The Black Stallion's Ghost (7 page)

“I can believe that,” Alec said. “The fierce dragon was the result of prehistoric man finding fossils of dinosaurs or any of the other reptilian monsters.”

“But what of the
supernatural
animals?” the captain asked quietly. “What of the
gryphon
, half eagle and half lion? And the
hippogriff
, who had the body of a horse, the wings and beak of an eagle, and the claws of a lion? Medieval writers had no doubt that such animals existed.”

“Purely imaginary,” Alec answered, “no different from the centaur—half man and half horse—and all the other creatures of fable created by the ancients.”

“Perhaps so,” the captain said, picking up another old print and passing it on to Alec.

It showed a man in a circus ring, dressed as the devil and driving what must have been at least twenty horses while standing on the backs of the two in the rear.

“Another imaginary figure,” Alec said, pointing to the devil-clad man. “But it's quite a feat, driving that many horses. I wonder if he actually did it.”

“He did,” the captain said. “My great-grandfather saw him perform in the Paris Hippodrome in 1860.”

There were hundreds of prints in the bulging folder, all of performing horses and some going as far back as the Circus Maximus at the time of Christ. To anyone it would have been a fascinating and valuable collection; for Alec, a serious horseman, it was the like of which he had never hoped to see. And with the captain explaining the techniques of the training involved, the hours passed without his being aware of it.

The long rumble of thunder interrupted his concentration on the old prints and made him conscious of the time. He glanced at his watch and rose quickly to his feet. “I had no idea it was so late,” he said. “It's after four and I must be going. Thanks for lunch and everything.” He glanced at the prints. “Maybe I can come back?” He put it as a question, sensing that the captain preferred solitude to the company of another person. In a way they were very much alike, disdaining the company of other men for that of their horses.

Yet, Alec thought, how strange it was that he wanted to return when he had been so alarmed before. He looked into the captain's dark, unblinking eyes as the man rose to join him.

“You are welcome any time,” the captain said, “but I had hoped you would stay even longer.”

The rays of the sun were still streaming through the small windows, but there was another clap of thunder in the distance.

“I don't want to get caught in a storm,” Alec said. “I'll get back late as it is. They'll be worrying about me.”

Alec opened the door and the heat outside was
scorching. To the south, just above the saw-grass spears, a heavy blanket of clouds shone in a bizarre light.

“I doubt it will rain, as much as we need it,” the captain said, following Alec down the steps. “Perhaps some wind and heat lightning but no rain certainly. I feel none in the air.”

Alec shrugged his shoulders. “The lightning will be quite bad enough,” he said. “I don't mind getting wet—it's lightning that really shakes me up.”

“You're afraid?” the captain asked, a note of surprise in his voice. “You who have the courage to race?”

Alec smiled at the comparison but did not slow his strides. “A storm and a race are two different things,” he said, “calling for two different kinds of courage, if you wish to call it that. I'm afraid of lightning because I've seen too many animals killed in pasture by it, and my horse and I have had some terrible experiences in storms. They're not easy to forget.”

“Then I wish you would stay,” the captain said hopefully. “You may be right about this storm. See how the thunderheads are coming this way!”

Alec glanced at the sky to the south, then back to meet the captain's searching gaze. He wasn't afraid of him any longer, but something brooded in those eyes. They held a hooded look, as if the man wanted something but would not divulge what it was.

Was it that he and the captain were wary and suspicious of each other, friendly but on guard? There was no doubt that the captain wanted him to stay, and perhaps that had been his intention when he'd shown him the old prints. But why did the captain want him there
when it was evident that he was most happy alone? Otherwise, he would not be in such a remote place.

There was much Alec wanted to know but he had run out of time. Perhaps, as he'd told the captain, he'd come back another day. His strides lengthened until he was in a half-run. He wanted to reach his horse and get away immediately. It would give him time to decide whether or not he should return at all.

Thunder rolled and the fast-moving clouds began to blot out the afternoon sun. Alec ran faster toward the shed where he had left the Black. A storm at sea had brought him and his horse together and he'd never forget it. There had been other storms during his travels, almost as bad, and he knew how he reacted to them. It was not a softness he was ashamed of but an acceptance of a new way of life. His fear of storms was locked tightly inside him and he could do nothing about it.

“At least wait until the storm passes,” the captain said, running alongside.

“I think I'll be able to make it.”

“As you wish,” the captain answered.

A ragged, violet lightning flash split the sky as they approached the shed. It shook them both and Alec could not hide the fear in his eyes.

“You'll never be able to outride it,” the captain said. “You and your horse will be much safer under cover. It might well be over in a few minutes.”

Alec looked southward. The wind was increasing and lightning flashes were crackling over the saw-grass sea. If he started out and lost his sense of direction he'd really be in trouble. Yet if he stayed he doubted he'd be able to get away until very late. It did not look like the kind of storm that would be over in a few minutes.

His decision to remain was made just as another flash of lightning came from the cloud cover almost directly overhead. It was dead white, and Alec had no time to involuntarily duck his head or even collect his wits as a thunderbolt crashed, seemingly a few feet to his right. It roared in his ears as he and the captain made a mad dash for the shed doors.

A second blaze of lightning brightened the area when the captain pulled open the doors. “
Vite
, Alec, quickly, inside!” he shouted. They stepped inside and closed the doors behind them.

The Black nickered and Alec went to him quickly. Storms affected the Black just as they affected him; each offered the other solace at such times. Whenever possible, Alec was with him during a bad storm. His hand rubbed the muscled ridge of the Black's neck.

There was another crash of thunder, and the light coming through the open window was eerie. Frequent flashes brightened the sky and Alec could see huge thunderheads marching up from the south.

