The Black Stallion (18 page)

“Atta boy, Tony,” Alec said. “It’s going to mean a lot to the Black—and to us, too.”

“You betcha,” Tony said proudly, as he put a caressing hand on Napoleon’s neck.

“And now,” said Jim Neville, “let’s get going.”

Henry led Napoleon up into the van and Alec followed with the Black. He was as docile now as he had been difficult before.

A few minutes later they rolled down the driveway. Alec sat between Henry and Jim. They waved to the small group standing beside the barn.

“Good luck,” yelled Joe Russo.

“Be careful, son,” his father called. “And put everything you’ve got into it!”

“Take-a da good care of my Napoleon,” Tony shouted.

Then they went through the gate.

“We’re off,” said Henry.

It was two-thirty by Jim’s watch when they drove into the freight yards. “Just in time,” he said.

Trucks laden with freight for the trains pulled into the yards, their horns blowing. Men’s shouts rang through the afternoon air. Henry brought the van to a stop. “I’ll find out where we’re to go,” Jim said. “Wait here.”

Alec looked back through the window. He could see the heads of the Black and Napoleon. The stallion was pawing at the floor. “Guess the noise and the ride’s made him kinda nervous, Henry,” he said.

“Yeah, we’ll have to watch him. Wouldn’t want him to get too excited just before the race.”

A few minutes later Jim returned. “Our car’s down at the end,” he said. Henry put the truck in gear and moved in and out of the crowded yards. Jim pointed to a car. “That’s the one.”

“I can back right up to the door,” Henry said as he
turned the wheel. “He’ll hardly know he’s getting into it.”

When Henry brought the van to a stop, Jim and Alec jumped out. They climbed into the train and Henry followed them. “Say, this is swell!” Alec said as he looked around him. A box stall was at one end and three cots were in front of it.

“Not a bad layout,” agreed Henry. “The Black won’t mind this so much.”

“We haven’t a stall for Napoleon, though,” Jim said.

“We can put him right outside the Black’s,” Henry said, “and move our cots down this way.”

After they’d moved the cots and Henry had bedded down the stallion’s stall with straw, Alec went to get the Black.

He opened the rear of the van and walked in beside him. The Black moved nervously. “Hello, fella.” Alec stroked his neck. Napoleon pushed his face toward him and Alec rubbed his nose too. “You’re both going on a long ride now,” he said. He grasped the Black’s halter and backed him into the stall. The horse stretched his neck high into the air and his leg continued to paw the straw. “There, Boy,” Alec said. “Take it easy, now.”

“Don’t bring Napoleon in yet,” Henry said. “I’ll need more straw if we’re going to bed him down and make him comfortable. I’ll go see if I can’t get some.”

“I’ll go along with you, Henry,” Jim said. “I have to make arrangements to get this van back.”

As soon as they had gone, Alec went inside the van and dragged Henry’s large trunk into the car. He
opened it and took out Henry’s blazing green shirt and jockey cap. Saturday he’d be wearing them! The same things even to the faded number 3 that Henry had worn when he and Chang won the Kentucky Derby! Alec’s throat tightened as he laid them carefully back into the trunk.

A short time later, Henry returned with a bale of straw. He spread it in front of the Black’s stall. “Okay to bring Napoleon in now,” he said. Napoleon’s ears pricked forward when he saw the Black. He shoved his nose toward him.

Jim climbed into the car. “Everything’s set,” he said.

Fifteen minutes later the train whistle blew.

“Chicago, here we come,” Alec shouted.

He tossed on his cot that night. The clattering of the wheels on the iron rails kept him awake. He heard the Black moving restlessly around in his stall. Alec rose and made his way quietly over to him. Henry’s and Jim’s deep breathing told him that they were both sound asleep. Napoleon, too, was sleeping.

The Black whinnied when he saw the boy. “Shh, fella.” Alec rubbed the stallion’s head.

The train rocked a little, and the Black shied. “Not any worse than a boat, though, is it?” Alec asked. The Black shook his head. For fifteen minutes Alec stayed with him. Then he gave a final pat. “Gotta try and get some sleep now, fella—we both need it.”

He went back to his cot and lay down. He dozed off. He was dreaming of the coming race. Then he opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling. He had to
quit thinking. He must get some sleep. He tried to concentrate on the rhythmic beat of the wheels on the rails. They seemed to say, “Chicago—Chicago—Chicago—” Alec dropped off to sleep.

