Son of the Black Stallion

by Walter Farley

  “But,” Alec interrupted, “you could have said that of the Black too before we were together on the island.”

  “Sure, I know, Alec. An’ mebbe someday you’ll be able to get it out of Satan, too. I hope so, but right now I’m doubtin’ it.” Henry’s voice rose slightly as he continued, “To my way o’ thinkin’ Satan is a throwback to that wild sire of the Black’s whom Abu never could keep in that mountain stronghold of his and who mebbe even today is roamin’ wild and free. The Black had that wildness in him, all right, and from the looks of Satan it’s in him, too, mebbe even worse this time. Take a good look at his eyes, Alec, an’ you’ll see it there … the desert burnin’ right in ’em. We can handle him now, but in six months or so, with him puttin’ on weight like he is, this barn ain’t goin’ to hold him. Mark my words.”

  Alec’s hands were clasped upon his lap and he was looking at the floor when Henry finished. “What are you suggesting, Henry?” he asked without looking up.

  “I’m not suggestin’ anything, Alec. He’s your horse, an’ I’m only tellin’ you what I think and feel about him. He’s goin’ to be a very dangerous horse, Alec, an’ mebbe I’m thinkin’ of you climbin’ up on his back next summer. An’ mebbe, too, I’m thinkin’ of your folks.”

  Alec’s eyes met Henry’s, and he was silent.

  Then Henry said, “They’ve given you a free hand all along because they figure you’ll do the right thing. I wouldn’t like to see anything happen.”

  “You don’t think I’ll be able to handle Satan then. Is that it, Henry?”

  The old man placed a gnarled hand on Alec’s knee. “You can ride with the best of ’em, Alec. An’ you know horses, there’s no doubt about that. But it’s goin’ to take more than that to handle Satan. Remember, son, you’ll have to do more than just stay up there on his back. You’ll have to control him so he’ll never give way to the fury that’s inside him. It’ll be important when you’re out there alone, an’ even more important when he’s with other horses. He’ll want to fight, Alec—it’s in him, every inch of him.” Henry lowered his voice as he concluded, “I thought it was goin’ to be different this time, but it ain’t … and as things stand right now I can see it gettin’ worse.”

  “I’ll win his love some way, Henry,” Alec said determinedly. “Give me next summer to work on him!”

  “Our workouts should start then,” Henry said, “if we want to have him ready for the Hopeful.”

  “He’ll be ready. I’ll get to him, Henry.”

  “You still want to enter him in the Hopeful? Even now, after hearin’ what I’ve told you about him?”

  Alec nodded.

  “It’ll cost money, Alec,” Henry warned. “Lots of money, to start him in that big race.”

  “I know, Henry,” Alec replied. “But I’ve got a lot saved and I’m saving more by working nights on the local town paper up at school.”

  “I’d just hate to see you lose your dough if things don’t work out an’ he ain’t safe to put in the race,” Henry said. “You’ll lose every nickel you’ve shelled out in nominatin’ him and keepin’ him eligible, y’know.”

  “I won’t lose it,” Alec returned slowly. “He’ll be in the race, and I’ll be up on his back, Henry.”

  Henry smiled for the first time. “You’re a cocky kid, Alec … an’ mebbe it’s better that way. I hope so.” Rising to his feet, he walked to the barn door, opened it, and looked out. “It’s gettin’ warmer,” he said.

  “About six months until summer,” Alec said.

  Henry looked at him, then said thoughtfully, “Yeah, six months. He’ll be a year and a half old by then.…”

  “And a yearling in a few more days from now,” Alec added. “We’ll have a party right here in the barn for him, won’t we, Henry? We’ll ask Tony and my folks.…”

  “You want your folks here?” Henry asked, walking back to Alec.

  “Yes,” Alec replied quietly. “It’ll be better that way. If we didn’t ask them they might think something was wrong.”

  “Not that it is,” Henry said slowly.

  “No … not that it is,” Alec repeated.

  They were silent for a while; then the sound of Satan’s hoof striking the sides of his stall attracted their attention. Alec rose to his feet and, standing beside Henry, asked, “Have you had him outside much?”

  “Not this past week,” the old trainer returned. “It’s been snowin’ a lot an’ I thought it best to keep him in.” Pausing, he met Alec’s gaze. “He could use a little exercise this morning, an’ the footing ain’t so bad out there.”

  “He’s restless. It might help some to get him out, Henry. Let’s do it.”

  They walked the length of the barn in silence until they reached Satan’s stall. As Alec put his hand on the door Henry asked, “You want to take him?”

  Alec nodded and Henry turned over to him the longe line he had picked up on the way. “Careful,” he cautioned. “He’s fast and tricky.”

  Well remembering the close call he’d had the previous evening, Alec replied, “I know, Henry.”

  Satan turned around restlessly inside the stall, his eyes upon the two figures. Opening the door, Alec began talking to his horse. And behind him he heard Henry say, “Move fast, when you move.”

