Black Stallion and Satan

by Walter Farley

  His knees pressed firmly against the stallion, Alec leaned forward to unsnap the lead shank from the halter. “I won’t need this,” he told Henry, tossing it to him.

  The trainer stepped back as the Black crabstepped, then went into a trot. Going to the outside rail, Henry leaned upon it, his eyes never once leaving Alec and the Black. He saw the boy’s hands slip a little farther down the stallion’s neck as he leaned forward. Obediently the Black moved closer to the inside rail and went into his long, loping canter as they passed the stands. Henry knew that the stallion was obeying Alec’s every command; just now the boy had full control over him.

  The stallion swept around the first turn, his strides gradually lengthening, his head carried high with ears pricked. But there was no wildness to his gait, no evidence of the fiery energy that Henry knew burned within him.

  “Maybe Alec will be able to do it,” he said. “Maybe he will.”

  They moved into the backstretch with Alec lost from Henry’s sight, for the boy was low beside the Black’s neck and covered by the long, flowing mane. The stallion’s strides were long and effortless, yet every once in a while, for no apparent reason Henry could see, he would strike out playfully without breaking stride. His head would turn very often, too, to look to the left, then to the right, of him.

  “They could be out for a joy ride,” Henry muttered. “Yet he’s really moving, and without even tryin’.” His hand went to the stopwatch within his pocket. “If Alec has that much control over him when the others get here, there’ll never be a race to equal it.”

  They came around the far turn, and as they passed Henry, Alec waved to him. The stallion went down the stretch with his tail flowing behind him like a black cloak. Going into the first turn again, Henry saw the Black start to level out, and he knew Alec was letting him go.

  There was no turning of head or striking of forefoot as the Black came off the turn. He was really moving now and his action was beautiful and breathtaking to see. Henry pressed the stem of his stopwatch when the Black passed the three-quarter pole. He pushed it again when the stallion swept by the quarter pole, then looked at his watch.

  “Forty-five seconds flat for the half-mile!” he said aloud.

  With thunderous, racing hoofs, the Black passed Henry once more, and this time Alec didn’t wave to him. Henry saw that Alec was trying to bring the stallion to a stop.

  When they went into the first turn the Black’s strides were slowing, and by the time they had entered the backstretch again Alec had him down to a slow gallop, then to a trot.

  Henry looked at his watch to make sure of the time in which he had caught the Black. He knew that Satan couldn’t run a faster half-mile than the Black had just gone. He turned back to the stallion as Alec brought him slowly around the turn.

  He’s got the old speed all right, Henry thought. But I knew that. The question is, will he run or fight? And no one is going to answer that until the others get here. No one … not even Alec.

  THE BLACK MEETS

  SATAN

  11

  As the remainder of the week passed and Henry watched Alec take the Black through his daily gallops, he found himself thinking more and more about the possibility of the Black’s actually running in the big race. Alec’s control of the great stallion was impressive to watch, and the boy’s enthusiasm and confidence were transmitted to Henry. It was only when the trainer was alone that he angrily reminded himself it was much too early for optimism … that the Black’s willingness to do what Alec asked of him meant nothing until the Black caught the wind of other stallions. So it was that Henry looked forward anxiously … yet with a feeling of dread, too … to the day the others would arrive.

  It came a day earlier than Henry had expected. He and Alec were driving back from town, where they had gone for their evening meal, when they saw the van ahead of them.

  “Could it be Satan, Henry?” Alec asked anxiously.

  “No. He’s coming in tomorrow morning. Has to be one of the others. El Dorado is my guess.”

  “The South American horse?”

  Nodding, Henry followed the van through the barn entrance gate and pulled up beside it when it came to a stop before the barn office. “Who y’got?” he asked the van driver.

  “El Dorado,” the man replied.

  Henry drove on. “Well, it’s the beginning,” he told Alec. “Things will change pretty fast around here from now on.”

  “You mean because we won’t have the place to ourselves any longer?”

  “Yeah, mostly that,” Henry mumbled.

