It's Monday.
Chapter 9 : ESCAPE
The next morning when Alec opened his eyes, he saw the familiar high school banners hanging on the walls. It was good to be in his own room again. Then right away he wondered how the Black was after his rumpus of last night! Alec turned on his side and looked out the window. The sun was rising. It must be around six o’clock.
Not much sleep—but then he was accustomed to that after the last few months. The leaves on the trees were turning a bright autumn red. He was glad his father had told him he wouldn’t have to go to school today. “One more day won’t hurt,” he had said, “and it’ll give you a chance to accustom yourself again.” He knew what his father had really meant was that it would give him a chance to accustom the Black to his new surroundings!
Alec jumped out of bed and ran to the bathroom. He took a cold shower, dressed and tiptoed down the stairs. He opened the door and went out into the crisp morning air. It was quiet as only early morning can be. The grass was wet with a heavy dew. He walked down the street, softly whistling to himself. A safe distance away from the house he began to sing.
He found the gate ajar. Someone must be there already—perhaps Tony! He ran up the road toward the barn, and heard a deep bass voice coming from inside. “San-ta Lu-ci-a, Santa Lu-cia!” Sure, that couldn’t be anyone else but Tony! The barn door was open. Alec saw the little Italian sitting on a chair, his eyes fastened on the two stalls from which were coming deep munching sounds.
“Hello, Tony!”
Tony turned, his dark, wrinkled face creasing into a broad smile. “Hello,” he said. “You see, I’m not afraid of heem any more!”
“Yes,” Alec laughed, “I can see that. You’ll get along swell with him as time goes on!”
“Ah, he’s one great fella—make-a me think when Napoleon was-a young! So frisky, so full of pep, and when he saw me feed Napoleon, he let me feed heem, too!”
“That’s pretty good, Tony. Usually he won’t let anyone get near him but me.”
“Look at them,” Tony said.
Napoleon had shoved his nose through the bars and was trying to get at the Black’s feed box. The stallion playfully nipped him. Napoleon withdrew his head and looked over the stall door.
“Time to go to work, young fella,” laughed Tony. He let him out of the stall, and rubbed his hand over the gray, ragged coat. “Tomorrow I give heem a good bath so he’ll be white as snow!” he said.
Alec watched Tony harness Napoleon. He saw him tenderly arrange a thick pad over the cut on Napoleon’s shoulder. He noticed that the Black was also an interested spectator.
“Give me a hand, will you, Alec? We’re kinda late this morning,” Tony said.
Alec helped to harness old Napoleon to the little huckster’s wagon. It seemed child’s play to handle the gentle old gray horse after the spirited stallion.
They heard the Black scream inside. Alec ran into the barn. “What’s the matter, Black?” he said.
The long black neck was stretched questioningly into the next stall. He missed Napoleon.
“Napoleon has to go to work, Boy, but he’ll be back tonight.” Alec opened the door and took the Black by the halter. He grabbed the lead rope from a nail outside the stall and fastened it to the halter. Then he led the Black out.
Tony was climbing into the seat of the wagon. “Well, Alec, we gotta go,” he said. “See you tonight. Come on, Napoleon.”
Napoleon raised his head and neighed as he saw the Black. He refused to move. Tony shook the reins. “Come on, now, Nappy. We gotta go!” he repeated. Napoleon shook his head, looked at the Black, then resignedly started off.
The Black pulled at the rope. He wanted to follow. Alec held him back. He reared high into the air; his ears pitched forward and he snorted angrily.
Alec smiled. “Hate to see your roommate leave, don’t you?”
They watched Tony and Napoleon go slowly down the gravel road to the gate. Napoleon broke into a slow trot down the street.
When they were out of sight, the Black moved in a circle around Alec.
“Feeling pretty good, aren’t you, Boy?” Alec let the rope out to give the Black more room. He led him toward the open field, encircled by a stone wall. “You’re going to like this to graze in,” he said. “Just look at all that grass!”
The Black cropped the green grass hungrily. When he seemed to have had enough, Alec ran down the field with him. “Not too fast now, Black!” Alec called as the stallion cantered ahead of him. Halfway down the field he found himself tiring and pulled the Black to a halt.
“How about giving me a ride now, Black?” he asked. He looked for a place to mount him. He drew the stallion alongside the stone wall, climbed up on it and slid onto the Black, grasping the halter with both hands.
