Free The Black Stallion's Blood Bay Colt by Walter Farley Page B

his hand finding more feed in his pocket. It would take time to paint the methylene blue on the cut, but it would take longer still, days and perhaps weeks, before he won the colt’s full confidence again. And what would happen the next time he attempted to put a halter on the colt? It would take a long time for the cut to heal properly, and only then would he know. Meanwhile, during the weeks ahead the colt would grow in body and strength. If it was difficult holding him now, what would it be like a month from now?
    Tom knelt down a few feet from the colt, offering him the crushed oats. And as he waited for the colt tocome to it, he thought of the letter he must write today to Jimmy Creech. He would have to say, “A terrible thing happened today, Jimmy, and I’m so ashamed because I know how much you trusted me to look after our colt.…”

L IGHT H ANDS

7
    It took a full month for the colt’s nose to heal. And during that time Tom’s days were the busiest he had ever known. With anxious eyes he watched the hard scab form over the cut. He looked at it frequently for any signs of infection beneath. But none appeared and finally the scab fell off, giving way to new skin. For a long while Tom wondered if the colt would carry a large scar to remind him of his neglect; but then the soft brown fuzz appeared, and Tom knew his sole reminder would be that which he carried within himself. His only hope was that the colt wouldn’t remember, and Tom’s hours with him were spent in helping him to forget.
    During the day, he was away from the colt only to attend to the chores his uncle and aunt had assigned to him. There were a thousand and more chickens about the farm, and Tom helped his uncle feed them and collect their eggs to be crated and sent to town. But when his work was done, he would follow the colt about thepasture, watching him roam inquisitively to the far corners of this new great and endless world that stretched before him. Only when the colt showed an interest in his presence and came to him would Tom run his hands over the furry brown coat and down the long legs. And in time the colt’s visits became more frequent, for he knew he would find crushed oats in the boy’s hand and there was always, too, the soft brush that felt so good on his body.
    As Tom groomed him daily he noted the definite physical characteristics that were becoming more prominent in the colt. His eyes were clear and bold; his head was fine and delicate; and there were the straight knees and broad hocks, the shoulders which would be high and clean, and the chest with its good depth.
    What Tom saw pleased him greatly, and he knew that Jimmy Creech would find many other fine qualities that would give evidence of the speed and stamina within this colt. For Tom was certain he would have the speed Jimmy sought; it was evident in his love of running about the pasture, urging the Queen to join him in his mad dashes across the green fields. Speed showed early in youngsters like him, and it was there plainly for Tom to see.
    The colt’s gait even now was long, low and sweeping. And when he ran, he usually carried his ears flat against his head, yet there was no viciousness in his nature.
    Tom never tired of watching him, whether the colt was speeding about on lightning hoofs or emulating his mother by eating grass, which he now found much tohis liking. He grazed with forelegs spread far apart and slightly bent to enable him to reach the ground.
    Tom had heard from Jimmy Creech soon after he had written to him about the tight halter. “It’s too bad it happened,” Jimmy wrote, “but what’s done is done, and cuts heal fast in youngsters like him. So I’m not worrying about that none. What bothers me more, Tom, is your uncle’s throwing the colt. You say he won’t do it again, and you must make sure he don’t. You’d better have it out with him if he tries any more rough