Willy felt Mad Wizard flatten out still more and move closer to the rail. There was barely room for the Black to get through, and Willy hoped Alec wouldn’t insist upon trying it. He didn’t like to think of Alec going down.
Mad Wizard dug in, his head still in front of the tightly packed group. Willy Walsh fairly lifted his tired mount and hurled him forward! The huge crowd gasped, for it seemed at that moment that the young rider and his horse were going to bring about one of the most spectacular upsets in racing! After setting a record-shattering pace, Willy was coaxing and cajoling Mad Wizard to go the full mile and a quarter and win! It was a peerless riding performance, perhaps equaled in the annals of racing but never excelled. The cheers of the crowd rose to new heights as Mad Wizard lengthened his lead to a half-length with less than an eighth of a mile to go!
Alec knew that the opening between the rail and Mad Wizard was almost too narrow for him to squeeze into but he couldn’t hesitate any longer. He took the Black over Mad Wizard’s heels and felt his own leg burn against the rail. Close but not down. Now they were inside where nobody could get them out! The Black made up the length on Mad Wizard in one stride.
Willy Walsh glanced over his left shoulder when the Black came alongside, hard against the rail. “Go get it, Alec!” he yelled, but he didn’t give another inch of racing room or stop hurling his own mount forward.
On the outside of Mad Wizard, Nick Marchione berated himself for losing his whip but kept hitting Sail Away with his bare hand in the fight for the wire. He felt his mount strain every time he slapped him hard. It was as if Sail Away were going to break himself in half in order to get ahead. He had run a long race, a hard race … Suddenly, Nick felt his horse break from beneath him and he knew they were through. Sail Away swerved, bumping into Flame who was coming up alongside. The red horse missed a stride but Steve Duncan steadied him and they went on. Nick Marchione regretted he wasn’t going to be in on the finish. It was going to be a corker!
Alec passed Willy Walsh, their two mounts running shoulder to shoulder. The Black was still dangerously close to going down and Mad Wizard, whipped to a frazzle, continued to display rare courage under Willy’s urging. Alec saw Flame move out on the other side of Mad Wizard. On the far outside of the track Apache was driving for the wire with unbelievable speed, saved by Jay Pratt for these final seconds.
The Black was aiming straight ahead for the wire, but so were Flame and Apache! They raced toward the finish together, sweeping past the green and flowered infield garden. They were within fifty yards of the wire when Apache quit cold, leaving the “Big Two” to race it out.
The Black and Flame ran stride for stride, shoulder to shoulder, wild as a runaway team! From the stands there erupted a tremendous volume of sound, for it was an overwhelming end to a race that had already proved astonishing in its early speed, its saddle artistry and the courage of its horses. Now, with all that behind them, the champion and the foreign challenger were bringing down the curtain on the Widener in a dramatic rush that defied description. It was as if each horse had been loafing before. Each slammed along, ignoring the other alongside. It was a two-horse, two-jockey battle to the very last stride. It was a never-forgotten struggle, and the shouts of the crowd rose to an unbelievable pitch as the two horses swept under the wire.
An unreal silence settled over the crowd. The Widener Handicap had ended but no one knew who the winner was. Only the official camera held the answer. All that mattered, at that particular moment, was that they had witnessed one of the great races of history.
ANOTHER DAY, ANOTHER STORY
18
For the riders, too, it was a moment of silence. They straightened in their saddles but didn’t stop their horses until midway around the first turn. Slowly, they cantered back. They’d had their share of glory in action and, for a few fleeting seconds, the thought of money was forgotten in favor of sentiment.
“You won a real race,” Jay Pratt told Alec.
“I think Duncan got it,” Alec answered.
“Maybe so,” Pratt said. “And maybe Willy got home ahead of me. He came on again.”
Willy Walsh rode alongside. “I belted him just once at the sixteenth pole and he took off. You should have seen him!”
“I didn’t look back,” Pratt said. “I just kept going.”
Nick Marchione joined them. “I had a good shot at it,” he said. “You can’t ask for anything more than a good shot at something.”
“I thought I was going to make it,” Pete Edge said, “but he choked up on me. He couldn’t breathe coming into the stretch. That’s the only excuse I got.”
They turned to Steve Duncan, who rode near them in silence.
“Your horse ran a million-dollar race, kid,” Nick Marchione called. “And you gave him a million dollar ride.”
Perhaps it was Nick’s reference to money that caused their gazes to turn to the big infield board. The stewards were studying the pictures and any minute the results would be known. A lot of money hung in the balance: for first place, $87,700; second, $27,000; third, $13,500; and fourth, $6,800. The jockeys saw the winning time on the board and realized why those in the stands had started to jump with excitement. It was 1:58, breaking the American and world record for a mile and a quarter.
