“Only about ten days left now before you go back.” His brow furrowed. “What about the colt?” And then, without waiting for Alec’s reply, he said, “Oh, yes, you told me Henry would be back by that time. He’ll take care of him, I suppose.”

It might as well be now as later, Alec decided. His voice faltered a bit at the beginning, then steadied. “I—I don’t want to go back, Dad,” he said. “I want to stay here and help Henry.”

His father didn’t speak for a long time, and when Alec raised his eyes he found him looking out the window again.

“For the past few years your mother and I have allowed you to make your own decisions, Alec,” he said quietly, and his voice, although strained, was without anger. “We did it knowing you had good judgment and figuring, I suppose, you’d be a better man for it. Our confidence in your ability to do the right thing has never been shaken. In fact, we’re both mighty proud of you, even though your experiences have caused us great concern and worry at times.”

He stopped, and Alec thought he’d finished—until his father turned around and looked at him. “But, Alec, you’re going off on the wrong road this time. I know it, and you know it,” he added quietly. “You love horses, and I thoroughly understand,” he continued. “You want to be a trainer, learning all there is to know about horses. You want to be able to take care of their ailments and a lot of other things. And the courses you’re taking in college will enable you to do just that,” he concluded.

“Henry never went to college,” Alec managed to say defensively.

“Ask him some time if, despite his practical experience, he might not have been able to do a better job if he had gone,” his father returned.

Alec’s gaze fell. Henry had already answered that question when he’d put it to him earlier in the day. “But it’s only right that I be here to help Henry, Dad. Don’t you understand?”

“Yes, I understand, Alec. But even I know you and Henry can’t do much with that colt until he grows up some.”

After a few minutes Alec looked up from the floor. “Perhaps,” he said slowly, meeting his father’s eyes, “I could transfer to a college here in New York; then I could live at home and be around the colt.”

“Yes, you could do that, Alec, if I had the money to pay your tuition. But I don’t at this time. You’re forgetting, aren’t you, that you’ve a two-year scholarship up at school? And that I’ll only have enough money to pay your tuition for the last couple of years?”

“Yes, Dad. I’d forgotten.”

His father walked slowly across the room, speaking at the same time. “But it’s your scholarship, and your decision to make, Alec.” He stood there at the door for a long time, and the room was quiet again. Finally he turned and walked back to the bed.

“I’d like you to go back to school, Alec,” he said. His eyes narrowed, and the tiny specks of light in them were cold and gray. “I’ll make an agreement with you,” he continued. “A few minutes ago you wanted me to register the colt in my name … to own him, while you rode him.” He lowered his voice. “I’ll do it, Alec, provided you go back to school this year. Next year, if you and Henry feel the colt is ready for the track and it would be more advantageous to his training to have you around, you can transfer to a New York college and I’ll pay the tuition.