The Black Stallion and the Girl Read Free

concerned, Satan is the best we ever had.”
    “And for you?”
    “No, not for me,” he said quietly. “I have the Black.”
    The stallion’s warm breath was caressing her hand. “You’re both very lucky,” she said, turning to him. “The most splendid gift of all is a noble horse. I suppose each of us chooses the horse he loves most for his own sake, not for the horse’s sake. And each of us takes care of him not for the horse’s sake but for his own.”
    Alec laughed at her unusual philosophy. “You mean we make our favorite horses what we are ourselves?” he asked.
    “Something like that,” she replied. “Henry must demand unquestioned obedience, right?”
    “He does.”
    “And you? What have you made of the Black?”
    Alec smiled, enjoying her honest straightforwardness. “I didn’t make anything of him, really,” he said. “I asked and he gave. I’d say the Black was more tamed than trained. It’s always a little precarious when he’s being handled.”
    “You mean there’s always some danger involved?”
    “Always,” he said.
    “And you wouldn’t want it any other way,” she said boldly. “Now I know you better.”
    She looked at him mischievously, and there were little quivers at the corners of her mouth. Finally, her smile broke through.
    “I’ve known all along that girls have a reputation for loving horses and being passionately interested in learning about them,” Alec said, “but I didn’t know it included analyzing their riders and trainers as well.”
    She shrugged her shoulders. “Each of us does his own thing, whatever makes him most happy.”
    A few minutes later they walked along the paddock fences, their bodies lean and sharp, both wearing worn, blue Levi’s. Their eyes followed the two-year-old colts at play.
    “Splendor in the morning sun!” she exclaimed. “And I’m sharing it with you, the most famous rider in all the land. It’s hard to believe.”
    “Please,” Alec said self-consciously, “if you’re going to work here …”
    “Am I?” she asked, turning to him. “If you hire me, I promise never to call you famous again.”
    “I’ll decide when I see you ride.”
    “You’ll be able to tell?”
    “Yes. And that will be the end of it.”
    “Or the beginning,” she said confidently. “Which horse?” she asked, turning back to the colts.
    “Take your pick. They’re all green-broke.”
    “My choice,” she said, her gaze going to eachpaddock. It was difficult to decide and she took a long time. They were all so beautiful, so filled with their own strength and spirit and rivalry for each other.
    With mounting impatience, Alec remarked, “You said that one selects a horse for his own sake, not for the horse’s sake, so choose.”
    “There he is,” she said, her answer quick and keen.
    Black Sand was racing down his paddock toward them. He made a sweeping turn and ran by. “Yes, that’s the one,” Pam said eagerly, climbing the fence to sit on the top rail.
    Alec said reluctantly, “It’s a bad choice. He’s the only one in the whole bunch I shouldn’t let you ride. Pick another.” He’d had enough trouble because of Black Sand for one day.
    She turned back to the colt. He was dark brown, almost black, with a wide blaze running from forehead to nostrils and long white stockings on all four legs. “But why?” she asked finally.
    “He’s the only one that hasn’t been ridden in well over a month,” Alec replied. “It wouldn’t be fair to you. This is no contest, no challenge I’m asking of you. I only want to watch you ride a young horse.”
    Black Sand had come to a stop nearby, inquisitive and looking for attention. Sweat covered his flanks and he constantly tossed his head and whinnied.
    “Is your concern for me or for the horse?” Pam asked.
    “For you. He’s by Satan, whose colts have his temperament, and the dam was an outside mare. His owner couldn’t handle him.”
    The colt was close enough for Pam to see the