Black Stallion's Shadow by Steven Farley Read Free Book Online Page A

near Ojai, California. Ever since he was a kid he’d had a way with horses. A few years ago, after his father sold the ranch, Mike left home to follow the rodeo circuit. He picked up a job as a wrangler on a low-budget Western and met Wes. They kept in touch, and when Wes needed some extra help, he called Mike. Before long Mike started bunking at Taylor Ranch as well as working there.
    â€œHow about the other wranglers? Any of them live here?”
    â€œJust me and Jim. Jim’s lived with Wes for years.”
    â€œHe’s a cook?”
    â€œMore of a caretaker. He looks after the place when Wes has to go on the road. Lately he’s been getting acting work. He played the part of a baseball manager in a beer commercial last week.”
    â€œYou ever done any acting?” Alec asked. Mike was good-looking in a rugged, rebel sort of way.
    Mike shook his head. “Nah. Acting’s not for me. Stunts, that’s what I like. But the Stuntman’s Union is a tough one to break into.” His eyes narrowed with determination. “My turn’ll come.”
    The sound of neighing and whinnying came from the pasture. “The boys are saddling up,” said Mike. “We’d better get going.” They set off to collect their horses for the ride up into the canyon.
    When Alec brought the Black in from his corral, he found Mike talking to two men in denim and cowboy hats. The taller one, with hair nearly as red as Alec’s, crouched down to tighten the girth strap on his horse’s saddle. The other, a short, dark-eyed Latino, gave Alec a slight nod.
    Alec stuck out his hand. “Hi. I’m Alec Ramsay.”
    The Latino shook hands and flashed a toothy smile. “I’m Julio Garcia. Mike was just telling us about you.” He jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “That’s Patrick Rabain.”
    The big redhead stood up and pumped Alec’s hand. “A real pleasure,” he said with a smile. Alec smiled back.
    Mike swung up into his saddle. “Okay, you guys. Let’s get rolling.”
    Mike and the other wranglers escorted a dozen or so horses along the driveway: big Appaloosas, Standardbreds and Morgans. The wranglers themselves rode sturdy Quarter Horses colored chestnut, bay and roan. The Quarter Horses were built for speed and staying power, with broad, heavy hindquarters full all the way down to the hocks.
    Turning left, Alec and the Black joined the wranglers as they set off for the
Drover Days
location site in the upper reaches of Lingo Canyon. The wranglers yipped and whistled, whooping it up as they rode herd on the unbridled horses. Their nimble Quarter Horses kept order easily.
    The trail wound higher and higher, passing sloping granite walls and dusty boulders. Alec relaxed, letting hislegs hang loose out of the stirrups. Riding with the wranglers, he felt like he could be living a scene right out of an old cowboy movie. He wondered what it would have been like to be a cowboy meandering along the dusty trail in the days of the old West. His gaze lingered on the dramatic-looking palisades, boulders and wind-twisted trees around them. No wonder this area attracted filmmakers.
    The trail began to level off. Rounding a bend, it emptied into a box canyon hidden among the towering cliffs. The canyon floor spread into a wide plateau about a mile square. The crew had driven ahead of the herd in their Jeeps and four-wheel-drive trucks. They were already setting up at the location site, a small area lit by racks of powerful lights. A truck carrying a portable power generator parked a short distance away. Black cables snaked across the ground between the humming generator and the lighting, sound and video equipment.
    Unlike the leisurely trail ride, the atmosphere around the location site felt charged with energy. The crew didn’t walk; they ran. Men and women on ladders called back and forth as they adjusted camera tripods and stands of lights. With all