The Black Stallion's Courage (7 page)

Henry had said gallop, so gallop it must be. “Easy, Black,” Alec told his horse. “Slow all the way down to a nice slow gallop. Not just a snug hold on you today but a tight one. Not even a breeze. That'll come later, maybe tomorrow. Maybe the next day. So will the fast works. It won't be long before Henry sets you down. Then you can go all out as you'd like to do. But now we've got to listen to him. Slower, still slower. That's the big guy.”

Reluctantly the Black slowed, his ears flicking to the front, side and then back while he listened to Alec. He struck out playfully with his right foreleg and he never stopped asking for more rein.

Alec sat very still, watching the rail speed by and counting off the furlong poles. He belonged here as nowhere else in the world! His horse ran for the sheer love of running and he shared this love with him.

The Black rounded the far turn and went down the homestretch, snorting at sight of the long, empty stands. He stretched out his head and dug in a little more but there was no release of the iron against the bars of his mouth.

“Easy,” Alec repeated. “Not today. Easy. Easy.…”

The Black was listening to him, Alec knew. Otherwise there'd have been no holding him, bridle or not. His strides came slower and shorter. His oval-shaped hoofs beat on the track in quiet tempo. But there was nothing quiet within his great body. His eagerness to run was a living, breathing thing that constantly sought release. Alec felt the vibrations and they set him afire with a desire to let his horse go!

“Easy … easy,” he began all over again, stilling temptation.

The Black finished the mile gallop and as Alec brought him to a stop he thought,
Why hasn't the filly inherited just a fraction of her sire's love for running? If she had, there'd be nothing to fear from Eclipse in the coming Preakness. Instead she prefers to romp and sulk
.

But the following day between the third and fourth race on Pimlico's afternoon program, Black Minx showed Alec how wrong he was. Not only did the filly display the Black's speed but his love for running as well! It just took a little more prodding to get it out of her. In this case the stimulus consisted of Pimlico's twenty-five-piece band, its members resplendent in their bright red coats; a grandstand and clubhouse holding that day some twenty-five thousand screaming people; and last but by no means least the public-address system that made known to one and all that
they were “looking upon the winner of the Kentucky Derby and probably the fastest filly of our generation.”

Black Minx went on to work the most sensational mile and an eighth ever recorded at Pimlico racetrack. When she had finished and her time was announced, the crowd applauded as they had done for no winner that day. Their unified call was, “Bring on Eclipse!”

Back in the stable area, Henry washed the filly and said, “We'll have her sharp for the Preakness, Alec. She
loves
that crowd.”

“Any crowd,” Alec corrected. “But you're right, Henry. She'll be ready.” He held the filly while Henry squeezed the sponge over her head. Her long tongue came out, catching the dripping water. Then suddenly she snorted, reared, and came down on her toes. She lashed out with her hind legs, sending the water pail flying.

Henry stepped back, grunting, but he wasn't angry with her. Instead he chuckled and said, “She sure feels good, Alec. That workout was just what she needed. But we mustn't wind her too tight. She'll break like a watch if we do. Give her a little more line. That's it. Let her play around a bit.”

Black Minx lifted her head, sniffing the wind; then she jumped forward, taking Alec with her. She rolled her eyes, showing the whites, but didn't fight him. Suddenly her eyes became intense and fiery. She moved quickly around Alec, her muscles showing strong and lean beneath her wet skin. Tossing her head she neighed, and then stood still.

Alec saw Wintertime being walked just a short distance
away. Black Minx, watching him, again lashed out with her hoofs.

“I don't know what it is you have against him,” Alec said, “but wait until Saturday and take it out on him then.”

The filly snorted.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” the race announcer said with grave dignity, “the horses are now coming onto the track for the running of the Preakness.”

A respectful, almost reverent silence came over the great crowd. The members of the red-coated band rose to their feet before the stands and began to play. The spectators, too, stood up at the first strains of the immortal Preakness hymn.

“Oh, Maryland, my Maryland,” many sang softly, their throats a little tight while they watched the horses coming out of the paddock gate.

