Son of the Black Stallion by Walter Farley Read Free Book Online

good salary each year. With him, there would be no salary, no fine stables, no help, nothing … except the son of the Black! And at one time, not so many months ago, the colt had been all that Henry had wanted.
    Then the old man said quietly, his eyes still on the road ahead, “But if our colt turns out to be anything like his sire, he’ll run Boldt’s Comet into the ground, Alec. I’m sure of it.”
    Our
colt! Did that mean … 
could
it mean …?
    Quickly Alec turned to Henry and met his eyes for the first time since they had left the pier. “Our colt,” he repeated. “Do you mean it, Henry? You’re going to go through with it, just as we planned?”
    A confused look swept Henry’s face as he studied Alec’s tense expression. Then he smiled. “Y’mean, Alec, you didn’t think I was?”
    Alec’s eyes fell, and he heard Henry’s deep chuckle. The old man’s gnarled hand descended upon Alec’s knee as he said, “You’d have to get out the entire New York police force to keep me away, Alec. And then it wouldn’t do any good.” Chuckling again, he continued. “Sure, I’m going to be there, Alec, and we’re goin’ to make this black colt into a race horse few will ever forget. Just like the Black,” he added reminiscently, “… just like the Black.”
    Alec turned toward Henry, his eyes eager. “We’ll do it, Henry!” he half shouted. “Together, you and I … just as we planned.”
    “Just as we planned,” Henry repeated.
    Alec’s face sobered. “But Boldt and your job … the big money, Henry …”
    “Big money. Big business, Alec. And I don’t like it.” Henry’s eyes were again upon the road. Then he went on, his voice serious, giving Alec no reason to doubt what he said. “And when I say big, Alec, I mean just that. No, Boldt’s no small-time player, not by a long shot. He calls his horse farm the Mother Lode Ranch, after the gold mine he found back in ’twenty-six when he was pretty near stone-broke. That ranch, some say, is nearly ten thousand acres, an’ others say it’s closer to twenty thousand.” Henry turned and gazed at Alec as he added, “It must be stocked with over a thousand thoroughbreds. Why, I got a glimpse at Boldt’s catalogue once’t, and counted fifty stallions and six hundred brood mares alone.… Then there are all those youngsters runnin’ around. More horses than any man knows what to do with … and he’s got more trainers, grooms, jockeys and boys workin’ for him thanFlushing has people.” Henry stopped, smiled. “Maybe not quite,” he said, looking ahead at the road. “But it’s big. Big business to Boldt … and a lot more than that, too,” he concluded quietly. “I don’t want any part of it any more.”
    The thud of hoofs meeting wood reached Alec’s ears as Henry finished. Turning, he looked through the window at the colt. Then, convinced that his horse was all right, he said to Henry, “I’m glad, Henry. Selfishly, I know, but glad.” He paused before continuing. “But you’ve trained horses for big stables before, Henry. Maybe not as large as Boldt’s, but big, anyway.”
    It was a long time before Henry replied. “I know, Alec,” he finally said. “Some might say it’s because I’m gettin’ old. Maybe so. Then again it might be that I found something really worth having when you and I trained the Black practically in our own backyard and then saw him cop the big race in Chicago with you wrapped up in his mane. Yep, things like that really make life worth livin’, Alec. An’ we aim to do it again, don’t we?”
    “We sure do, Henry.”
    “But there’s something else, Alec,” the old man continued, and now there was a hard, brittle ring to his voice. “Another reason why I’d get out, even if your colt hadn’t arrived. It’s Boldt … Boldt himself.” Henry paused. “He’s half horse, Alec, but not in the same way that mebbe you and I are an’ a lot of other people we know. Boldt, with all