The Black Stallion's Sulky Colt by Walter Farley Page A

it.”
    Henry turned to look out the window in the direction of the stables. “I guess I shouldn’t be so surprised at the change in them after all the years I been away from this sport. They’re a racy bunch now an’ I can’t see any of ’em pullin’ plows. They’re built for speed, not work.” He chuckled again. “But did I expect harness racin’ to stand still any more than our own sport? These horses are the result of careful line breeding. Some of ’em are just as fine-boned as anything I’ve seen at our tracks.”
    Alec said, “I thought you’d like Bonfire.”
    â€œYeah, I was includin’ him, all right. He’s racier than any of ’em. There’s a lot of the Black in that colt. No mistake about that.” Henry paused and for the first time his eyes and voice lost their lightness. “But don’t get the idea from what I’ve said that this sport’s for me. I want no part of it except to help you with Bonfire.”
    Alec looked up. “Is that why you came?”
    â€œOf course. I felt pretty bad after your phone callthe other day. When I didn’t feel any better about it this morning, I hopped into the car and came down.”
    Alec’s gaze shifted uneasily. “As I said a little while ago, you’re too late, Henry. Tom’s in the hospital. Bonfire’s going home.”
    â€œHe’s not goin’ home, not after I get through talkin’ to Jimmy,” Henry said emphatically. “Don’t you worry about that none. Let’s talk about you and Tom. What happened out there this morning?”
    Alec told him as quickly and simply as he could. He didn’t look at Henry but he knew his friend’s eyes were focused on him.
    When Alec had finished Henry said, “As George said back there, it could have been a lot worse. Tom will be all right. Forget about him for a while, Alec.”
    â€œIt’s not that easy.”
    â€œI know,” Henry said understandingly, “but you’ll manage it.”
    â€œI never hurt anyone before, Henry. It’s not like taking the fall myself. This is different, somehow. It’s hard to explain.”
    â€œYou don’t have to explain. I know how you feel, Alec. We’ll lick it all right.” Henry paused. Then he said, “Let’s not talk about it any more. Let’s get back to the colt. He can’t talk, so we’ll have to figure out for ourselves what we’re up against.”
    For more than an hour they discussed Bonfire. Afterward Alec felt much better. He got something to eat, and when he’d finished said, “Everything seems different with you here, Henry. I know you’ll be able to help him.”
    The old trainer said, “Maybe I will and maybe I won’t. All I can do is give him a chance to regain his self-confidence. If he has the courage to come back an’ the will to race again, he’ll make it all by himself. I’ll just be doin’ the groundwork.”
    There was hope in Alec’s voice as he said, “That’s all he needs. He’ll come back strong. He’s one of the good ones.”
    â€œYou should know, Alec,” Henry said, turning away. “I’m sure you’re right.” He finished his coffee, well aware that he wasn’t certain at all that he could do anything for Bonfire in so short a time before the Hambletonian. Nor was he any more certain about Alec. Both of them needed time, and he wasn’t being given much of it. “Let’s get out of here, Alec,” he said finally. “We got a lot to do.”
    They went back to the stables, and found George packing his suitcase. He turned around when they entered the tack room, his face grave in his concern for Tom and for what was ahead of him. Yet when he saw Henry a slight flicker of defiance showed in his eyes. He knew this man wasn’t one of them. He didn’t have