  Watching Alec with a fixed, stony gaze, the colt shook his disheveled head and his black mane fell low about his neck and over his forehead, blanketing the white diamond there.

  “You’re going to stretch your legs, Satan,” Alec said softly. “You’re going to play. You’ll feel better, boy.” And as he continued talking, he awaited his chance to move in and around the colt’s haunches.

  After a few minutes Satan’s ears pricked forward and his eyes, leaving Alec, turned to Henry. Moving fast, Alec was close beside Satan, his hand slipping quickly to the colt’s halter.

  “Good boy,” Henry said, opening the stall door.

  Feeling Alec’s hand upon his head, Satan uttered a short, shrill whistle and half rose. But Alec held him close and snapped the longe line upon the halter. Coming down, the colt turned upon him with bared teeth, and Alec hit him lightly on his muzzle. “None of that, Satan,” he said sharply.

  It was a good while before Alec felt the colt quiet down beneath his hand. “I think he’s ready now, Henry,” the boy called.

  Mindful of Satan’s cunningness, Alec led him cautiously from the stall and through the barn. As they passed Napoleon’s stall, the colt stopped and uttered his piercing challenge once more. Old Napoleon raised his head over the door and neighed back.

  Henry grunted. “Guess Satan never will get used to havin’ Napoleon around.”

  As they reached the barn door, the colt’s ears pricked forward and his attention was held by the white carpet spread before him. The air was crisp and cold, and Satan’s vaporized breath could have been smoke from the smoldering fires that burned within him.

  “He’s everything a horse should be, Henry,” Alec said.

  “Beautiful … arrogant … ruthless,” the old man muttered. “He’d be wonderful if we didn’t have to control him.”

  The wind whipped through Satan’s mane as Alec led him into the snow. Moving lightly, as though he could have stepped on eggshells without breaking them, the colt pranced beside Alec as they moved away from the barn.

  They came to a stop near the gate leading to the field. “The snow ain’t so deep here,” Henry said. “I’d give him the length of the longe line, but no more. We’d have a tough time catchin’ him in this snow if he got away.”

  Nodding, Alec stroked the neck of his horse and, as Satan pulled away, allowed the line to slide through his fingers. The colt sidestepped away quickly, and only when he had reached the length of the line, a good twenty yards, did Alec draw him up. For a few minutes Satan fought the line that kept him from his freedom, then turned his attention to the snow beneath his feet. He pawed it furiously.

  “It’s pretty new to him,” Henry told Alec. “I only had him o
ut once since we had this snowfall.”

  “He probably thought it was the desert again until he stepped on it,” Alec said, watching his horse.

  When the colt turned in their direction again, his heavy ears swept back, then pricked forward. Snorting, he circled the two figures and, longing to be free, pulled on the line.

  “Keep a good hold, Alec,” Henry warned.

  The colt trotted for a long time, sometimes stopping and reversing his tracks on command, his eyes never leaving Alec and Henry. And the two turned with him, their eyes always on the horse.

  “I wouldn’t trust him any farther than I could throw him,” growled Henry, as Satan paused and stood watching them. “Look at those eyes, Alec. You never saw that look even in the Black. It was there when we first got him. It’ll always be there.”

  The colt was again moving around them as Alec said, “We’ve got to trust him, Henry, if he’s ever going to trust us.”

  “Don’t you think that for one minute, Alec,” Henry said sternly. “For that’s all the time it’ll take for something to happen. I’ve been around him, Alec, an’ I know. You let Satan show you he’s trustworthy first, before you go trustin’ him. I know how much you love him because he’s the son of the Black, but don’t you go forgettin’ that he’s not the Black. An’ I’m sure no one ever told him that his sire loved you. An’ mebbe it wouldn’t make no difference with him even if someone had. That baby’s sure got a mind of his own,” he concluded.

  Alec smiled at Henry’s last remark, but his face sobered as he realized how serious Henry was.

  “You’re a horseman, Alec,” Henry continued, “so don’t you go forgettin’ that y’can’t let your heart rule your head with Satan. Remember, there’s a whale of a lot of difference between bein’ afraid of a horse and appreciatin’ the power in his body and what he’s capable of doin’ with it. Keep your head, Alec.”

  “I will, Henry,” Alec promised. After pausing, he added, “But you’ve sure been painting a black picture.”

  Jerking his head toward Satan, the old trainer said, “Look for yourself, Alec. His eyes haven’t left us for one minute since we’ve been out here. One of these days it wouldn’t surprise me to see him come plungin’ at us instead of just tryin’ to get away. I’ve thought of it many times, standin’ here just like we’re doin’ now.”

  Alec shook his head. “I can’t see him doing that, Henry, even though I respect everything you’ve said about Satan. He’d give anything to be free … he still doesn’t trust us, and maybe he’s even afraid. But he’s no killer, Henry. I’m sure of that.”

  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.

  JANUARY 2ND

  9

  “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 Sata
n’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.”