Steve waited for his horse, and when Flame came to a stop beside him he put both hands up, one finding and grasping the long red mane, the other on the high withers. He steeled himself for the jump, knowing that it would take all of whatever strength he had left. He was furious at his weakness but there was no fighting it … or that to which he had committed himself and Flame.
There was a quivering of the stallion’s muscles. Flame knew what was coming and was waiting impatiently. He sidestepped and his finely molded body moved away from Steve. Snorting through wide nostrils, Flame waited for the boy to mount. He turned his small, wedge-shaped head, his eyes surprised and puzzled at Steve’s unusual clumsiness. His small ears almost touched at the tips when he pricked them forward inquisitively.
Once more Steve put his hands upon Flame. This time he jumped as high as he could, pulling at mane and back. He hung on face downward, his legs dangling. Flame whirled, and Steve’s hold upon him became even more precarious. He pulled harder on the mane with one hand, the fingers of the other pressing deep into Flame’s withers. Only then did the stallion come to a halt as though in sudden realization that something was terribly wrong.
Steve was successful in getting more of his weight on the off side of his horse, and finally he swung around. Flame bolted immediately, and for a while Steve made no effort to control him. He simply hung on as the stallion swept across the valley.
When Steve had brought Flame to a stop he straightened and then sat still for a moment, making certain he was all right and that he was prepared for what he had to do. After all, what had begun as the wildest of dreams was now very close to becoming a reality!
Satisfied that he was in full control of himself, he touched his horse and took him down the valley at a slow walk. Flame tried to break from it, crab-stepping and tossing his head, telling Steve in no uncertain terms that he wanted to run. But Steve did not give in to his demands. Instead, he turned Flame often, sometimes making large circles that swept them from one border of cane to the other; then again he took him in small, tight circles that made of Flame’s hindquarters little more than a pivot for his tall body.
The stallion fidgeted constantly but made no attempt to break away. And that was what Steve had needed to know. He had never before asked so much of Flame at any one time.
Later he reversed the circles, keeping Flame at a walk; then he took him through figure “eights,” some large, some very small and tight. Finally, allowing Flame to move into an easy lope, he made the circles and the figure “eights” again. When he had finished he was as hot as his horse, and almost as impatient.
But he did not dismount. Instead, he took Flame through the field of cane in a hard run. He kept him at that gait until they emerged from the cane and started over the stony ground near the western wall of Blue Valley. There he slowed him to a walk again and went on to the hollow near the marsh.
Flame came to a stop before the murky veil of gray and his nostrils curled. He did not like the smell of rotting vegetation any more than Steve did. But he went forward again when the pressure came from Steve’s legs, his hoofs making soft, sucking sounds in the wet ground. Although he knew his way, he was very, very cautious. He had been given his head, for he was no stranger to this cloud-like world, but his eyes never left the path.
Steve glanced at the slimy wilderness of swamp ferns and high reeds on either side of them. Most of all he feared those still black pools. One false step, a slip, and he and Flame would become victims of these horrible quagmires.
Moments later they left the marsh behind, and there was a quickening of Flame’s strides. He chose his path through the twisting gorge as carefully as he had done in the marsh. They went up the dry stream bed, their way strewn with rocks and boulders, the high yellow cliffs rising on either side of them. At the end of their climb the walls widened, and stretched before them was the smaller valley.
Flame broke into a run when he stepped onto dry grass again, and Steve let him go. He felt the stallion gather himself just before reaching the brook that cut the middle of the tiny valley. He knew Flame was going to jump the water rather than go through it, so he was ready when the stallion sprang from one bank to the other.
Soon after, he slowed Flame, for they were moving in a rush toward the far wall. The wall was split by many narrow chasms and Steve purposely guided Flame down one that came to a dead end. As the high, precipitous walls closed in about them, the red stallion stopped in his tracks.
