The old man looked at Alec for a long while, then lowered his eyes to the holly in his hands. “All right, Alec … if that’s the way you want it. He’s your horse, and I’ll stick. I’ll do everything I possibly can for him while you’re away.” Stopping, he raised his gray eyes and looked at Alec. “But this summer, when you come back, and before you climb up on him, promise me that you’ll consider once more everything that I’ve told you. If he’s still vicious, an’ I’m thinkin’ he will be, promise me you’ll not get up on him.”
Alec’s eyes met Henry’s and fell for a few seconds before his friend’s unwavering gaze. Then he said slowly, “I’ll promise that I won’t try to ride him if I don’t think I can handle him.”
“No more than that?” Henry asked dubiously. “Even if I tell you at the time that he ain’t fit to ride? He’ll be big then, Alec, remember that. It’s going to make what we’ve gone through seem like a picnic.”
“I’ll have to be with him, Henry.… I can’t promise anything more than that now.”
Shrugging his shoulders, Henry hung the holly upon the outside wall of the tack room. “You’ll see for yourself this summer then, Alec,” he muttered. “You’ll see for yourself, an’ you won’t like it.”
Dusk had deepened into night when Henry and Alec heard the iron gate creaking in the cold and the sound of voices coming up the driveway.
“Our first party guests,” grunted Henry. “I’m still thinkin’ it was a mistake to invite anyone. It would’ve been better to let Satan’s first birthday go by unnoticed.”
“For months we’ve been talking about it,” Alec reminded him. “My folks would surely think we were having trouble with Satan if we decided not to have the party.”
Looking at Alec critically, Henry said, “An’ if somethin’ goes wrong tonight, they’ll surely know we are.”
Alec didn’t answer, but his face was sober and his heart heavy.
Henry went over to the tack room while Alec moved to the barn door. Opening it, he heard Tony’s voice, carried easily to him in the night.
“Sì, sì, I know who you are, Meester Volence. I have heard much talk of you from Aleec and Henree. It’sa good you come to party. Sì, it’sa good, ver’ good.”
Then, within the range of light cast from the barn, Alec could see Tony and a tall middle-aged man, not unlike Alec’s father in stature, walking toward him. Upon seeing Alec in the doorway, Mr. Volence hastened forward, grabbing the boy’s arm. “Alec,” he said warmly. “It’s been a long time.” Then he saw Henry coming toward them, and grasped the old trainer’s hand. “And you too, Henry,” he added.
Tony had followed Mr. Volence inside the barn and was standing there, holding a small wooden crate in his arms.
“It’sa present for the black one,” he told Alec without looking at him. And as he placed the box down on the floor he added, unhappily, “Why I do it, I do not know. He no like Tony or Napoleon, an’ we shouldn’t like heem.”
“It’s good of you, Tony,” Alec said. Then, turning around, he saw Mr. Volence watching them.
The heavy jowls of the tall man shook as, laughing, he placed a cardboard box on top of Tony’s crate. “And my present to the son of the Black as well,” he said. “I hope you don’t mind my barging in on your party, Alec, but I was in town for the holidays. And when I phoned Henry he told me about it.”
“You know we’re glad to have you, Mr. Volence.” Alec turned to Henry, his gaze thoughtful. The old trainer had said that he hadn’t told Mr. Volence anything about Satan, but Alec wondered. Only a few minutes ago Henry had suggested selling Satan to Volence. But it made no difference whether Henry had or hadn’t told Volence about the trouble they were having with Satan, Alec decided. For he wasn’t going to sell the colt for any price.
Looking up, Alec found that Mr. Volence was gazing searchingly at each of them in turn. The man’s jovial face sobered as he said, “You’re not a very happy looking lot to be having a birthday party for the colt. Where is he, anyway?” And as he looked in the direction of the stalls he added, “That’s a good name you’ve picked for him, Alec. Satan … I like it. Plenty of fire there.”
With Henry leading the way, they walked slowly down the length of the barn.
