The Black Stallion's Sulky Colt Page 4

“Please, Alec. Phone him. Ask him to come down just for a day, just to tell me what to do. I’ve got to get Bonfire to the Hambletonian.”

  Alec studied Tom for many seconds and then said, “All right, Tom. We’ll try it. Come on.”

  A few minutes later Tom stood outside the open door of the telephone booth, waiting while Alec’s call to Henry was put through. Finally the call was completed.

  “It’s Alec, Henry.”

  “Hello, Alec. Y’coming home?”

  “No, not just yet.”

  “When then? You’re not getting mixed up with those guys, are you?”

  Before answering, Alec looked at Tom, knowing the boy could hear every word Henry spoke in his loud, ringing voice. But it was too late to back down.

  “In a way,” Alec finally said.

  “What way?”

  “It’s the colt, Henry. Bonfire acted up on the track this morning. He’s scared of anything coming up on his right. We need help with him. He’s scheduled to go in the Hambletonian.”

  Alec waited, but there was no sound from the other end. “Henry, did you hear me? Are you still there?”

  “Yeah, I’m still here, Alec.”

  “He’s a wonderful colt, Henry. You’d love him as much as I do, if you saw him.”

  “Don’t worry, I won’t.”

  “What was that, Henry?”

  “I said, don’t worry, I won’t see him.”

  Alec glanced at Tom. “That’s what I thought you said.”

  “You’d better come home, Alec, an’ leave that sport alone. It’s for Jimmy Creech and his kind, not for us.”

  “Henry—”

  “Yes, Alec?”

  “How often have you told me that loving horses means loving any kind of horse, regardless of type or breed or the use to which he is put? How many hundreds of times, Henry?” There was a sharpness to Alec’s voice that hadn’t been there before.

  Henry knew Alec was angry with him. “What’s that got to do with it?” he asked challengingly.

  “You know as well as I do,” Alec said simply.

  “Well, what is it that you want me to do?” Henry bellowed.

  “I’d like you to come here and …”

  Before Alec had finished his sentence, Henry said louder than before, “I won’t have anything to do with that kind of horse. I told you that when you left here. I tell you that again.”

  “That kind, Henry? Aren’t you forgetting that he’s a son of the Black?”

  “But his dam is a harness-racing mare. That makes the difference. Henry had control of himself again. He was no longer shouting into the phone.

  “But it was you who arranged the mating,” Alec said, refusing to give up. “You had Jimmy Creech send his mare to the Black.”

  “I did it as a favor to an old friend. It doesn’t mean that I have to like his kind of racing.”

  “No one’s asking you to like it,” Alec said bitterly. “We’re just asking you for help with his colt.”

  “Let Jimmy figure it out. He’s good at that.”

  “He’s a sick man. You know that from his letter.”

  “He’ll get someone to take over the colt, Alec. Don’t you worry none about that. And whoever Jimmy gets will do a better job than I could.” He paused, and then added, “—or you can do either, Alec. Better come home. It’s no business of ours.”

  Alec knew he was beaten. He spoke barely above a whisper as he said, “It is our business, Henry. I’m staying on. Good-bye.” He hung up, not knowing if Henry had heard him, and not really caring.

  Tom moved away from the door when Alec came out of the booth. Together they walked back to the stables and Bonfire without saying a word.

  THE BLIND

  4

  Tom and Alec didn’t take Bonfire to the track the next day. Instead they let him rest and during the late afternoon took him out to graze.

  Tom held the lead shank, and let Bonfire choose his own patches of grass. Alec walked a little behind, content to be with them rather than with George, who had tried all day long to relieve the tension by a constant flow of small talk.

  Alec watched Bonfire’s smooth muscles slide easily beneath his flaming red coat while he moved from one patch of green to the next. His coat should look good, Alec thought. We’ve each groomed him several times today, trying to keep ourselves from thinking too much.

