Son of the Black Stallion (22 page)

With a cry of relief, Alec loosened the reins and bent low over Satan’s neck.

The sudden blinding speed momentarily swept his breath away, and for a few seconds Alec clung desperately to Satan’s black mane. Then the wind was whipping his face scarlet, and almost hysterically he heard himself yelling, “Now, Satan, now!”

But the giant colt needed no urging. Free, he ran like fire before the wind. He came down the homestretch with thunderous strides, engulfing the ground between him and the hard-running bay colt.

With about three hundred yards to go, Alec saw that this would be no race, for Satan would pass the Chief like a bullet. Disclosing amazing speed, the giant black bore down upon the bay, and Alec drew up the reins to bring Satan up on the outside. They were near now.… Another stride and they’d be flying past.

Suddenly Lenny reached for his whip and fanned it alongside the Chief to get more speed out of him. From the corner of his eye Alec saw it sweep by.

Satan saw it, too. He threw back his head, pulled up, swerved far across the track, and crashed hard against the outside rail.

They stood in the middle of the field, Alec keeping a firm hold on the lead rope attached to Satan’s halter, and Henry standing close beside him.

“You don’t think that leg will get worse when we put him on the track again?” Alec asked anxiously without moving his eyes from the colt. “You’re sure?”

“I tell you again, no, Alec,” Henry replied. “For the last couple of weeks, ever since he went through the fence, you’ve been askin’ me that, and I’ve been tellin’ you that in another few days or so his leg will be as good as it ever was … just as long as we keep him from playin’ around too much, as we’ve been doin’. We’ve got to have patience for just a short time longer. Those muscles have got to be strengthened slowly, Alec.… It’s got to be like we were moldin’ glass.”

Satan stopped grazing and shook his head, pulling hard on the lead rope.

“He wants to run, Henry.”

“Yeah, I know. He’s got the feel of the track now
and is anxious to get back to it.” Henry paused, then added, “It’s best to play it safe, though, Alec. We’ll keep him on the lead rope for a few more days, then put him out in the field by himself before takin’ him to the track.”

“You think he’ll be ready to go in the Hopeful then, Henry?” Alec asked eagerly. “It’s less than two months off now.”

“Plenty of time,” Henry muttered; then his face sobered as he added, “The leg won’t give him any trouble.… It’s his fear of the whip that worries me, as I’ve been tellin’ you all along.”

“I know, Henry,” Alec answered thoughtfully. “We’ve got to lick it some way.”

“He’ll never forget my usin’ the whip on him, Alec.” Henry’s face was grim and his brow furrowed as he recalled the morning he had tried to break Satan so many months ago. “I’ve got to figure out some way to overcome that or he’ll never finish a race.”

“Maybe using blinkers, as you said, Henry,” Alec suggested. “He’ll only be able to see straight ahead then.”

“Maybe,” Henry repeated. “Maybe … if you can get him out in front before the other jocks start usin’ their sticks.”

“He runs like the wind, Henry. He’ll be out in front.”

“The Comet ain’t no mild breeze, either, Alec,” Henry cautioned. “An’ there’ll be Volence’s Desert Storm.… The fastest two-year-olds in the country will all be there. Nope,” he went on. “You can’t be too cocksure about that race, Alec. The slightest
swerve on Satan’s part, an’ he’s licked runnin’ against such horses.”

They were silent for a long while, as Satan circled slowly about them, his head craned and heavy ears pricked forward.

Finally Henry said, “If you’re out in front comin’ down the homestretch, it’ll be all right, Alec. But what’s worryin’ me as much as anything is the start.… You know as well as I do that they’ll all be using their sticks then, too.”

“I’ve been thinking about that, Henry,” Alec replied thoughtfully.

“You’ll have trouble keepin’ him on the track if he acts the same way he did with the Chief,” Henry grunted. “You can’t run too wide an’ lose ground with those fast horses in the Hopeful, Alec. It’s too short a race. An’ remember, they’re runnin’ the Hopeful over the Widener Course this year an’ that’s a straightaway for the whole six an’ a half furlongs.”

“I know, Henry,” Alec replied quietly. “And maybe a straightaway is best for Satan. If I draw an outside position, I can bring him straight down the track, keeping him away from the other horses.”

