With his back turned toward them, Henry heard Mr. Ramsay say, “Alec, a Mr. Peter Boldt is downstairs, and he’s offered …”
“I know, Dad. Henry told me about it.”
The old trainer sensed that Mr. Ramsay was looking at him, but he continued to gaze out the window. Then Henry heard Alec say, “Satan means more than money to me, Dad.” Alec’s words came faster as he continued, “He’ll be a great horse, just like the Black … and there aren’t any other horses like them in the world.”
There was a long silence before Mr. Ramsay said, “You still feel this way, Alec, after what he did to you? I know, you see. I was in the barn this morning, and he’s …”
“Sure, he’s fire, Dad,” Alec interrupted, and even Henry’s body stiffened at the emotion, the blinding love in Alec’s voice. “But that’s the way he should be. He’s no ordinary horse, nor will he ever be. He’s like the Black … beautiful, savage and noble.” Alec’s words came slower as he concluded, “And soon, Dad, he won’t be so savage, for I’ll win his confidence and trust.”
Once again it was quiet in the room. And Henry knew what Mr. Ramsay’s answer would be to Boldt. For Alec’s words had been no impassioned plea of a boy for an inanimate thing like a new baseball glove or a car. Nor was it the plea of a boy who was intent upon having his own way. No, Alec’s words came from his heart, and they spoke of the strange yet beautiful love this boy had for his horse.
When the old trainer turned back to the bed, he saw that Mr. Ramsay had risen to his feet and was standing beside Alec, looking down at him. Slowly the strained, gaunt look left Mr. Ramsay’s face as he attempted to smile. “He’s your colt, Alec,” he said softly, “and if you don’t want to take thirty-five thousand dollars for him, you needn’t.” Reaching down, he placed his hand on the boy’s shoulder, straightened and then left the room.
As the door closed behind him, Henry fought the impulse to go along, to see Boldt’s face when Mr. Ramsay told him of his son’s decision. Henry knew that Boldt would be livid with rage. Shrugging his shoulders, the old trainer decided to keep away from Boldt for the time being, for he knew they had not seen the last of him.
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. He’d use it today, if he had to.… Both he and Alec had tried kindness with firmness, and they had failed miserably. Now they had to show Satan who was boss. It was regrettable, but necessary. Henry was fully aware of the chance he was taking, and he knew, too, that he could easily be the loser. If it came to that … well, he decided, if Alec learned his lesson that way, it would be worth it. Henry clenched the riding crop between his fists. But Satan would know he’d been in a fight, he’d make sure of that!
A breeze came up and fanned Henry’s cheek as he walked into the field, his shoes squishing softly in the wet grass. He knew that Satan had seen him, for the horse had disappeared into the hollow at the far end.
Then as the hot sun broke through the clouds, brightening the field, Satan reappeared and for a moment stood still on the rim of the hollow, his black body silhouetted against the dense gray mist which had begun to rise from the low, damp land behind him.
Henry stopped in his tracks, startled by the almost unreal, weird sight before him. It was as though Satan, the devil himself, had emerged from the smoldering fires of Hell. And now Satan stood there, bold and proud … and contemptuous of the man who would attempt to make him do as he willed.
Suddenly Henry felt very old and tired. It was impossible to think that he could conquer Satan. He had no right to be here … no right to test his aging mind and body against this wild, untamable horse.
Satan remained there, his head held high, his black mane whipping in the breeze. He was monstrous, and his black body glistened in the sun.
It was a beautiful but unearthly sight, and Henry was afraid.
A long time elapsed before the old trainer moved forward again, his feet heavy. And now shame had replaced the fear within him—the shame of being afraid of a horse for the first time in his life. And then as he walked along his shame was replaced by anger, and he became furious with himself and with this horse who had made him afraid. When he was but a few paces from Satan he stopped, seeking to control himself.
And it was then that the horse bolted away from him, running easily to the east fence.
Henry followed, his hand still clenching the leather crop. But when he neared Satan, the horse tossed his head and swept around him again, running back to the hollow.
It went on that way for half an hour, with Satan contemptuously ignoring Henry’s attempts to chase him toward the runway and barn.
Finally Henry, his breath coming heavily, decided to use the ropes. He removed both lassoes from his shoulder and nervously uncoiled and recoiled each one several times before slowly moving toward the colt again.
Henry judged that it might take him a little time before he was able to get Satan in a position where he could throw the ropes upon him. But he soon discovered he was wrong, for Satan, as though tired of being chased, turned toward him.
