Black Stallion's Shadow (13 page)

A
lec left the Black in his corral. He walked over to the house and sat on the porch steps. The ranch, which had looked like a crowded parking lot earlier that morning, was quiet again. Ellie came out of the office and called to Alec, “Let's go see how Mike's doing. I'm a little worried about him.”

Ellie gave a rap on the door to Mike's trailer and walked inside. Mike was stretched out in bed. He sat up, glanced at his visitors, then reached down to adjust an ice pack wrapped around his left ankle.

“How you feeling, Mike?”

“I'll be all right.”

Ellie sat down on the edge of the bed. Picking up the ice pack, she poked at Mike's swollen ankle.

“Ouch!”

“Sure you don't want to see a doctor about that?”

“Nope. I wouldn't even be in here if Wes hadn't ordered me to.”

“Well, nothing's happening, anyway. Frank moved the crew to the studio for the rest of the day.”

“How'd the other horses in the team make out?”

“The vet's coming over later to take a look. They seem okay. But we don't know about Dousette yet. He's still at the hospital.”

“What happened to Kramer?”

“Oh, he's fine and dandy. Just a few scrapes. Kramer must be the luckiest guy in all of Hollywood. I doubt that he'll be up for any barrel riding for a few days, though.”

As Ellie and Mike talked, Alec looked around the room. Mike's trailer was small, about the same size as Alec's. Every square inch of wall space was papered with publicity stills and cutouts from movie and horse magazines. On a shelf by the window were a half-dozen gold- and silver-plated belt buckles, trophies won for bronc riding, roping and other rodeo events. A movie poster from the John Wayne Western
Stagecoach
hung on the back of the door.

Among the pictures Alec noticed a fading, dog-eared photo clipped from a newspaper. There was no caption beneath the photo, but it appeared to be Mike receiving a trophy at a rodeo. Alec recognized something familiar about the guy in the floppy hat presenting the trophy but couldn't quite place him.

The front door opened and Jim poked his nose inside. “Howdy, Mike. You feeling better?”

Mike gave him a sidelong glance. “Hey, what is this, open house?”

“Just came to see if there's anything I could do.”

Mike muttered something under his breath. Ellie took the hint. It seemed that they'd overstayed their welcome. “Sorry, Mike. We'll leave you be.” She shooed Jim away and closed the door behind them.

“He seems all right,” Alec said.

Ellie nodded. “Mike's funny sometimes. You never can tell what he's really thinking. He always has to play the tough guy, the hero.”

Jim thumped his chest. “I'd of done what he did myself if I could have.”

Ellie smiled and nudged Alec. “Sure you would, Jim.”

Jim's face lit up with anger and pride. “You doubt it? I'm not that old, missy. I'd put myself on the line for this place any day of the week.”

Ellie's voice gentled. “We know you would, Jim.”

Alec saw Wes sitting on a bench outside the doorway to the tack room. The old cowboy waved them over. He looked tired. New lines of worry marked his face. He'd just finished speaking on the phone with someone at the hospital. Dousette was still unconscious.

Jim scratched his chin. “Poor Louie. Funny the way Kramer's partners end up taking the fall when things get tough. Kramer always manages to scrape by, though.”

Wes nodded. “We're just lucky Kramer's still in one piece after that wagon crackup. At least he'll be able to be around for that PSA. But without Dousette, I don't know how we're going to pull it off.”

“His part wasn't that tough, was it?”

“No, but even so, I don't know who we can get to fill in for him on such short notice.”

Ellie shook her head. “At this point, I wonder if it'll make any difference. After what happened to Joey, it just might be too late to smooth things out with the Humane Council.”

A black-and-white police cruiser turned off the road out front. Jim turned to watch it. “What's O'Brien doing here?” Wes told him about finding the cut stitches in the wagon harness.

Jim didn't believe any of it. “What!” he bellowed. “You guys really think someone could have snuck into the tack room and messed around with the tack right under our noses?”

“I'm not accusing anyone,” Wes said, shrugging, “just being careful.”

“Come on.”

“Take off the blinkers, Jim. Some people will do whatever it takes to get ahead. For them, it's hooray for me and the heck with the other guy. You're too trusting.”

“And you're crazy to be buying into Ellie's conspiracy theory.”

The patrol car rumbled up the driveway and pulled to a stop in a cloud of dust.
SKY VIEW TERRACE POLICE
was printed on the car door. Sheriff Nick O'Brien, a husky, middle-aged man, got out and slammed the car door behind him.

Wes strode over to greet him. “Thanks for coming, Nick.” The police officer shook Wes's hand and then
casually adjusted the thick, black leather gun belt slung around his waist. Wes led the way into the tack room and showed O'Brien the harness, pointing out the spot where the lines had broken.

“Horses are your department, Wes,” the policeman said. “I wouldn't know one harness from another.” O'Brien put the harness down. His tone of voice evened, all business. “So let's have it. What's this all about?”

Wes took a deep breath. He told O'Brien the whole story. The officer listened quietly, scribbling notes onto a pad of paper.

When Wes had finished, O'Brien put down his pencil. “What took you so long to report that fire?”

“Up to now, we weren't sure it was anything more than bad luck.”

“From what you've said, that might be all it is. But you did the right thing in giving me a call. Can you think of anyone who might have a grudge against you?”

“This is a competitive business, and I've been in it for more than thirty years. I'm sure I've stepped on some toes along the way.”

