The Black Stallion and the Girl (2 page)

“Oh, then I pretend it is. It can be done, you know, if you just put your mind to it. You believe it’s there and it is. When I was little, my father used to hold me up to the window, morning and night, sun or no sun, and he’d say, ‘Good morning, Sun’ and ‘Good night, Sun.’ ”

“Then you must always feel good,” Alec said, “whether the sun’s out or not.”

“Not
always
, not
every
day, that’s impossible,” she said, laughing again. “But most of the time I do. Don’t you?” she asked abruptly.

Alec found that he was strangely annoyed by her question. And the way she hadn’t even waited for him to answer; she had just assumed that she knew what his answer would be.

“I came to apply for the job,” she said seriously. “The one you’ve been advertising for months in
Blood Horse
. I hope you haven’t filled it.”

Alec’s eyes changed; there was no longer any interest in them. He didn’t want anyone like this for the job. He needed professional help. He was running no school for would-be riders and starry-eyed kids. Yet he heard himself ask, “What’s your name?”

“Pam,” she said.

There was a serenity in her eyes that he knew was a sharp contrast to the restlessness in his own, and she seemed aware of it. “And your last name?”

“Athena,” she said, watching him without moving her eyes, without blinking.

“That’s ridiculous,” he said, louder than he meant to, thereby adding to his uneasiness. “Athena was some kind of a Greek goddess. It can’t be your last name.”

“Why not?” she asked. “There’s nothing wrong with it, is there?” Her voice was very clear, even gentle. “Actually, Athena was a goddess who both protected the arts and went to battle in defense of them,” she added in quiet explanation.

“If you say so,” Alec said. She might well be of Grecian descent at that, he decided. The sunlight coming through the window shone on her with a violent light, accentuating her high, sharp cheekbones, her long-lashed blue eyes and her very tanned skin. Her blond hair was tied back in a long ponytail, exposing ears as small and delicately sculptured as her nose. She looked, despite her outspokenness, very vulnerable and sensitive.

“Do you want to know the rest?” she asked, moving away from the window to stand in front of him.

He realized only then how truly small she was. Her forehead barely came to his chest. “The rest of what?”

She laughed. “Well, why I feel I could fill the job. You see, I’ve been around horses all my life. I had my first pony almost before I could walk. Her name was Peek-a-Boo, a little chestnut Shetland mare with a long golden mane that covered her eyes. She used to peer at
me through it, so I thought Peek-a-Boo was a good name for her. When she had her first foal, I was going to call him I-See-You but he turned out to be so fast that I named him Flash instead.

“Later, I was given my first horse. She was an Arabian mare and I named her Tena, short for Athena. I still have her and she’s beautiful and a mother several times over. But when we were young together I’d ride her for miles and miles along the beach. She loved the sand and she’d lie in it, just like a person sunbathing. She loved swimming, too, and often we’d herd schools of fish that came close to shore. We’d move into them just like a cowboy herding cattle, cutting one group from another. It was lots of fun for us.

“That all happened in Florida, where my home is,” she added quietly.

“Florida?” Alec repeated. “You’re from Florida?”

“Yes, but I don’t stay there much any more. It’s as if an alarm clock goes off in my head, telling me it’s time to leave and
do
things. There’s not too much time, you know.”

“Not too much time,” Alec repeated. “For what?”

“For living, for being young like us,” she replied, her candid eyes searching Alec’s.

Alec ran a hand through his red hair and went back to his desk. He was finding it difficult to say what had to be said and for him this was very unusual. Ordinarily, he was capable of taking charge of most anything to which he set his hand and mind. He had trained himself to control his life.

“I really don’t need you,” he said abruptly. “I mean I’m in need of
professional
help. It’s not that
I want to be unkind, but I hear from so many young people like yourself.”

“I suppose so,” she said. “There must be thousands who’d like to work here and ride your horses.”

“Hundreds, anyway,” Alec answered. Her smile and eyes were making him uncomfortable again. “I can’t do anything about hiring them.”

“No, I suppose not. Horse-crazy kids just have to go it alone, scheming and dreaming. Professional horsemen like yourself can’t take the time and responsibility to train them.”

