Free Black Stallion's Shadow by Steven Farley

say them. It would be out of character for him.”
    â€œSounds to me like you’re just trying to make up forthe fact that you didn’t learn your lines.”
    â€œMaybe I’d know them if they made any sense.”
    â€œJust deliver the lines, will you, Paul?”
    Kramer sighed with exasperation and looked away. Frank walked off, and Kramer turned his attention to the service table.
    Wes moved over so Kramer could reach the snack tray. “Frank sure can be a pain sometimes,” Wes said.
    â€œI can’t work like this,” Kramer grumbled under his breath. “What does he think I am, some kind of machine?”
    Wes smiled. “I know what you mean. Sometimes I feel the same way about Frank.” Wes introduced Kramer to Alec. As they shook hands, Kramer’s expression was a mixture of distraction and disdain. It changed to a warm smile when Wes mentioned that Alec had just won the American Cup at Santa Anna. Kramer complimented Alec on his victory as he sampled a Danish pastry from the snack table.
    â€œMmm, these pastries are good,” he said, smacking his lips. “Gonna have to put these on the menu—when I open my restaurant.”
    Kramer excused himself, saying he had to get over to the wardrobe trailer. Before leaving, he pocketed the last jelly doughnut on the service tray. One of the sound technicians nudged Wes with an elbow. “Heard the latest? Kramer thinks that somebody in the wardrobe department is shrinking his costume.”
    Ellie nodded toward the empty service tray. “I’d say he better lay off those jelly doughnuts.”
    One of the cameramen stuck out his stomach, threw back his head and did a fair imitation of an indignant Paul Kramer. “I can’t work like this. I’m a ar-teest.” Everyone had a good laugh at Kramer’s expense.
    Alec caught up to Wes on his way to the filming corral. “About the Black …” Alec started to say.
    The old cowboy must have guessed what Alec had in mind and lifted his hand to silence him. “I know you’re getting anxious, Alec. We’ll do a little shadowboxing with the Black this afternoon.”
    Shadowboxing? Alec just shook his head. This was going to be some day.
    By early afternoon the actors and crew had finished their work at the ranch, packed their equipment and left. Alec stood by the pasture gate and watched some of the horses as they chased one another, playing tag. Ellie came outside to join him just as a black Mercedes-Benz turned off the road out front and passed through the entrance to Taylor Ranch. The car was halfway down the driveway before Ellie noticed it. “Visitors,” she called out. “Uh-oh. Looks like Rotasky.”
    Wes popped his head out of the office door. His eyes narrowed to slits as he watched the black car approach. Throwing the door open, he stormed out of the office and bolted past them into the house.
    The Mercedes turned down the corridor and came to a stop in front of the porch. The driver stepped out. He was basketball-player tall and muscular looking. Long, stringy hair and mirror shades hid his face. He walked around the car and opened the rear door. A short, powerfullybuilt man dressed in a blue suit emerged from the back seat. The man scowled as a cloud of dust kicked up by the car settled on his shiny brown wingtips.
    â€œYou know them?” Alec asked Ellie.
    Ellie nodded. “They’re from Sagebrush. The one in the suit is named Rotasky. He’s the head honcho over there. The other guy is the company chauffeur. We’re not on very neighborly terms these days. Ever since people started moving in over there, they’ve been complaining about something or other—the smell of manure, or the noise we make early in the morning, or the fence that divides our property needs repairing.”
    Ellie left Alec and walked over to meet the visitors. “May I help you, Mr. Rotasky?” she asked.