He disclosed no hesitation or uneasiness when Steve asked him to back up. Instead, he let his rider become his eyes, moving his hindquarters in quick response to Steve’s touches. And finally he was free of the narrow, twisting chasm.
Steve felt no great elation at Flame’s easy and prompt obedience to his requests. The test of final, complete control over Flame was yet to come.
He rode Flame alongside the wall, and then turned him into the chasm that led to the sea entrance. Soon he could hear the dull thud of waves beating against the outer wall. He stopped Flame at the end of the chasm and dismounted.
“Come on, boy,” he said, entering the high cave. There was no need to look back, for he heard Flame’s hoofbeats behind him.
He hurried through the large cave, having no trouble making his way in the dim, gray light. Flame followed him with equal ease for he, too, had been there many times. At last they entered the great chamber, and the winds from the sea whipped about them. The crash of waves outside was thunderous as was the rush of water in the canal. The motor launch rocked against the wooden piles. It was here, Steve knew, that the final test of his control over Flame would come.
The stallion stopped just within the chamber. Steve glanced back at him, and then went to the launch. He hauled out the wide planks that were used in sliding barrels and heavy boxes onto the sunken deck and then called to his horse, “Come on, boy!”
Flame came quickly, showing no fear or hesitation until Steve stepped aboard the launch and continued calling him. Then he stopped, his eyes on the boy, and backed away, only to come forward again. He snorted and pawed the sand, sending it flying. He carried on for many minutes without setting hoof on the planks. He knew what he was being asked to do.
Steve sat down in the boat, talking to Flame, and waiting. His task would take a long time, if he succeeded in it at all. Whenever Flame moved away from the launch Steve called to him again. The stallion’s eyes were bright in his bewilderment, and once he ran out of the chamber. Steve stayed in the boat and finally Flame returned to plunge about the sandy floor, his snorts softening the crash of waves outside.
“We’re not going anywhere,” Steve told him. “I just want to see if you’ll do it.”
It was a long while before Flame even consented to lower his small head to smell the wooden planks. He walked up and down the canal, sniffing the hull of the launch. Then he turned abruptly away and began plunging about the chamber once more. Finally he settled down but stood in a far corner, waiting patiently for Steve to return to Blue Valley.
After a half-hour had passed Flame lost his patience. As he snorted and came forward, Steve rose and stood close to the planks. “Come, Flame,” he said softly, “and then we’ll go back.”
Flame angrily tossed his head and rose high on his hind legs, almost touching the top of the chamber. When he came down he stood still, watching Steve and listening to him. He put one hoof on a plank, then quickly took it off. He tried the other hoof and this one remained planted on the plank. A few seconds more and the second hoof had joined it. And thus he stood, making no sound, two hind feet on sand, two forefeet on wood. He listened to the rhythm of the boy’s voice and inched forward carefully. Then he stopped again, undecided.
When he finally went down the planks, it was with an abruptness that shook the boat. There was a lurching of his great body, the hard thud of all four hoofs on wood planking, and then a restless shifting of his weight once he was aboard.
Fortunately the Sea Queen was a sturdy vessel and she e
asily withstood the stallion’s constant movement. Steve stayed close to Flame’s head, talking to him, comforting him. The sides of the launch were not very high, and Flame could have jumped onto the sandy floor. But he didn’t. He knew Steve wanted him in the boat and for the moment he was willing to stay there. He had no room to turn, he could hardly move. Finally he quieted and looked inquisitively at the wheel and the glistening brass objects behind Steve.
Steve backed up to the wheel then and Flame, taking a cautious step forward, followed. Now very curious and unafraid, he thrust his small head beneath the wooden overhang. Seeing this, Steve realized that he would be able to take Flame in the launch, but that it would be a hazardous trip for the first few hundred yards. He’d have all he could do to guide the boat safely through the submerged coral rock, much less have time to watch his horse.