Would Black Minx repeat her Derby triumph? Or would it be Eclipse today? How about Golden Vanity? And Wintertime—don't forget him! Maybe it would be Silver Jet. Or Olympus? Or the mudders, Lone Hope and Rampart?

Within the track's center field where thousands more watched the parading horses, an old gentleman removed his worn hat despite the light but steady drizzle.
His lips moved as he drew himself up a little straighter, and his eyes were full.

To the tune of the Preakness Hymn he sang to himself in German, “
O Tannenbaum … Du grünst nicht nur zu Sommerszeit, Nein, auch im Winter, wenn es schneit.…
”

When the horses turned before the old clubhouse and came back in front of the grandstand, the band ended the hymn and broke into the rollicking strains of “Dixie!”

Now there were no more clogged throats or tear-filled eyes, nor was there reverent silence. Spectators called to horses and jockeys, while others sang at the top of their voices, “Oh, I wish I was in Dixie, away! Away! Away down south in Dixie.…”

The old gentleman in the infield had replaced his hat and was singing with those around him. And his eyes were bright with expectation as he said confidently to the stranger next to him, “It will be Wintertime today. He's a little horse but a very great one.”

“Oh, no!” the stranger protested. “There's only one
great
horse in this race and that's Eclipse!”

The band stopped playing when the parading field reached the head of the homestretch and the announcer said, “Ladies and gentlemen, the horses are now in the hands of the official starter.”

Alec took Black Minx far behind the starting gate. He expected Henry to leave but the trainer stayed alongside on Napoleon.

“Don't be nervous,” Henry said. “We've got nothing to worry about. Her strides are suited for this kind of going. It'll be Eclipse who'll have trouble in the mud.
Don't worry none. I don't need to tell you how to ride her. Use your own good judgment.”

Napoleon lashed out with his hind legs at another stable pony who had come a little too close to Black Minx. The other pony kicked back and Alec let out the filly another notch, taking her still farther around the turn.

Henry continued talking, giving Alec many instructions despite his earlier orders to use his “own good judgment” in riding Black Minx.

Henry was the one, Alec knew, who was nervous and worried. The trainer was contradicting himself repeatedly and that wasn't like him at all.

“It's going to be all right, Alec. She's ready today,” Henry said, keeping Napoleon close to the filly.

Alec didn't listen to Henry any longer. There was nothing anyone could do for him now. Like Black Minx, he was ready and eager to race. He just wanted to take his time going back to the starting gate. He didn't want to rush her. She was upset enough as it was. Let the others go to their starting stalls first and then he'd take her back.

He saw that he had almost reached the corner of Rogers Avenue and Old Pimlico Road. The wire-mesh fence was only a short distance away. He could see people standing on second-story porches of the houses across the street, watching him. Taxis and cars passed, their wheels sloshing the wet pavement. Black Minx watched everything that went on beyond the fence and Alec kept her attention there. There'd be time enough later for her to take in other things.

The light drizzle had stopped and the sun was beginning
to break through the gray overcast. It wouldn't make any difference in the condition of the track, Alec knew. After last night's heavy rain, the strip was heavy and holding.

Alec heard the starter's metallic voice through the amplifier calling him. “Bring your horse back, Ramsay.”

Turning the filly around, he saw that the other horses were making their way toward the gate. None of them seemed to be in any hurry, though. Henry, still alongside, was silent. Alec turned the filly's head toward the infield so that she could watch the crowd there.

The sun's reappearance would make the afternoon a lot more pleasant for all those people, he thought. They were very quiet compared to the Kentucky Derby fans and their eyes were only for the horses. There were no loud catcalls to jockeys, no frantic rushing and shoving for a better view of the start. Instead they talked softly while craning their heads a little higher to watch the field go to the post. It was a good crowd, a polite crowd who knew horses and had come to watch a horse race … not one another or a sideshow. It made sense to Alec, horse sense.

As the field neared the starting gate, Henry left him.