“I saw the registration of your colt published in the Racing Calendar a month or so ago,” Mr. Volence told Alec. “It hit me square in the eyes … ‘Black colt by Shêtân—Jôhar; William Augustus Ramsay.’ I figured,” Mr. Volence continued, “that he was your father. And then I dropped a line to Henry, knowing you must be away at school, and he confirmed it. Smart of you to register the colt in your father’s name so you can ride him.”
They were passing Napoleon’s stall when Tony said, “I stay here with Nappy, if you don’ta mind.”
Only Mr. Volence smiled at Tony’s remark, and as he patted the old gray’s head he said, “Tony still prefers Napoleon to any other horse you have here, I see.”
Alec nodded, and then they started once more toward Satan’s stall.
The colt was far at the back when they reached him, and Mr. Volence, anxious to see the son of the Black, moved quickly to the door before Alec or Henry could stop him.
There was a loud squeal of fury as Satan, his teeth bared, lunged at the hand on the door. Stepping back faster than he had approached the door, Mr. Volence stood there quietly, his eyes upon the colt. Finally he said, “Like father, like son. His head is like the Black’s, Alec. Ears are heavier, though. Neck thicker, too. What’s his body like? Looks burly from what I can see of it.”
Alec had slipped quietly beside the stall door, and when Mr. Volence concluded, he moved fast and had hold of Satan’s halter before the colt saw him. Satan shook his head savagely but quieted down after a few minutes. Opening the stall door, Alec slipped in close beside his horse, as the others, with Mr. Volence in front, stood in the doorway.
Henry’s eyes were upon Alec as he held his horse, unafraid. But Mr. Volence’s glance swept over the colt. After a time he said, “Satan won’t fine down as the Black did. He’s going to be bigger, heavier … might be too heavy for speed.”
Henry’s eyes left Alec. “Look at the hindquarters and legs,” he reminded Mr. Volence. “He’ll have speed.”
The tall man said nothing for a long time, then turned to Henry again. “You planning on running him next year?”
Henry shifted uneasily on his feet, then nodded in Alec’s direction “There’s the boss,” he said quietly.
“We’re running him in the Hopeful,” Alec replied, his hand upon Satan’s neck.
“Shooting for the big one, eh?” Mr. Volence grinned; then he added thoughtfully, looking once more at Satan’s heavy body, “He’ll have to have speed for that race. Six furlongs and a half,” he reminded, “and every top two-year-old sprinter in the country will be in it.”
The sound of voices coming up the driveway reached them, and Alec, with a final pat on his horse’s neck, slipped quickly out the stall door. Satan shook his head furiously; then with a snort he moved to the back of his stall.
“He’s certainly a wild colt, for having been around here for so long,” Mr. Volence remarked. “I hope you’re not going to have trouble with him.”
“Not going to …” muttered Henry. But then, as Alec caught his eye, the old trainer stopped and turned toward the barn door.
Alec turned with him. His parents and Henry’s wife were the only other guests invited to the party, so it must have been their voices he’d heard. When he’d left the house a few hours earlier, his mother and father had said they were coming to the party, but from the way they spoke Alec knew they weren’t too keen about it. So far as he knew, neither of them had visited the barn since Satan had arrived, and his mother had never seen the colt. She still referred to him as his pony. Pony! It made Alec nervous even to think about it.
The barn door opened and Alec’s parents entered, accompanied by Henry’s wife, a tall, robust woman. Stomping the snow off their feet, they greeted the
others and then proceeded to take off their coats.
Henry hastened forward and was followed by Mr. Volence and Tony, while Alec momentarily stood still, his eyes upon the cake his mother held in her hands. Burning in the center of the chocolate icing was a candle. She began walking toward him, her eyes shining, but only the trace of a smile upon her lips.
“Mom, you shouldn’t have done it … but you did, and you’re wonderful,” Alec said, going forward to meet her.
“It’s for your pony,” she said. “I thought it should be chocolate, because you’ve often told me how black he was, and it’s the closest I could come to it.”
They stood there silently for a moment, looking at each other. Then, “Is he down there?” Mrs. Ramsay asked eagerly. “He really should see it, you know. After all, it’s his birthday.”
Alec hesitated before turning to Satan’s stall. “He’s in there,” he said quietly.