Was he actually considering taking Flame from Azul Island? Even if they were successful in reaching Cuba, what about the still greater risks they’d be taking at the track? Jay knew nothing of the rules and regulations governing the running of a race of this magnitude, and neither did he! What would he say when the officials asked him where he and his horse were from? The Windward Islands of the Caribbean Sea? Would that satisfy them? Would they accept such a vague answer and allow him to race Flame? Just because the poster had said that the International Race was open to the world? Of course not! In the end they’d make him divulge everything and Flame might even be taken from him!
“Come on, Flame,” he said. “We’re going back to stay.” He stepped out of the launch and his horse followed him eagerly, glad to be returning to Blue Valley.
THE UNLEASHING
9
Steve moved away from the stove where he had been cooking his evening meal. Flame and the mares were drinking at the pool below. For a long while Steve stood watching them, the skin drawn tight on his angular face. He wasn’t going to race Flame at the risk of losing him! He didn’t care what he had told Jay. He had changed his mind … and Jay couldn’t make him do anything he didn’t want to do. Hadn’t Jay said so, time and time again?
He went back to the stove and put his dinner on a plate. But when he sat down, he found he was toying with his food. Was his appetite never coming back? Or was it simply that whatever he cooked was tasteless compared to Pitch’s meals?
Long after night had fallen, he kept trying to convince himself that he had made up his mind, that he had no intention of taking Flame to Cuba. Actually it was this that was absorbing him, leaving no room for appetite or sleep.
When the first streaks of dawn appeared in the sky, Steve turned face downward on his cot. Closing his eyes, he sought the rest that had evaded him throughout the night. Once more he tried to rid his mind of every thought but sleep. He forced himself to see only a heavy black curtain. He concentrated on the blackness, and waited for sleep to come. But heavy hands seemed to part his mental curtain and divulge all that lay behind, all that had kept him awake for so many hours. He fought to keep the curtain closed, to see only the blackness. His head and pillow were wet and clammy with sweat, yet he continued fighting and refused to give up. But it was a losing battle. The hands were winning; he felt their pull. Then the curtain opened and his mind began racing again. He decided to get up. As tired as he was he couldn’t fight any longer.
He felt the hands on his shoulders, shaking him gently … only these hands were real, as was the voice.
“Steve, are you awake?” Jay asked.
As Steve turned over, he could see Jay’s eyes glowing in the semi-darkness of the cave.
“I’m sorry that I’ve awakened you so early, Steve, but I couldn’t wait any longer to tell you what I’ve learned!”
Jay sat down on the cot, but got up again quickly. “I’m a little too excited to sit still, I guess. I’ve found a wonderful place to land, Steve. Actually it’s much closer to Cuba than I thought we dared go. Even Flick seems satisfied that we won’t be seen.”
Jay chuckled before adding, “Flick thought I meant to bring the ship down between Cuba and Florida. Really, he doesn’t give me credit for having any sense at all, sometimes. As though I weren’t well aware of the tourist traffic there.”
Jay moved past the cot, pacing the cave restlessly. “I feel just like a race horse going to the post. Really I do, Steve. Planning this trip of ours is the most exciting thing I’ve done in a long, long time. But it’s only natural, I suppose, when I think that we’re working this out together. Nothing like it has ever happened before to any of us.” He stopped abruptly and his eyes glowed less brightly. “Oh, my, if Julian ever hears of this! But he won’t. Flick wouldn’t dare tell him.”
Jay began pacing again, then stopped and sat down beside Steve. “I can see I’ve startled you by coming so early. You must have been sound asleep. Really, Steve, I am sorry, but you’ll understand my impatience when I tell you the rest.”
He rose and went to the ledge, talking all the while. “Quite close to Cuba is a small group of islands. We’ll come in off the most eastern of the group. Using your launch you won’t have any trouble reaching a small fishing village on the Cuban coast. This village is about fifty miles, I’d say, from Havana and the track. Really, Steve, it’s going to be much easier than we thought. I’m sure we won’t be seen coming in, and your trip to shore with Flame will be a very short one. We can only bring our ship down at sea, you know. It couldn’t have worked out better. Even Flick has raised no objections.”