“Rain should come soon now,” he said. “It might not be so bad then.”

The captain did not take his eyes from the window. “I smell no rain, only the electricity in the air,” he answered.

A spurt of violet fire brightened the shed and they
saw a tall cabbage palm split in two and fall to the ground. There was another flash and still another. The earth and sky were being joined in flaming white charges while thunder crashed incessantly.

Alec's fingers tightened on the Black's mane. He could not tell his horse there was nothing to fear, that it was not like the first time. Actually it was worse, except that they were not in a ship at sea.

One did not forget a ship rolling helplessly in monstrous seas and raging winds while jarring cracks of lightning split her open. A dead ship, her engines long quiet, going deeper into the water
.

“I have never known the fear of a storm,” the captain said quietly, as if intent on distracting Alec's thoughts. “We circus people are used to all kinds of dangers, traveling and living in so many strange countries as we do. One must go where one can earn a living.”

Alec turned to him. He knew the captain's words were meant to be warm and friendly, to get his mind off the storm. His fear must be quite apparent, then.

“Your mare must be a good traveler,” he said, willing to talk about anything that would pass the time.

“
Oui
, she has had to be,” the captain answered, “as it is with all circus animals. However, she is better than most, I believe. She is a seasoned traveler, very worldly indeed.”

The Black moved uneasily as a loud rumble of thunder shook the shed. Alec steadied him with his hands. The thunderheads seemed to be closer, pressing down upon the hammock. Still there was no rain—only the wind and lightning and thunder.

“Perhaps you don't fear it because you have never known what a tropical storm is like,” Alec commented.

“Perhaps so, Alec,” the captain answered. “It is not often that we travel so far south. Usually we are in Europe at this time of year. But in so much of the Continent today there is no time for the circus. In Germany, for example, the circus is almost dead. Perhaps it is due to television—or, perhaps, to there not being enough children. The circus is for children, you know. In Ireland last year it was very good. There is not much television in Ireland and there are many children.”

Amid the crashes of thunder, the lightning made the world of saw grass outside leap vividly into sight, with one green ball of fire after another brightening the darkness. It was weird and frightening. One lightning bolt missed the shed by what seemed like a few yards, and for a dizzy moment Alec felt the tingle of static electricity in his body.

He heard the captain's voice and was astounded to find him still talking about his work.

“Do you think Americans will be pleased with my act?” the captain asked.

Alec was quick to note the slight hesitancy in his voice that betrayed his worldliness and contempt for the storm.

“I think they'll like your mare very much,” he said. “Americans love horses and will appreciate one so well trained as yours.”

He had no sooner spoken than a great flash of lightning bathed the inside of the shed in an eerie garish light. He held his breath, expecting the earth to
erupt beneath his feet; his hands tightened around the Black's neck.

The roof of the shed toppled but was held from falling by two wooden beams.

Alec looked up at the sagging roof. “It'll hold,” he said. “A tree must have fallen on it.”

When the captain spoke, his voice was charged with emotion he could not control. “It would take a man of iron not to fear such force as this,” he said shakily. “We are indeed in the hands of the gods.”

Alec turned to the window and watched the giant black thunderheads move overhead. He expected them to bring heavy rain and provide a respite from the fearful bolts of lightning. They marched by in what seemed to be never-ending columns and brought only a slight drizzle instead of the deluge he had expected. The lightning never lessened in its intensity. The saw-grass world was lit up with successive flashes, and Alec knew that if it did not rain, the Everglades might well be destroyed by fire from the bolts.

He ducked instinctively as another ball of green fire shattered the darkness. The captain said not a word. There was a deep silence between him and Alec. Their lives had whittled down to a grim, waiting battle for survival. They could only wait and pray and hope the lightning would not strike the shed.

The storm went on for a long time, longer than Alec ever had known one to last. There seemed to be no end to the fury of the wind and fierce lightning. It was almost as if the wrath of the heavens had been turned against them instead of the storm's being a
natural phenomenon of clouds and barometric pressures.

It was night when, finally, the storm came to an end. Alec watched the sky clear and saw the first stars; he gave no thought to where he was … or to the captain … or going home or staying. Nothing mattered except that he and his horse had survived. He led the Black from the shed and walked about the clearing, avoiding the fallen trees.

The captain passed him, his eyes unfocused and staring. Alec knew where he was going and followed. They found the barn and house intact. It seemed incredible, when everything else was a shambles. No doubt the tall trees, serving as lightning deflectors, had saved them.

While the captain went inside the barn to his mare, Alec waited and spoke to the Black without benefit of a spoken word, his touches soft and gentle.

Finally the captain emerged from the barn, striding quickly toward them. Alec had only to look at the captain's face to know that the mare was safe. Despite the difference in their ages and backgrounds, he and the captain had a deep bond in common, for each was one with his horse.

“It's too late for you to leave now,” the captain said. “You'll have to spend the night.”

Alec nodded. He could not attempt the long trip in the darkness. “They'll wonder what happened to me,” he said. “They'll be worried.”

“We can avoid that,” the captain said quickly. “I'll have Odin take a message, at least as far as the Seminole
village; his friends will see that it's delivered to the ranch.”

“You're sure?” Alec asked, surprised that anyone could find his way through the swamp at night.

“Of course,” the captain said. “There will be no problem. He has a canoe and goes by the waterways.”

The night was still except for the fronds of palm trees rattling ominously in the wind. The air was cool, for the storm had driven off the intense heat. To the north, Alec could see skittering sheets of lightning, flashing luridly, then vanishing in the night sky.

“Where will we put him?” he asked, nodding toward his horse. “The shed's not safe. The roof could fall in any time.”

“There are several stalls in the barn,” the captain answered. “We will put him there.”