anything to be up on him. Lenny Sansone worked him all winter and spring, so I guess he’d be the one.” Henry paused. “But you could get away from the farm to ride him in his races just like you’ve been doin’, unless …”
“I want to make a clean break,” Alec finished for him. “Is that what you mean, Henry?”
The man nodded. “It’s up to you, Alec,” he said. “No reason why you can’t do both.”
The Black cropped the grass close beside Alec and the boy put his hand on him. “I’ll stay with him, Henry,” he said slowly. “I do belong at the other end.…”
S ATAN W EARS H IS
C ROWN
6
Four weeks later, Alec sat close to his bedroom radio, awaiting the results of the Arlington Handicap being raced in Chicago. Satan was running and any moment the race would be over and the results announcing the winner would come.
He turned to the open window through which he could see the Black grazing in shadows cast by the late afternoon sun. He was glad that he had made the swift, clean break from the track. He belonged with the Black, and now they’d be together always.
Yet this was not the end, but rather the beginning … the beginning of everything for both of them. No longer was he a jockey. He had become a breeder of horses. And for his stallion he had the Black, the fastest horse in the world! In two weeks’ time they’d be at the new farm. Hopeful Farm he had decided to call it, for they were going there with great hopes for the future. He would be the breeder and have charge of theraising and breaking of the colts; Henry would be the trainer, and Dad, the business manager.
Why shouldn’t they make a go of it? Weren’t Satan’s great triumphs on the track positive proof that the Black could pass on his speed to his get? And what better way could they spend Satan’s winnings than by investing the money in this farm, where other sons and daughters of the Black would be bred and raised? Even now, he could see the foals running close beside their mothers, timid and a little afraid; while in another pasture would stand the Black, watching them and knowing they were his.
None of them would ever take the Black’s place, no more than Satan had done. But they would have
his
blood, and they would go forth to the track, sounding the name of their great sire, to establish forever the stamina and speed of the Black.
Unable to sit still at the prospect of what lay ahead, Alec rose from his chair and went to the window. He stood there, watching the Black. Just a few more weeks to go, he told the stallion, then you’ll have acres and acres of pasture over which to run as far and as fast as you like.
Just two more weeks!
His thoughts turned to Henry as he remembered how disappointed his friend had been when they learned that they couldn’t have possession of the farm until the middle of August. Henry had wanted to see the Black and Alec at the farm before he left with Satan for Chicago. But a few weeks’ delay wasn’t very long to wait for something they meant to share the rest of their lives. And that’s what Alec had told Henry before the trainer had taken his reluctant but necessary departure.
Alec turned quickly away from the window as the sports commentator said, “Adding another gem to an already brilliant crown, Satan slammed down the stretch to win the rich Arlington Handicap by ten lengths over Star Pilot in the new world’s record time of one minute fifty-eight seconds for the mile and a quarter!”
Alec let out a yell but cut it short as the commentator went on.
“The burly three-year-old champion clearly established his greatness by decisively beating older horses whom he had not met before today. Lenny Sansone, piloting Satan, displayed a sparkling bit of riding by getting his mount out of a tight pocket coming into the homestretch and bringing Satan on to pass Star Pilot, last year’s Kentucky Derby winner, in the run for the wire. Stepson, the West Coast champion, came in
Learning to Kill: Stories