  Finally Bonfire reached the far end of the grassy area. Just beyond was some fine sand. He tugged a little on the lead shank, and Tom let him go. Reaching the sand, Bonfire lowered his small head, sniffing and blowing the fine grains. He was as particular here as he’d been with his choice of grass. For many seconds he moved about the sand before finding the spot he liked best. Then he very carefully bent his forelegs and then his hind legs, lowering himself into the sand and swinging over on his back.

  “There goes our grooming,” Tom said, smiling.

  Bonfire rolled from side to side, kicking his black-stockinged legs in the air and grunting in his great pleasure. After a few minutes he got up on all fours again, the sand clinging to his tall body.

  Tom said, “All day long I’ve been thinking without getting anywhere. I don’t know what to do about him.”

  Alec confessed, “I’ve been trying to decide what Henry would do, if he were here.”

  Eagerly Tom sought Alec’s help. “What do you think he’d do?”

  “I guess he’d leave him alone awhile, and then gradually start working him with other horses until he regained his confidence.”

  Disappointment flooded Tom’s eyes and he said quickly, “We couldn’t do anything like that and still get him to the Hambletonian. It would take too long.”

  “Yes,” Alec admitted, “it would. Henry doesn’t believe in rushing a colt.”

  “But if he had to?” There was desperation in Tom’s voice. “If he had my problem of having to get Bonfire to race here, and then go on to the Hambletonian?”

  “Is racing here so important?”

  “He needs it, Alec. He needs the tightening up such a race would give him. That’s why we came here.”

  “He’d be better off if you hadn’t,” Alec said, and immediately regretted his thoughtless words. He turned away quickly. “I’m sorry, Tom,” he apologized. “I didn’t mean that as a criticism of you.”

  Tom didn’t answer. He took Bonfire back to the grass, and let him graze again.

  Alec followed them. Trying to make amends and be helpful he said, “I think I know what Henry might do if he had our problem, Tom.”

  The boy turned to him once more.

  Alec went on, “I believe he’d put a blind over his right eye. Henry doesn’t like to use mechanical aids, but if he had to, I guess he would.”

  “Bonfire couldn’t see what was beside him, wearing a blind,” Tom considered thoughtfully. “Yes, I guess Jimmy might do something like that too, although I’ve never seen him use one. He likes a horse to go clean and free of anything but an open bridle.”

  Alec said, “I wouldn’t make it a closed blind so Bonfire couldn’t see anything out of his right eye. I don’t think he’d like that.”

  Tom was eager now and hopeful. “Yeah. Sure. I think you’re right,” he said. “Just a partial blind, one that keeps him from seeing what’s behind and directly on his right. But he’ll be able to see what’s in front. That shouldn’t bother him any.”

  “No, it shouldn’t,” Alec agreed. “We can try it and see. If it works you can go ahead and race him here.”

  Tom took Bonfire by the halter and began leading the colt back to the stables. “We’ll try it on him tomorrow morning.”

  Alec fell in beside him. “Tom,” he said, “there’s one other thing I’d like you to do, if you will.”

  “Sure. What is it, Alec?”

  “Try to get someone you know around here to let me take a horse tomorrow. I’d like to go alongside you and Bonfire.”

  Tom said, “Sure, Alec, if that’s what you want to do.”

&nbs
p; Tom talked about their plans for the following day all the way back to the stables, but Alec said nothing more. He hoped that what he’d suggested would work out well, but he wasn’t certain of it.

  The sun rose hot and red the next morning, burnishing Bonfire’s body when they took him from his stall. He wore his new bridle with the thin piece of leather that bulged about his right eye, preventing him from seeing to the rear or to the side. Late the afternoon before, they had walked him about while he’d gotten used to it.

  George had shaken his head miserably when he’d seen the blind. After having worked for Jimmy Creech for more than thirty years, he knew how his friend felt about such things.

  Now George helped Tom hitch Bonfire, while Alec stood beside the brown gelding Tom had managed to get from a trainer up the row. Feeling more miserable than ever, George glanced at Tom, hoping desperately that the boy knew what he was doing. Tom was like a son to him, and he felt more concerned about him than about Bonfire or Jimmy. The kid was taking everything he had to do terribly hard. It wasn’t right. It could lead to trouble.

