The Black Stallion Challenged Read Online Free

guard I was the son of an owner.”
    “Yes,” Alec said, quietly. “You could be.”
    Suddenly, Steve Duncan’s black eyes were flashing fire. “The next time,” he said, “it will be different. I won’t have to lie to get in here.” His tanned skin was stretched tight over the bones of his face.
    “I’m sure you won’t,” Alec said, surprised by the other’s outburst. He found himself enjoying Steve Duncan’s intentness, his ingenuity, even his excitability. It was a nice change after dealing with Henry all morning.
    “The next time I come,” the youth went on, “everybody will be glad to see me. I’ll bring Flame and …”
    “Sure,” Alec said, interrupting. “But the first thing you’ve got to learn is not to get so excited.”
    “I don’t get excited, not when I’m riding,” the other answered quickly.
    “It’s nice to keep your mind on it all the time,” Alec said.
    “I’ll do okay,” Steve returned. There was no cockiness in his voice, just self-assurance.
    “It takes a long time to become a race-rider,” Alec said.
    “Not in my case,” Steve answered.
    Alec looked at him in surprise, but the youth had turned to the Black, who was still watching him.
    “It’s almost as if he knows you,” Alec said. “He doesn’t usually act this way with strangers.”
    “It’s the first time I’ve seen him except on television,” Steve said.
    “He has a keener sense of smell than most horses,” Alec said. “Maybe it’s something on you.”
    Steve Duncan laughed, completely relaxed for the first time. “Maybe so. I got all spit-and-polished to come out here. It could be the hair tonic.”
    “It could be,” Alec said, “but it isn’t. It’s something else.”
    The Black was cool and collected, but there was nodoubt he had picked up the faintest whiff of a familiar scent from Steve Duncan. What it was, was anybody’s guess.
    “Is your horse a stallion?” Alec asked.
    “Very much so,” Steve answered.
    The Black’s foretop fell in his eyes and he tossed his head to get rid of it. He pulled on the lead shank, balking a little when Alec tried to straighten him out.
    “Is he sound?” Steve asked.
    “He’s doing fine,” Alec said. “I give him fourteen to sixteen quarts of oats a day and his feed tub is as shiny as a new quarter when he’s finished.”
    “I mean in the head?”
    “He’s sound in the head, too,” Alec answered, smiling a little, and wondering what had prompted such a question.
    “Do you ever trust him to anyone else?” Steve asked.
    “Seldom. You can’t push him at all. He’ll strike back every time.”
    “It must be rough working around him,” Steve said.
    “No, we just have to be a little careful. Usually, it’s about little things, like a coarse brush. He hates it. Sometimes he shoots out when I’m even using a fine brush, but the good thing about it is that he doesn’t aim any more. He just lets you know he doesn’t like it.”
    Alec rubbed his right knee and added, “He caught me this morning but not intentionally. He was just playing and, luckily, he didn’t hit me square or he would have broken the cap.”
    Steve said, “He must have some disposition … like a bull.”
    “He’s rugged and in good health, if that’s what you mean.”
    “I guess you could race him anywhere,” Steve replied. “I mean
any
track in the country would make room for him.”
    “We go where the racing suits him,” Alec admitted. “But you’re right. All we’ve got to do is pick up a phone and tell them we’re coming. We don’t have any trouble getting stall space, if that’s what you mean.”
    “It’s tough getting a stall here, isn’t it?”
    “It’s not easy,” Alec said, studying the boy’s face, for he knew they were slowly getting around to the purpose of his visit. “Hialeah is the only major racetrack in the East operating during January and February. All the big stables that have stock to race are here. It makes for a very busy