  They were back at the stall only a short time when the van turned down the row, coming to a stop just below them and on the opposite side. Suddenly the Black’s shrill whistle shattered the air, and Alec and Henry turned to him.

  He had his head stretched far over the door. His ears were pricked, almost touching at the tips, while his eyes were large and had a startled look. He whistled again and his forefoot struck heavily against the door.

  “Shall I close the top of the door, Henry?”

  “No, there’s no sense in shutting him up. We’ve got to see what he’ll do from now on. We’ve got to be sure, if we’re going to race him.”

  Two men were taking El Dorado off the van. He was a light golden chestnut of medium height. He walked quietly alongside his handlers and his movements were frictionless.

  “Supple as a cat, that one,” Henry said. “And a lot of power to go along with it.”

  “But his racing records don’t come anywhere near those of Satan,” Alec said.

  “No,” Henry admitted, “nor of the others, either. We’ll have to keep an eye on him … but no need to worry too much about him. It’ll be Phar Fly and the European horses that’ll give us the most trouble.”

  El Dorado stopped in his tracks when the Black whistled again. Snorting, he turned his golden head in the direction of the Black. He snorted again, then moved about uneasily; his handler led him down the row while the other man got his stall ready.

  Alec went to the Black, but the stallion had eyes only for the chestnut. Alec stayed with his horse while Henry went to join the man walking El Dorado.

  Repeatedly the Black struck his door. Alec offered him a carrot, but the stallion ignored it. Turning to El Dorado, Alec saw that the chestnut was becoming excited by the Black’s frequent challenging whistles; the man at his head kept him far down the row while Henry walked beside him.

  A short while later El Dorado was led into his stall and Henry returned. “They’re a little worried about their horse,” he told Alec.

  “You mean because of the Black?”

  “No, not that. He wasn’t feeling well a couple of days ago and ran a pretty high fever.”

  “But he’s all right now, isn’t he? He looks it, anyway.”

  “Yeah, they think so. No fever, and he’s eating well. But they’re going to keep a close watch on him.”

  With the coming of night the Black continued to remain at the door, watching for a glimpse of El Dorado and repeating his shrill, piercing blasts.

  “I thought he’d get over seeing him by now,” Alec said while he and Henry sat on the bench outside the stall.

  “Sometimes they never get over it,” Henry answered quietly.

  “But the Black will. I’m sure he will.”

  Shrugging his shoulders, Henry said, “Maybe, Alec. An’ maybe not. But we’ll know before long.”

  “Is Lenny Sansone coming with Satan?” Alec asked, intentionally changing the subject.

  “Yeah, I thought it best if he worked him right along, Alec. I figured the Black wouldn’t like to see you up on Satan even during the works.”

  “I guess you’re right, Henry.”

  Long after they had gone to bed, Alec heard the Black’s pounding against the door and the constant shifting of his feet as he moved uneasily about his stall.

  Tomorrow there would be even more to occupy the stallion’s mind, Alec knew. For tomorrow Satan would arrive
. And after him would come Phar Fly, Cavaliere, Sea King, Avenger and Kashmir. Yes, as Henry had said, things were going to change pretty fast around there from now on.

  The next morning Henry took the van to meet the plane bringing Satan while Alec stayed behind to take care of the Black. He was grooming the stallion when one of the men who handled El Dorado appeared at the stall door.

  “I wonder if you could loan us one of your pails?” the man asked. “El Dorado banged up ours yesterday.”

  “Sure,” Alec said, leaving the stall.

  The man followed him. “We’re getting a couple more, so I’ll return this to you by afternoon,” he said when Alec gave him the pail. “That’s some looking horse you have there,” he added. “Heard a lot about him. Is he everything they say he is?”

  “I think so,” Alec said.

  The Black had his head over the stall door and once more screamed at El Dorado, even though the chestnut wasn’t in sight.

  “Is he like that always?” the man asked.

  “No,” Alec replied.

  “Give you any trouble?”

  “No.”