“Anything might help, no matter how unimportant it may seem to you.”

Ellie, who up to this moment had been listening quietly, told the sheriff about her suspicions of Sagebrush.

The sheriff asked about the people working on
Drover Days.
Wes told him that the makeup of the cast and crew was determined by the type of shots planned for the day. Some days there were only a handful of people working at the ranch; other times there might be thirty or forty.

“I think you're all way off base with this sabotage business,” said Jim, “but if you want to know someone with a grudge against us, well, what about Emerson Livestock? They're our main competition. Tell you what, those guys weren't very happy when we won the
Drover Days
contract away from them.”

Wes chuckled at Jim's suggestion. “I reckon not. Still, I can't believe anyone at Emerson's would sabotage one of our wagons.”

“I can't either,” Jim admitted, “but the sheriff said he wanted to know of anything, no matter how far-fetched.”

“That's pretty far-fetched, all right.”

“Then I guess you don't want to know who I saw talking with the foreman from Emerson's Ranch at the pizza parlor in town the other day.”

“Who?”

Jim swallowed and turned his head, looking slightly ashamed of what he was thinking. “Julio.”

Wes frowned. “So what? He used to work for Emerson. Those guys are friends of his. You're not saying that Julio had anything to do with …”

“I'm just saying what I saw.”

“If you want my opinion,” Ellie cut in, “you don't have to look any farther than next door to find out who's behind all this.”

“Please, Ellie,” said Jim.

Alec could see Ellie starting to get hot. “I can't believe you guys. Rotasky is the one who stands to gain the most if we go down. It's so obvious!”

O'Brien held up his hands. “Don't you people start
squabbling. That won't get us anywhere. You're both right in telling me whatever you think is important.” The sheriff sighed and then looked at his watch. “The best thing you all can do is keep your eyes open. In the meantime, I'm going to impound this harness as evidence.”

The phone rang, and Wes picked up the call. It was from the studio. The producers were sending an agent from their insurance company to the ranch to make a report. Despite the wagon accident, they had decided to go ahead with the PSA. Now more than ever, the relationship between
Drover Days
and the Humane Council needed to be straightened out. Alec listened to Wes and the man on the phone discuss the most immediate problem—finding an actor to fill in for Dousette.

Wes hung up the phone. He said that the producers wanted a “name” actor for the spot. Yet finding someone available on such short notice wouldn't be easy, even under normal circumstances.

Jim snapped his fingers. “Hey, wait a minute. We don't have to go scrounging around the casting office for some would-be cowboy star.” He put his hand on Alec's shoulder. “We have one of the most famous horsemen in the country standing right here.”

“Right,” Alec said with a laugh. He looked at the others, who just stared back at him. No one else was laughing. The smile slowly worked its way off Alec's face.

“How about it, Alec?” asked Wes. “You could easily play Dousette's part in this thing. It's simple.”

“But I'm no actor.”

“You don't have to be. Just ride through the canyon
with Kramer and Doug Maxwell, the actor who plays Jed, while Frank paces you in the camera car. It'd be a cakewalk for you. The rest, voice-overs and whatnot, we could take care of in the studio later.”

Alec let the idea sink in for a moment. After the fire and what happened to Pal Joey, it seemed obvious that being on the set with Wes Taylor wasn't the safest place in the world these days. Yet he liked Ellie and Wes, and his impulse was to help them out. If Kramer and Maxwell were still going through with the shoot, how could he refuse? On the other hand, Alec felt leery of getting involved with Wes Taylor and his crazy business.

“I don't know, Wes,” said Alec.

“Imagine the look on Henry Dailey's face when he sees you on TV with Paul Kramer.” The thought made Alec smile.

The others watched Alec and waited for him to answer. Finally he shrugged and said, “Well, that doesn't seem so bad. Sure. Why not?”

Wes gave Alec a slap on the back. “Fan-tastic. You're a lifesaver, kid.”

Alec walked over to the tack room to get his saddle and bridle. As he came outside, Wes was waiting by the door. The old cowboy caught the puzzled look on Alec's face. He seemed to be reading Alec's mind. “Wondering what you're getting yourself into? Don't sweat it, Alec. This should be a cinch.”

“Somehow I feel like I'm forgetting the reason I came here. It certainly wasn't to start making commercials, even if they are for a good cause.”

“The Black will get over that shadow-shying business, believe me. Just keep on working him into it nice and slow, like yesterday.”

“I'm going to take him out to the driveway in a little while and see if we can make any more progress.”

Wes's voice softened. “I'm sorry you had to be here for this. Joey, I mean. Guess it's been a rough couple of days for you and the Black.”

“Tell me about it,” said Alec. He sighed and walked away.

CHAPTER 14

A
lec carried his saddle, pads and bridle out to the Black's corral. California sunlight brushed everything with a warm golden color. Two argumentative blue jays squawked at each other from the upper branches of a eucalyptus. Otherwise, Taylor Ranch was unusually quiet.

The Black waited for Alec at the corral gate. Alec spoke to his horse, looking up into the stallion's huge, dark eyes. Tiny reflections of his own face stared back at him. He stood there a moment, wondering how the Black really saw him. Did the Black remember Alec as the boy whose life he saved in a shipwreck so many years ago? Could either of them ever forget their struggle for survival on that deserted island? So much had changed since then, yet the bond between them remained. Alec and the Black belonged to each other.