The Black Stallion and the Girl (11 page)

The mist lifted and he could see the starry sky. It was a beautiful night. Peaceful. Healthy. Friendly. He climbed another fence and broke into a run, breathing deeply the air that was so cool and light.

“I’m back, Pam!” he called aloud, and then laughed because he knew she was still too far away to hear him.

Finally, tall trees loomed before him, like arrows aimed at the night sky. He slowed to a walk as he entered the woods that were part of the lower field. The light from the stars filtered through the beeches and
elms and pines, making it easy for him to follow the path. He came to a large pool, fed by a spring, where he found her.

She was sitting on the ground, her back against the trunk of a tree and her head turned toward Black Sand drinking at the pool. Alec remained where he was, a short distance away. Her face was as he had visualized it so often during the past month. He saw her profile in the whitish light from the stars, her features chiseled with perfect precision.

Yet she appeared so much smaller, lighter, weaker than he remembered. Why then had he thought of her as having so much strength? Was it that she always met his eyes when he talked to her? That she never lied about her emotions or broke a promise? That she always played it straight?

Alec took a step forward, and she heard him before the colt did. In a single movement, as quick and supple as the stretching of an animal, she was on her feet and had her arms around him.

Holding her, Alec said, “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“You didn’t.” She laughed. “After all, I was expecting you.” She pushed him away to get a better look.

“Well …?” Alec asked finally, his gaze fixed on hers. He knew she was appraising him, as he had her, after a month’s absence.

“You look great,” she said, “very rugged and fit.”

“I worked hard, if that’s what you mean. We did a lot of racing in a short time.”

She squinted back at him. “I’ve been working hard, too.”

“And you look great, too,” Alec said.

Her tawny hair, parted in the middle, fell long to either side of her face. A light cotton dress outlined her trim, supple body.

“How are the colts?” he asked.

“They’re working well,” she answered, “especially Black Sand.” She glanced at the colt grazing nearby. “He’s faster than ever. Things have worked out pretty well between us.”

“I’m happy for you and for him,” Alec said, taking her in his arms again.

“And for yourself too?”

“Yes, I’m happy for me too.”

“But it was not all to the good in California, was it?” she asked after a moment. “You look a little … well,
tense
, I guess.”

Alec did not answer right away. He didn’t want to tell her that the only purpose of the trip had been to make as much money for Hopeful Farm as possible. This, added to the normal strain of racing the Black, had put him under a lot of pressure, which he still felt.

Finally, as if in some kind of self-justification, he said, “The Black did everything he was asked to do, but it wasn’t easy. He sprinted and went a distance. He raced on all kinds of tracks—slow, muddy and fast. He carried as much weight as they put on his back, and we won every time.”

She was silent a moment, then said, “I’m happy you won every time. That’s important to you, isn’t it?”

“It is because it’s our business, Pam,” he said quietly. “We race horses for money—a dubious honor I’ll
admit, but the money is
real
, and we need it to run this place.”

“Sure, I understand,” she said. “But now you’re home and you don’t have to think about it any more, not for a while anyway.”

They walked over to the spring-fed pool, kneeled down and drank cold water from the hollow of their hands. Then they stretched out on the grass, side by side, and looked up at the stars.

The warm earth felt good beneath Alec’s back and slowly he felt tense muscles relax. The feeling stayed with him and he took Pam’s hand.

“I give you Arcturus, Pam,” he said, pointing to a big, bright-orange star directly above them. “See it up there? It’s yours.”

She laughed, very pleased, and said, “Thank you, sir.”

While they were watching, a falling star streaked through the southern sky, its golden tail fanning out like a searchlight before disappearing altogether.

She turned her head toward him and said in genuine alarm, “I don’t want to fall like that, Alec, not until I’m all I can be.”

Surprised by her seriousness, he said, “You’ll never fall, Pam, not you. But even if you did, I’d be there to catch you.” Then, seeing that she was truly afraid, he took her in his arms and kissed her.

