The Black Stallion's Filly
Read The Black Stallion's Filly Online
Authors: Walter Farley
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THE BLACK STALLION SERIES BY WALTER FARLEY
THE BLACK STALLION
THE BLACK STALLION RETURNS
SON OF THE BLACK STALLION
THE ISLAND STALLION
THE BLACK STALLION AND SATAN
THE BLACK STALLION'S BLOOD BAY COLT
THE ISLAND STALLION'S FURY
THE BLACK STALLION'S FILLY
THE BLACK STALLION REVOLTS
THE BLACK STALLION'S SULKY COLT
THE ISLAND STALLION RACES
THE BLACK STALLION'S COURAGE
THE BLACK STALLION MYSTERY
THE HORSE-TAMER
THE BLACK STALLION AND FLAME
MAN O' WAR
THE BLACK STALLION CHALLENGED!
THE BLACK STALLION'S GHOST
THE BLACK STALLION AND THE GIRL
THE BLACK STALLION LEGEND
THE YOUNG BLACK STALLION
(with Steven Farley)
Published by Yearling, an imprint of Random House Children's Books a division of Random House, Inc., New York
Copyright © 1952, 1983 by Walter Farley
Copyright renewed 1980 by Walter Farley
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eISBN: 978-0-307-80483-9
Reprinted by arrangement with Random House Books for Young Readers
v3.1
For Paula Turner, who first read this book as
a young girl, and whose dream came true
UTHOR
'
S
F
OREWORD
A few years ago, long after this book was written, I was in the barn area at Churchill Downs the morning after a filly, Genuine Risk, won the 1980 Kentucky Derby. With me was a friend who asked, “How did you know she'd win? A filly hasn't won the Derby since Regret in 1915. That's a long time in the record books.”
“Sixty-five years,” I said. “Once in a lifetime a filly may come along like her, one fast enough, strong enough to beat three-year-old colts and geldings in the Kentucky Derby. That's the way it was with Black Minx, too.”
“You and your storybook horses,” my friend laughed. “But if that's the way you pick winners, it's okay with me.”
Yes, my storybook horses have been very much a part of my life. And while I've spent most of my time writing about fiery stallions in the Black Stallion and the Island Stallion books, I must admit that closest to my heart have been the fillies and mares I've known on the racetrack and at home. Ruffian, the famous racehorse of the seventies, most closely resembled the Black Stallion of my stories. She was a magnificent filly whose speed, conformation and courage matched her massive size. Tragically, she died at the pinnacle of her success, but all who saw her will remember her.
Most fillies are more unpredictable than colts and geldings, but they are always challenging. So it is with this first daughter of the Black Stallion. Even her name, Black Minx, was not easy to come by.
I recall wanting a very special name for her, knowing this filly would have a feisty disposition and a certain look in her large, rare eyes that meant trouble for those who would attempt to break her to saddle, bridle and rider. Finally, I decided that I would ask my readers to name her, and to the boy or girl who submitted the most appropriate name I offered an Arabian yearling I had at home. Since I knew the winner might not be able to afford the care of such a horse, I offered as alternate prize a year's riding lessons at any accredited riding academy of his or her choice. I was to be the sole and final judge of
all
entries.
Needless to say, I didn't realize what I'd undertaken. Before the contest ended I had received well over one hundred thousand entries and regretted there could be only one winner, one horse for so many.
The winning name, Black Minx, was submitted by (wouldn't you know) a girl, Janice Ohl of Dayton, Ohio. She took the horse!
WALTER FARLEY, 1983
Editor's Note: Since 1983, only one additional filly has won the Kentucky Derby. In 1988, Winning Colors became only the third filly to win the Derby since the first Run for the Roses in 1875
.
ONTENTS
OPEFUL
F
ARM
1
The following sports column written by Jim Neville appeared in newspapers throughout the United States on November 14.
Farewell, Satan
This is an obituary. There are two reasons why you read it here rather than in the special section which this newspaper devotes to the deceased. Number one, my subject is a horse. Number two, he isn't dead yet.
But for me and the millions of others whose sole contact with our racing thoroughbreds is at the track he's as good as dead. For once a racehorse leaves us to spend the rest of his life in retirement at a stock farm he's gone forever as far as we're concerned. Certainly we think of him again whenever his sons and daughters appear on the track for the first time. But his colts and fillies are distinct individuals in themselves and we look upon them as such. Never do we say with any degree of honesty,
“Here he is again!”
So it was with sincere sympathy and sadness that we watched Satan step onto the Belmont Park track yesterday for his last look around before being shipped home to Hopeful Farm in permanent retirement.
Satan, sired by the Black, had a racing career that was much too short for one who had so much speed yet to give. He was unbeaten at two, three and four years of age, winning some of our greatest classics. Last season he lost only one race, the San Carlos Handicap at Santa Anita Park, California, in December. He ran that race, we learned later, with a stone pounded deep inside his right forefoot. Yet he wouldn't quit. Although he was running on only three legs it took a photo finish for Night Wind to beat him to the wire in race record time!
X-ray photographs taken after the race disclosed a fractured sesamoid, one of the small bones in the ankle. The injured leg was put in a cast and Satan was shipped home. We were sure that he had reached the end of his racing career. But during the spring encouraging reports reached us. The injured leg had healed and Henry Dailey was putting Satan back in training. By summer the burly black horse was stabled at Belmont Park, and during his works he looked as powerful as we all remembered him. But Henry Dailey wasn't satisfied. He took Satan along slowly, never asking too much of him, never quite ready to race him. Only last month did Henry step up Satan's works. And then the great horse went sore again in the injured leg. Last week it was decided that to prevent further injury Satan would be retired permanently.
Yesterday, at the insistence of the track management, Satan took his last look around Belmont Parkâthe scene of so many of his brilliant wins. And for the thousands who packed the stands, it was a sad but thrilling moment when he came out of the paddock gate between the seventh and eighth races.
The weight of a rider might have aggravated his injury at this time, so he was led out by Henry Dailey, riding Hopeful Farm's gray stable pony, Napoleon. As Satan pranced there was no evidence of the leg injury that had brought his racing days to an end. He stepped lightly and a little faster at the crowd's first and most thunderous ovation. He looked very beautiful and very gay with black and white ribbons braided into his mane. He was the picture of health and energy. That he could look as he did
and yet be able to race no more accounted for the wealth of feeling which moved so deeply all who watched him.
As Henry Dailey led him up the track to the far turn and then back down past the stands again, the track announcer told of Satan's achievements. But I don't believe anyone really listened. They knew all there was to know about Satan. They listened only to the beat of his hoofs as he loped beside Napoleon. And they most probably rememberedâas I didâhis hard-driving, blazing stretch runs down this very same track in other years.
He stood perfectly still while they took pictures of him near the paddock gate and the track band played “Auld Lang Syne.” His black body glistened in waves of supple muscle. Neither the photographers, the shouts from the crowd, nor anything else bothered him or caused him to move one step from Napoleon's side. He was the picture of everything a well-trained racehorse should be.
I noticed that his hardened old trainer, Henry Dailey, blew his nose countless times. But I don't think Henry had a cold any more than I did, and I was blowing my nose too.
Finally, Satan was led away and the applause of the crowd moved with him. His last curtain call was over. For me and for most of those who have been privileged to watch him race he is gone forever.
Farewell, Satan.