He hadn’t had a chance to ride him since the island. The Black stood still a moment, then broke into a trot. Alec was able to guide him fairly well with the halter and he found that the stallion still remembered his lessons on the island.
Down the field they went, the wind whipping in Alec’s face, the early morning stillness echoing with the stallion’s hoofbeats. His long powerful strides made the field seem much too small. Alec turned him around the edge and started him back up the field. They went faster and faster. Alec dug his knees into the stallion’s sides and his own body moved rhythmically with the Black’s. They swept past the barn and Alec turned him back down the field again. Around and around the field they went.
After a while Alec managed to slow him down a bit. The Black continued around the field at a gallop. Then he slackened into a trot. Alec had never been happier. Home at last—and with a horse like this! All his very own! He buried his head in the Black’s mane and wiped his hand across his eyes, drying the tears the wind had brought to them.
They approached the barn. Alec saw Henry Dailey leaning against the door watching them. He rode up to him and dismounted, catching hold of the stallion’s halter. “Morning, Henry,” he said. He felt the Black’s coat. “Not even wet.… What a horse, Henry! We’ve been going around that field like the wind! Did you see us?”
Henry didn’t move from the door but Alec saw his small gray eyes going over the Black inch by inch. “Sure, I saw you,” he said. “Son, I’ve seen a lot of horses in my day and rode my share of ’em, but I never saw one give any better exhibition than that!”
Alec beamed with pride. “He is swell, Henry, isn’t he? I still can’t believe he’s mine!” The stallion’s long neck reached down to the ground and he buried his nose in the green grass.
“Let him loose, Alec. See how he likes it,” said Henry.
“Do you think it’s safe?”
“He’s all right now. You gave him a good run. Besides he has to get used to being left alone, anyway.”
“Guess you’re right, Henry.” Alec unsnapped the lead rope from the halter. The stallion raised his head and his nostrils quivered. Suddenly he wheeled and trotted swiftly down the field.
Alec and Henry watched him. “It’s the first freedom he’s had in a long time,” said Alec.
“And he’s sure enjoying it.” Henry looked after the Black admiringly.
The stallion stopped and turned his great head toward them. He whistled softly.
“Boy, I’d love to see him on a track!” Henry said thoughtfully.
“You mean race, Henry?” Alec asked.
“Yep.”
Alec turned to the Black, who was now loping down the field again in an easy, graceful canter, his head turning from side to side. “It’d take a long time before he’d be safe on any track though, Henry.”
“Well, we have plenty of time, haven’t we, Alec?”
“We?” Alec stared at the small husky man beside him. “You mean, Henry, that you and I could do it?”
Henry hadn’t moved—his eyes still followed the Black around the field. “Sure, we can,” he said quietly, and then his voice lowered so that Alec could hardly hear him. “Never liked this business of retiring, anyway,” he said. “Not too old—still have plenty of good years left in me! This life’s all right for the Missus—she’s got enough to do to keep her busy, but I need action. And here I have it shoved right into my lap!” His voice grew louder. “Alec,” he continued, “I know we can make a champion out of the Black.” His face was wrinkled with excitement, his eyelids narrowed until they were only slits in his lined face.
“You really mean it, Henry? But how—”
The old man interrupted him and he moved for the first time. “Sure, I’m confident, Alec, and I know my horses.” He took the boy by the arm. “Come with me and I’ll show you something.”
Henry led him to the far end of the barn. He knelt down beside an old trunk. He took a key from his pocket, inserted it into the lock and opened it. The trunk was crammed to the top with trophies and silver cups. Henry dug down and pulled out a large scrap-book. “The Missus always kept this for me, even before we were married.”
He turned the faded yellowish pages that were filled with newspaper clippings. Headline after headline caught Alec’s eye as he knelt beside Henry: DAILEY RIDES CHANG TO VICTORY IN SCOTT MEMORIAL—DAILEY BRINGS WARRIOR HOME FIRST IN $50,000 FUTURITY—TURFDOM ACCLAIMS DAILEY AS GREATEST RIDER OF ALL TIME—Henry stopped turning the pages, his eyes gazing steadily at a photograph in front of him. “This, son,” he said, “is where I got the greatest thrill of my life—riding Chang home first in the Kentucky Derby. Wouldn’t think that little guy there was me, would you?”
