The Black Stallion and the Girl (3 page)

“Get back,” she said finally. “I’ll be all right now.”

Alec hesitated, wanting to help her mount, but she persisted. “I don’t need you. Please.”

She removed her hand from the colt’s eye and, suddenly, she was in the saddle, all in one swing, almost before Alec was aware of it. Every joint and muscle from ankle to neck had acted as one. Score one for her, Alec thought, and now …

The colt reared and Alec wondered what Pam would do about it. This bad habit accounted for the beatings Black Sand had taken from his former owner. There was always the danger of his going over backward and taking his rider with him.

She thwarted his first attempt by pressing forward with all her strength and weight against his withers until he came down. He went up again and this time she allowed him to reach his full height before moving her weight forward to stop him. He started down, but she flung her weight back again, the reins tight in her hands, holding him upright. His forelegs pawed the
air with irregular, unordered force, trying to keep his balance beneath her shifting weight and hands.

He tried to go over backward but Pam threw her weight forward and released the reins. His hocks trembled beneath him. He lurched forward, trying to come down on his forelegs. She wouldn’t let him, her weight and hands shifting back again as though determined to keep him on his hindlegs forever.

Alec realized then that Pam was not one to have an idea and let it lie idle; she did something about it quickly.

The contest went on for many minutes, with Alec watching the play of balances and counter-balances between horse and rider. What Pam was doing called for strength, skill, experience and instinct—perhaps instinct above all else. To keep the colt upright, she could not be a fraction of a second too late in correcting her hands and balance. She had to decide what he was about to do before he did it, and use her weight and strength as a counter-balance.

Henry had thrown the colt several times in an attempt to break him of rearing, but he’d never thought of keeping him up, reaching for the sky, until the colt was grateful to come down and, perhaps, stay down.

Pam straightened in her saddle, gripping the colt with her legs and holding him upright. His hocks trembled severely. She released him the moment he could not stand the strain any longer. She slackened the reins, loosened her knees, and hurled her weight forward.

“Go!” she called. In a mighty leap Black Sand had his forelegs down and was galloping.

His strides lengthened until he was approaching full speed, much too fast for so short and narrow a paddock. Alec expected him to run full tilt into the fence, if she didn’t slow him down. It was much too high to jump.

Pam wasn’t able to slow him down but, at the last moment, she swung hard in her saddle, laying her whole body against the colt’s inner side. Then, with knees and hands, she turned him. His hurtling body was only inches from the fence, so that her outside leg was brushing against it. He flew along the fence and came racing back, the hammering of his hoofs shaking the earth.

She managed to stop his headlong rush not far from Alec. “He’s marvelous!” she called, breathing heavily. “What’s his name?”

“Black Sand,” Alec replied, his eyes never leaving her. He realized what she had accomplished and shared her joy. She had a better seat and hands than anyone he’d had around the farm before—and, more important, a better mind.

“Black Sand,” she repeated, while the colt danced beneath her. “I like it. We have black sand on our beach at home. Let me take him outside,” she added eagerly. “He’s so full of run; it will do him a lot of good.”

Alec opened the gate. She was right, and she might as well start working at once. Although she didn’t know it, she already had the job.

“You’ll find a well-traveled path beyond the barns,” he said. “Keep to it. It’ll take you along the edge of the fields.” He was no longer concerned about her safety. One could not ride as she did without knowing her
mount. Black Sand was impatient but standing still. He did not feel the weight of her body so much as he did the weight of her knowledge and understanding.

Pam took Black Sand through the gate at a slow walk, restraint evident in his every stride.

Alec said, “You’ll go through a bit of woods. It’ll be a good change of scenery for him, but watch out there.” He knew that she was as eager as the colt to be off again.

She leaned over the colt’s withers and whispered into his ear, “Go!” Black Sand leaped forward in a furious bound, and she was ready for it.

Alec watched them go, then headed for his jeep. By driving to the far end of the field, he would be able to see the greater part of her ride. Not that he believed he’d change his mind about hiring her; it was more to confirm what he already knew.

