Son of the Black Stallion

by Walter Farley

  “You said it, Henry.”

  The old trainer turned quickly to find Mr. Ramsay standing beside him, frowning.

  “Oh, hello, Mr. Ramsay. Didn’t hear you come up. What was that you said?”

  “I simply agreed with you, Henry,” Mr. Ramsay said quietly. “There is very much ahead of us.”

  “Yeah,” Henry muttered.

  “And I meant just that, Henry … us.” Mr. Ramsay’s eyes were upon Alec and Satan as he spoke. “It’s my son and my horse,” he continued. “I’m very much in it.… It can’t be any other way now.”

  “Yeah, I guess you are,” Henry said slowly, his eyes, too, turning back to the field.

  They stood there in silence until Alec had slowed Satan down to a walk and was approaching the gate.

  “Guess he’s coming in now,” Henry said. “We’d better get out of the way and let Alec handle him.”

  “And he sure can, Henry.”

  The old trainer turned at the note of pride in Mr. Ramsay’s voice. And when he looked at him he saw that the frown had left his face, and that his eyes were bright and keen. Smiling, Henry muttered, “You said it this time, Mr. Ramsay.”

  TRAINING BEGINS

  14

  It was serious business, this training of Satan, and Henry watched Satan with keen eyes during the weeks that followed. Luckily he had no set rules for the training of race horses, for Henry had learned long ago that horses, like athletes, respond differently to any given training method. It was up to him, he knew, to size up Satan now that Alec was riding him … to learn what kind of training the giant black colt needed to bring him along to his finest racing peak.

  So, at the beginning, the old trainer talked little to Alec, and when he gave his instructions before the boy took Satan into the field for his daily schooling, his sentences were terse and to the point. Alec would do as he was told, for he, too, knew that this early training was important if they were to race Satan.

  Day after day Alec rode his horse about the field, holding him to a slow jog despite Satan’s impatience to break loose and run. The boy knew that Henry’s eyes were always upon them, watching their every movement, watching him as well as the horse. And at the end of long miles of jogging, he would bring Satan in at Henry’s signal, and the old man would look closely to see if the colt was hot or blowing excessively. Then he would send them out again, to have Alec repeatedly walk his horse slowly up to the fence and, just as slowly, back him away from it.

  “It’ll help matters a lot when we get to a starting gate,” he told Alec the first time he had him do it. “Might as well teach him things like that now,” he concluded.

  Nor was this early schooling easy on Alec. Satan fought him at times; the boy’s hands were raw from holding him in, and his voice was hoarse from talking constantly to Satan, for he knew he could control him as well by his voice as by the reins.

  The weeks slid by with Henry insistent upon Satan’s learning and relearning his elementary lessons, and Alec grew more and more impatient at the tiring and monotonous work of holding Satan to a jog.

  Henry’s eyes never left the black colt, and each day, when Alec brought him in, he would run his hands over Satan’s legs, searching for heat or puffiness. Finally he told Alec that he thought the colt was ready for slow gallops around the field.

  For over a week, Henry made Alec keep Satan down to a half-mile gallop; then, gradually, he had him take him up to two miles, which meant approximately eight times around the field. But the old trainer would not let Alec gallop Satan the entire two miles, much as he knew the boy wanted to let the colt go.

  “We’ve got to build muscle and wind, Alec … an’ you keep that in mind,” Henry told him one day, when Alec had kept Satan in a gallop longer than the old trainer had instructed. “You may think he’s ready to be extended, but he ain’t … not yet. He’s still a yearling, Alec, remember that, an’ we’ve got time. Gradual, boy … take him up gradually. You’ve got to have patience … even if he ain’t.”

  Alec had nodded in agreement, knowing that Henry was right. It was difficult to be patient with a horse like Satan under him. And it was getting even more difficult to hold him in. For at times Satan was almost uncontrollable, and Alec had all he could do to check his speed.

  More weeks went by with Alec taking Satan through the two-mile workout in sections. Henry had him hold the horse to a slow gallop for over a half mile, then walk a quarter, trot a quarter, gallop again for another half mile, before slowing down to a walk for another quarter. And when they came in, Henry would find Satan only slightly hot and breathing well.

  “He’ll be ready for track workouts soon, Alec,” he told the boy.

