The Black Stallion and the Girl (6 page)

Was it another case of Henry stereotyping someone he could not understand? His need to speak in generalities, in great bursts of ignorance and rage?

Alec did not think it had been easy for Pam to leave home—or for her parents to say good-by. There was much more he would like to know about her.

Alec left the apartment, not looking forward to what he had to do the next morning.

Alec found it no easier to tell Pam in the morning; if anything, it was worse. He had slept very little, and then only after daybreak, so he arrived at the barn after Pam had begun work and was on the track. He had wanted to see her before she became involved in anything, so she could pack and leave without postponing her departure another day.

The two stablemen assigned to the barn were cleaning stalls, but the horses were in Pam’s care. The men’s eyes followed him, knowing the importance of his inspection as he went from stall to stall, examining each horse, one by one.

It took Alec longer than usual, and he wondered if he was unconsciously looking for something with which to find fault, making it easier for him to let her go. But the horses’ eyes and coats shone with good health from proper attention.

He shouldn’t have expected anything else, he decided. She was the kind of person who took care of
horses to make them happy, not to impress anyone else. The only reward she asked was that her charges be stronger and healthier from her pleasure in the task.

Alec went to the large daybook chart on the wall of the tack room. On it were the names of the ten two-year-olds in training, and beneath each was a daily work schedule which he had given her before leaving for Aqueduct. He had asked her to keep to it as closely as possible, and to make any notes she wanted about the progress of each horse.

She had already ridden three horses that morning and her penciled comments were there. Black Sand had gone a half-mile easily in 50 seconds, breaking from the starting gate. She noted that he was ready for faster works.

Alec was inclined to agree with her. Black Sand was the toughest colt they had in the barn and the most precocious. If she could get him in hand, he would be ready to race this season. He was more apt to win at shorter distances than the longer ones that came later in the year. There were other horses that Alec preferred for distance races, such as the two she’d galloped after Black Sand—one for two miles, the other for three. The last one needed his shoes re-set, Pam had noted on the chart.

She was now riding Black Pepper, the only filly in the barn. A good one, Alec thought, but with a pea-sized brain. Black Pepper had everything else a race horse needed; he had high hopes for her despite her lack of sense. Pam was to break the filly from the gate and go a half-mile in a slow 55 or 56 seconds. He was taking it easy with the filly, for she had the breeding
necessary to go the longer, more important races next year. Her problem was understanding what she was supposed to do; handling her in the starting gate had not been easy.

Grabbing a saddle and bridle, Alec left the tack room. “Sam,” he called to one of the men, “when did Pam leave with the last one?”

“Just before you got here. She won’t have reached the track yet.”

A few minutes later, Alec led a rangy dark bay colt out of the barn. With a hand on the horse’s withers, he vaulted into the saddle without touching the stirrups. And with it, in a single second, he turned into another person, forgetting momentarily the real purpose of his visit. Every part of him fell into balance as he rode off at a canter.

Black Pepper’s education at the gate had begun as a yearling, he reflected, along with all the others. But unlike the rest, she’d given them nothing but trouble. Each time she continued to act as if it was the first time. Either she was just plain dumb, as he suspected, or she was as obstinate and cantankerous as her dam, Black Minx.

However, Black Minx had won the Kentucky Derby, so her filly was worth all the time and trouble it might take to bring her along slowly until she broke from the gate properly. Being a filly she could not stand as much abuse as a colt, so Pam’s patience and light hands might be exactly what was needed.

Alec saw them in the distance and closed his legs about the colt, sending him into a faster gallop. Black Out, the colt he was riding, was rugged and ungainly.
He’d been slow in coming along, and Henry had wisely decided to reserve him until next year. But Black Out was intelligent and did everything right, including breaking from the gate. Perhaps he could teach the filly what it was all about. At least it would help Pam to have another horse in the gate. Horses should always be broken from the gate in pairs at least, never singly; and preferably there should be three or four. But that was one of the things they had been unable to do that year.