“I told you we were in a real big horse race,” Nick Marchione said quietly, almost in awe.
The tremendous applause was for all of them as they jogged past the stands.
“Good ride, Nick!” someone on the rail screamed at the veteran jockey. “You rode like a starving apprentice!”
Nick Marchione grinned back. “Cheers today,” he told Alec, “and jeers tomorrow. One day a hero and the next a bum. It never changes, heh, Alec?”
Then the numbers went up on the lighted board and the results of the Widener Handicap were officially known. The noise from the stands increased to a great roar. The camera had separated the Black and Flame and revealed the truth. The Black had won by the thinnest fraction of a nose! Following Flame’s Number 6 on the big board was Number 1, Mad Wizard, so Willy Walsh had succeeded in bringing his mount on again to beat out Apache and Jay Pratt in those last few strides!
Alec saw a jubilant Henry Dailey waiting for him. Within a few minutes the Black would be in the winner’s circle, wearing a wreath of flowers and not caring for it very much. He would be eager to get back to the barn and would kick out at those who pressed too closely to him. Then Henry would graciously, even modestly, accept the handsome Widener Cup. Alec knew how it would be, because it had all happened before.
The television cameras were on them, and the telecaster walked alongside as Alec rode the Black into the circle. The telecaster was telling his audience, “No racing fan with an ounce of blood in his veins could help but call this year’s Widener one of the greatest epics of all time. It was easily the greatest race this telecaster has ever seen or expects to see. It will, very probably, go down in the books as one of the greatest classics ever run on the American turf.”
Alec glanced at the other horses leaving the track. They and their riders had made it a great race. And he felt that the activities about to take place in the winner’s circle were not as important as his talking to Steve Duncan as soon as possible. For Steve, the apprentice rider, had been beaten to a greater extent than his horse.
Later, when the reporters had left the jockeys’ room and the fanfare had ended, Alec found Steve alone on the far side of the room. He had changed to his street clothes and, it seemed to Alec, had been waiting for him.
“You know how it is now,” Alec said. “One day they can’t do enough for you and the next they don’t even seem to know you’re around. Sometimes you win by only a couple inches but to reporters it makes all the difference in the world. Nick Marchione put it best: ‘One day you’re a hero, the next day a bum.’ ”
“I’m no bum,” Steve said a little belligerently.
“I didn’t mean it that way,” replied Alec. “Nick didn’t either. It
’s just a way we have of putting it. Forget it.” He turned away, intending to leave. There was no sense in getting into any arguments with Steve. The Widener was already history.
“I got pushed around out there,” Steve called after him.
Alec stopped and turned back to the boy. “Sure you did, but not as bad as you might have been. You did real well. What did you expect?”
“I had the fastest horse.”
“Maybe and maybe not,” Alec said slowly. “Every jock in every race thinks so. And the fastest horse doesn’t always win. That’s been proven, too.”
“I was blocked six times. I counted them.”
“You forget it the moment you cross the line,” Alec said, “or you claim a foul. It’s as simple as that.” He paused before going on. “I’ll tell you something else, Steve. What you call being blocked was only race-riding. No one’s ever going to give you a clear path home unless you make it yourself.”
“Yeah, but still …” Steve began, only to be interrupted angrily by Alec.
“You’ve got nothing to gripe about. You got second money and that, together with what you won in the Turf Cup, is more than you ever said you were after. But stick around, if more purse money is your goal now. You’ve got a real race horse in Flame; everybody knows it. And today you learned a lot more about race-riding than most jocks learn in a year. You have every opportunity to make all the money you want in this business. Just stick around.”
For a moment Steve’s eyes seemed troubled, even undecided, then he met Alec’s gaze. “No,” he said. “I’m not sticking around. I’m not interested in winning any more money. It’s just that I think I could have beaten the Black …”
Alec shrugged his shoulders. “Some other day, maybe. We’ll be around, if you change your mind …”
“No, there’s not going to be another race day for me or Flame,” Steve answered. “You’ve got one world, Alec. I have another.”
“So go buy your island,” Alec said with attempted lightness. He wanted to be friends with Steve, not a bitter competitor. “As you say, we live in two different worlds.”
“They’re different, all right,” Steve said. “Don’t you like islands, Alec?”
“I was brought up on one,” replied Alec, smiling. “Long Island. I don’t believe, though, that it’s much like yours.”
Steve said, “You’ve never been surprised at my needing money to buy an island, Alec. Why?”
“Why should I be?” Alec asked in puzzlement. “I’ve got friends who bought an island in the St. Lawrence River, and others who bought them in the Bahamas.” He paused, smiling. “Some paid even less than you’re paying, Steve. So maybe you’re not getting a bargain after all.”