The next thing he knew, Henry was shaking him. Both he and Jim were already dressed. “We’re almost there,” Henry said.

Alec pulled on his clothes sleepily.

“How do you feel, kid?” Jim asked.

“All right,” answered Alec.

“We’re entering the city limits now,” Henry said.

“How far is the track from the station?” Alec asked.

Jim looked at his watch. “About a forty-five-minute ride,” he said. “It’s five-thirty now; if the van I hired is waiting for us, we’ll be at the track by six-thirty at the latest.”

“Let’s hope it’s there,” Henry said. “It’ll be better if we can get to the track before any people start roaming around.”

The train pulled into the freight yards. Alec snapped the Black’s new blanket around him. Henry took care of Napoleon. As the train slowed down, Jim pushed the door of the car open. Trucks clattered beside the train. “Bad as New York,” Henry said.

“I’ll see if I can find our van,” Jim said, jumping off the train as it came to a stop.

The Black moved uneasily and Alec held him tighter. Henry moved Napoleon over closer to him. The stallion’s startled eyes gazed nervously out the open door, then quieted as Napoleon shoved his head toward him.

A van moved alongside the car. Then they heard Jim’s voice. “Back it up to the door,” he directed the driver.

A few minutes later Alec led the Black into the van, followed by Henry and Napoleon.

The early morning streets were deserted, and they made good time to the track. They passed the huge stands and then pulled into the gate entrance near the stables.

The gatekeeper hailed them. “What do you want?” he asked.

Jim spoke up. “I’m Jim Neville,” he said. “We’ve a horse here—for the race tomorrow.”

“The mystery horse, heh?” The gatekeeper smiled. “We’ve been waiting for him!” He swung the gate open. “Take any stall you want in Barn H,” he yelled at them. “Just don’t get too close to Sun Raider and Cyclone. Still,” he chuckled, “perhaps you’d better get close to ’em now—’cause you won’t tomorrow! Haw.”

“Humorous sort of a guy, isn’t he?” Jim said.

“He’ll change his tune,” said Henry.

Alec peered back through the window at the Black. The stallion’s head was still shoved toward Napoleon’s.

Fifteen minutes later, they had the Black in his new quarters. They put Napoleon in the empty stall next to him. The track seemed deserted in the early morning stillness.

“Guess no visitors are allowed,” Alec said.

“Cyclone and Sun Raider must be up the barn a ways,” Henry answered. “The men in their stables will be around, soon as they hear we’ve arrived.”

“And you won’t be able to keep the newspaper men out of here today,” reminded Jim.

“We’ve got to keep them away from the Black, or there’s no telling what will happen,” Henry said.

Alec and Henry then busied themselves around the barn making the stallion and Napoleon comfortable while Jim went to see Cyclone and Sun Raider. Sponges, cloths, brushes were unpacked.

Henry looked up and saw a crowd of men making their way toward them. “Here they come,” he said to Alec.

Henry walked out of the stall to meet them, leaving Alec with the Black. He saw the group was composed of reporters and stable hands as Jim had warned. “Morning,” Henry greeted them.

“We’ve come to see the wonder horse,” one man said, laughing.

“You mean the mystery horse,” another corrected him.

“There he is,” Henry said, pointing to the Black, whose excited eyes gazed at them.

Alec stroked his head. “Take it easy, fella,” he said.

Some of the men started coming closer.

“You’ll have to keep away from his stall,” Henry said, stopping them. “He’s excitable and we want to keep him quiet.”

“Temperamental, heh?” a reporter sneered.

Henry’s Irish temper started rising. “No more cracks,” he said. “If you don’t like it where you’re standing, I’ll throw you out of here!”

The men saw that Henry meant it, and they kept away from the short, stocky figure.

After a few minutes, they broke up. “Maybe he won’t be so cocky after tomorrow,” said a stable hand.

“Don’t know how he got in this race, anyway!” said another.

A short while later Jim came back. “Sun Raider and Cyclone look like they’re in good condition,” he said. “Why don’t you two go over and see them? I’ll keep an eye on the Black.”

“Guess we will,” said Henry. “Come on, Alec.”

First they went to Cyclone’s stables. There was a crowd in front, and Henry and Alec mingled with it without being recognized. Cyclone was led out of his stall so the photographers could take pictures of him.