“Mebbe,” Henry agreed thoughtfully. “An’ the blinkers will help in that case. But we’ve got to do more than that, Alec. Between now and the Hopeful, we’ve got to try to undo all the harm I’m responsible for.” Henry paused, then continued, “I’m goin’ to get some sticks an’ we’re goin’ to put ’em all about Satan’s stall, so he can get used to seein’ ’em around. Then I want you to start carryin’ a stick when you’re ridin’ him in the field an’ over at the track. We’ve got to get him
used to seein’ sticks around, Alec.… We’ve got to,” Henry concluded.

A few minutes later Alec led Satan into his stall; and as he stood beside his horse, he said, “You won’t let us down, will you, fellow?” While Satan nuzzled his shirt, Alec rubbed him between the eyes.

“He’s right as rain,” Henry said.

“He’s ready to go,” Alec said. “Or he will be in a few more weeks.”

When they were outside again, Henry drew Alec over to the wooden bench. “I’ve got something on my mind,” he said, sitting down.

“Don’t you think we’ve got enough already?” Alec replied half jokingly, as he sat down beside his friend. Then he saw the tense look on Henry’s face and his own sobered. “What is it?” he asked.

“I want you to do me a favor,” Henry said without looking at him.

“Sure.”

“About two weeks before the Hopeful, there’s a seventy-five-hundred-dollar race for two-year-olds at Belmont called the Sanford,” Henry said slowly. “I’d like to see Satan in it … an’ I want to pay the entry fee.”

Alec started to object, but Henry interrupted him. “I’ve got the dough, Alec. It only costs a hundred an’ twenty-five bucks to start him, an’ entries don’t close until next week.”

Alec looked at him for a long while before saying, “You mean you want to see how he goes.… That’s it, isn’t it, Henry?”

“You might call it that. It’s good preparation for the big race. It’s run over the Widener Course like the Hopeful will be.”

“And if he doesn’t go well … if he swerves and gets licked …”

Henry’s eyes fell. “If that happens I’d say save the five hundred bucks it would cost you to start him in the Hopeful an’ forget the whole thing. We could then work on him and maybe race him next year.”

Alec didn’t say anything.

Henry continued, “You’ve already shelled out two hundred keepin’ him eligible for the Hopeful during the past year.… You’d lose that, but save yourself the five hundred.”

Alec looked at him, his eyes flashing. Finally he said, “He’ll win the Sanford … and the Hopeful.”

Henry’s eyes flashed back as he said, “Then you’ll let me enter him?”

“You’re sure you can spare the money?”

“I’ve got it,” Henry said. “I want to do it, because if I hadn’t used the whip on Satan we wouldn’t be havin’ this trouble. An’ maybe,” he went on thoughtfully, “his runnin’ in the Sanford will help matters some. At least we’ll know where we stand.”

“How about Boldt’s Comet and Desert Storm? Do you think they’ll be in the Sanford?” Alec asked.

“No,” Henry returned. “Boldt is waitin’ for the Hopeful, an’ Volence is runnin’ Desert Storm in the Grand Union Hotel Stakes a few days after the Sanford, so he won’t be in it either. It’ll be a walkaway for Satan, if he doesn’t give you any trouble,” he concluded.

“We’ll work on him, Henry.”

“An’ I’ll get the blinkers and the whips when I go to New York this afternoon.”

They were walking down the driveway when Mr. Ramsay came toward them carrying a long cardboard box.

Alec greeted his father with curiosity in his eyes, for it was very seldom that he came home for lunch.

“I wanted to give you this before I went into the house,” Mr. Ramsay explained, handing the box to Alec. “Keep it in the barn,” he said hastily, his gaze turning in the direction of the brown house across the street.

Alec’s intent eyes traveled from the box in his hands to his father, then back again. “You want me to keep it for you?” he asked in bewilderment. He looked at Henry, and he saw that the old trainer was as amazed by his father’s strange actions as he was.

“No … it’s yours, Alec,” Mr. Ramsay replied.

“They’re your riding silks … black except for the white diamond on the sleeves. That’s the way you wanted it, wasn’t it?”

Alec met his father’s eyes. “Dad,” he said, “… you really did it … you went out and ordered them yourself.…”

“It was nothing, Alec. Nothing at all,” Mr. Ramsay said quickly. “I thought that since I registered the colors with the Jockey Club, the least I could do was to buy the silks for you.” Abruptly, Mr. Ramsay turned to Henry. “What’s the status regarding Alec’s jockey license, Henry? He must have one to ride, mustn’t he?”

