Black Stallion's Shadow by Steven Farley Page A

back to the location site. He wanted to see what the scene looked like from the camera’s point of view. Finally Frank gave the okay and shouted, “Roll tape!”
    On Wes’s signal the wranglers started to chase the horses out of the gully and toward the water hole. They ran along with the herd for fifty yards or so. When the wranglers judged the scent had been caught, they veered off to the side. Their job was done.
    The herd streaked across the sun-baked ground, zeroingin on the teasing scent of water. Sleek muscles swelled to push the pack faster and faster. No boot heels dug into their ribs. No bits pressed between their teeth. The unbridled horses were on their own.
    Careening between rocks and cactus, the herd scrambled into camera range. The water hole waited for them, inviting and wet. The horses charged straight ahead. Two and three at a time, they plunged into the muddy pool. Some even lay down and rolled in it. Sheets of spray flew through the air as they shook the water from their coats. Alec could almost feel their relief. By the time it was all over, he wouldn’t have minded jumping in there with them.
    Frank kept the camera running while the horses played in the pool like a bunch of frisky yearlings. At last he called out, “Cut. That’s a keeper.”
    The assistant director put the bullhorn to his lips and announced, “Okay, people. Let’s pack it up.”
    â€œAbout time something went right around here,” Frank grumbled. The crew gathered their equipment and started loading up for the ride down the canyon trail.
    At last, Alec was beginning to understand the reasons for Wes’s reputation as a trainer. Getting the horses to run to the water on their own was a neat trick, simple but effective. His methods might seem primitive, but they produced results. And he was far from the ogre he seemed to be at first. Maybe he really could cure the Black’s shadow fear.

CHAPTER 8
Ellie
    T he downhill ride out of the canyon took half as much time as the ride in. Alec turned the Black past a barricade, crossed the road and walked onto the ranch driveway. Wes was already there, waiting along one side of the drive by the fence. He waved Alec over.
    â€œSo now you see what I’m up against around here,” he said. “Frank thinks I can rig a horse to do a stunt like some guys rig a car.”
    â€œHe seemed happy enough with the way everything turned out,” said Alec.
    â€œYou never can tell with directors. One minute they’re happy. Next thing you know, they want to redo everything and add a helicopter shot. But now that we have a minute, let’s get down to business. Aside from this shying from shadows, has the Black been behaving strangely at all?”
    â€œNo, he’s been fine.”
    â€œMaybe what he ate for breakfast didn’t agree with him, or maybe the weather?”
    â€œEverything seemed normal as far as I could tell.”
    â€œYou must have crossed through some shadows on the trail up the canyon. How’d he react?”
    â€œHmmm—I didn’t notice. I guess he didn’t react at all. On the trail or around the barn they don’t seem to bother him. Anything resembling a racetrack is a different story.”
    â€œThink you could put the Black in motion over the length of the drive here? It’s about the closest thing we have to a racetrack.”
    â€œSure.”
    â€œGood. See that big eucalyptus by the driveway there, the shade falling across the middle of the lane? Try riding him into the shadow at a clip. If he turns out or jumps, go with him.”
    First Wes and Alec walked up and down the drive, checking for holes and stones. Then Alec brought the Black to the gate at the beginning of the driveway. The distance they had to run wasn’t much more than a hundred yards, just long enough for the Black to settle into rhythm before they hit the shadow.
    The Black edged across the driveway in a