The Black Stallion's Filly by Walter Farley Read Free Book Online Page A

on end as did the mares, weanlings, stallions, and even old Napoleon. No, she would be given just a short time to frolic alone. Then Henry’s hand would be on her halter again. She was different from the others; her goal was the Kentucky Derby only five months away. Her days would be spent under saddle, jogging, galloping, and breezing. Always she would feel the weight of a rider on her back, his hands on her mouth. She would know no other life for a long, long time to come.
    Henry’s hand moved against the filly’s head, shifting her balance so she was always in motion and couldn’t collect herself to rear or paw. He had led her about inside the barn many times during the past few days. She tried fewer tricks now than she had at first. Still he had to be very careful, never giving her a chance to think of anything but what he wanted her todo. He turned to Alec, standing a short distance from them.
    â€œDid you put Satan in the barn?” he asked.
    â€œYes,” Alec replied, “and Napoleon is in his paddock, as you wanted.”
    â€œHow about the Black?”
    â€œHe’s in his field,” Alec said. “It’s a nice morning and I only put him out there a short while ago. He needs the exercise.”
    â€œI guess it’ll be all right. He’s probably at the far end of the field, isn’t he?”
    Alec nodded, but his eyes were on the filly. Henry had stopped moving her in those small circles. Alec waited to see what she’d do. Sure enough, her foreleg came up and she pawed the air. Henry brought the end of the lead shank smartly against her leg.
    â€œMind!” he said firmly. “Stand still.”
    Alec knew that she had not struck out viciously. She had done it more in play. But it would not have been much fun for anyone to have been on the receiving end of such a blow.
    Henry was moving her again. “One good lick at exactly the right moment is worth a dozen taps poorly timed and placed,” he said. “She’ll learn.”
    They started up the road, the filly walking between them. Alec put a hand on her neck, rubbing it gently. She had a mind of her own, but she’d come around, all right.
    After she had worked off some of her excess energy by running around the paddock, he would ride her for the first time. He wouldn’t have any trouble. He could stick with any kind of a rough colt, so he wasn’tworrying about that. And the moment he sat in the saddle he would know a lot more about her than he did now—perhaps even more than Henry. He wanted to be pleased and happy with what he found. He wanted Black Minx to be the filly Henry thought she was.
    Before Henry turned the filly loose in the paddock, he had Alec go up to the far end to flag her down if she built up too much speed. Leaning against the fence, Alec waited. He saw her go over to look at Napoleon in the next paddock. The old gelding pricked his ears, then drew back, a little startled, as Black Minx bolted up the field, kicking out her hind legs.
    Alec watched her closely as she neared him and then cut across the paddock. She had gone smoothly into her gallop, so much like the Black and so unlike Satan, whose first movements were heavy and ponderous. Alec liked what he saw, and his gaze shifted to Henry at the other end of the paddock. He knew Henry was enjoying the filly’s action, too.
    Black Minx stopped suddenly to rear high and paw the air. When she came down, she was off again with lightning swiftness. Alec knew then she’d never be left at the post, not with such getaway speed. But would she be able to maintain her speed over a distance? Some horses were built for sprints, some for distances. Her smallness made him think she might be a speed horse, a sprinter. But Henry maintained she would be able to go a classic distance, the full mile and a quarter at which the Kentucky Derby was run.
Well, why shouldn’t she be able to go the distance?
Alec asked