Alec caught up to Pam just as she reached the training track. She glanced back and said, “I expected you a long time ago. You missed Black Sand, the best part.”

“I’ll see him tomorrow.”

“Good,” she said. “I’m glad you’re staying.”

Her voice had the gay, friendly, singing quality he remembered. He looked at her, suddenly aware of what he’d said about
tomorrow
, as if he’d had no intention of telling her that she must leave today.

She wore no ponytail that morning, he noticed. Her long, thick, wild blond hair waved and floated below her shoulders. Her clothes were jeans, a white blouse and brown, worn loafers. No boots; no masculinity. And in the filly’s mane were braided flowers of yellow, pink and blue.

She swung her shoulders and turned Black Pepper around. “Come on,” she said. “Let’s go! It’s a beautiful day.” Her wonderful gaiety blossomed under the morning sun, and Alec was glad he had decided to ride with her.

They came to a stop behind the four-horse starting
gate. Max, the man who operated it, was there waiting for them.

“Have you had any trouble with her?” Alec asked, nodding to the filly.

“Lots,” she said, “but she’ll come around. It takes time.” She ran her hand down the filly’s right foreleg as far as she could reach. “She’s a little sore here,” Pam said.

“The trouble’s not down there,” Alec said, “but in her head.”

Surprisingly, because he knew she loved all horses despite their faults, she agreed emphatically with him. “I sure know that,” Pam said. “She has a mental block of some kind. Maybe it’s something like claustrophobia in a person. She can’t take that narrow stall with the doors closed.”

“Let’s try it,” Alec said. “If she can’t stand still, she’ll never start.”

He watched Pam ride toward the gate, her hand stroking the filly with astonishing delicacy, trying to reassure Black Pepper that there was nothing to fear from the contraption ahead. The filly whinnied with high spirits but Alec wondered how long it would last. Perhaps forever with such a girl in the saddle—if he could only have given her time.

His big-boned colt moved forward in powerful but ungainly strides, so different from those of the slender filly ahead of him. Black Pepper moved with deerlike grace, her eyes very feminine, gentle and timid. Yet she would be rough to handle, Alec decided, if she went into one of her uncalled-for tantrums. Somehow, they must channel all the fire burning inside her—the
hustling, bustling blood of her dam—into competing against other horses. She shouldn’t expend all her energy in the starting gate.

Walking up to Black Pepper, Max took hold of the filly’s bridle and sought to lead her into the gate. She swung around in a tight circle, dragging him with her.

Pam didn’t seem to be disturbed by her mount’s antics. She was patting the filly, taking her time and speaking softly. Her figure concealed the small saddle on which she sat, so that it looked as if she and the filly shared the same skin.

Black Pepper suddenly twisted and yanked Max off his feet, whirling him around. Pam needed all her skill to keep from being thrown. The filly reared, twisting in the air, and Max had to let go of the bridle.

In the most primitive of instincts, Pam flung her arms around the filly’s neck and clung with her hands to the warm, moist flesh. For a moment she and Black Pepper were a single, astonishing creature, their heads side by side, mane and hair entwined, streaming and winging, black and gold.

Alec moved his colt forward and was at her side when the filly came down. “Wow!” Pam said. “I thought she was going to get rid of me that time.” Alec noticed that she hid her face from him as long as possible.

“I probably would have been dumped if I’d been on her,” he said reassuringly.

She raised her head, and her face was cold and wet. “I’m glad you’re here to help,” she said. “Every day it’s been like this, and it’s doing her schooling no good.”

“I’ll go with you this time,” Alec said, moving his big colt closer to the filly and taking hold of her bridle. His mount might be young and clumsy, but he was quiet enough to handle the duties of a stable pony.

They neared the starting stall and the filly fought to break free of Alec’s hold on her bridle. Both he and Pam sought control as Black Pepper lunged directly at the gate, instead of away from it. They managed to stop her before she reached it and backed her up, only to have her fight for her head and plunge forward again.

“Crazy, that’s what she is,” Alec said when they’d brought her to a stop. “First, she won’t go near it and now she wants to tear it down.”

