Black Stallion's Shadow Read online

  Alec walked the Black all the way out to the paved road before turning around again. He grabbed a fistful of mane and pulled himself up into the saddle. Wes gave a wave and Alec put the Black into motion.

  Hoofbeats rang through the air, ta-da-dum, ta-da-dum. The tempo of triplets quickened to a rapid-fire drumming. Alec pressed himself down onto the Black’s neck, blending their movements.

  They charged up the long, straight stretch of driveway. Everything was as it should have been. For a moment, Alec thought the Black might not break stride as he bore down on the shadow. But then, a few paces away, Alec felt tension between himself and the Black. As he had yesterday, the stallion flinched and swerved sharply to the left. The sudden move came at the last possible instant and nearly threw Alec out of his stirrups. Only the strength in his thighs kept him from losing his seat entirely.

  They tried again. Once more Alec wrapped himself up into the Black’s mane. On this pass the stallion balked, breaking stride early and pulling up. Wes watched, leaning against the pasture fence and chewing his tobacco.

  Alec rode over to Wes and then hopped down from the saddle.

  “Maybe we should take a break,” he said, as he put his hand on the Black’s bridle.

  Wes popped his fingers. “Hold up a second there, young fella,” he said. “There’s something familiar about this, and I just now remembered what it is. Water.”

  “Water?”

  “That’s right.” Wes paused and switched his tobacco chaw from one cheek to the other. “Let me explain. Some time ago, a stuntman friend of mine was having a problem with one of his horses. Smokey was a first-rate stunt horse except for one thing—a fear of water. Even a mud puddle was enough to give him the heebie-jeebies. I got to thinking about it and figured we should try getting Smoke into a pool of water without him seeing it. Then he’d realize there was nothing to fear.”

  Alec burrowed his fingers into the Black’s mane. “So what did you do, blindfold him?”

  “Shoot, no. That would have scared him even more. We took Smoke to a shallow creek near Pete’s property and backed him into it. It worked.”

  Alec saw what Wes was driving at. “And you think that’s the way to go with the Black?”

  Wes looked up at the stallion. “Only one way to find out.” He motioned Alec toward the dark splotches of shadow falling across the drive. Alec led the Black to the edge of the shadow, then got up into the saddle.

  “Okay, turn him around.” Wes spoke with the easygoing confidence of someone used to giving orders and having those orders obeyed. Alec did as he was told.

  “Now try backing him up, nice and slow.”

  Alec cued the Black to step back. The stallion hesitated a moment, then moved. Alec tensed in expectation of the reaction to this experiment. As the Black found himself surrounded by shadow he leapt forward, almost jerking the reins through Alec’s hands.

  “Let him go,” ordered Wes. “Don’t force him. He has to get over this thing on his own.” Alec tried backing the Black under the shade trees again. Once more, when the shadow fell around the Black, he jumped out. Again they tried, and again.

  Alec clucked and coaxed; the Black tugged on the reins. It became a game between them. Each time the Black stayed longer and longer in the shadow. Gradually, the rush to leave became less frantic. At last, he relented and stood quietly in the shadow without moving. Alec pressed his face close to the Black’s head and whispered. “That’s the way, big guy.”

  “So far, so good,” Wes said. “Tomorrow we’ll try again. If he cooperates, we’ll lead him in headfirst.”

  “You’re terrific, Wes. Thanks.”

  “Just remember two things, son. Patience and timing. Rush things and your horse will fall apart on you like a dime’s worth of dirty ice. And remember. You’re part of the equation, too. Take it easy. Relax.”

  Alec laughed. He wasn’t the one with the shadow problem. “Me? You think I’m not relaxed?”

  “You both look a little keyed up to me. Loosen up.”

  Alec smiled. “Whatever you say, Wes.” The Black tossed his head and neighed. This time, a chorus of whinnies answered from the neighboring pasture.

  “Easy,” soothed Alec. The stallion pawed and scraped at the ground. Dropping his head, he sniffed the area of shadow in front of his hooves.

  After a short ride out on the road Alec took the Black back to his corral. He felt more positive than he had in days. This was the first sign that the shadow fear might be curable. Alec almost felt like celebrating.

