Son of the Black Stallion (12 page)

Shrugging his shoulders, Henry said, “Hope you’re right, Alec … and I’m hopin’ even more that durin’ the summer, when you can be around all the time, you’ll win Satan’s love somehow. But it may take longer’n that … or it may never come at all. The love of a horse for a human is a strange love, an’ I’ve only seen it come to a very few.”

They stood there for a long time, busy with their thoughts, their eyes always upon the black colt who
moved constantly about them. Then suddenly a woman’s voice called from Henry’s house.

“It’s the missis,” the old trainer muttered. “Guess she must be wantin’ me for something.” His gaze turned to Satan, then back to Alec. “You want me to help you take him in first?”

“I think I’ll keep him out a little while longer, Henry. I won’t have any trouble.”

“Okay,” Henry said, “but watch him, like I said. Mebbe I can get back in a few minutes,” he concluded.

Henry was about fifteen yards from Alec when Satan began trotting slowly toward the old man.

“Watch out, Henry,” Alec called to his friend.

Henry stopped, as though undecided whether to move on toward the house or to retreat from the snow-packed path the colt had made around them. Satan was still a good distance away from Henry, and Alec knew his friend had enough time to make up his mind. But automatically he shortened the line and moved a few steps closer toward his horse.

Then without warning Satan bolted, and the snow flew from beneath his hoofs as he bore down upon Henry.

Shouting, Alec saw Henry stop in his tracks, his face white. He turned back, retracing his steps.

With savage eagerness, Satan swerved and plunged forward, his eyes red and ears flat against his head.

The line was no longer taut in Alec’s hand. He stood there helpless, as the colt moved down upon Henry. Then as the old man stumbled in the snow and
fell to the ground, fury replaced the fear within Alec, and he raced forward.

Henry’s fall caused Satan to misjudge his distance, and he swept past the inert figure in the snow without touching him. And before he had turned and wheeled back, Alec was beside his friend.

The colt rose above them in all his savageness, his blood on fire and the urge to kill great within him. No longer did his eyes smolder with contempt. Now they were alive and gleaming red with hate. And Satan’s black body trembled with eagerness as his savage instinct drove him toward the kill.

But as he came down with thrashing hoofs, destined to blot out forever the hateful man scent tingling in his nostrils, he suddenly pulled up short and his hoofs drove into the snow. Shaking his head, his blazing eyes upon the man and boy, he rose again and fought whatever it was within him that had caused him to stop short with his pounding hoofs.

But he came down again without touching the man or boy, and then stood there, shaking his fiery head.

And Alec, unable to move, unable to leave Henry, was aware of the struggle going on within Satan’s black body. Then, as the colt gathered himself to rear again, Alec sprang forward and grabbed his halter.

Once again, Satan moved with all the fury that possessed him as he felt the hand upon his head. Once again, the urge to kill was upon him. He leapt forward, seeking to do away with this boy who desired him to do as he willed. But the hand upon his head was strong and it swung him around. Screaming, he swelled to
greater fury and, with gleaming teeth, attempted to turn upon the hand that held him close.

But Alec moved with the colt, avoiding his vicious lunges. And finally Satan stood still, his face flecked with sweat, his flanks heaving.

“You’re crazy, Alec. I tell you, you are.” Henry’s voice was short and clipped. “You’re lettin’ this black devil crawl right inside of you. You’ve lost all reason. He’s vicious and a killer, Alec. You’ve got to understand that. There ain’t no struggle goin’ on within his black heart like you say, either. He’s all bad, and I’m all for gettin’ rid of him. Sell him to Volence when he gets here in a little while. Sell him now, before it’s too late. Volence will give you a fancy price for him. Still,”—Henry paused, and the lights in his gray eyes flashed—“it would be a dirty trick to pull on a good friend like him. It would be better to put Boldt wise that there’s a son of the Black, an’ let him suffer with Satan!”

Alec said nothing, and only his eyes betrayed his agony. For many days, ever since that terrible morning, Henry had been telling him what he was now saying once more. Through all the days that had preceded Christmas and thereafter, they had talked of nothing else. And it was the same today, this day of January
2nd … Satan’s first birthday. Yes, there was going to be a party, as Alec had planned, but it would be a far cry from the kind of party to which he had looked forward for so many months.

Alec’s eyes traveled around the barn, past the green holly and evergreens hanging upon the walls and beams, pausing at Satan’s stall; and only the ring of the colt’s hoofs striking the floor betrayed his presence. Then Alec’s gaze moved on to Napoleon, who extended his long gray neck over the door of his stall, stretching for the holly that hung there. And finally Alec looked again at Henry.

He could read all that was written upon the old man’s lined countenance. It was there even when Henry wasn’t telling him by his words. But it was neither anger nor bitterness. Nor was it fear, despite his having come so close to death beneath Satan’s hoofs. Anxiety and concern alone were written there. Anxiety and fear for him.

“I know how much you loved the Black, Alec,” Henry said slowly, and his eyes and voice were sincere. “And I know how much you wanted to love Satan. But it can’t work out, Alec … not when the one you love has no capacity for love. It never has … it never will.” Henry paused a long time before continuing. “I love you as a son,” he said, looking down at the holly in his hands. “If I’d ever had a boy, I’d have wanted him to be like you, see. And loving you as a son, I don’t want to see what can happen to you around such a killer. I’m an old man, Alec. I’m not afraid of him or anything he might do to me. It’s you, with everything ahead of you, that I’m rememberin’
You … and your folks, who would feel the same as I, if they knew.”

Alec started to say something, then stopped short. What good would it do to say it all over again, when Henry had only scoffed at what he had said so many times in the past few days? What good would it do to say once more that he had not saved Henry by grabbing the colt in time? That it was something within Satan himself that had, momentarily, overpowered the strong urge to kill, an urge which had been instilled in Satan before he was born by his wild-blooded forebears. Alec was certain that a dreadful but surprising conflict had waged within Satan’s black body as he had risen above them. And what had come once could surge more powerfully in the months to come. Alec believed that, and no one, not even Henry, whose experience he respected and whose friendship he cherished, could shake this hope from him.

But what good would it do to tell Henry all over again, to argue once more on this last day before returning to school? Finally he said, “I won’t sell him, Henry. I couldn’t do it.”

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.