Henry smiled. For Mr. Ramsay’s precise manner
couldn’t conceal his keen interest in the race which was so close at hand. Henry shook his head. “No, Mr. Ramsay,” he replied. “Alec doesn’t need a license.… In fact, he can’t get one until he has ridden in two races. What we’re goin’ to do is to get permission from the stewards the day before the race. We won’t have any trouble.… It’s a formality every new rider has to go through.”

“You’re sure now, Henry?” Mr. Ramsay asked, concerned. “It wouldn’t do to have anything go wrong before the Hopeful.”

“I’m sure,” Henry returned. Then he added, “Oh, yes … we’ve decided to enter Satan in a race at Belmont two weeks before the Hopeful.”

“Good. Good,” Mr. Ramsay said. “Then he’ll have won a race before running in the Hopeful.”

Henry didn’t say anything, but Alec said, “Yes … that’s right, Dad.”

“We’ll send in his nomination for this race tonight, then, Henry,” Mr. Ramsay said. Turning to Alec, he added, “Don’t mention my buying these riding silks to your mother, Alec.” Pausing, he said confidingly, “She wouldn’t understand.”

Nodding, Alec smiled. “Yes, Dad, I know … she wouldn’t understand.”

Satan was nominated for the Sanford, and the month of July sped by with weeks of exacting, relentless work on the part of Henry and Alec. For a while the giant black colt was kept upon the lead rope; then, when they both saw that his leg had fully recovered, he was turned loose to spend long days in the field, grazing, dozing,
and very often galloping thunderously about, his sharp whistle ringing in the air.

Day and night they watched him, their eyes as keen and eager as Satan’s.

“He’s galloping as free as he ever did,” Henry said.

“He’s ready to go … and he wants to reach out,” Alec said. “It’s time, Henry … only about three weeks to go now before the Sanford.”

During the days that followed, Henry had Alec ride Satan in the field, and the boy carried a whip in his hand, swinging it lightly alongside the colt. Satan swerved hard at the beginning, but as the days sped by it seemed to Alec that the colt’s fear of the stick became less intense and, more often than not, when he swung it alongside him, Satan would continue running without paying any attention to it.

“He’s getting used to it,” Alec told the old trainer. “I know he is!”

“Don’t be too sure, Alec,” Henry returned. “It might be different in a race when he gets a glimpse of those jocks actually
hittin’
their horses with their sticks. But,” he added, “there’s no doubt he’s gettin’ used to seein’ those sticks hangin’ up in his stall and you carryin’ one without usin’ it on him. Maybe, Alec, maybe …”

“And the blinkers should help in the race, too,” Alec said optimistically, as he tapped Satan between the eyes.

Two weeks before the running of the Sanford, they again worked the giant black colt in the early mornings at Belmont. And as Alec breezed Satan down the track,
the new black hood covering his small head, even Henry grew optimistic as the colt ran without swerving when Alec swung his whip alongside.

“You get him out in front, and we’ve got it,” he told Alec.

“It’s the start I’m still worried about,” Alec returned. “With all those jocks using their sticks, there’s no telling what might happen.”

“Yeah,” Henry muttered. “We’ve got to wait for that.”

The day of the Sanford broke cool and gray, the August sun hidden behind heavy clouds. It was a little after dawn when Alec arrived at the barn to find Henry already there, the old trainer’s lips as tightly drawn as his own.

Alec said, “Hope it doesn’t rain.”

“It won’t,” Henry reassured him. “It’ll be a dry, fast track.” Shrugging his shoulders, he added, “Makes no difference, though … he can plow through mud as well as anything.”

Napoleon neighed as they walked past, but they had eyes only for the black colt this morning.

He stood up to his fetlocks in the straw bedding, watching their approach. He shook himself as Alec entered the stall, and shoved his head against him.

“Today’s the day,” Alec whispered, rubbing the heavy ears.

Henry entered the stall, carrying a pail of oats. Satan moved restlessly as Henry poured the oats into his feed box.

Alec pulled the colt’s head down toward him and
said, “Just oats today, Satan … no hay.… It’s race day.” Satan shook his head as though he sensed what was ahead of him. His head came up and his eyes were bright and burning. Alec led him over to the feed box and then left the stall with Henry.

As Satan crunched his feed, Henry scrutinized the giant muscles rippling beneath the glistening black body. “He’s right, Alec,” he muttered. “As ready to go as he ever will be.”

Alec didn’t say anything.

After a few minutes Henry spoke again. “Soon as he’s finished eating, we’ll take him over to the track.… We’ll blow him out this morning to get the kinks outa his legs an’ then sit back an’ wait for the race.”

“You got a stall over there?” Alec asked.