Satan’s black body was quivering as he pounded the earth. Henry saw the colt’s cold, fixed eyes burst into a fiery red, and he knew that the fight would begin now and that he wasn’t going to have the opportunity of throwing the heavy stock saddle upon Satan’s back and riding him, as he’d planned. For no longer was Satan the hunted and Henry the hunter.… Every movement of the horse showed that it would be just the reverse.
“Come on, y’devil,” Henry muttered be
tween clenched teeth. “I’m ready for you.” He shifted the leather crop to his right hand.
And before Henry’s words had died upon the still air, Satan charged toward him. Henry had no time to use his ropes, for Satan was upon him, his mouth open and specked with foam, his teeth gleaming. As Henry brought down the hard leather crop he could see the whites showing in Satan’s wild eyes.
Henry struck Satan a crushing blow on the head; then the horse’s shoulder hit him heavily, and he spun around before falling to the ground. He lay there dazed for a minute; then, his head clearing, he turned quickly toward Satan.
The horse had withdrawn a short distance but had turned around once more and was facing him. Satan glared furiously, but Henry saw surprise, too, in his eyes. Then it was gone, and the wild, hideous look was there again.
Henry struggled to his feet as Satan bore down upon him the second time. Once more Henry waited until the horse, livid with rage, was only a few feet away; then he struck Satan another ponderous blow on the muzzle. As the black body knocked him to the ground again, he heard Satan’s shattering scream, and it was like a sharp bolt of lightning cracking the heavens. Henry felt the blood rush to his head after he’d hit the ground hard, and he fought desperately to remain conscious. For he knew that if he didn’t, he’d never get up again.
The old man struggled to get one knee off the ground, his head turned in the direction of the horse, who had withdrawn and was snorting in rage and pain. Satan charged again, and Henry stumbled to both feet, yelling at the top of his lungs and waving the leather crop wildly in the air. Satan swerved before reaching him and thundered past, his face hideous to see. He pulled up, twirled, and without hesitation came on again.
The lasso was in Henry’s hand, and Satan’s speed slackened as he caught sight of this new weapon. The horse hesitated before swerving, and Henry saw his chance. Quickly he whirled the rope once above his head. It had to be good … he’d never get another chance. Then the lasso went whistling through the air, and for a fraction of a second Henry thought he had overthrown. But then it settled over Satan’s head and fell down upon the high crest, already lathered with sweat. Shouting, Henry fiercely drew back upon the rope, tightening it about Satan’s neck. Then, using every bit of strength in his body, he suddenly pulled back, hoping to throw the horse.
Luck was with him, for Satan had started to turn when the rope tightened. Then, with Henry’s sudden pull, Satan was thrown off balance. He slipped on the wet grass, stumbled, and with a shriek of terror went down.
Henry bolted forward, the second lasso whirling in his hand. He was beside himself with fury. “I got you, you devil,” he yelled savagely, almost incoherently. The times when Satan had come close to killing him were all merged together in his mind, and he was in a blinding passion to overcome this horse. His face was as hideous as the black demon in front of him. For he was no longer a trainer of horses, but a hunter of them … and the moment of triumph was near.
Keeping away from the pawing hoofs, Henry let fly the second rope, while he kept the first one taut about Satan’s neck. It settled over the horse’s nose, and Henry tightened the noose, shutting the gaping mouth. Then he threw himself upon the savage head, shoving it down to the ground with his knees. As Satan screamed in rage, Henry drew the second rope over the colt’s ears and around his head, tightening it. Then the old man’s hand swept to the pocket of his jacket and furiously he withdrew a long white rag. He pulled it over the wild eyes of the horse, completely blindfolding him.
Henry stayed there for a moment, breathing heavily, and still holding the horse’s head down hard on the ground. “You asked for it, Satan,” he gasped. “You asked for it, and now you’re goin’ to learn who’s boss.”
Finally Henry let go of Satan’s head and moved quickly away from the horse until he neared the end of the two lassoes. The fight had only just begun.
Satan got up slowly, his giant body shaking. He tossed his head savagely, trying to rid himself of the blindfold. He shrieked again, and Henry’s face turned white at the fury that possessed this horse. Wild and blinded, Satan was apt to do anything. He might even kill or cripple himself as a last resort. For a fraction of a second, Henry thought of Alec, and then Satan’s movements commanded all of his attention again.
Cautiously Satan turned, afraid of what he could not see. And just as cautiously, Henry moved around him, carefully carrying the two ropes around the horse’s legs. Suddenly Satan snorted and, rearing, rose to his full height.
Henry waited for him to come down, but before the horse’s forelegs could strike the ground and Satan regain his balance, the old man jerked hard on the ropes encircled about Satan’s hind legs.