“I believe you
would
catch me,” she said, her face pressed against his, “because it takes life to love life. And I am you as you are you as you are me.”

“That’s a very nice thought,” he said.

Her thoughts and comments had a way of scattering in all directions, Alec decided. Sometimes they were clear, sometimes cloudy, but always interesting.

He kept his arms around her and finally they talked of her world, the one she was trying to make the best of all worlds.

“It’s insane the way it is now,” she said. “Everybody looking for something and desperate. Who are we? What are we? Can we make it? Rush, rush, rush. Do something. Accomplish something. Don’t be left out. No stopping, no quiet. Make up your mind. This is bad. This is good. Fussing, feuding, fuming. Preaching and pointing fingers. Dividing people into
us
and
them
. It’s all so destructive, Alec! All such a phony substitute for being satisfied with one’s own self, one’s own being and one’s own life.”

Alec thought she had finished, only to hear her add in a voice barely audible, “There’s a time to be still, I think, to enjoy the pleasure of being alone, like now, like it is with us.”

“Then why don’t you stay here?” he asked seriously. “Why your great need to move on, if you believe all you said?”

“I don’t know why.” She paused a moment, thoughtful, and then said, “Something tells me to go on and see as much as I can. Do you believe in ESP or second sight, Alec?”

He did not answer right away, not until she raised her head from the ground and prodded him. “Well, do you?”

“I’ve never thought much about it,” he said. “I
suppose it’s possible. The brain is still pretty much unknown space.”

She lay back in his arms again. “Anyway,” she said, “for some reason I can’t explain, time seems desperately short and precious to me, so I try to pack in a lot of things.”

“You’re being crazy again, like you were when you saw the falling star. The only reason you move on, Pam, is that’s the way you want it. It’s your thing. You like people. You like to be on the go.”

“Yes,” she said, laughing, suddenly her gay self once more. “I like people despite what I said about them before. There are always times when I hit it off with somebody, as I do with you. It makes up for a lot. You know, Alec, sometimes it’s harder to be free than not free. True love is giving up that which you love most, if need be, when the time comes.”

“I wouldn’t know,” Alec said sullenly. He didn’t like being included among those with whom she got along. He wanted to be very special. He wanted their being together
to last
. “I haven’t yet had to give up anything I love,” he added after a long pause.

“But you will,” she said. “It happens to everybody.”

Once more Alec found her strange blue eyes looking deep into him and he had the feeling that she saw past him and beyond. Fearful that he would lose her, he tightened his arms about her and she put her head in the hollow of his neck.

The next morning, soon after first light, Alec learned that Black Sand was ready to be raced. He watched Pam break the strapping, big-boned colt from the gate with astonishing smoothness for one who was still in the growing, awkward phase of his life. The workout was a test of speed and Pam rode him as if she were indeed in a race.

Alec knew the colt was listening to her because he had an ear cocked as he swept by, his every stride one of marvelous control and training. How had Pam accomplished so much with him in only a month? He watched her guide the colt easily from the middle of the track over to the rail and then into the first turn. Black Sand did not drift out as so many young horses did, but hung on to the rail as if it were a part of him.

Alec recalled only too well that of all the two-year-olds in the barn, Black Sand had been the most difficult to ride. He had trusted no one and, considering the mistreatment he’d suffered as a yearling in the hands of
his previous owner, it was understandable. Still, despite all their patience and care, they had been able to do little with him until Pam had come along.

Alec kept his binoculars on Black Sand as he swept down the backstretch. There was no doubt the colt ran for the sheer love of racing, even against himself. Pam was only a tawny blur on his back, sitting very still as if hypnotized by her mount’s blinding speed. Black Sand was perfectly balanced, hardly aware of the light weight he carried, yet obviously responding to Pam’s hands. He drove relentlessly into the far turn and came around it to enter the homestretch, his strides never faltering in their smooth triple racing beat.