“
Afraid
is more like it,” Pam answered. “Horses can have a psychosis same as people, and she’s got a big one. Let me try it another way.”

She began whistling softly to the filly, her notes barely audible and without any shrillness. Then she spoke to Black Pepper, her words as tender and enchanting as her whistling had been.

“The time for fear or play or whatever it is that’s bothering you is over,” she said. “Wait until I tell you to go. There is no hurry, nothing to be afraid of.”

Alec waited in silence, knowing that while the filly did not understand Pam’s words, the sound of the girl’s voice meant something to Black Pepper. What Pam would achieve by this kind of communication, if anything, was unpredictable. It worked with some horses and not with others, depending upon the depth of feeling and the rider’s ability to communicate.

He could do nothing but wait. The filly was now in Pam’s charge, to handle as she thought best. His job for
the present was to stay out of it, while she tried to achieve what had to be done. If she needed help, he would know, and was there to give it. There must be no accident, nothing that would further complicate the education of Black Pepper. He had known other young horses as difficult to school but none any worse. It would take time and patience, but the rewards would be great if and when Black Pepper raced.

With her voice, her legs and her hands, Pam continued speaking to the filly for a long while, without attempting to move her forward. Black Pepper raised her head, turning it back slightly, as if listening to what Pam had to say. Alec, still holding the filly, felt the hot air coming from her wide-open nostrils.

Pam talked, hummed and whistled, never pausing; all with such a rich harmony of happiness and youth, of friendship and joy that Alec found himself responding to her gaiety.

Finally, Pam moved Black Pepper forward. But the filly came to an abrupt stop directly before the open stall, her fear of it evident in the sweating of her flanks. Again, Pam talked to her and the moments passed.

Alec moved his own mount inside the stall, hoping the filly would follow. He could see her out of the corner of his eyes, moving forward foot by foot. Finally, Pam had Black Pepper inside, but with the front and back doors wide open. At least the filly was in the stall, even if she wouldn’t stay there for long.

Alec heard Max close the doors behind them and expected Black Pepper to bolt forward at the clank of the metal frames. Surprisingly, she remained still, if not altogether straight and balanced.

Max was on the track before them, ready to close the front doors. He looked at Alec questioningly.

“Close mine first,” Alec said.

The grilled flaps closed in front of his big colt, who made no attempt to bolt through them. “Good boy,” Alec said, patting him. The stall quarters were confining but his mount was neither nervous nor curious. He was simply waiting to be turned free. Here was one to be reckoned with next year, Alec decided.

He looked away from the grilled screen to watch Black Pepper as Max carefully closed her stall door, making no sound except for a slight click, which was drowned out by Pam’s constant murmurings to the filly.

“Okay, Max,” he called softly. “If she stays still, open right away. Don’t wait for her to get straightened out.” He didn’t want to give the filly a chance to fly to pieces inside. If she could just get away while she was quiet, she might learn there was nothing to fear from the gate.

“Come out slowly with her, Pam,” he called. “Don’t push her.”

Pam didn’t pause in her murmurings. Black Pepper banged her hoofs against the sides of the stall, then was quiet. The filly wasn’t as straight as she should be, but she could come out without hurting herself. For the time being that was all Alec asked.

“Now, Max,” he called. “Open up.”

The starting bell clanged and the doors flew open. Instinctively, without wanting to do it or any need for it, Alec shouted, “Yah! Yah!” as he loosened rein and prodded the big colt forward. Black Out charged from the gate sluggishly but in a straight line.

Alec turned his head quickly to look for the filly. She had left the stall almost at a walk but was now coming on. However, she made for the outside of the track before Pam could get her aimed down the stretch. He saw her slip dangerously but recover.

Alec sat very still, waiting for his big, ungainly colt to find his balance and settle in stride. He inched up the reins, restraining him in case Black Out had any notion to go faster. All Alec wanted from him was an easy, slow half-mile in 55 or 56 seconds, and the same for the filly.