And then his mother moved forward, too quickly for Alec to stop her, and she didn’t come to a halt until she was in front of the stall door. “He’s in the back, Alec,” she said disappointedly. “Have him come forward to see his cake.”
Alec stood beside her and saw the colt standing there with only his small head turned in their direction. “He’s had so much excitement today, Mom,” he said. “Maybe we’d better leave him alone.”
“If you think so, Alec,” she said quietly. “I surely understand how he must feel with all these people in the barn.” She stopped for a moment, peering over the candle, and then said, “He has a small pony’s head, doesn’t he, Alec? But his body is very large. Why, he’s almost as large as your other horse, the Black, and he’s only one year old. I really never suspected it, Alec,” she concluded.
“He’s built that way,” Alec said quickly. Taking her arm, he propelled her back toward the others. “Now let’s eat Satan’s birthday cake. I’m sure everyone wants some.”
The party went off better than Alec had dared hope, for no one went near Satan’s stall again. His mother, her curiosity temporarily satisfied, concentrated upon Mr. Volence and Mrs. Dailey, while Henry stood quietly beside them, only occasionally joining in the conversation. Alec’s father spent a good deal of his time with Tony, and once moved over to Napoleon’s stall to pat the old gray’s head. Then before he walked back to the small group, he glanced apprehensively in the direction of Satan’s stall.
Watching him, Alec had seen his father take a few steps toward the stall, hesitate, then turn back, rejoining Tony and the others.
They had all insisted that Alec should cut the cake for Satan; and later, each holding a piece, they had faced the colt’s stall and Mr. Volence’s deep bass voice had led them through a chorus of “Happy Birthday.” As they sang, Alec’s gaze had moved slowly to each one of them—past the jovial, heavy-jowled face of Mr. Volence; the sheepish, uncomfortable look on the face of his father as he joined the chorus, the look of a man who would rather be some other place; the apprehensive smile of his mother, for she was not yet certain that this pony couldn’t do him harm; and then to the hardened face of Henry’s wife, the face of a woman who had lived too long around horses without loving them. And, lastly, Alec’s eyes had swept swiftly over the strained faces of Henry and Tony, knowing that they, like him, were wondering what the next few months would bring.
Then, after they had finished singing, they had opened Satan’s presents. Alec’s face had softened when he received them for his colt. There was the crate of apples from Tony. The little huckster had smiled sheepishly as he had said, “From Nappy and me, Aleec. But it’sa better that you feed them to heem.” And Mrs. Dailey’s face had become less hard when she had said, “Henry and I decided, Alec, that the best we could do would be to give Satan a home. You can forget about the rent for his stall as long as you want him to stay here.” And then his father had come forward in his brisk, businesslike way, with only his eyes smiling as he pushed a check into Alec’s hand. “It’s something toward his upkeep, Alec, from your mother and me,” he said. Coming forward, Mr. Volence had then handed him the long cardboard box. Upon opening it, Alec saw the solid black stable blanket with an inset of white in the shape of a diamond on each side. “Henry told me over the phone that your colors were going to be black except for a small white diamond,” Mr. Volence had said. “I thought you could use the blanket.”
Alec had thanked them and then had brought forth the light black leather halter which he and Henry had bought for Satan.
A little later everyone had left, leaving Alec alone in the barn with his horse.
As he moved slowly down the barn to see Satan for the last time before returning to school early the following morning, his eyes were moist. Roughly, he brushed away the tears. He had good friends, all of whom loved Satan as he did. And Satan would be worthy of their love.… He couldn’t, wouldn’t, let them down.
KILLER!
10
The field was a lush green with rolling waves of grass when Alec came home again the following June.
And he found the horse that Henry had predicted he would. For Satan, picking up height and weight through the long winter months, was more vicious than ever, and Henry confessed to Alec that at times he’d had to use the wooden end of his broom to keep the colt away from him.
From the rear of Satan’s large box stall in the barn, Henry had built a runway to the field so that the colt could go in and out as he pleased. And the fence encircling the field had been built three feet higher to make certain Satan could not jump over it.
Satan was a big horse now and still growing. He stood close to seventeen hands, and Henry estimated him to be “well over a thousand pounds” … heavier than any yearling he’d ever seen.
