If his father thought the puppy’s injuries were critical, he’d find a veterinary in New York instead of making the trip home.

Henry said, “You thought of a name for the colt, Alec?”

“For months I’ve been thinking about it, Henry.”

“Then you’ve picked one out. What’s it to be?”

“Satan,” Alec replied, turning to his friend.

“Satan,” Henry repeated. “Uh-huh. Satan.” He paused, then continued, “Abu called the Black Shêtân, back in Arabia. Shêtân means devil in Arabic. So his son is to be named Satan. Is that it, Alec?”

Alec’s eyes were bright as he nodded. “It’s a good name, Henry, isn’t it? He’s so full of fire.”

“Yeah, Alec, I guess it is,” Henry replied, his gaze turning back to the road. Those black, sinister eyes of the colt haunted him like the devil himself. He attempted to shrug the feeling off. There might be nothing to it, he told himself. Nothing that couldn’t be whipped in time. But he wanted to be around from the very beginning to keep his hand on this colt, for there was no telling what might happen later if he were allowed to get out of control early in the game. It was important, much more important than Alec realized. Finally Henry turned to Alec and said, “I’m flying back to the West Coast early tomorrow morning to quit my job with Boldt. Then I’ll be back in a few days.”

Alec looked at Henry, studying his wrinkled face with keen eyes. “But your contract, Henry,” he said, “… it’s not up for two months.”

“I can talk Boldt into lettin’ me go,” Henry replied. “I’ve got ways.” Then, grinning, he explained, “Just let me mention that I saw Volence’s youngsters when I was east and they looked mighty good to me … say, even better than his gray colt … that’s all I have to do. He’ll sack me for that, Alec. I know him and his kind. Boldt can act like a jealous kid when it comes to his horses.”

Alec said thoughtfully, “You’ll lose money on the deal, Henry. Two months’ salary, maybe.”

“Mebbe an’ mebbe not,” Henry replied. “If I do, it’s worth it.”

“You’re a good friend, Henry.”

“Naw,” Henry scoffed. “There isn’t a trainer in the country who wouldn’t give his right arm to get a crack at the son of the Black. An’ don’t you forget it, Alec.”

It wasn’t until they neared Flushing that Henry spoke again. “Besides,” he said, “another reason for my bein’ around is that you’re due to go back to that upstate college mighty soon, ain’tcha? Tomorrow is the first of September … that means I oughta be back just before you leave,” he concluded. When Alec didn’t reply, he turned and noticed the way Alec avoided his eyes. “What were you thinkin’ of doin’, Alec, if I couldn’t have gotten back here for another two months? Were you thinkin’ of lettin’ Tony keep an eye on the colt, or somethin’ like that?”

Alec said quietly, “I was thinking of quitting school, Henry.”

It was several minutes before Henry said anything. “Have you mentioned this to your father?”

“No …”

“But now that I’m goin’ to be around, you won’t have to quit,” Henry said.

“I still want to be around, too, Henry.”

“But you’ll be back during Christmas vacation an’ then there’ll be all of next summer.” Henry’s gaze found Alec’s. “Besides,” he added lightly, “there’s not going to be much to do.