  After the man had gone Alec finished grooming the Black, then turned to the adjacent stall, where the cots were. He was about to remove them to get the stall ready for Satan when he stopped to look thoughtfully at the Black. Perhaps it wouldn’t be such a good idea to put Satan next to the Black. And there was no reason why they couldn’t use Stall 8 for Satan; then their sleeping quarters would be between the two horses. It might be better that way until they saw how things worked out between Satan and the Black. Alec felt certain that Henry could fix things up at the office for the use of the extra stall.

  He went to Stall 8 and bedded it down well for Satan; then, having some free time, he went across the row to get his first close look at El Dorado.

  The man who had borrowed the pail was grooming the chestnut. He looked up when Alec appeared at the stall door.

  “How is he?” Alec asked. “Henry told me that you were a little worried about him.”

  “He’s all right now. Although your black horse has made him more nervous than I like to see him.” He paused, turning to Alec. “You’re sure you can handle that horse? I’ve seen fighting stallions before and he certainly seems to be one.”

  “I can handle him,” Alec said.

  “One like that can bring out the worst in any stallion,” the man said, still unconvinced.

  Alec was about to reply when he heard the van coming down the row. Leaving the stall, he saw Henry, accompanied by Lenny Sansone and Fred, the groom who took care of Satan. He waved to them as the van rolled by and came to a stop near their stalls.

  Lenny Sansone, short and stocky and in his middle thirties, was the first off the van. He came toward Alec, a large grin on his wizened face, his hand outstretched. “It’s good seeing you again, Alec.”

  “Good seeing you, too, Len,” Alec replied, clasping the other’s hand. “You’ve been really riding Satan,” he added.

  “I just sit there and let him go. You know him,” Lenny said.

  Henry and Fred were at the back of the van when Alec went to them. “How’d he ship, Fred?” he asked of the groom.

  “Fine, Alec. Just fine,” Fred grinned. “He takes to travelin’ just like everything else. There’s no more horse anywhere.”

  The back door of the van came down, and Satan neighed shrilly. Then the Black screamed, and his whistle was more piercing than Alec had ever heard it. He turned to him and saw that the stallion’s eyes were bright with fury. Lenny Sansone, who was standing close to the Black’s stall, called, “He’s apt to tear this door down, Alec!”

  Alec went to the Black, but the stallion’s eyes never left the van, for Satan stood at the ramp.

  “Stay with him, Alec!” Henry shouted. He and Fred had Satan by the halter; the burly colt uttered a shrill scream and his ears swept back, flat and heavy against his head.

  “He’s never acted that way since I’ve known him,” Lenny said. “It must be the Black.”

  The Black struck his foot hard against the door again, almost shattering the wood.

  “Another blow like that and you won’t have any door,” Lenny warned.

  Without fully realizing what he was doing, Alec pushed the Black’s head back, then quickly opening the door he went inside. “Bolt it again, Lenny!” he called.

  The stallion came back to the door, his eyes blazing, while Alec stood beside him. “Easy, Black. Easy,” he pleaded. But the giant body continued to tremble in fury as Alec ran his hand over him. Alec stayed near the small, glaring head, desperately trying to keep the stallion from stepping too close to the door.

  Henry was taking Satan down the ramp, but seeing Alec inside the stall he called angrily, “Get out of there, Alec!”

  But the boy didn’t hear him, for he was moving with the Black as the stallion turned furiously about the stall. He didn’t think the Black would kick him, but he wasn’t sure under these circumstances; so he kept close to the stallion’s head, his hand resting lightly on the halter. Always he talked to his horse, coaxing, urging, guiding. But it seemed the Black didn’t even know him now. Nothing but fury and hate absorbed the stallion.

  The Black moved quickly toward the door again, carrying Alec with him. He struck high with his foreleg, bringing it down over the door. Outside Satan was rearing, and his face, too, was fearful to see.

  Lenny Sansone had hold of the upper half of the stall door. “Get out, Alec! I’ll shut it!” he shouted.