June passed into July, and July into August, and the time drew near when Alec was to ride Satan, according to the training schedule that had been set so many months ago.
“We ain’t in no hurry,” Henry said, as Alec brought up the subject once more. “We could wait until next spring,” he added, turning to Alec.
“You’re putting it off again, Henry.”
The old trainer said nothing, and his eyes swept back to the colt grazing in the field.
As Henry and Alec watched Satan, the colt reared, struck out his hoofs, and then raced around the field, his head held high.
“He’s playing, Henry. Look at him go!”
“Yeah, playful,” Henry muttered, “but with the strength of a devil. An’ over a thousand pounds is quite a handful,” he concluded.
“I’m ready for him, Henry,” Alec said quietly.
There was a long silence before the old man asked, “Remember the night of the party, back in January? Y’promised you’d think about everything I’ve told you about him, and that you wouldn’t get up on him if I didn’t think you should.” Turning to Alec, Henry added slowly, “Well, now I know you shouldn’t, Alec. He’s worse than I’ve dreaded in my worst moments. He’d like nothing better than to catch either one of us off guard … an’ that would be the end. He’s a wild stallion, Alec … and mark my words, he’s goin’ to have to be broken like one before it’s ever safe to be around him!”
“I promised you, Henry, that I wouldn’t climb up on him until I thought I could handle him.… That’s all I promised,” Alec reminded him.
“Well?”
Alec’s eyes met Henry’s. “I think I can, Henry. I want to try now.”
Henry heard the determined ring in Alec’s voice, but the old man’s eyes never wavered from the boy’s tense face. And he didn’t like what he saw there. Uncertainty was heavy in Alec’s eyes.… He wasn’t nearly as confident as he’d like to have Henry believe. When the old trainer spoke, fury was in his voice. “You fool, Alec. You young fool,” he said. “With Satan you can’t think you’re ready for him, you just can’t try to handle him!” Lowering his voice, he placed a hand upon Alec’s shoulder. “Don’t you see, Alec, that one chance is all you’ll probably get with this animal? An’ one chance is all he needs if t
hings go wrong.”
Alec turned to watch Satan as he cantered slowly around the field, his head moving to the right and left, all power, all beauty. Satan was his horse … his son of the Black, and he would ride him. For months and months, long before this colt had been born, he had longed to feel the surge of his mighty muscles beneath his legs. Was he to forget all this because of Satan’s savage wildness? Qualities which to Alec made the colt what he was, the proud, noble son of a great sire? No, it was not in him to forget, Alec decided, and he would ride Satan in spite of Henry’s warnings, in spite of the doubt which he too was beginning to have in his own ability to handle Satan.
Turning to his old friend, he told him, “I’ve got to ride him, Henry. And what does it matter if it’s now or next spring? A few months off won’t make it any easier, and if I stay on him we’ll be that much ahead.”
Without replying, Henry turned around and began walking back to the barn. Alec caught up with him a few minutes later, and it was then that the old trainer spoke. His voice was a low, even monotone, and his face had a set expression. “We might as well start then, Alec, seein’ you want it that way.” He glanced over at the colt. “You chase him into the stall, an’ I’ll get the bridle ready.” Then he walked into the barn, leaving Alec to get Satan.
Alec had walked over to the fence and had the gate open when he saw the broom on the ground. After hesitating a moment, he went over and picked it up, then carried it into the field with him.
Satan saw him coming, and with a snort trotted slowly toward the west fence. Alec let him go and continued to walk down the center of the field, planning to get behind the colt and chase him toward the runway.
Alec moved easily, his muscles loose, his mind clear. A few minutes ago, while talking to Henry, it had been different.… Then he had been unsure of himself. But now the contest had begun, and it was as he wanted it.
Now he was behind Satan. He started back up the field, walking a little faster and remaining to the right of his horse, keeping the colt close to the west fence. This procedure of getting Satan into his stall was routine with Alec now, for he had been doing it daily ever since his vacation started. And Satan too knew that he was being driven into his stall once more.
Son of the Black Stallion Page 10