His feet pulled out from under him, Satan crashed heavily to the ground. Quickly he was on his feet again, his body trembling, seeking his opponent. He plunged in Henry’s direction, but the old trainer had no trouble getting around the blindfolded horse. Once more the ropes encircled Satan’s legs, and when they became taut Henry pulled back. The horse went down hard for the second time.
“It ain’t fair, but you’ve gotta learn,” Henry said grimly. He knew it couldn’t go on much longer; the colt’s spirit or body had to break under those crushing falls.
Satan had gone down heavily several more times, and Henry’s body ached from the strain of pulling the colt off his feet. Then, suddenly, Satan changed his tactics. No longer did he run blindly until the ropes pulled him up and Henry threw him to the ground. Instead he tried to figure out where his opponent was by his scent; then he would plunge toward Henry, and only come to a halt when his uncanny sense told him he had run the length of the ropes which bound him. He would turn then and stand still, his nostrils quivering and his feet firmly implanted upon the ground before plunging again in the direction of the hated man scent.
He came close to Henry many times, and only the old man’s renewed alertness kept him from being hurt by the flying hoofs. But as the minutes passed and Henry found himself tiring rapidly, he began seriously to doubt that anyone would ever master this horse. The falls Satan had taken had only served to bring out all the vengeance and hate in his giant body, and now he was lunging to kill … and Henry knew that if the blinder slipped he wouldn’t have a chance.
As Satan plunged past again, narrowly missing Henry, the old man saw that they were nearing the hollow, and his eyes found the tall, lone maple tree which grew on the rim. As a last resort, he could tie the ropes to the tree, thus preventing Satan from getting to him while he left the field. Henry was tired and worn out. He had lost the fight and he knew it. For Satan had more spirit, more viciousness than he had believed possible.
The horse reared and plunged again, and even though he could not see, he was fearful in all his fury. As he swept past Henry, the old man’s attention was drawn to the blindfold about Satan’s head. Was the rag actually slipping, or had he just imagined it? Then the horse stopped and half turned, and Henry’s breath came sharp. The blinder was slipping, and in a few minutes Satan would be able to see!
Suddenly the horse bolted, and it was Henry who was caught off balance, for Satan had pulled away from him. The ropes tightened and Henry was thrown to the ground; then he was being pulled along the grass as Satan gathered speed.
Henry was about to let go of the ropes and make a run for it, when he remembered that the blinder would slip from Satan’s eyes any second. The old man’s skin was burned from his body as Satan’s speed increased, and he almost gave in to the agony and complete exhaustion that swept over him. Then suddenly Satan slowed down and stopped on the rim of the hollow. He shook his head savagely and Henry gritted his teeth, for he knew that Satan would rid himself of the blinder this time.
The old trainer cast a desperate glance at the tree, only a few yards away, and with a final effort he rose to his knees; then in a half crouch he stumbled to the tree and sank at its foot. Slowly, too slowly, he wound both ropes around the tree. As he finished tying them, he saw the blinder slip down from Sat
an’s eyes.
Henry didn’t try to get away. He was too exhausted to run or to care. He was done, beaten. Alec would find his horse tied to the tree, and Henry only prayed to God that he might learn a lesson from him.
As Satan shook off his blinder, he uttered a shriek and reared. When he came down, his flashing eyes turned in every direction, sweeping past the tree behind which Henry lay. Then, seemingly unmindful of the ropes which dragged behind him, the horse trotted swiftly around the rim until he came to the sharp decline which led to the fence ten feet away. He stood there for a moment as though measuring the jump he would have to make to clear the fence. Then his ears pricked forward and he retracked, coming to a halt not far from the tree.
Henry forced his head up, and through blurred eyes he saw what the horse intended to do. And he knew that Satan was probably making the greatest mistake of his life in assuming that he was free of the ropes which hung so loosely from him. If the impetus of his jump over the fence broke the ropes, he would be free, but if they held and became taut with him in mid-air, he would hang himself.
For some reason, Henry found himself trying to stop Satan by attracting attention to himself; but his words were only a whisper as they traveled up his dry, tight throat and reached his swollen lips.
Satan was in a gallop, running like a black phantom toward the fence. Then he gathered himself and with a mighty leap flew through the air.
Henry’s narrowed eyes were upon the ropes which he had tied about the tree. He saw the slack taken up quickly, and then the ropes became taut. They held, and the tree swayed. Then the sound of a heavy body crashing down upon the underbrush on the other side of the fence broke the deathlike stillness of the early morning. A few seconds later it was quiet again.
And as Henry sank into unconsciousness, he whispered, “We’ve both lost, Satan.… Both of us.”