  Eagerly, Alec awaited that day. For now, more than ever before, his whole world revolved about Satan. He had transferred to a New York school, and had arranged his classes so he could be home by the middle of each afternoon, when they worked Satan. He spent little time with his parents, for at night there were his studies to be done. And any free time he had over weekends was spent in doing odd jobs for local people who would pay him for his work. Alec needed every penny he could lay his hands on. It cost money to feed Satan, and ahead of him, too, were the fees necessary to run Satan in the Hopeful. There was a fifty-dollar nomination fee to be paid the last of December, only two months away; then, to keep his horse eligible, he would have to pay an additional fifty-dollar fee in March and one hundred dollars in June. And, if things went well and Satan was ready for the big race, it would cost five hundred dollars to start him. Fortunately, Alec had saved his money long before Satan had ever arrived, knowing that he would need it if he was ever to race his horse. And he had just about enough money now to start Satan in the twenty-five-thousand-dollar race. He was willing to risk every penny he had on the horse, for he knew, after the many weeks of riding in the field, that Satan would have the speed when he called upon him.

  Through it all, Alec’s mother and father watched him with worried eyes, but remained quiet.

  Then came the day when Henry told Alec that Satan was ready for the track. “We can’t do much more in the field,” he said, “an’ we oughta get in some good workouts before winter closes in on us.”

  They sat on the low wooden bench outside the barn, watching Satan graze in the field.

  Alec turned to Henry, his face eager. “Where’s it going to be, Henry? Belmont?”

  “Yeah. It’s the closest track, an’ I got some friends over there, settin’ up winter quarters, who might be of some help to us.” He paused, then continued thoughtfully, “I hate to work him nights there like we did the Black, but nothin’ else for us to do. He’s not ready for other horses yet. You think so, Alec?”

  Shrugging his shoulders, Alec replied, “I honestly don’t know, Henry. He could be and he couldn’t. He’s still giving me trouble every once in a while,” he concluded frankly.

  “Yeah, I know that, all right. I’m afraid you always will have trouble controllin’ him, Alec. He never will be clear broke … not with that wild streak runnin’ through him.”

  “I guess maybe we should keep him away from other horses for a while,” Alec said. “He’s got to get used to them in time, though,” he finished thoughtfully.

  “Yeah, I know. He won’t be any good to us, even if he can run like a bolt of lightning, if we can’t put him in a race for fear of him savagin’ some of the other horses. He’d be ruled off the track fast.”

  “Maybe he’ll be all right, Henry,” Alec returned hopefully. “He’s not too bad with old Napoleon now.”

  “He’s still bad enough with him,” grunted Henry. The old trainer was quiet several minutes before he shook his head and said with great concern, “There’s more to trainin’ a horse, Alec, than just buildin’ up wind an’ muscle an’ speed. You got to teach him how to race … to break from the starting gates … to run close to the rail and, at times, away from it, too. There’s a lot of stuff like that an’ it’s easier to teach a horse all of it if he’s train
in’ with another horse, so you can shift ’em around. It’s easiest with four or five horses, but you oughta have at least two horses, if it comes down to that.”

  After a long silence Alec finally said, “We could take him over to Belmont during the daytime, Henry. Maybe it would be all right.”

  Shaking his head, Henry replied, “Don’t think so, Alec. Not now, anyway. Besides, I don’t know any of the trainers over at Belmont well enough to ask ’em to let me work Satan in their string. I was over there yesterday and looked around,” he concluded.

  “You don’t really have to have another horse, do you, Henry?” Alec asked anxiously.

  “It would help, Alec … help a lot … if I could just have another one around to walk or trot through some of these things I have to teach Satan. Just any old nag, who would get along halfway decently with Satan.…”

  Simultaneously, their gazes turned to the iron gate as it creaked open. There was Tony, leading old Napoleon up the driveway.

  Alec looked at Henry. “You said any old nag … any old nag who might be able to get along with Satan.…”

  Henry returned his look. “You think …” he muttered. “Not that, Alec. I meant any old race horse.”

  “Napoleon would be of some help, wouldn’t he?”

  “I don’t know, Alec. Maybe. Maybe not.” Pausing, Henry looked at Tony again as the huckster came up to them. “Besides, Tony would have none of it,” he added.