The girl and her horse sped across the meadow. A red cardinal flew from the heart of a thicket, frightened by their charge. Its clear, loud whistle rose above the sound of the colt’s hoofs. From somewhere above, too, came the caws of crows and the scream of a broad-winged hawk, all of them angry with this girl and her horse for disrupting the peace and stillness of the meadow.

Nearing the wooded ridge, Pam slowed the colt to almost a walk and followed a hoof-trampled path into the woods. She stroked Black Sand’s lathered neck, and at her touch he sought to bound forward again. She laughed silently and gave into him, letting him lengthen his strides through the woods. The way was clear and the footing good; there was no need to walk when his heart was so full of run.

A wild carpet of moss glided beneath the colt’s flying feet. Squirrels, terrified by the thunder coming down on them, scurried to trees and climbed speedily for
self-protection. A rabbit flattened himself out in a hollow. Black Sand raced through open areas, too, masses of wild flowers, dandelions and buttercups, a thousand colored heads, all dancing in the spring breeze.

The path grew narrow with trees and brush closing in upon them. Pam slowed Black Sand to a canter, careful that there were no obstacles in his path. Long, willowy branches slapped against her body.

Suddenly, the colt reared, uttered an insane neighing shriek and, in a single leap, charged off the path. She managed to keep her seat, realizing what had happened. The tree branches had lashed him and he had taken them for a whip.

The trees closed in on her as Black Sand crashed through the brush, fighting her hands at every stride. Repeatedly, branches lashed him until, finally, he reached the open field. He came to an abrupt halt and rose twisting in the air, then plunged. She lost her stirrups and was flung headlong through the air. She landed on the ground, tucking her legs beneath her, her knees to her stomach and her head protected under her arms. She rolled like a human ball, over and over.

When Pam opened her eyes, she saw Black Sand a short distance away. She moved her head slowly and carefully from one side to the other, then one by one, she tried her arms and legs. She was bruised but unbroken. Lying very still, she waited, her eyes on the colt. “You did not trick me,” she called to him. “It was my mistake not to be more careful.”

Her face was pressed against the hard earth beneath the thickness of the grass. The morning had become
strangely quiet, not a cry from bird or animal—nothing. A faint breeze floated over the meadow, bathing her wet brow with a coolness. She flattened her body still more in the grass, enjoying the fresh smell of it, and began humming while keeping her eyes on the colt.

Black Sand, no more than a dozen strides away, heard her. There was no wildness or terror left in his eyes. She continued humming, softly, but the sound carried to his ears.

Finally, Pam raised the upper part of her body stiffly and called to him. Her voice was as soft, as tender, as her humming. She waited several minutes. The colt returned to his grazing, then stopped to look at her again.

Now his movements were in her direction rather than away. She let her head fall back to the grass and continued humming, content to wait, knowing he could not be hurried. He would come to her in his own good time or not at all.

Although her eyes were closed, she could hear the sound of his hoofs as he approached her. Finally, the hoofbeats stilled and she felt his warm breath on her skin. She opened her eyes and looked up at him, then reached for the dangling stirrup iron. Pulling herself to her feet, she wrapped her arms around his neck and flattened her cheek against him.

Alec drove his jeep back to the barns and awaited Pam’s return. He had witnessed her fall and had been ready to go to her when she’d raised her body and apparently called to Black Sand. Knowing that she was all right and that the moment was critical between her and the colt, he had stayed out of it.

What would she tell him, he wondered. Anything at all? If, to protect her job, she said nothing of her fall, then how could he trust her with the responsibilities of the farm? She was bound to make other mistakes, as did every horseman; the danger was in concealment.

She rode up to him in an easy canter, the smell of sweat and weariness upon her and the foam-wet colt. She smiled at him despite it and said, “He unloaded me but he didn’t run off.” Her voice was gay and friendly but curious, too, wondering how he’d take it.

“I didn’t watch out as you said to do,” she added. “The tree branches lashed him and he tossed me. But he didn’t leave,” she repeated.

“Yes, that’s a step forward,” Alec agreed.

“Please hold him a second,” she said, dismounting.