  That night Wes sent Mike into town to buy a bucket of fried chicken and biscuits for dinner. When Mike returned, Ellie stayed out in the office to work on the books. Obviously, the local fast food didn’t appeal to her the way it did to Wes and Jim.

  After the last piece of chicken had been gnawed to the bone, Wes, Jim, Mike and Alec all retired to the front porch. Wes asked Mike to check up on the horses and take a quick look around the ranch. Alec wanted to stretch his legs and went with him.

  The air felt warm, quite different from the night before. Branches swayed in the hot, dry breeze that blew in from Sagebrush. Alec heard the light hum of cocktail music and garbled voices, punctuated by peals of giddy laughter. “Sounds like a party,” he said.

  “Yeah, every week or so they break out the Frank Sinatra records and really rock out.”

  They meandered along the fence toward the pasture gate. After double-checking the latch on the gate they walked up the path to the Black’s corral. They stopped by the corral and leaned against the fence. Mike offered Alec a toothpick and the two of them chewed their toothpicks a moment in silence. Alec had something he wanted to ask Mike.

  “Ellie thinks someone might have started that fire on purpose,” said Alec.

  Mike shrugged. “I heard. That idea sounds a little off the wall to me. But it doesn’t surprise me, either. Ellie hasn’t been herself lately.”

  “Really? How so?”

  “For one thing, she doesn’t seem to have time for anything but office work. We used to get into town for a movie every once in a while. Not anymore. Sometimes I think it addles her brains to sit at the desk in the office all day long.”

  “Maybe there’s more to it than that. She told me that last week was the anniversary of the crash that killed her parents. That has to be on her mind, too.”

  “Could be, but Ellie was just a kid when her folks died. It’s easier then.” Mike spoke as if he were expressing fact, not opinion. “Have you ever lost someone you were really close to?”

  Alec thought of Pam, someone he had lost. The thought of it was still painful, and he nodded. “Seems like just the other day.”

  “Then you know what I’m talking about. When you’re a little older, when you’re really counting on certain people being around to help show you what life is about and suddenly they’re not there, that’s tough.”

  “Yeah. Thinking about the way it could have been can drive you nuts.”

  Mike shook his head slowly. His features hardened. Alec wondered who the young wrangler had lost that was so close to him. Yet he didn’t feel like pressing Mike for details. They were treading on very personal territory.

  Back at the ranch house, Wes, Jim, Mike and Alec sat down for a game of cards on the porch. Wes ordered Ellie to put away her work and join them. “Quit being so anti-social, will you?” Wes said. “Alec’s our guest. The work can wait till morning.” Ellie sat down at the table, and Jim dealt her a hand of cards.

  From out around the paddock the long, low hoot of an owl blew in from the trees. Ziggy didn’t budge and lay quietly at Jim’s feet. Ellie poked the dog gently with her foot. “Some watchdog you are,” she scolded. “Where were you when we needed you?” Ziggy groaned and rolled over onto his back.

  “You still think Rotasky might have had something to do with the fire?” Jim asked her.

  “I just think—”

  “Come on, Ellie,” said Jim, dismissing her notion with a grunt and a wave of hi
s hand. “There is absolutely nothing to suggest anything but an accident, much less that it was connected to Rotasky.”

  “I guess I just don’t trust Rotasky and that creepy driver of his. If you ask me—”

  This time Wes interrupted her. “Listen up, Miss Sherlock. You know how I feel about Rotasky. But you’d better think twice before you start accusing people of things you can’t prove.”

  “That sounds pretty funny coming from you, old Mister Double Barrel.”

  “Yeah, well, never mind that.”

  Ellie just smiled. “Right, Pops.”

  Alec stood up from the table and went inside. He wanted to give Henry a call at Hopeful Farm and tell him the good news about the Black. Henry answered the phone and reported that everything was ready for the yearling sale. He asked if Wes was having any luck with the shadow shying. Alec told Henry about their small victory with the Black that afternoon.

  Then Alec changed the subject. “I was thinking about how I’m supposed to get home. Have you talked to Cindy over at the travel agency?”