Jay retraced his steps and stood in front of Steve. “You’re not saying much, Steve.” He laughed. “But then I haven’t given you much of a chance, have I? Aren’t you pleased with what I’ve learned?”
Only then did Steve remove his gaze from Jay’s eyes. He saw what looked like a rope in the man’s hand. Jay was twirling it in his excitement and it too glowed in the semi-darkness. Jay must have noticed his interest for suddenly it was offered to him and he held it in his own hands. Only it wasn’t a rope at all. It was as soft as flesh and just as pliant. It had no weight and yet there was a good deal of it, fashioned in the shape of a hackamore, complete with reins. It had no color at all and yet contained the most brilliant of all colors. The fibers pulsated beneath his fingers, seemingly alive and warm. He was not frightened. Instead he held it close, looking at the long golden tassels that hung from it.
“That’s my race offering, Steve,” Jay said quietly. “I figured you’d need some kind of a headpiece in guiding Flame. I realize you use nothing of the kind here, but it will be different at the track. Besides, it would look very strange to have you out there with nothing on him at all, no bridle or saddle. I don’t suppose they’ll require you to use a saddle, but they’ll insist upon your having some obvious control over your horse’s head. They’d never believe you if you said you needed nothing at all. And I think you’ll need the hackamore, Steve. Really I do. I’m sure Flame won’t mind wearing it. He’ll hardly know it’s on. Try it today.”
Steve looked up at him. “We’re not going,” he said quietly.
For the first time wrinkles appeared in Jay’s high brow, and the light suddenly was gone from his eyes. He looked at Steve a long while, and then sat down beside him.
“You’ve changed your mind then?” he asked.
Steve nodded.
“All right, Steve, if that’s the way you think you want it. But you really don’t, you know. You’re very anxious to race Flame.”
With that he got up again and stood before Steve, watching him, waiting for him to speak. And when the boy remained silent, he said, “Of course I’m disappointed. But above all, Steve, I don’t want you feeling sorry later on that you missed this chance. Promise me that, won’t you?”
Still Steve said nothing.
“I know you’re worried about a lot of things, Steve, and I’m sorry that I can’t help you more. It’s impossible for me to reassure you that Flame will win the race. What Flame does on the track is strictly up to you and him. I’ve told you before that your part in all
this is much more difficult than mine. But that’s the chance you must take. I can’t help you there.”
Steve said, “It’s not what might happen during the race that has made me change my mind.”
“It isn’t?” Jay was surprised. “I thought for sure …” He paused, looking more intently into the boy’s eyes. Then he said, “But I promised you that no one will learn of your secret valley, Steve. It just won’t be possible for anyone to see you and Flame travel between this island and Cuba. You have my word that I’ve gotten away with much more than this during my travels.”
Steve turned away. “I’m sure you have,” he answered. “But I don’t think you have any idea of what I’ll be up against at the track. The officials will want to know where we’re from. What will I tell them? And what will they do when they’re not satisfied with my answer? They might even take Flame from me, thinking perhaps that I’ve stolen him!”
The frown returned to Jay’s face. “I don’t believe they would do that, Steve. But I never really considered details like that. I thought you’d just go and race, and then return to the ship. I can understand your concern now, but I’m sure something can be worked out. Let’s see….”
Steve interrupted before Jay could continue. “I’m certain there are many rules governing the running of a race such as this. We don’t just …”
“But you said it was Open to the World, Steve,” Jay insisted. “Doesn’t that mean what it says? If it’s an open race, it’s open to any horse in the world which may want to race in it. You have every legal right to race Flame. You can demand it!”
Jay was shaking his head angrily, and his blue-black hair fell down over his forehead, making him look very funny. The whole thing was so absurd that Steve laughed. Was he actually in this cave in a lost valley, listening to a man from another world remind him of his legal rights?
The Island Stallion Races Page 8