“Very few kids would stay with it,” he said defensively. “It’s hard and often dirty work, much more than they realize from books and movies. The time spent training them is lost. Few—if any—would remain.”

“I know,” she said. “I’d go, too, after a while; that is, even if you did hire me.”

“You would?” Alec asked, surprised. “But you sounded so dedicated …”

“To horses, yes. I’ll always love them and want to be around them, but there’s that clock I told you about, the one in my head. You’ll find it in the heads of lots of kids, if not in your own.”

“I suppose so,” he said.

“It doesn’t mean I couldn’t be of
temporary
help to you,” she said quickly. “I’ve helped other professional horsemen, so maybe I’m more professional than you think. I’ve worked trotters and pacers at Ben White Raceway in Orlando, Florida, and ridden and jumped thoroughbreds all the way north to here. I could help you … I mean until you found your professional help.”

In her face, Alec saw an unusual amount of
strength and eagerness. “I don’t know,” he said, realizing that if he hired her, even temporarily, Henry would be enraged. The old trainer had no use for girls around barns. He would see only her femininity, and her honest candor would infuriate him. And yet, if she could handle the horses, would it not give him the time he needed to find a reliable professional horseman?

Moments of uneasy silence passed for Alec. Her eyes, staring so intently into his, forced him to look deep into himself. He no longer thought
young
, he decided. He had become an old man before being a young one. He insisted upon professional help even though he’d begun as the rankest kind of an amateur himself. He spoke critically of would-be riders and starry-eyed kids, but he’d been one himself not so long ago. Had he completely forgotten what it was like to be young?

Alec met her gaze. Perhaps, if he made a sincere attempt to listen to her, he might learn what was going on with people his own age. It would be a welcome change.

“I’d like to see you ride,” he said. “Then I’ll decide.”

Alec followed her into the corridor, but instead of going directly outside she stopped at Satan’s stall. The first son of the Black Stallion was premier sire at Hopeful Farm while the Black was away racing. He had his head against the barred window of his stall, apparently watching the horses outside.

“I never thought I’d actually see him,” she said, without turning to look at Alec. She was aware of nothing but the magnificent black horse. He was huge—so big, so powerful in chest and shoulders that in strength and beauty he surpassed anything she’d ever seen.

She called to him, her voice very low and gentle. Satan remained still, like a statue with the rays of the sun streaming upon it. A muscle quivered in his marvelously smooth skin, then another and still another. He was aware of her, and she spoke to him again.

Satan’s chest swelled, his nostrils trembled; then he turned toward her, his eyes lighting up as he moved
across the stall. He stood before the iron bars, eager for attention.

She reached into the stall and touched him, rubbing the white, diamond-shaped star in the center of his forehead.

Alec said, “He was a devil to break, but Henry Dailey, our trainer, worked on him as he will never work on another horse. Satan became a truly great horse, very competitive yet willing to obey the slightest hint of rein or leg. As far as Henry is concerned, Satan is the best we ever had.”

“And for you?”

“No, not for me,” he said quietly. “I have the Black.”

The stallion’s warm breath was caressing her hand. “You’re both very lucky,” she said, turning to him. “The most splendid gift of all is a noble horse. I suppose each of us chooses the horse he loves most for his own sake, not for the horse’s sake. And each of us takes care of him not for the horse’s sake but for his own.”

Alec laughed at her unusual philosophy. “You mean we make our favorite horses what we are ourselves?” he asked.

“Something like that,” she replied. “Henry must demand unquestioned obedience, right?”

“He does.”

“And you? What have you made of the Black?”

Alec smiled, enjoying her honest straightforwardness. “I didn’t make anything of him, really,” he said. “I asked and he gave. I’d say the Black was more tamed than trained. It’s always a little precarious when he’s being handled.”

“You mean there’s always some danger involved?”

“Always,” he said.

“And you wouldn’t want it any other way,” she said boldly. “Now I know you better.”

She looked at him mischievously, and there were little quivers at the corners of her mouth. Finally, her smile broke through.

