The Black Stallion's Ghost (11 page)

Suddenly, as if he had broken through a ghostly barrier, he was wide awake. The bedsheets were wringing wet and his breath came in great gasps as he gulped air into his lungs. He was alone in the room. The moonlight made it bright enough to enable him to see that no one was there.

He went to the washbasin and doused his head in cold water. There had been nothing, he told himself savagely.

It had been a dream, prompted by the stories of a man who believed in the supernatural. He had succumbed to them in his sleep, his own imagination giving way to what he had been told. It was an experience he never wanted to go through again.

Everyone dreamed, he told himself, and this one had been a nightmare to end all nightmares.

The room darkened as a cloud passed over the moon. He went to the window and looked out across the saw grass. A chill swept over him, which he attributed to the sudden cooling of the night and not to his fear. The moon emerged and once more the room was filled with ghostly light.

There was nothing to fear from a dream, even a nightmare, he told himself. Yet his heart continued thudding against his chest as he attempted to bring order to his thoughts.

Judging by the height of the moon, he had been asleep all of two hours. He had seen the frightening image in his dream because of the captain's story of
Koví
and the horrible drawing. It made little difference whether or not he believed in
Koví
, he told himself. Known or unknown, real or not real,
the monster now lived in his subconscious
.

Alec's heart thudded faster as he accepted this fact. He remained at the window, not wanting to go to bed lest he dream again. He wondered if it were possible to die of fear caused by a dream. Quickly he rid himself of such a thought by dousing his head in water again. He would remain awake the rest of the night. Tomorrow and during the days that followed, when normal life resumed, he would forget
Koví
. It would be as if this night had never been.

Meanwhile he sought inner peace and comfort from the tranquility of the swamp. The skies were clear and for a long while Alec listened to the stillness of the night. He felt absolutely alone in the world. There came to him the gentle sound of a breeze stirring the palm fronds and water.

His heart resumed its normal beat. Taut muscles relaxed. He responded to his freedom from the nightmare by walking across the room and back. Suddenly he came to a stop before the window again, every sense alert.

He had heard a sound outside
. It was not the lapping of the water or the stirring of a palm frond. It was the soft stealth of moving feet, not those of an animal but a man!

His keen eyes searched the darkness for movement
that would betray another's presence. A moment passed, then a black silhouette stepped around the corner of the house into the moonlight. The figure stood still, legs astride. Was it Odin returning from the Indian village? The silhouette was too large and tall for him, more the size of the captain, Alec decided.

He waited for the figure to move, hoping the man would pass beneath his window so he might see him better. Finally the figure strode silently by and Alec had no trouble recognizing the captain.

Alec stepped back from the window. He had no intention of leaving the room. He cared nothing about what the captain did at night; it was no concern of his. The captain might well be off to his eternal quest of
Koví
. It made no difference. He would remain in the bedroom until dawn.

It was only as the moments passed that Alec's resolution wavered. He wondered if he might not be doing exactly what the captain had planned. What if the captain's story of
Koví
had been only a hoax to frighten him into keeping to his room, asleep or not? The captain coveted the Black for his mare. Perhaps he had no intention of waiting until the end of the racing season to breed his mare as had been agreed, not when he had the opportunity to do it
now
!

Distant, muffled snorts reached Alec's ears and he went quickly to the door, his decision made. A cold anger swept over him as he ran down the stairs. The captain took what he wanted; he was as remorseless as he was powerful; he would stop at nothing to breed his mare to the Black!

Alec opened the front door and sped down the
porch steps into the night. He ran across the yard, knowing what he had to do. No hands would touch the Black but his own. This he would fight for, regardless of the odds against him.

There was no caution to his movements as he approached the barn. He heard the Black's shrill neigh, meant clearly for the mare, and he knew he was too late.

Alec stopped at the barn. The horses were behind it and not far away. At first he was aware only of the beauty of the blending of their bodies, coal-black and silver-gray. They were a tableau in the shimmering light of the moon. The mare was tied to the fence and stood absolutely still, almost as if frozen by the arrogance of the Black, who was alongside her, his tail held high and neck arched mightily. His small head was thrust out to hers and she squealed excitedly in answer to his panting snorts. He bit her lightly on the neck, and when she retaliated by striking out at him with her hind legs, he skillfully jumped away, then immediately closed in on her again. It was a game he knew well, one of a mare testing a stallion's strength before final acquiescence.

Only then did Alec become fully aware of the captain and what he was doing. He had the Black by the long shank chain and was attempting to curb the stallion's excitement by yanking it repeatedly. He shouted
something in French at the top of his voice. Then, as if suddenly realizing his commands were not in the language the stallion understood, he shouted in English, “
Back! When I say back, you back
!”

The stallion screamed in rage and pain but continued to ignore the man for the waiting mare. His consuming interest was in her despite the captain's efforts. He plunged toward her again and bit her more threateningly, low on the neck and in front of the withers. He held on to her this time, whirling her around again and again until she stood quietly before him. He could be as rough as required, but gentle as well. He began licking her wounds.

Suddenly the sharp, agonizing pain in his mouth was more than he could bear. He went back on his hind legs, seeking relief.

Alec ran across the clearing, knowing the captain had the shank chain under the stallion's lips and across his gums, the snap attached to the halter ring on the far side. If he didn't stop the captain, the Black in his pain and frenzy would kill him!

The stallion had turned his attention from the mare to strike savagely at the man who was causing him so much pain. But the captain moved fast, escaping the intended blow; then he began using the powerful leverage in his hands to its utmost. Repeatedly he pulled down the shank with all his strength. The Black went back on his haunches in an effort to escape the pain of the chain cutting viciously into his gums.