  “Afraid I have some bad news in that department. There’s a shortage of horse-plane space for some reason. Nothing’s available till the weekend.”

  “You’re kidding.” Alec groaned. “I don’t want Wes to feel I’m moving in here.”

  “He doesn’t mind. I’m sure he’s happy to have you.”

  “There’s more, Henry. They had this accident here that makes me think …”

  “What kind of accident?”

  “A generator caught on fire the other day. Taylor’s granddaughter suspects someone might have set it on purpose. Don’t ask me why.”

  “Granddaughter, huh? I forgot about her. Is she pretty?”

  “Come on, Henry. This is business.”

  Henry’s voice chuckled over the telephone line. “Relax, Alec. I’m just teasing.”

  “Wes is squabbling with the people he works with, his neighbors and just about everyone else in the whole state.”

  “Sounds like Wes, all right. But none of that has anything to do with you or the Black. Trust me, Alec. I’m sure the Black is as safe at Wes’s ranch as he would be at Hopeful Farm. Besides, where else are you going to go? Must be pretty exciting around there. Have you met Paul Kramer?”

  “Yeah. He’s a real character.”

  “Give him my regards when you see him, will you?”

  “Sure, Henry.”

  “I’ll keep calling around for reservations and tell Cindy to check for any cancelations.”

  “Thanks.”

  Alec hung up the phone. After saying good night to Ellie, Wes and the others, he set off to his trailer. On his way there, he thought about what Henry had said. His old friend was probably right. What happened with Drover Days didn’t have anything to do with the Black. Nor did it look as if Alec would be going home right away, either. Like it or not, he was to be a guest at Taylor Ranch a little while longer. He told himself that he might as well try to enjoy it.

  CHAPTER 11

  Runaway

  Alec slept peacefully, free from the nightmares that had haunted him for the past few nights. He got out of bed feeling refreshed, confident that yesterday’s breakthrough would lead the Black to a full recovery. After grooming the Black and feeding him his morning oats, Alec set off to find Wes and Ellie.

  Preparations were being made for the day’s shooting in Lingo Canyon. The location site was the same one the director had used for the water-hole scene the other day: the little box canyon cradled in Lingo Canyon’s upper reaches. The first scene would be a travel shot—Kramer driving a wagon at a gallop through the canyon. Louie Dousette, the actor who played Lefty, would be riding shotgun alongside Kramer. Frank wanted to get the camera in tight for the scene. He’d asked the actors themselves to drive the wagon instead of stunt doubles.

  Wes pointed out the camera car that would be used for the job. It was an open Jeep with a custom-made mount rigged in back to steady the video camera. They would track alongside the wagon for closeups, pacing it at close range. Two pair of Appaloosas were to pull the wagon. Wes explained that the horses had been specially trained so the Jeep wouldn’t frighten them. They were all tacked up and ready to go, dragging their long leather traces behind them.

  The wranglers looked over the buckboard wagon one last time and then hitched up the horses. Soon the horses, wagon, Jeeps and wranglers set off on the trail up into the canyon. Marty Fisher followed them in his pickup.

  When they reached the location, Kramer took his place in the driver’s seat. He was stuffed into a spotless white leather cowboy outfit. His longish brown hair was carefully groomed, mussed to perfection where it bristled out from under his white cowboy hat. Beside him, Dousette wore his standard cowboy gear: boots, jeans, a black denim jacket and a wide-brimmed hat. Frank had again donned his flapped cap and sunglasses for the occasion. The Foreign Legion has arrived, Alec said to himself.

  The director looked Dousette up and down. “What’s with that hat, Louie? It looks like you just bought it. You’re supposed to be coming back from a three-day trail ride, remember?” He plucked the hat off the actor’s head and crumpled the brim. Then he mashed it some more, and replaced it on Dousette’s head. The actor smiled stoically. Frank stepped back to admire his handiwork. “Much better,” he concluded.

  Frank turned to Kramer. “Okay, Paul. This should be simple, so we’ll try it without a run-through. You ready?”