“I’ve known all along that girls have a reputation for loving horses and being passionately interested in learning about them,” Alec said, “but I didn’t know it included analyzing their riders and trainers as well.”

She shrugged her shoulders. “Each of us does his own thing, whatever makes him most happy.”

A few minutes later they walked along the paddock fences, their bodies lean and sharp, both wearing worn, blue Levi’s. Their eyes followed the two-year-old colts at play.

“Splendor in the morning sun!” she exclaimed. “And I’m sharing it with you, the most famous rider in all the land. It’s hard to believe.”

“Please,” Alec said self-consciously, “if you’re going to work here …”

“Am I?” she asked, turning to him. “If you hire me, I promise never to call you famous again.”

“I’ll decide when I see you ride.”

“You’ll be able to tell?”

“Yes. And that will be the end of it.”

“Or the beginning,” she said confidently. “Which horse?” she asked, turning back to the colts.

“Take your pick. They’re all green-broke.”

“My choice,” she said, her gaze going to each
paddock. It was difficult to decide and she took a long time. They were all so beautiful, so filled with their own strength and spirit and rivalry for each other.

With mounting impatience, Alec remarked, “You said that one selects a horse for his own sake, not for the horse’s sake, so choose.”

“There he is,” she said, her answer quick and keen.

Black Sand was racing down his paddock toward them. He made a sweeping turn and ran by. “Yes, that’s the one,” Pam said eagerly, climbing the fence to sit on the top rail.

Alec said reluctantly, “It’s a bad choice. He’s the only one in the whole bunch I shouldn’t let you ride. Pick another.” He’d had enough trouble because of Black Sand for one day.

She turned back to the colt. He was dark brown, almost black, with a wide blaze running from forehead to nostrils and long white stockings on all four legs. “But why?” she asked finally.

“He’s the only one that hasn’t been ridden in well over a month,” Alec replied. “It wouldn’t be fair to you. This is no contest, no challenge I’m asking of you. I only want to watch you ride a young horse.”

Black Sand had come to a stop nearby, inquisitive and looking for attention. Sweat covered his flanks and he constantly tossed his head and whinnied.

“Is your concern for me or for the horse?” Pam asked.

“For you. He’s by Satan, whose colts have his temperament, and the dam was an outside mare. His owner couldn’t handle him.”

The colt was close enough for Pam to see the deep
scars running across his body. “From a whip?” she asked after a moment’s silence.

Alec nodded. “Before we got him,” he answered.

“I hope you lashed the owner as well.”

“No, but we took him to court and got the colt away from him. That’s more important.”

“A man like that will probably never change,” she said sadly, “but the horse will.” She swung off the fence and caught the colt by the halter. Alec was stunned by her quickness, as Black Sand must have been.

There was no wickedness in the colt’s deep-set eyes, only a settled rage—first a spark and then fire—at being held fast. He tried to rear but Pam kept him still.

“He is well where he should be well,” she called to Alec. “If you let me ride him, it will be easy for you to decide. You’ll know one way or another in a matter of minutes.”

Alec accepted her challenge, knowing she was right. He felt that he could accurately predict the phases of the coming battle. If she could handle Black Sand, he’d certainly hire her. It was more than the men had been able to do.

The colt snorted and Pam soothed him with a caress. His nostrils were wide and flaring, his eyes surprised and rebellious. He moved his big body against hers and she scolded him. “I don’t have to be strong to have the courage to ride you. You belong to one who knows best how to love you, that’s all.”

Alec came up and snapped a lead shank on the halter ring. “Okay,” he said quietly.

Together they took Black Sand from the paddock to the training barn. They tacked him and he was so
impatient to be off that he never stopped his dancing. Then Alec led him back to the enclosed paddock. “Try him here where he can’t get away from you,” he said.

Pam’s eyes met those of the colt, so moist and brilliant. She passed her left hand over his near eye, closing the lid, while stroking the muzzle with her other hand. She began to hum softly, barely audibly, but the colt heard her.

Alec waited, no longer impatient; he knew what she was attempting to do. The colt’s ears stood high, turning in her direction. She continued humming.