Read Online Son of the Black Stallion by Walter Farley - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Walter Farley
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Black?”
“No, Alec. I haven’t forgotten,” he answered in the same tone, his face unchanging. “Strange, too. He was fast and big. Nothing like him in what I’ve read. They usually mention the
small
Arabian horses.”
Alec smiled as he thought of Abu Ishak’s hidden stronghold in the land east of the Rub‘ al Khali. “Abu never thought much of publicity,” he said. Then he continued more seriously, “Besides, Dad, the Black wasn’t pure Arabian. His dam was pure-blooded, but his sire wasn’t.”
“What was he then?”
“Abu never told us. But Henry heard that soon after he was weaned he escaped and ran wild in the desert and mountains before Abu’s men caught up with him more than a year later. Then a few months after he sired the Black, he escaped again, this time taking the Black with him. It was almost another year before they tracked them down, and then they only managed to catch the young colt, the Black.”
“An interesting story,” Alec’s father said, “… very interesting.”
Alec looked at him. It was strange to be talking this way to his dad. It was almost like talking to Henry. All his life he had thought of his father as someone to admire, to respect … but this was the first time he had looked upon him as a person, a real person who was interested in the same things he was.
“And now you and Henry are going to train the son of the Black for the track. But how about Henry’s job out west?”
“He’s quitting,” Alec told his father. “He’s leaving for California tomorrow morning, but he’ll be back in ten days, he says.”
There was a long silence before his father said, “I’d hoped there wouldn’t be any more of this, as I told you this morning.” Pausing, he added, “But I guess we knew all the time, Mother and I.”
“Dad, it’s …” Alec began, only to have his father interrupt him.
“I know, Alec. I know exactly how you feel, and that it’s your life … the life you’ve chosen.” Then he concluded, his voice a little strained, “Your mother and I have talked it over. We won’t stand in your way if it’s what you really want. And I guess you do.”
“It’s what I want, Dad,” Alec said seriously, “more than anything else in the world. To ride, to train … to be around horses all my life.”
“Don’t know where you get it from, Alec.” His father smiled. “It’s not from your mother’s side, nor mine. City people, all of us.”
“People in the city can love horses, Dad.”
“Yes, Alec, I suppose so.” Mr. Ramsay rose to his feet before adding resignedly, “Well, go to it. You’re on your own again.” He was near the door when Alec’s voice stopped him in his tracks.
“Dad … this time would you go into it with me?” Alec heard his own voice fade into the stillness of the room. And he saw his father’s back straighten as he came to a stiff halt. “I need your help,” he added slowly.
When his father turned to him, Alec saw the bewilderment in his eyes. Then the look disappeared to be replaced by a forced smile. “You’re kidding, Alec,” he said. “You don’t need any help with that colt, and if you do, what help could I, a cost accountant, possibly give you?” He paused. “Or is it money you need?”
Alec’s words were slow in coming. “I want to sell my colt to you.”
“For one hundred thousand or so?” Then Mr. Ramsay saw the white, drawn look on his son’s face and stopped smiling.
“No … for a dollar,” Alec replied. “Just to make it an official sale.”
His father walked across the room and sat down beside him.
“I have to,” Alec said quietly. “I can’t own him and ride him.”
“You can’t do both, you mean? Why?”
“It’s in the rules of racing. Henry told me.”
“Then you want me to own him, so you can ride him. Is that it?”
Nodding, Alec turned eagerly to his father. “Then he’ll be running in
our
name, Dad. Running in
our
silks. I want them to be black,
“No, Alec. I haven’t forgotten,” he answered in the same tone, his face unchanging. “Strange, too. He was fast and big. Nothing like him in what I’ve read. They usually mention the
small
Arabian horses.”
Alec smiled as he thought of Abu Ishak’s hidden stronghold in the land east of the Rub‘ al Khali. “Abu never thought much of publicity,” he said. Then he continued more seriously, “Besides, Dad, the Black wasn’t pure Arabian. His dam was pure-blooded, but his sire wasn’t.”
“What was he then?”
“Abu never told us. But Henry heard that soon after he was weaned he escaped and ran wild in the desert and mountains before Abu’s men caught up with him more than a year later. Then a few months after he sired the Black, he escaped again, this time taking the Black with him. It was almost another year before they tracked them down, and then they only managed to catch the young colt, the Black.”
“An interesting story,” Alec’s father said, “… very interesting.”
Alec looked at him. It was strange to be talking this way to his dad. It was almost like talking to Henry. All his life he had thought of his father as someone to admire, to respect … but this was the first time he had looked upon him as a person, a real person who was interested in the same things he was.
“And now you and Henry are going to train the son of the Black for the track. But how about Henry’s job out west?”
“He’s quitting,” Alec told his father. “He’s leaving for California tomorrow morning, but he’ll be back in ten days, he says.”
There was a long silence before his father said, “I’d hoped there wouldn’t be any more of this, as I told you this morning.” Pausing, he added, “But I guess we knew all the time, Mother and I.”
“Dad, it’s …” Alec began, only to have his father interrupt him.
“I know, Alec. I know exactly how you feel, and that it’s your life … the life you’ve chosen.” Then he concluded, his voice a little strained, “Your mother and I have talked it over. We won’t stand in your way if it’s what you really want. And I guess you do.”
“It’s what I want, Dad,” Alec said seriously, “more than anything else in the world. To ride, to train … to be around horses all my life.”
“Don’t know where you get it from, Alec.” His father smiled. “It’s not from your mother’s side, nor mine. City people, all of us.”
“People in the city can love horses, Dad.”
“Yes, Alec, I suppose so.” Mr. Ramsay rose to his feet before adding resignedly, “Well, go to it. You’re on your own again.” He was near the door when Alec’s voice stopped him in his tracks.
“Dad … this time would you go into it with me?” Alec heard his own voice fade into the stillness of the room. And he saw his father’s back straighten as he came to a stiff halt. “I need your help,” he added slowly.
When his father turned to him, Alec saw the bewilderment in his eyes. Then the look disappeared to be replaced by a forced smile. “You’re kidding, Alec,” he said. “You don’t need any help with that colt, and if you do, what help could I, a cost accountant, possibly give you?” He paused. “Or is it money you need?”
Alec’s words were slow in coming. “I want to sell my colt to you.”
“For one hundred thousand or so?” Then Mr. Ramsay saw the white, drawn look on his son’s face and stopped smiling.
“No … for a dollar,” Alec replied. “Just to make it an official sale.”
His father walked across the room and sat down beside him.
“I have to,” Alec said quietly. “I can’t own him and ride him.”
“You can’t do both, you mean? Why?”
“It’s in the rules of racing. Henry told me.”
“Then you want me to own him, so you can ride him. Is that it?”
Nodding, Alec turned eagerly to his father. “Then he’ll be running in
our
name, Dad. Running in
our
silks. I want them to be black,
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