Free The Black Stallion and the Girl by Walter Farley Page A

of those wonderful old men,” she said. “Mature, understanding, very gentle and kind, one who has a way with kids as well as young horses.”
    “Well, he always has been that way,” Alec said. “But now he’s frightened of something he doesn’t understand, like a lot of others.”
    “Even so, why build walls instead of bridges?” she asked.
    Alec shrugged his shoulders. “Maybe for the samereason I got mad at you a few minutes ago,” he said. “Because what you said of me was true, and I didn’t like to hear it.”
    “But you’re not mad any longer?”
    “No,” he said, taking her hand. “Say what you like and if I disagree with you I’ll tell you so, but I won’t get mad any more. I promise.”
    She laughed, suddenly her old self again. He met her eyes squarely, to convince himself as well as her that there was no anger, no bitterness within him. He had only to look at her to know that it would be impossible for her to betray a friend, to lie about her emotions or to break a promise. She would always play it straight, regardless of the consequences to herself; there was no phoniness within her. He must be that way, too, if they were to be more than friends.
    “I have to go back tomorrow,” he said. “Will you stay here, Pam?”
    “Yes,” she said, meeting his eyes. “I want to stay very much.”
    “Then it’s all settled,” he said. “Now we can talk about us.”

B OX O FFICE B ONANZA
10
    When Alec arrived at Aqueduct the following afternoon, the stable area was quiet. It was just after twelve o’clock and there was little for caretakers to do. A few late-working horses were being cooled out and walked monotonously in circles.
    The quiet was suddenly broken by the crackling of the loudspeaker system as a message came over it for one of the trainers. Alec jumped at the noise and decided he wasn’t as calm about facing Henry as he had thought.
    Reaching the tack room, he looked inside, expecting to find Henry. Instead, Deb, their night caretaker, was stretched out on the cot, reading the
Daily Racing Form
.
    “Hey,” Alec greeted him. “Where’s Henry?”
    The man put down his newspaper. “He’s gone up front, Alec. Said he wanted to watch the races today.”
    “Everything okay here?”
    “Yeah, sure.”
    Deb was as old as Henry and perhaps more dependable when it came to caring for horses. He was a true racetracker, having gone from track to track all his life, caring only for his beloved charges and the day’s eating money. Most important to Alec, he got along with the Black, who allowed few people to approach him. A good caretaker was equal in value to a good horse. It was impossible to have one without the other, just as it was impossible for Henry and Alec to be with the Black every moment.
    Alec went to the Black’s stall and found the stallion resting in a far corner. He realized how much his horse would have enjoyed being at the farm, if only for a short time. The Black was a lover of freedom. He thrived on blowing wind and green grass. Although Alec walked him every day at Aqueduct, allowing him to pick grass, it was not enough.
    Alec remained with the Black a long while. Horsemen who loved their horses were all alike, he thought. Each was filled with the same certainty that the horse he loved was the fastest, bravest, strongest, kindest and smartest.
    It was 12:30 when Alec entered the towering glass-fronted stands and joined a steady stream of people. He felt the electric air of the racetrack flowing from one person to another but he felt very much alone, unattached and anonymous. He did not belong with fans but on the track itself.
    “Form. Racing Form,”
shouted the gravelly voices of men, hawking their papers and programs. “Girl jock rides today. Here y’are, read all about her. Get the winners.
Form. Racing Form
.”
    Alec bought a paper, interested in learning which of the girl jockeys was riding that day. There had been several during the past month, but they