  “What you mean ‘Tony have none of it’?” Tony asked, bringing Napoleon to a halt. “Tony have none of what you mean?”

  Alec said, “We’re taking Satan to the track for a workout, and we need another horse to help out. We wondered about Napoleon … whether you’d let us take him, I mean.” As Alec finished, he saw Henry grimace and shake his head.

  “You mean to da race track?” Tony asked, his black eyes upon Alec. And when the boy nodded, Tony clasped his hands. “Dio mio,” he exclaimed. “No!”

  Henry took a deep breath of relief, but Alec said gravely, “It’s too bad Napoleon can’t run.”

  Tony’s eyes sharpened, and his hand swept back to old Napoleon’s neck. “He no can run, you say, Aleec?” His words tumbled over each other. “My Napoleon was wan fast feller in hees day, and he still go mighty fasta pace down the street. Heesa wan fast chunk of what you call dynamite.” Tony rubbed Napoleon’s head and talked to him soothingly in Italian. Finally the little huckster turned to Alec, his face set and his eyes burning. “I go for eet, Aleec. I let you run my Nappy against da beeg black, but I go along to watch for him. When we go?”

  Smiling, Alec turned toward Henry. “It’s your deal now, Henry,” he said. “You’ve got your other horse. When do we go?”

  Henry shifted uncomfortably on the bench, his eyes leaving Alec, moving to Tony, and finally coming to rest on the old gray. Then he said, “Maybe he’ll do for what I have in mind. Tonight, Alec. We’re goin’ over tonight around midnight, so no one will bother us. I’m getting hold of a van.… It’s small, but I guess it’ll hold the two of them.” Henry paused, then looked at Alec. “You’ll have to keep Satan away from Napoleon. You’ll have your hands full.”

  Alec nodded, but his eyes were upon old Napoleon as the horse raised his head at seeing Satan in the field; then the gray whinnied, as though in challenge to the black colt.

  * * *

  It was near midnight when Alec reached the barn. There was no light inside, so he knew that Tony had not yet arrived. Henry had gone for the van, and Alec knew he’d be back within a few minutes.

  Opening the door, he switched on the light to be greeted by a soft neigh from old Napoleon. The gray had his head over the stall door, and there was a young, alert look in his large eyes. Alec grinned and went over to him. As he rubbed Napoleon’s head he said softly, “You’re eager, aren’t you, old boy? And you’re not afraid of Satan.… You never have been, even though he’s been pretty nasty to you at times. But you’ve understood him, Nap, maybe even better than the rest of us.”

  There was a loud snort from the direction of Satan’s stall, and Alec saw the black colt watching them, his eyes blazing. With a final pat upon the old gray’s head, Alec walked quickly to Satan. As he went up to him, the colt pressed his muzzle against Alec’s sweater while the boy ran his hand through the black mane. “You’re first, Satan, you know that,” he said quietly. “You needn’t be jealous of Napoleon.”

  After a few minutes with his horse Alec went to the tack room and, taking off his sneakers, pulled on his riding boots. Next he stood up and drew his corduroy trousers down over the tops of his boots. Walking over to the saddle rack, he lifted the light racing saddle gently, his hands almost caressing the smoothly polished leather. Then, carrying it in one arm, he picked up Satan’s bridle and left the room.

  Outside, he heard the van coming up the driveway, and he went to the barn door.

  The truck rolled slowly to a stop, and Henry and Tony climbed out.

  “Everything set?” Henry asked. Then he saw the bridle and saddle in Alec’s arms. “Put ’em in the front,” he added. “We’ll have to get goin’ fast, as I’ve got to have the van back to the garage in a couple of hours.”

  Tony, his face grave, followed Henry into the barn, muttering to himself in Italian.

  “Don’t you worry about Nap,” Alec told him.

  “Me worry, Aleec? I no worry.” But the little huckster’s voice was heavy with concern.

  They put Napoleon in the van first; then, while Henry and Tony moved toward the front of the truck, Alec led Satan from the barn.

  The fall night air was cool, and the black colt moved gingerly beside Alec as the boy talked to him soothingly. “Take it easy, Satan,” he said. “Just a short ride, then we’ll be there.”