  “Relax, Frank,” Kramer said, reaching for the lines. “I was driving wagons when you were still in film school, remember?”

  “You know the route. Just keep to it.”

  Frank, the cameraman and an assistant positioned themselves in the back of the camera car behind the driver. Wes followed after them in his own Jeep. Alec and the Black rode along with the wranglers, who waited on their pickup horses just out of camera range. Their job was to chase and help stop the wagon at the end of its run.

  “Action!” shouted the director. Kramer shook the reins and the horses stepped off at a slow trot. The camera car drove beside the wagon, keeping Kramer in focus. He cracked his lash whip loudly in the air. The two teams picked up speed.

  At first everything went as planned. The camera crew got the shot they needed, and the director yelled, “Cut!” The car veered away and slowed down. But when Kramer yanked on the lines to pull up the team, there was no response from the horses. First one rein, then the other, slackened in his hands. Something had broken. The horses were running out of control!

  The wagon continued to accelerate. Dousette hung on desperately to his seat. Kramer dropped the reins and clambered into the back of the wagon.

  The horses were panicking, running much too fast for the actors to jump out. That might not have been so bad if they had kept to their route. But directly in the wagon’s path loomed a stand of tall oak trees. The oaks were the only trees in the entire canyon, and the stand was the only place that the team should have avoided. The wagon headed straight for it.

  The two lead horses fought each other for control of the wagon as they closed in on the trees. One horse struggled to turn left, the other pulled to the right. Neither was strong enough to overcome the other. Nor was there any possibility of slowing down or stopping as the frightened wheel team behind them pushed faster and faster.

  Alec watched in horror as the out-of-control horses drove headlong toward the trees. The wranglers charged after them, but it quickly became clear that only Mike might be close enough to reach them in time.

  Mike’s speedy little pinto Quarter Horse caught up to the runaway wagon and came alongside the lead team on the right. Tugging at the lead horse’s bridle, shouting and whistling, Mike did everything he could to stop the team, short of falling down in front of them. But try as he might, he couldn’t turn or slow the wagon. The horses bore down steadily on the stand of trees.

  There were only a few seconds left in which to act. Frantically Mike made one last, heroic attempt to turn the wagon. He jumpe
d from his saddle onto one of the lead horses. Bouncing across the horse’s back, he grappled with the bridle and tried to pull back the horse’s head. Still the team refused to change direction. At the last possible instant, Mike leapt away from the wagon. He saved himself by tucking into a ball and rolling when he hit the ground.

  With an awful whack, the horses crashed into the narrowly spaced tree trunks. They were running at a full gallop when they hit. The wagon slid sideways, overturned and smashed apart. Kramer and Dousette went flying through the air. The horses piled into one another and then thudded to the ground.

  Before the dust settled, Alec and the wranglers got to the crash scene. Broken pieces of wagon lay strewn about. A wheel spun in the air, wobbling on its broken axle. Bodies sprawled on the ground. Patrick and Julio dismounted on the run and rushed from one victim to the other.

  Alec tended to the wranglers’ horses. He led them to the far side of the stand of trees and looped the ends of their reins around a low-hanging branch. The Black looked around warily. After a few soft words to calm the stallion, Alec ran over to help the others.

  Though obviously shaken up, both Mike and Kramer seemed unhurt. Dousette wasn’t so lucky. The young actor lay on his back, unconscious. Patrick stopped Julio from trying to move him. “We’d better wait until we get help. I’ll stay here. You two see about the horses.”

  From the look of things, only one of the Appaloosas, Pal Joey, had taken the full brunt of the impact into the trees. He lay on the ground mortally wounded, his head split open and oozing gore. The other horses struggled to get up. The sound of their frantic whinnying sent a chill through Alec.

  While Alec knelt beside Joey to hold him still, Julio freed the rest of the team from their tangled harness. The horses staggered to their feet. Cuts and scrapes marked their legs and shoulders. Miraculously, they seemed to have escaped the crash without any major cuts or broken bones.

  Alec couldn’t bear looking at Joey’s wound. He turned his head away. Horrible grunts and groans rasped from Joey’s throat. Alec’s hands began to shake.