You must see plenty of nice-looking horses, living here.”
“Nothing like him, though.”
Alec let his eyes linger on the girl beside him. She was pretty good-looking herself. She seemed relaxed now, quite different from the person he’d seen answering phones and running errands during lunch. A ranch with two old men like Wes and Jim seemed like a funny place for a young woman to live. But Alec was hardly one to talk, spending as much time as he did with old Henry Dailey.
“How did you end up here, anyway? Where’re your mom and dad?”
“They were killed in a car crash when I was little.” Ellie spoke without lifting her gaze from the Black. “Pops and I went to put flowers on their graves the other day. We always do that around this time of year. Last week marked the fourteenth anniversary of the accident.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I hardly remember them. Never knew my grandmother, either. She died before I was born. Pops took care of me when I was growing up. Last year, after graduation, I started working at the ranch full-time.”
“How’s that been?”
“Crazy. I used to help take care of the horses. Now I spend ninety percent of my time doing office work.”
“It sounds like what this place really needs is a secretary or an accountant. Why doesn’t Wes hire someone to do the books?”
Ellie laughed. “Are you kidding? We could afford it if they’d work for free. We’re so deep in debt it’s pathetic. Just making it through this year will be a miracle.”
Alec nodded. He knew how she felt. Recently he’d also been feeling a little overwhelmed by the business side of running Hopeful Farm. Yet Ellie’s tale of woe made him realize how lucky he really was. At least Hopeful Farm could afford to hire an accountant.
“What exactly is your job here?”
“I guess you could say I’m the general manager. I kee
p track of things and make sure what needs to be done gets done.”
“Sounds like a lot of responsibility.”
“Tell me about it. I’d love to just work with the horses, like Pops and the guys. Can’t think of a better job, if you can stand people spitting tobacco juice all over the place. But these days I feel like I’m practically chained to that desk.”
They both became quiet. Alec watched the Black move away from the fence and disappear into the darkness. He forgot about everything they’d been talking about and thought of his horse. Ellie must have seen the concern showing on Alec’s face. She touched his arm. “Don’t worry, Alec. Pops told me about this shadow thing, and if anyone can help the Black, it’s him.”
They hopped down from the fence and started back toward the house. Ellie led the way through the trees and across the corridor. They stopped beside the field where the herd was pastured. Ellie pointed out a sleek Thoroughbred among the horses grouped there.
“Don’t you think he’s pretty? We call him Lowball, but his real name is Lord Bailiwick. Ever hear of him? He used to be a racehorse.”
“Really? What’s he doing here?”
“Kept throwing his riders. Pretty soon his trainer couldn’t find a jockey willing to mount him. When we bought him, Pops figured out that Lowball was claustrophobic. Standing in a stall all day was driving him nuts. Pops cured him. Now he’s Kramer’s favorite mount. Gentle as an old mare, too, as long as he doesn’t have four walls around him.”
In the dim moonlight Alec could barely make out an exceptionally big Morgan standing off by himself. “Who’s that?” Alec asked.
“Rex, named after Rex, King of the Wild Horses. The original Rex was a big animal star back in the days of Tom Mix and Gene Autry. Our Rex is a gelding like the others but still gets randy urges to herd and dominate—know what I mean?”
Alec nodded. “Some geldings are like that.”
Black Stallion's Shadow Page 5