Alec did not have to look at his stopwatch to know how fast they were going. The quarter mile had been run just slightly under :25 and the half, faster still, in :48. Both were better than any trainer could have asked of a two-year-old at this stage of his development. Black Sand could begin his racing campaign immediately and next year, at three, if nothing happened to him, he would be strong enough to go on to the classic distances of the Kentucky Derby, the Preakness, and the Belmont, for he was bred for stamina as well as speed.

When Pam returned with Black Sand, Alec said, “You were right. He’s ready. I’ll take him with me when I go.”

“I’ll miss him,” she said, her arms wrapped around the colt’s neck.

Alec recalled Henry’s warning, not to let Pam near Aqueduct. Yet he heard himself ask, “Why don’t you ride down with us? You haven’t had a day off since you got here.”

She hugged the colt again, and Alec saw the indecision in her face. “I don’t know,” she said. “What about Henry?”

“I’ll think of something,” Alec said, although he didn’t quite know what it would be or how he would handle it. “I’ve got three days before going back,” he added. “I’ll think of something.”

The three days went by quickly for Alec. He learned what Pam had meant the first night when she talked of their oneness. It was a closeness between two people he had never known before, the giving of one’s self rather than the thinking of one’s self. They rode together, worked together, and there were many hours when they just walked in the grass in their bare feet, something she couldn’t believe he’d never done before at the farm. And never before, too, had he been aware of each sound, each touch, everything he looked at, every passing minute, day and night.

“You know, Pam,” he told her the night before leaving for Aqueduct. “I know it sounds wild, but I’ve never been so happy.” He meant it with all his heart and, for some reason, he felt it necessary to tell her even though he was sure she knew. Was it that time suddenly seemed desperately short and precious to him, that he feared he might go to the barn one morning and find her gone?

“I called Henry and told him I was bringing Black Sand,” he said. “I didn’t mention anything about your coming.”

“I’m glad you didn’t because I’m not,” she answered. “I’ve decided it wouldn’t work, Alec. It would
mean too much unpleasantness for all of us. Besides, it’s …”

“It would be a change of scene for you,” Alec interrupted deliberately, afraid that she’d been going to say it was time for her to move on. “You wouldn’t have to stay long. You might even like it. I race the Black on Saturday. I’d like you to see him, Pam. You never have except on television. He’s different in the flesh. It’s an important race, one of the toughest for him. Please …”

Her blue eyes searched his, squinting as she laughed. “It does sound like fun,” she said, “and I would like to see you race the Black. It’s something I’ve always wanted to do. Okay, I’ll be down Saturday, if just to watch.”

“But don’t go away afterward,” Alec warned. “I’ll expect you at the barn.”

“All right,” she promised. “I’ll be there.”

Alec put his arm around her waist and they walked through the night together.

At four-fifteen the following Saturday afternoon, Alec rode the Black into the starting gate at Aqueduct. The band had stopped playing and the post parade was over. The horses were at the post for the running of the Manhattan Handicap—a mile and five-eighths—worth $37,180 to the winner.

The Black stood quietly in the Number 3 stall while the remaining horses entered the gate and crewmen scrambled busily about the framework.

Alec noted that the flags on the infield pole were barely moving, so the brisk wind that had accompanied the earlier rain had died and would be no factor in the race. The track, however, was deep and cuppy. In the great stands, some eighty thousand people, all wrought to a high pitch of excitement, awaited the starting bell.

Adjusting his goggles, Alec looked down the long homestretch, for they were starting the race on the final bend of the far turn. It would look a lot longer the
next time around, when the Black would feel most his heavy impost of 141 pounds. In many respects, this might well be their toughest race of the year, against a field of four top handicap horses, all lightly weighted. With Pam watching, Alec hoped he could stay out of trouble. He wanted to race his best for her.

Alec glanced at the golden chestnut in the Number 2 stall on his left. Sun Dancer was the second favorite and startlingly big, over seventeen hands, as tall as the Black. Every part of him was in proper proportion: neck, body and legs all finely balanced, head held high, arrogant and handsome. He was eager to go; his foreleg struck the grilled door and it opened as it was designed to do, being a safety precaution. A crewman quickly closed it again.