  Satan attempted to pull away from Alec as they approached the ramp leading into the van. Then he saw Napoleon and his shrill whistle shattered the night stillness.

  “Keep him quiet, Alec,” Henry said. “You’ll have my wife and your folks on our necks if he keeps that up.”

  Finally Satan quieted down beneath Alec’s hand, and the boy led him up the ramp. He was almost inside the van when Napoleon turned his head toward them and neighed. Satan came to a stop, snorting, his teeth bared.

  “It’s Napoleon. He doesn’t want to fight,” Alec said, stroking his horse.

  After a few minutes he was able to move Satan forward again, and they entered the van with Alec between the two horses, keeping the colt far to one side.

  “Okay, Henry,” he yelled. “Let ’er go!”

  As the motor started, Tony turned anxiously to Alec, whom he could see through the small open window. “Keepa heem away from Nappy,” he called.

  They went down the driveway and turned up the street, with Satan moving restlessly beside Alec, his smoldering eyes on old Napoleon.

  A half hour later Henry drove the van into Belmont Park. They passed the long rows of stables, dim uncertain shapes in the moonless night, empty except for the few horses who were quartered there for the winter. A short distance farther, the van rolled slowly past the rear of the long grandstand, and then Henry turned toward the track and pulled up in front of a gap in the fence.

  Alec was tense … as tense as the black colt beside him. Napoleon, too, moved uneasily, as though he knew what was ahead of them.

  “It’s really starting now,” Alec muttered to his horse. “And you’ll get used to horses and strange people around you in time. I know you will, Satan.”

  Henry opened the door and dropped the ramp down. “I’ll take Napoleon out first,” he said, walking inside.

  Fearfully Satan watched Henry as he made his way up to the old gray, and Alec felt the colt’s body tremble.

  Henry was taking Napoleon out of the van when Satan suddenly snorted and tore the halter out of Alec’s hands. Swerving, he crashed heavily into the side of the van before Alec got hold of him again.

  Alec was trying to quiet him down when he saw the leather riding crop Henry
was holding under his arm. “Your stick, Henry!” Alec said curtly. “Get rid of it!”

  Henry threw the crop out of the truck. “Yeah, he remembers and I’d forgotten,” he grunted. Then his voice dropped so low that Alec could barely hear him. “I was carryin’ it for luck,” he said ironically, “… it used to bring me luck when I carried it.”

  After Satan had quieted, Alec led him from the van and took him to the gap in the fence. The colt’s ears pricked forward and his eyes left Napoleon for the open track that stretched before him. He moved around Alec as Henry threw the saddle on him and tightened the cinch about his girth. His ears lay back and he shook his head, but Alec kept talking to him. Then the saddle and bridle were on and he stood there quietly, his ears pricked forward again and his eyes shifting from the track to Alec.

  Alec heard Henry speaking to him, but his eyes never left his horse.

  “All set, Alec, an’ here’s what I want you to do.…”

  Alec listened intently to Henry’s instructions, and when the old trainer had finished, Alec took up the reins and moved to Satan’s side. Henry gave him a boost and he was in the saddle, his feet in the stirrups and his knees pressed high on Satan’s withers. After taking up the reins, he sat quietly for a moment, and even the black colt was still for the first time.

  Tony, a short distance away, held Napoleon by the halter, watching them. Henry stood beside Satan, and when he took hold of the bridle to lead him onto the track, the colt’s eyes blazed at him. But Satan stepped along as Henry led him through the gap.

  “Okay,” Henry said, looking up at Alec. “Do what I told you as well as you can. Hold him in every bit of the way … even when you breeze him.”

  Henry left them, and Alec was alone with his horse. His hand ran down the black neck, and he patted Satan gently while talking to him. Then Alec’s eyes turned to the empty grandstand, and from it to the track stretched out before them. It was this that he had been waiting for … this, another cycle in Satan’s life and his own as well … one more step toward the day when the brazen call of a bugle would summon them both to the starting gate, past the crowded stands, the stewards, the jockeys, the strange horses, to await the sharp ring of the bell which would send them flying from the gate. This hardened dirt beneath Satan’s hoofs was his testing ground. For on it he must prove that he was a worthy son of the great horse whose blood he carried.