He was a big horse—almost as big as the Black! His coat shone a bright red in the morning sun. He moved gracefully around in a circle. His head was larger than the Black’s, and his eyes didn’t have that tense, savage look.

“You can tell he’s Kentucky born and bred,” Henry whispered. “He’s built for speed all the way.”

Alec nodded. “He sure is streamlined,” he said.

They watched while the photographers took shots of him. Then they went up the line toward Sun Raider’s stable. They saw him as he was coming in off the track. Alec gasped—he was just about as big and powerful-looking as the Black! His coat was chestnut gold. His head was small and his neck rose in a crest like the Black’s.

“Gee,” Alec said, “he almost looks like the Black.”

“Yeah,” whispered Henry. “He might prove to be the one we’ll have to beat. But we can’t forget Cyclone,” he said as he jerked his head backwards.
“That horse has never been pushed to his top speed; he runs only fast enough to win.”

“They’re both going to be tough to beat,” Alec said.

“The fastest in the world—take my word for it,” Henry said. “But we knew what we were getting into.”

“I still think the Black can beat them,” Alec said.

The day of the big race! The eyes of the nation turned upon Chicago. All morning long trains, buses, autos and planes roared into the city discharging thousands of passengers bound for the track.

A carnival spirit swept over the city. Everything was closed for the day, and everywhere one question was asked, “Who will win—Cyclone or Sun Raider?”

“How’re you doin’, Charlie?” asked a motorcycle cop of a policeman who was directing traffic at one of Chicago’s busiest corners, as he pulled up beside him.

“Never saw anything like it, Pat!” came the answer. “Where the devil they all coming from?” Horns blew from the endless lines of cars that stretched far down the avenues.

“I’m worn out myself. They’re just about packed solid from here to the track. They’ll never get all of ’em inside!”

“They’re comin’ from all over the country to see
this race. Boy, I’d like to be up there myself—to see Cyclone lick ’em!”

The motorcycle cop kicked his motor over. “So would I,” he yelled above the roar. “But it’s going to be Sun Raider by three lengths!”

“We’ll see. Say, what do you think of this mystery horse?”

“Nothin’ much—guess everyone’s beginning to wonder how he got in the race anyway. He won’t figure in it at all—that’s inside stuff! See you later.…”

In a large apartment house, not far from the track, Alec’s mother and his Aunt Bess looked out the large living-room window at the slow-moving traffic below them. In the distance they could see the track already jammed with people.

“Bess, did you ever see such traffic in all your life?” Mrs. Ramsay asked. “What on earth is happening over there?”

“Don’t tell me that you haven’t heard about the big match race that’s being run today. Everyone has been talking about it. Why, I even bought box seat tickets. I was going to surprise you!”

“But, Bess, I’ve never seen a horse race in my life. I won’t know what it’s all about!”

“There’s nothing to it.” Her sister laughed. “The horse that gets around the track first wins! I don’t go myself much, but this is something nobody should miss. For the first and only time Sun Raider and Cyclone are going to meet. You’ve heard of them. It’ll probably be the grandest horse race of all times. And if you think we’re not going to see it when we only live a
quarter of a mile away from the track, why—” She looked out of the window. “Look at those crowds! Come, Belle, let’s get our hats and coats and go so that we get our seats.”

Mrs. Ramsay shook her head as she went for her hat and coat. “If my husband or son ever finds out about my seeing this race, I won’t have a moment’s peace when I get home. I’ll have to take that horse of Alec’s right into the house! I told you, Bess, how they’re both so crazy over him. I have all I can do now to keep everything under control.… They’d certainly love to see this race!

“It’s too bad they’re not here, but they are always too busy to have any fun.…”

A plane dropped out of the cloudless sky. Swiftly it circled the field and then came roaring down and rolled to a stop.

The passengers hurried toward the door. “Just about time to make it, if we hurry,” one of them said.

The stewardess called, “Bus is waiting directly ahead to take you to the track!” The passengers sprinted for the car.

Alec’s father darted into a seat behind the driver. “Think we’ll get there before they start?” he asked.

“Yeah, I think so. They always take some time getting those temperamental babies on the track!” the driver answered.

“Sun Raider always puts up a terrific fight beforehand anyway,” the man who slipped into the seat next to him said. “He’s a lot wilder than Cyclone.”