He watched her run quickly to her old car and return with a carrot. She bit the end off and spit it back into her hand, extending it to Black Sand. When the colt took it from her, she said, “Now we’re friends. We’ve broken bread together.” She touched her lips to his muzzle.

Alec knew he’d have great trouble with Henry by hiring Pam. Moreover, he realized that he probably wouldn’t be able to keep her there, regardless of how well she did the job. She had said she did not want to be committed for a long period of time. That alarm clock she carried in her head would go off, telling her it was time to move on.

Pam was looking at him intently and he wondered how much she’d read in his eyes. “You’ve got the job, if you still want it,” he said.

“Oh, I do,” she answered thoughtfully. Then she
turned away and said, “I’ll wash him down now. He needs it.”

Alec’s gaze followed her as she led Black Sand to the barn. It seemed incredible, but she looked braver, prouder, freer than anyone he knew—yet she was only a young girl. Henry would try to attach every reason but the right one to his hiring her.

The confrontation would come soon, for Alec was due back at Aqueduct race track in New York City the following day. The Black was going to race the latter part of the week. Alec decided it would be best to put off mentioning Pam until after the race. If the Black won, as expected, Henry would be in good spirits and might possibly accept a girl working for them.

At Aqueduct, the following Saturday, the Black was saddled for the feature race on the afternoon program. Stripped of all useless fat and flesh, he was in his finest shape.

He seemed to know he had never looked so handsome, for he feigned impatience and rebellion against Alec, who stood at his head. The Black pawed the ground and half-reared; his mane, so carefully brushed and combed only moments before, fell tousled about his head and neck. The pure curve of his high, crested neck arched majestically and his great eyes flashed fire as he surveyed the other horses in the saddling paddock.

“Hold him still, won’t you?” Henry Dailey said, tightening the girth strap; his voice was gruff, as if speaking to an employee instead of to Alec. Henry’s forehead was so deeply wrinkled that his eyebrows were separated from his gray hair only by a thin line of skin.

When the old man had the girth as he wanted it, he straightened and placed a hand on the lead pad beneath the saddle.

“No horse should carry so much weight, but we’ll show ’em. We’re dodging nobody.”

Alec said not a word, knowing nothing was expected of him. Henry was talking for his own benefit. The heavy weights that track handicappers were assigning to the Black in every race he entered must eventually set a turf record. They created a lot of tension before a race so Alec understood and tolerated his old friend’s gruffness.

The weights were assigned in order to give every horse in a race a chance at first money. The impost each horse carried on his back was made by taking into consideration his race records, his workouts and his physical condition. Lead weights inserted in a pad beneath the saddle were added, when necessary, to the weight of the rider in order to meet the track handicapper’s assigned impost. Champions carried the highest weights of all, and the Black was consistently carrying more weight than any other horse in racing.

Henry stepped back, a stocky man with a barrel-shaped chest. His eyes, like his mouth, were narrow slits in a round-cheeked face. His nose was his only prominent feature, being hooked, almost like the beak of a bird of prey. He examined the stallion’s hocks and forelegs, the solidity of his flanks and chest, looking for any sign of soreness or weakness.

The paddock judge called, “Riders, mount your horses, please!”

Alec was boosted into the saddle and, picking up
the reins, he spoke quietly to the Black. Once Alec was up, the stallion usually settled down, his nervousness being quickly replaced by an eagerness to get on with the business of racing. The Black didn’t like to wait.

“Any instructions?” Alec asked Henry. The trainer had mounted Napoleon, their stable pony, and was accompanying them to the post.

Henry shook his head. “Just ride your race,” he said, grabbing the Black’s bridle. “There’s nothing I can tell you that you don’t already know.” He moved Napoleon’s hindquarters between the Black and a horse following too closely behind.

The red-coated bugler, wearing shiny black boots and a black hunting cap, stood in the middle of the track, a long coach horn pressed to his lips. Henry shivered with anticipation at the sound of the call to the post. He had lost count of how many years ago it was that he had heard it for the first time. He was as old and gray and sway-backed as the gelding he rode, and just as fat. But each of them still had a job to do.