  Knowing that he was afraid, Alec tightened his grip on the halter. If he left now, he knew he’d forever be afraid of the Black. Anything would be better than that. His heart pounding, he stepped in front of the stallion, trying to force him back from the door. His weight threw the stallion off balance and the Black pulled his foreleg off the door.

  “Shut the top!” Alec shouted to Lenny.

  “Not until you get out!”

  “Shut it!” Alec shouted again, and when the door remained open for the Black to see what was going on outside, Alec pulled it shut himself.

  The only light came through a small, high window to the rear of the stall. And within the light Alec moved with the Black, always talking to him, always touching him. The stallion screamed his piercing challenge repeatedly. For a while he was answered by Satan’s whistle; then it was quiet outside and Alec knew that Henry and the others had moved Satan away from the Black’s stall.

  Gradually the stallion’s actions became less furious. For a time he stood still and was responsive to Alec’s voice and hands. But then he was on the move again, turning restlessly about the stall, stopping only to paw at the straw with his forefoot.

  It was only after a long while that the fire left his eyes and he turned to Alec. He shoved his nose hard against the boy’s chest, then nuzzled his pockets for carrots.

  Removing one, Alec fed it to him. “You didn’t want it before,” he said, “you didn’t want anything but to fight. It can’t work out that way, Black … not for you or for me. Neither of us belongs here if it’s going to be that way. Maybe I’ve been wrong all along.… Maybe we shouldn’t be here at all.”

  And as Alec remained with his horse he thought of how much he had looked forward to the day when the Black would meet his colt. He’d even thought they would recognize each other for what they were, father and son. But it hadn’t worked out that way at all. There was no love between them. They were two giant stallions, both eager and willing to fight. No, it wasn’t the same as he’d thought it would be at all. And now Alec wondered what he would do … and, more important, what Henry would do, for it was he who would decide whether or not the Black would race in the International.

  Later Alec left the stall, closing the top door. He walked up the row to the end stall, where Henry stood alone, leaning on the door, watching Satan.

  The black colt drew away from Henry when Alec joined the trainer. “How is he?” the boy asked anxiously, reaching out to touch Sata
n. But the colt moved farther back into his stall.

  “He’s calming down now,” Henry said quietly. “He’ll be all right.”

  Taking a carrot from his pocket, Alec held it out to Satan. The big colt took a step closer, his heavy head extended; but then he came to a stop again and his nostrils quivered.

  “He probably smells the Black on you,” Henry said. Alec was withdrawing his hand when Henry added, “Keep it there. He’ll come over.”

  A few minutes later Satan took the carrot from Alec’s hand and moved to the door while the boy and trainer patted him.

  “I’m sorry it had to happen this way,” Alec said.

  “I’m sorry, too,” Henry returned.

  “What are you going to do?”

  “I don’t know, Alec. Just now I don’t think it’s going to work out … as I said it wouldn’t.”

  “Maybe the Black will get used to the others … within a few days, I mean.”

  “Maybe,” Henry repeated.

  “Then we’ll keep him here and see?” Alec asked anxiously.

  The trainer shifted uneasily on his feet. “I don’t know, Alec … really, I don’t. It might be better for everyone if we took him away now. Things might not get better an’ they could get worse.”

  “But maybe …” Alec began.

  “I’d like to see him race as much as you would,” Henry interrupted. “More now than before we came here.” Pausing, he added, “But you saw what he did to Satan, and he could do the same to the others. The Black brings out the instinctive savageness and hatred in every stallion to fight his kind. Up to now, these horses know but one thing an’ that’s to race as they’ve been trained to do. Racing is something the Black hardly knows anything about.… Fighting is what he knows best.”

  “Then what do you think we should do, Henry?”

  “Let’s wait a week for the others to get here. Let’s make sure I’m right before we take him away. He just might come around, Alec, the way you think he will.… He just might.”

  Turning down the row to the Black’s stall, Alec knew he wasn’t really so sure that his stallion would come around. No, not at all. And perhaps both he and Henry were making a mistake in keeping the Black here for another week.