“
Assez! Ça suffit
! Enough!” the captain screamed at the stallion while backing him with terrible force. “You are a devil! You do not treat her this way! You go forward
when I say you do, not before!” Relentlessly he jerked downward on the shank until the Black was almost falling over himself in an attempt to get away.

Alec's headlong rush brought him up behind the captain. He hurled himself upon the man's back, seeking to pin his arms to his side and prevent him from using the shank. For a few seconds he held on, his onslaught coming as a complete surprise to the captain. He sought to topple the great body clasped in his arms by throwing his own weight to one side as leverage. He managed to bring the captain to one knee, but suddenly the man straightened and swung upward and back with all his strength.

Alec knew immediately that he was no match for this man in deadly combat. He was hurled to one side and around. He held on to the bulging neck while being whirled like a pinwheel; then a large hand caught him by the shoulder, and the other hand, clenched into a fist, smashed against the side of his head. He fell hard upon the ground.

Instantly there was the taste of blood in his mouth. He didn't quite lose consciousness, for he could hear shouts from the captain and squeals from the Black. The blood seemed never-ending and he choked upon it. Dazedly he found himself wondering if one could drown in his own blood.

He fought to maintain consciousness. His vision was blurred but he could make out the captain's figure as the man sought to regain control of the Black. The stallion was plunging toward him, squealing and pawing.

The captain avoided the flying hoofs and tried to
stop the horse. He jerked on the shank chain but his move came an instant too late. The horse rose above him, standing straight up on his hind legs. The captain dodged quickly to one side, avoiding the striking forelegs again, but only by a few scant inches. His fear mounted. He pulled forcefully on the shank, trying to knock the stallion off balance. He was in time, for the horse screamed in pain. Confident that he had won, the captain yanked harder to bring the pawing forelegs to the ground.

The black stallion moved quickly, walking on his hind legs while his forelegs continued to strike. The captain backed off, suddenly terrified by the plunging horse who would not be beaten despite all he could do! Dropping the lead shank, he screamed a torrent of French and ran for the safety of the barn.

A moment later, the Black moved to Alec's prone figure, his head lowered to it. His blown-out nostrils sniffed the blood and he shied clear, uncertain and troubled.

Alec tried to speak to his horse but his head was throbbing with pain and the blood that filled his throat caused a choking nausea. He was unable to utter a word, even a whisper. He tried to clear his throat but his efforts only caused the growing blackness to envelop him all the more. He lay still again, not wanting to lose total consciousness.

As if in a dream, he saw the Black return to the mare. Again their bodies blended into one. He could hear her sharp squeals and the lashing of her hoofs. There was a quick whirling of their bodies, and then,
suddenly, the night became still. He could hear nothing, see nothing. The blackness was complete. Alec had lost consciousness.

The captain searched the barn looking for any weapons he might use against the stallion. A leather riding whip hung on a peg in the entryway. He took it. He had forgotten where he'd left the long-handled pitchfork, and it was several minutes before he finally found it. He was determined to protect his mare as well as himself from the onslaught of the most savage horse he had ever come across. He had judged wrong; this was no horse to be bred to his mare. The black stud was the devil himself!

Yet he did not leave the barn immediately with his weapons. For the first time in his life he was deathly afraid of a horse. He stood in the doorway where he could see the stallion whirling his mare around, dominating her, bringing her to her knees until, finally, she stood quietly before him. His heart went out to her but he could do nothing.

Moments later, when the stallion whinnied and left the mare, the captain stole silently forward, the pitchfork extended. He saw the stallion return to where Alec lay on the ground and for a fleeting second he wondered if the youth was dead. He hadn't meant to strike him so hard. It was the horror of the moment, at finding his arms pinned from behind while the stallion came at him.

The Black sniffed the blood on Alec and shied away again. The one person who might have soothed him lay still. Suddenly a new kind of terror possessed
him, one of great aloneness he had long forgotten. He drew back, startled and uncertain. A figure loomed in the night and he turned upon it.

Savagely he attacked but backed off immediately when the steel prongs of the pitchfork pierced his chest and he felt deep, agonizing pain. He sought escape, his natural instincts telling him to run to survive. The sharp prongs of the pitchfork were thrust at him again.

He whirled and ran, gaining full stride almost immediately. His mane and tail swept in the wind he created, while the lead shank trailed at his side. Fear and pain had awakened within him the memory of another life apart from the one he had lived these past years. His body responded quickly to the challenge of surviving alone by taking him toward the swamp and escape!

“Alec,” the captain pleaded, kneeling beside the youth, “
je vous en prie
—” He spoke in French as if English were unknown to him, then, “I beg you—”

With difficulty Alec opened his eyes and listened to him.

“—forgive me. I did not mean to hurt you.”

There was apology and sympathy in the captain's words but not in his eyes. Alec wiped the blood from his mouth and gathered what strength he had left; then he kicked upward with all his might. He felt the impact as his feet struck the captain in the chest, tumbling him over backwards.

Breathing hard from his effort, he staggered to his feet and threw himself upon the captain, his hands reaching for the man's face. Once more he learned quickly that he was no match physically for the captain. He was thrown off and pinned to the ground.

The blow Alec expected didn't come. Instead he was pulled firmly but kindly to his feet and made to
walk. He was aware of nothing but the sound of the breeze in the palm trees and, a little later, the lapping of water. He shook his head, trying to clear his vision, to see where the captain had taken him.

They stood at the edge of the swamp, the house behind them.

“Where is my horse?” he pleaded. “What have you done to him?”

“He ran off. I could not stop him.” The captain would not meet Alec's gaze. “I tried but I could not stop him,” he repeated.

The dark skin was drawn tight across the captain's face; there was a tenseness that Alec had not seen before. He knew the man had been terrified and badly beaten by the Black. It was no consolation to him now.