  They finished hitching Bonfire, and Tom called to Alec, “All set!” He slid into the seat behind the blood bay colt and then turned to George. “Are you coming over this morning?”

  “Yeah,” the old man said, “I guess I will.”

  Alec drove his brown gelding ahead of Bonfire on the way to the track. He didn’t think much of his charge as a race-horse. In fact, he was certain this one hadn’t done any racing. The gelding was too heavily built and bad-gaited. His mouth was like a piece of lead, and Alec had to use all his skill in getting him to do what he wanted. But the gelding would serve the purpose of the morning’s work.

  He stopped his horse at the track gate, letting Bonfire pass them.

  “We’ll jog a mile,” Tom called, “and then turn.”

  Alec nodded, and followed Bonfire up the homestretch. The blood bay colt was going beautifully, not objecting at all to his blind. Alec felt his hopes rise. Perhaps it was going to be a successful aid.

  But he didn’t look at Bonfire too often going around the track, for his brown horse kept him very busy. Alec worked the bit constantly in the gelding’s hard mouth, teaching him to have respect for the hands that guided him. Fortunately Alec had ridden many horses like him and he found there was little difference when sitting behind one.

  By the time they had finished their mile jog, Alec had complete control over the brown horse. But he was more thankful than ever for the years of riding that had developed the strength in his back, shoulders and arms. Here was no racing machine, whose speed could be turned on and off by slight commands, but a horse who had respect only for strength.

  Tom didn’t turn Bonfire around until a group of fast-working horses went by. Alec followed, giving Bonfire plenty of room. Together they started down the homestretch with Alec far to the right and a little behind Bonfire. Tom glanced at him and called to him to move the brown horse over to the left.

  Alec shook his head and kept the gelding in the center of the track. There was time enough to move closer to Bonfire. He waited until they were in the backstretch and he was certain that the heavy sound of the gelding’s hoofs wouldn’t disturb Bonfire; then he began taking his horse across the track.

  Tom watched Alec come closer. He watched Bonfire too. The colt seemed to be paying no attention to the horse coming up on his right. Bonfire could not see the gelding but certainly he could hear him. His long strides came smoothly, easily. His head was high and pushed forward. He was asking for more rein but not demanding it.

  Tom felt certain the blind was a success. He called to Alec to take the gelding past Bonfire.

  They went around the back turn before Alec made his move. The brown horse’s heavy hoofs moved a bit sluggishly before Alec got more speed from him and sent him past Tom and then alongside Bonfire. As a team they started down the homestretch, the two horses going stride for stride, and head for head. One second, two seconds, three seconds—and Bonfire never broke stride.

  Alec knew then that the blind was working. Yet there was one more move to be made before he could be sure it was a complete success. He had to take his horse past Bonfire, so that the colt would be able to see him when he got a little to the front. But Alec was certain the worst was over, that Bonfire wouldn’t object to seeing a horse to his right and just ahead of him. He had told this to Tom the day before.

  He began to move the brown gelding past Bonfire. Little by little he went ahead until the colt was able to see him. Then everything happened so quickly that Alec was never sure of the true sequence of events.

  Suddenly Bonfire took a mighty leap, scaring the brown gelding, who jumped too. Alec fought for control when his horse broke from his hands and swerved across the track before straightening out. Bonfire was running directly ahead of them. But the seat of the cart was empty.

  Then Alec saw Tom, stretched out on the track before them. He tried desperately to pull his horse away but it was too late. He heard the thud of shod hoofs on flesh. Then the cart lurched as a wheel went over Tom. As Alec slumped weakly in his seat, the last thing he remembered seeing was Tom’s face with the mouth open slightly as though the boy were pleading with him not to let the horse hit him—and Tom’s hand raised in a pitiful attempt to ward off the oncoming hoofs.

  THE NEW ARRIVAL

  5

  Later Alec found himself back at the stables, stripping Bonfire of his harness. Everything he did came automatically, requiring no mental effort. He thought only of Tom’s inert body being carried from the track and placed flat in the back of someone’s car. George had gone with Tom to the nearby hospital.