Alec looked closer. He saw a small boy, with a wide grin on his face, astride a large, powerful-looking red horse. Around the horse’s neck hung the winner’s horseshoe of roses. Alec noticed the large, strong hands holding the reins and the stocky, broad shoulders. “Yes,” he said, “I can tell that’s you.”
Henry smiled and reached down into the trunk again. He took out what looked to Alec like old dried-out leaves. Then he saw that they were in the shape of a horseshoe. He looked again at the photograph.
“Yes,” Henry said, “it’s the same one they placed around Chang’s neck that day. Not much left of ’em, but they still hold plenty of memories!”
Henry put the dried flowers back into the trunk. “When I finally got too old and too heavy to ride horses any more, I trained them instead,” he continued. “I married the Missus and we were both pretty happy. We had two children—both girls; now they’re married. Somehow, I’ve always missed not having a boy—some-one like you, son, who loved horses, and who would sort of follow in my footsteps, because there isn’t anything so exciting in the world as lining up there at the post with a four-legged piece of dynamite underneath you!
“Well, to go on, I was pretty successful as a trainer, made good money. And then came the day when the Missus thought it was time for us to retire and get away from the track. Can’t say as I blame her, it’s the only life she ever knew after she married me, and I guess it wasn’t in her blood like it was in mine. We did a lot of movin’ around for a good many years, then we bought this place, and here we are. It’s been two years since I saw my last race—two years. I don’t think I can stand it much longer.”
Henry paused again. “You see, Alec,” he said, “I’m telling you this to show you that if there is only one thing that I do know anything about it’s whether a horse is any good or not—and let me tell you we can make the Black the greatest racer that ever set a hoof on any track!”
Henry closed the book with a sharp crack and placed it back inside the trunk. He rose to his feet and put his hand on the boy’s shoulder. “What do you say, son—are you game?”
Alec looked at the old man and then toward the open door where he could see the Black in the distance. “It would be great, Henry!” he said. “And I know he would give any horse in the world a real race—if we can just keep him from fighting.”
“It’ll be a tough job, Alec, but it’s going to be worth it to see him come pounding down the homestretch!”
“Where can we train him, Henry?”
“We can’t do much until spring, Alec—just let him get used to it around here. You can ride him around the field and I’ll teach you all the tricks I know. We won’t be able to do much else with him with winter coming on. I don’t think we’ll even bother with a bridle and saddle yet—we’ll wait until early spring for that, too. By that time we shouldn’t have much trouble putting them on him. Then I think I can find a way to get him over to Belmont for some workouts on the track—that’s when the real training begins!”
“Sounds swell, Henry! Do you think I’ll be able to ride him in the races?”
Henry smiled. “Unless I’m very much mistaken, that horse isn’t going to let anyone else ride him.”
As they walked toward the door, the loud drone of an airplane filled the air. “That fellow’s awfully close to the ground!” said Alec. “His motor seems to be missing, too!”
They ran outside and saw a plane flying low over the barn; its motor stuttered and then caught again, shattering the early morning stillness with a deafening roar. “He’s got it!” said Henry.
But Alec wasn’t watching the plane now; he had heard something above the plane’s roar. The sharp, piercing whistle of the Black! Alec saw the stallion rise on his hind legs and wheel in the air, running at breakneck speed down the field.
“Look, Henry!” Alec shouted. “The Black!” The stallion was nearing the end of the field, his pace never slackening, his long, black mane whipping behind him like waves of smoke.
“Lord!” said Henry. “The plane scared him! He’ll kill himself on those rocks!”
“He’s not going to stop, Henry!” Then they saw the Black gather himself, and, like a taut, powerful spring just released, sail through the air and over the fence.
“Seven feet if it’s an inch!” exclaimed Henry. “Come on, we’ve got to get him!” Together they rushed down the field. They saw the Black in the distance—then he was out of sight! Suddenly Henry stopped. “I’ll go back and get the car, Alec. You keep after him!” he said.
“All right,” Alec shouted over his shoulder. “He’s headed for the park!” Quickly he climbed the fence, and ran as fast as he could in the direction the stallion had taken. Soon Henry caught up to him in the car. “Climb in, son,” he said. The Black was nowhere to be seen.