Black Stallion's Shadow Read Free

Ruskin, forcing Morales to switch the whip to his left hand. Ruskin responded by swinging to the outside and bumping into the Black. Instead of faltering from the jolt the Black only changed leads and raced even faster. Both horses reached out to strain for every inch of precious ground. They blew past the last furlong pole left before the wire. Only 220 yards more to go!
    All eyes in the packed stands followed the two horses as they began their neck-and-neck drive to the wire. From private box seats to the grandstands, people waved and cheered wildly. The clamor rocked Santa Anna like an earthquake.
    High overhead a patch of clouds drifted away from the sun. A curtain of shadow fell from the stands and spread out onto the track. The horses drew near the looming darkness. As the light shifted around them Alec glimpsed something incredible out of the corner of his eye. Ruskin broke rhythm and leapt into the air! The colt lost his balance coming down and tumbled to the ground. Morales catapulted out of his saddle.
    All at once the wild cheering from the stands ceased. A great whooshing sound rose up in its place—the sound of tens of thousands of people gasping in horror.
    The wire passed overhead. Alec heard cries and an awful thudding behind him. He didn’t need to turn around to guess what had happened. A horse and riderwere down, maybe more. Riding instinctively, Alec could think only of the Black. “You did it, fella,” he whispered to him. “You did it.” Alec shifted his weight back in the stirrups.
    The black stallion shortened his strides, his breath thundering. He continued all the way around the clubhouse turn before finally slowing to a walk.
    Alec closed his eyes. How he would like to forget this race or just keep on going, ride away and not look back! In the depths of his mind a storm was brewing. But he would not, could not, let the storm overtake him. Not now. Don’t think, just do, he told himself.
    Instead of going directly to the winner’s circle, Alec rode past the clubhouse. He came to the shaded area in front of the grandstand. Crumpled shapes lay in the dirt just short of the finish line—one horse, two jockeys. The horse was Ruskin. The colt was struggling to get up, his foreleg severely broken. Assistants tried to hold the injured horse still and finally managed to get him down again. Another horse, Spin Doctor, stood on three legs by the inside rail.
    A sick feeling knotted Alec’s stomach. A flood of emotion welled up inside him, the blossoming of a fear that he hid from his family, from Henry, even from himself. The fear boiled down to one simple truth. Every time he raced the Black, he risked losing the stallion forever.
    Two ambulances plowed through the torn-up track, stopping in front of the grandstand. Paramedics jumped out to lift the jockeys onto stretchers. Two special horse vans, the equine ambulances, drove out onto the track.The veterinarians and their assistants gathered around the horses. They loaded Spin Doctor into one of the vans and drove away.
    The other horse van pulled up beside Ruskin. While the assistants held the fallen horse still, a small group of men huddled together. Alec recognized one of them as Ruskin’s trainer, Luke Larsen. A moment later a wide screen was propped up between Ruskin and the grandstand, shielding the red colt from view. Those who lived around the horse-racing game knew what this meant. When the screen went up, it signaled only one thing: a humane but certain death.

CHAPTER 3
Replay
    A t the sight of the screen, more cries of anguish and disbelief rose up from the crowd in the stands. Some people began weeping openly. Even hardened track regulars turned away and lowered their heads.
    No matter how many times Alec had seen a horse put down, there was no getting used to it. Yet he understood very well that a horse with a broken leg was almost always doomed. The physiology of horses was very different from that of