Son of the Black Stallion by Walter Farley

Author:Walter Farley [Farley, Walter]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-0-307-80494-5
Publisher: Random House Children's Books
Published: 2011-08-16T16:00:00+00:00

THE FIGHT

12

After Henry left Alec, he walked slowly homeward. He knew what he had to do. But it took the next two days before the old trainer had convinced himself that the responsibility was his, and that in spite of Alec’s intense love for the colt, he should break Satan himself.

It would not be a pretty sight, for what he intended to do was to purge once and for all the viciousness from Satan’s black heart. And it had to be done today, before Alec was up and around.

Henry left the house early in the morning, when the dew was still heavy upon the field and the sky overcast. He walked toward the barn, his face lined, his brow furrowed. As he neared the door he stopped and, opening his clenched fists, gazed intently at the wet palms. It was cool, yet he was perspiring freely, and this bothered him as much as the tense feeling within his chest, a tightness which made his breathing come short and fast. He stood there for a whole minute, telling himself that while he was old and not in the best of condition, he still was capable of doing what had to be done. “I’ve got to do it,” he muttered. “I’ve got to do it for Alec, or Satan will kill him sure.”

Henry’s hand was upon the barn door when he heard the rhythmic beat of hoofs, and then he saw Satan travel quickly down the runway and gallop into the field. Scowling, Henry watched him go. He’d hoped to catch Satan in his stall.… It would have made things easier. Now he’d have to chase him inside again.

Still scowling, Henry decided it would be best to get the saddle ready before driving Satan back into his stall. He walked into the barn and went to the tack room, ignoring Napoleon’s welcoming neigh. Then he picked up a heavy stock saddle and, groaning a little beneath its weight, carried it from the room to the rack just outside of Satan’s stall. Finally he went back to the tack room and kneeled down beside a large wooden trunk. Opening it, he rummaged around for a few seconds before withdrawing a leather riding crop, the head of which was a large, solid piece of hard leather. Henry stuck it underneath his arm and was closing the trunk when he saw the coiled lasso. Thoughtfully he picked up the rope and uncoiled it, then recoiled it. It had been a long time since he’d had to use one, but in his younger days he’d been swift and sure. It might be a good thing to have along if he had trouble getting Satan in from the field. He threw the coiled lasso over his shoulder, then picked up another one from the trunk, and uncoiling and recoiling the second lasso, he placed that, too, over his shoulder. Then he left the barn to get Satan.

Before entering the field, Henry took hold of the end of the riding crop.

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