He watched Tony as the huckster carried Napoleon’s harness down to the tack room, his pace quickening as he passed Satan’s stall. As things stood now, Alec decided, he couldn’t see Tony taking care of the colt for even a few days, much less two months, if Henry didn’t get back. Somehow he’d have to figure out another way—even if it meant talking to his father again about the whole business.

Returning from the tack room, Tony asked, “You heard from Henree?”

“No, but he’ll be here any day now,” Alec said with a confidence he didn’t entirely feel.

Tony had Napoleon halfway into his stall when he stopped, looked quizzically at Alec, and asked, “But if Henree no come before you leave tomorrow, what you do with the colt?”

Shrugging his shoulders, Alec replied, “I really don’t know, Tony. I’ll have to figure out something.” Pausing, he added, “Henry should be here. It’s ten days since he left and he said he’d be back by now.”

“Dio mio,” said Tony to himself, as he finished leading Napoleon into his stall. “It’sa best for all of us that he come.”

As Tony emerged from the stall, Alec saw the afternoon paper in the pocket of his denim coveralls. “Mind if I look at your paper, Tony?” he asked.

Tony removed the newspaper and handed it to Alec; then he trudged off toward the tack room again.

Turning the pages quickly, Alec found the sports section. Jim Neville’s column was usually filled with authentic race track information, and he had been reading it eagerly for the past week, hoping to find something about Henry and Boldt.

Buried in the middle of the column, Henry’s name leapt at Alec from the black type. Excitedly he read: “… Henry Dailey is back at the Mother Lode Ranch after a fast trip east. His boss, Peter Boldt, claims that the gray colt, Comet, out of The Lady and by his champion, Shooting Star, will be the fastest horse he’s ever owned. Boldt is priming him for the Hopeful, great two-year-old race, two years off.…”

Alec skimmed through the rest of the column. There was no further mention of Henry or Boldt.

Tony returned, and Alec handed him the paper.

“You take heem out now?” the huckster asked, as Alec moved toward the colt’s stall. When Alec nodded, Tony pushed his way into Napoleon’s stall, shutting the door behind him.

Satan saw Alec coming and his eyes blazed; then, snorting his contempt, he moved far back into his stall. Picking up the lead rope, Alec opened the door and walked inside, his face tense and a slight gleam of anger in his eyes. He was discouraged and tired of having Satan act this way after more than a week here. All of them—Tony, Napoleon, Henry, Sebastian, and of course he himself—were the colt’s friends. Couldn’t he understand that?

Swerving, Satan kicked out his hind legs, coming dangerously close to Alec. Alec muttered and moved forward, keeping close to the side of the stall and avoiding the flying hoofs. He stopped and waited until the anger quelled inside of him. Satan was desert born, he reminded himself. Instinctively the colt was distrustful of every living creature, even those who meant him no harm. It would take time, perhaps a long time, Alec told himself, before the colt learned to trust them. And kindness on their part, more so than anger, would help bring it about sooner. He began talking in a soft tone, and then, when he saw his opportunity, closed in fast and had the colt by the halter. Lunging, Satan tried to bite him, but Alec pushed his head aside. “None of that, boy,” he said. “It’s bad manners.”

As Alec led him from the stall, the colt attempted to push him hard against the side, but Alec turned his shoulders against Satan’s light body, and the colt gave ground. “You’ll be needing a few more pounds before you can get away with that, Satan,” he said.

They moved toward the barn door, and the colt’s head turned toward Napoleon, who was looking out over his stall door. Beside him and a few paces back stood Tony, his eyes fearful.

Alec felt Satan’s body quiver with eagerness as the colt came to a standstill and gave way to the fury that possessed him. Throughout the barn rang his challenge, hard and shrill.