“She's all yours, Alec,” the trainer said with final simplicity. “Good luck.”

Alec let Black Minx move a little faster and her strides were secure in the mud. She was a fastidious little filly who preferred not to get her feet wet or dirty, but she had no fear of slipping … and that was all-important today.

Her eyes were on the other horses now and, of course, she knew what it was all about. She had worked well and as Henry had said, “It's going to be all right. She's ready today.”

Alec smiled. She had her crowd. Not as big as the Derby one, perhaps, but her second biggest; all that was necessary to make her go the race of her young life. She'd better!

Alec knew that it wasn't going to be a two-horse race as a lot of people figured. It would not be simply a duel between Eclipse and Black Minx. Every horse in the race bore watching just as in the Kentucky Derby.

He watched Golden Vanity go into his number 1 stall. The California champion had quit during the last furlong of the Derby. But might not this shorter distance of a mile and three-sixteenths be just right for him?

Black Minx suddenly broke from Alec's hands, bolting away from the outer rail where he'd been keeping her. He stopped her just before she reached the starting gate but not in time to keep her from lashing out with her hind legs and narrowly missing Wintertime.

Billy Watts on Wintertime swung his stick at Black Minx, and the starter from atop his high platform just off the track said, “Take your filly back, Ramsay, or I'll put you outside. Smith,” he called to one of his ground crew, “you'd better help him get her straightened out. We don't want any trouble here.”

The crewman took Black Minx's bridle, leading her across the track toward her number 5 stall.

Alec stroked the filly's neck and talked to her, but he couldn't understand her hostility toward Wintertime.
The only explanation he could think of was the humiliating defeat Wintertime had given her in their one workout together. But she had quit of her own accord, so that didn't make much sense. Alec didn't have time for any further thought on the subject for Silver Jet reared, refusing to be led by his handler, and came down close to the filly.

The gray's handler got hold of the bridle again and coaxed him into the number 2 stall.

Silver Jet and Golden Vanity were now side by side! Would the two of them set the same blistering pace they had in the Derby? Alec wondered.

Wintertime went nervously into the next stall, number 3, and Black Minx watched him, snorting loudly. Alec patted her again.

“Come on, Girlie,” her handler said, “that's no way for a Kentucky Derby winner to act.” The man tried to get her to move toward her number 5 stall but she wouldn't budge.

Alec said, “Give her another minute, please. Don't fight her.”

“We ain't got another minute,” the crewman said. “It's post time now. But I'll give her another couple seconds.”

Burly brown Eclipse went into the number 4 stall as if he were going into his barn for a container of oats.

“That's the way he does everything,” Alec recalled. “It's as though he knew exactly how much work had to be done in order to earn his keep!”

It wasn't that Eclipse was sluggish. Far from that. Rather, he seemed to know how to relax completely, to bide his time until the very second the gate doors
opened and the race was on. Now, standing quietly in his stall, his head with the white blaze seemed actually to droop. Unlike most of the others, including Black Minx, there wasn't a spot of perspiration on his big body.

The crewman suddenly had Black Minx going forward and she didn't fight him. Into the number 5 stall she went, standing still while the crewman climbed noisily about the framework of the gate. It was as if she knew the time had come for all foolishness to end.

“Other side, Smith, please,” Alec said quietly. “She handles from the off side.”

“Yeah, I know,” the man said, moving over.

Alec looked to his left and found Ted Robinson surveying him from atop Eclipse. “You seem to have grown,” Alec said lightly.

“Funny, but he does seem to get bigger every time I ride him,” Robinson answered, smiling.

“Today we cut him down to size.”

“No, Alec,” Robinson said with abrupt soberness. “I've been up on a lot of them. This one is the best. He's the best there ever was.”

The doors slammed shut in the next stall, frightening Black Minx. She tried to rear but Alec kept her down. He didn't turn again to Ted Robinson. He knew that while Robinson wasn't any older than he, Ted had more years of riding behind him. If Robinson, too, hailed Eclipse as a true wonder horse, it was going to be a tough job beating him.