  Alec hoped desperately that Tom was going to be all right. He washed Bonfire and then began walking him. It was now mid-morning, with a blistering sun beating down upon them. Yet Alec felt terribly cold. He shivered with chill and walked the blanketed colt faster. Finally he broke into a half-run and Bonfire trotted beside him. Suddenly he realized what he was doing and came to an abrupt stop. The stable area was unusually quiet.

  Alec knew that the reason he had run was that he was trying to get away from the mental picture of Tom lying on the track. But he knew too that it did him no good to run. He went forward again, walking slowly.

  For an hour more he walked Bonfire, fighting the thoughts thrusting themselves into his consciousness. First, he told himself that Tom wasn’t hurt badly. Maybe a sprained shoulder. Maybe not even that. Tom would be back with them by … well, maybe tomorrow. But this reasoning did not help. He knew he was only fooling himself. There was no telling how much injury the gelding’s heavy hoofs had done. He could only pray that they had missed Tom’s head.

  Alec took Bonfire back to his stall and then went to the tack room, where he lay down on his cot. He told himself that accidents like this happened sometimes. It was horse racing. It was the chance every jockey and every driver took every day, many times a day. It wasn’t surprising that accidents happened. What really was surprising was that they didn’t happen more often. He knew this. He had accepted it years ago. Everyone in the sport accepted it, Tom included.

  Alec’s eyes rested on Tom’s cot, rumpled and unmade, just as the boy had left it early that morning when he’d been so eager to get to the track to try out the new blind.

  Alec rose from his cot and hurriedly left the room. He walked aimlessly about the stable area, seeing nothing, hearing nothing. If only he hadn’t suggested the blind. If only he’d let Tom and Bonfire alone.

  An empty cardboard box lay in his path. He kicked it viciously, watching it turn over in the air and come down.

  “Go ahead, kick yourself around too,” he told himself bitterly. “But it won’t do any good. It won’t help Tom.”

  Alec walked faster and faster until he was almost in a run. Sometimes he was able to drive Tom’s face from his mind. But most of the time it was there before him, just as it had been on the track—so pale, so pleading. And subconsciously he kept repeating, �
�I did it to him. I lost control of my horse or it wouldn’t have happened. Because I can ride I thought I could drive. I insisted upon getting out there with him. I wanted to help and instead I blundered terribly. I’ve made things worse than they’d ever have been if I’d left him alone. I did it to him. I’m responsible.”

  Later he went back to the stall and stayed with Bonfire. He groomed the colt, trying not to think and just waiting for George to return. Finally a voice from the doorway said, “I’m back, Alec.”

  The brush fell from his hand. He picked it up and then turned to George, his eyes asking the question he wanted to have answered.

  “He’s got a broken leg,” George said. “Nothing more.” He studied Alec for many seconds and then added, “It could have been a lot worse. Don’t take it so hard.”

  “I know,” Alec answered. “I was so afraid we’d hit him in the head.”

  “Something knocked him out but not the gelding’s hoofs. Maybe it was the cart. I don’t know. Anyway he’s not bad off, considering everything.”

  Alec left Bonfire’s side and went over to George. Tom was going to be all right. That’s what he’d hoped for. Now he’d be able to get rid of that awful mental picture. He’d never hurt anyone before. He’d taken plenty of spills himself but this had been different, very different.

  The two stood in the doorway, their eyes on the blood bay colt.

  George said, “Bonfire’s goin’ home, Alec. There won’t be any Hambletonian for him.”

  “Or for Tom or Jimmy,” Alec heard himself add quietly. And then he wondered why he didn’t offer to race Bonfire. Wouldn’t he have done so under any other circumstances?

  George said, “Yeah, it’s goin’ to be tough on Jimmy, all right, but it’s a lot worse for Tom. He’ll be laid up for at least three months.”

  “Is that what they said?”

  George nodded. “The doctor recommended that Tom be taken to a Pittsburgh hospital so he’ll be near home. The doc’s contacted a fine bone specialist who’ll do the operatin’.”

  “Operate?” Alec asked, startled. “Can’t they set it without operating?”