Horse Tamer

CHAPTER ONE A World of Horses The old man's hair was as silver as the glistening wings of the plane; the youth's as red as the sun beyond the runway. The two of them stepped back quickly as the inboard engines caught, blasting the air. Above the even rumble the old man asked anxiously, "You're sure the Black's all right, Alec?" "Positive, or I wouldn't have left him alone. When do we take off?" "Not for a long while, I'm afraid. The chief mechanic said this is just routine preflight inspection. We're not goin' anywhere yet. We got trouble above." "Trouble above?" Alec repeated wonderingly. They looked at the sky together. It was soft, cloudless and empty. "Traffic trouble, Alec. They've run out of air space." "It doesn't look that way from down here." "No, but they got avenues up there an' they go right across the Atlantic. They're jammed. The tower told the chief mechanic that a Pan Am and a TWA flight are coming in fifteen minutes apart. And there's a flight of air force jets behind 'em." "You picked up a lot of information, Henry." "I listen to 'em gab. They said it'll be at least two hours before we're cleared for takeoff." "Imagine running out of air space," Alec said incredulously. "Imagine bein' able to fly from Lisbon to New York in a matter of a few hours!" Henry echoed. "That's what gets me." His gaze returned to the airplane. Just a big hunk of metal going nowhere in particular, he mused--nowhere but across the Atlantic Ocean, or some two thousand miles of open water, carrying over three thousand gallons of gas and seventy thousand pounds of cargo, including them and their black horse. It was a fast-moving world, all right! "I'm going back to the stable," Alec said. "Me too. I'm more at home there," the old man replied. Henry Dailey, who was in his sixty-second year of training and racing horses, followed Alec Ramsay around the airport administration building to a large livestock shed in the rear. He listened affectionately to the sounds of the penned and stabled animals. Most of them he recognized easily--the bawling calves, some pigs, an unhappy dog and of course the Black. "But what's that chattering going on down at the far end?" he asked Alec. "Monkeys," the boy answered. "They must have twenty of 'em in cages. Bound for U.S. zoos, the barn super said." With the opening of his stall door the Black Stallion came forward quickly, his eyes alert and impatient. "Not yet. Not yet, but soon," Alec told him softly. The old trainer watched the Black dance in the straw, noting how much he favored his right forefoot. He had suffered a severe stone bruise in Europe and there'd be no racing him for a while. One didn't take chances with this kind of a horse. That's why they were going home. Henry noted, too, that the famous stallion's coat shone as brightly as his eyes. While waiting for the plane's departure Alec had groomed him to within an inch of his life. His small ears were pricked, catching the strange sounds from the other animals. His fine head was held high. His every sense was alert. Every muscle, every sinew was ready to be unleashed with the power and swiftness of a coiled steel spring. The Black was all horse. Nothing will ever take his place, the trainer thought. No multi-engined plane or jet, no rocket or missile or spaceship. There's always been need for a fine horse. There always will be. Or am I just an old fool to go on thinking so? Henry Dailey bent down to the straw, carefully picking up the horse's injured foot. How many thousands of feet have I picked up, I wonder? he asked himself. How many thousands of days and nights have I spent at it? Someday he might figure it out. Just for the laughs. Alec asked anxiously, "It's better, isn't it,Farley, Walter is the author of 'Horse Tamer ', published 2007 under ISBN 9780394843742 and ISBN 0394843746.