Free Son of the Black Stallion by Walter Farley

all black, except for a white diamond on the shirt, the same diamond the colt has in the center of his forehead. You won’t have to do anything, Dad. Just sign the registration papers, which I’m getting tomorrow … just register the colt in your name. Will you do it?”
    His father was silent a long time, his lined face strained and his eyes somber again. Finally he stood up, walked to the window, and looked out. Then heturned and Alec knew his reply before he uttered a word.
    “I’m sorry, Alec, but I can’t do it. You say that I’d only have to register the colt in my name and that’s all there would be to it. You know better, and I do, too. One thing will lead to another … it always has.”
    Alec watched him without saying anything. He was talking like a father again, and the intimacy and mutual interest Alec had thought they shared for a little while had gone.
    “There will be complications all along the way,” his father was saying. “There couldn’t help but be. The training and racing of a horse is no different from any other business. And I have too much on my mind now, Alec. Too much work at the office.” He paused again before going on. “Then there’s your mother. It’ll be enough that you’re mixed up in this without my being in it, too. No, Alec,” he concluded, “I can’t possibly do it. I’m certain that you and Henry can figure out some other way.”
    Alec said nothing when his father had finished. He only raised his eyes when the older man sat down beside him again, as though reluctant to leave.
    “You’ll try to understand, won’t you, Alec?”
    “Yes, Dad. I understand,” Alec replied slowly and with effort.
    “You’re the horseman of the family.” His father grinned sheepishly. “I’m surely not. Wouldn’t know how to act as the owner of a race horse.”
    “But you wouldn’t …” Alec began, only to be interrupted again by his father.
    “I know I truly wouldn’t own the horse, Alec. He’dalways be yours. Still, it would worry me,” he said, rising to his feet.
    Alec watched his father walk toward the door. He didn’t want to argue with him or attempt to talk him into it. No, he didn’t want it that way. His dad would have to go into it of his own volition or not at all. He saw his father stop as he came abreast of the textbooks on top of Alec’s desk.
    “Everything set for school?” his father asked. “Only about ten days left now before you go back.” His brow furrowed. “What about the colt?” And then, without waiting for Alec’s reply, he said, “Oh, yes, you told me Henry would be back by that time. He’ll take care of him, I suppose.”
    It might as well be now as later, Alec decided. His voice faltered a bit at the beginning, then steadied. “I—I don’t want to go back, Dad,” he said. “I want to stay here and help Henry.”
    His father didn’t speak for a long time, and when Alec raised his eyes he found him looking out the window again.
    “For the past few years your mother and I have allowed you to make your own decisions, Alec,” he said quietly, and his voice, although strained, was without anger. “We did it knowing you had good judgment and figuring, I suppose, you’d be a better man for it. Our confidence in your ability to do the right thing has never been shaken. In fact, we’re both mighty proud of you, even though your experiences have caused us great concern and worry at times.”
    He stopped, and Alec thought he’d finished—until his father turned around and looked at him. “But, Alec,you’re going off on the wrong road this time. I know it, and you know it,” he added quietly. “You love horses, and I thoroughly understand,” he continued. “You want to be a trainer, learning all there is to know about horses. You want to be able to take care of their ailments and a lot of other things. And the courses you’re taking in college will enable you to do just that,” he concluded.
    “Henry never went to