“I’m getting a bargain, all right,” Steve answered quickly, the faraway look coming to his eyes. “Maybe you’d like to see it sometime,” he added cautiously.
“Maybe,” Alec answered.
Steve rose from his seat on the bench, extending a hand awkwardly. “Lots of luck, Alec. I’ll keep track of what you do through the papers.”
Alec shook the boy’s hand. “But I won’t know what you’re up to, will I?” he asked.
“Not through the newspapers, anyway,” Steve answered. “But I’ll write.”
“And I’ll answer.”
“Maybe someday I’ll write you the whole story,” Steve said. “There’s a lot to tell you about Flame and my island. It’ll read like a book.”
“Then I’ve got a title for you,” Alec said. “Make it The Island Stallion.”
“Yes,” Steve said, “that’s a good title. Maybe I’ll use it someday.”
Steve turned and walked away. Alec called, “Lots of luck, Steve.”
The door to the jockeys’ room closed behind Steve Duncan and Alec wondered if the boy ever would write a book about his horse and his island. He just might. He was that kind of guy. Hadn’t he started all this with just a letter that no one would have believed?
Alec put away his racing silks for another day, anxious to get back to the Black Stallion and his own world of horses.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Walter Farley’s love for horses began when he was a small boy living in Syracuse, New York, and continued as he grew up in New York City, where his family moved. Unlike most city children, he was able to fulfill this love through an uncle who was a professional horseman. Young Walter spent much of his time with this uncle, learning about the different kinds of horse training and the people associated with them.
Walter Farley began to write his first book, The Black Stallion, while he was a student at Brooklyn’s Erasmus Hall High School and Mercersburg Academy in Pennsylvania. He eventually finished it, and it was published in 1941 while he was still an undergraduate at Columbia University.
The appearance of The Black Stallion brought such an enthusiastic response from young readers that Mr. Farley went on to create more stories about the Black, and about other horses as well. In his life he wrote a total of thirty-four books, including Man o’ War, the story of America’s greatest thoroughbred, and two photographic storybooks based on the two Black Stallion movies. His books have been enormously popular in the United States and have been published in twenty-one foreign countries.
Mr. Farley and his wife, Rosemary, had four children, whom they raised on a farm in Pennsylvania and at a beach house in Florida. Horses, dogs and cats were always a part of the household.
In 1989 Mr. Farley was honored by his hometown library in Venice, Florida, which established the Walter Farley Literary Landmark in its children’s wing. Mr. Farley died in October 1989, shortly before the publication of The Young Black Stallion, the twenty-first book in the Black Stallion series. Mr. Farley co-authored The Young Black Stallion with his son, Steven.
DON’T MISS THE TALE OF WHEN
THE BLACK AND FLAME FIRST MET
When their plane crashes in the Caribbean Sea, Alec and the Black are swept apart. The exhausted stallion is carried by the currents to a remote island. There he finds a herd of wild horses ruled by the giant red stallion Flame. But before the Black and Flame can determine which is the dominant male, they must fight a rabid vampire bat intent on destroying the entire herd.
HERE’S WALTER FARLEY’S ORIGINAL TALE
OF ALEC AND THE BLACK
Alec Ramsay first saw the Black Stallion when his ship docked at a small Arabian port on the Red Sea. Little did he dream then that the magnificent wild horse was destined to play an important part in his young life; that the strange understanding that grew between them would lead through untold dangers to high adventure in America.
MEET WALTER FARLEY’S OTHER
MAGNIFICENT STALLION.…
Steve Duncan had a haunting vision of finding a magnificent red stallion … and finally discovered him in a hidden island paradise. But the giant horse was wild and unapproachable. Then Steve saved Flame from a horrible death, and a miraculous friendship began—changing both their lives forever.
AN EXCITING RACING STORY
WITH THE BLACK’S OLDEST FILLY
Can a filly win the Kentucky Derby? That’s what Henry Dailey hopes when he buys the Black Stallion’s filly. But Black Minx has a mind of her own. Her desire to go fast is great, but so strongly does she resist training that Alec and Henry have to trick her into running! As they bring her to Churchill Downs for the great race, they wonder if she truly is up to the challenge.
A GRIPPING RACING DRAMA,
FULL OF SUSPENSE
When Hopeful Farm burns down, Alec Ramsay’s dreams for the future go up in smoke. To make matters worse, a strong young colt named Eclipse is threatening to replace the Black in the hearts of racing fans. The Black is getting older, and no one believes that he could win again. No one, that is, but Henry Dailey. Against all odds, Henry and Alec create a sensation as they bring the Black back to the track—and the crowd knows that they are about to watch the race of the century!
Farley, The Black Stallion Challenged
The Black Stallion Challenged Page 18