You’re not goin’ to see the likes of it again, Mister. Mark my words. Neither you nor me nor anyone else.”

“Just one more thing, please,” the visitor called after Henry. “What do you think was their best race?”

Henry stopped and turned. “I always like the last one best, and yesterday’s was a thumper.”

“It was reported in the newspapers,” the visitor went on, doggedly following Alec and Henry into the barn, “that you’re planning to ship the Black to Europe for racing there. Is that true?”

“It depends on what paper you read,” and Henry chuckled. “Some say we’re goin’, others say not. Actually what I told the reporters was that we’re interested. It’s a possibility but that’s all. There are many good reasons why it would be wise to go and just as many good ones for stayin’ home.”

They had reached the Black’s stall and Henry said, “We have work to do now, Mister, but we want to thank you for comin’ around. Always glad to see old friends of the Black.”

“Thank you,” the visitor said, “and I do hope you decide to take him to Europe. It would make exciting reading, very exciting.”

“It could at that,” Henry agreed, going into the stall. He stood in the corner, ankle-deep in the straw bedding, watching Alec wipe the Black with a soft cloth. “It’s nice havin’ such people come around,” he told the boy. “I mean people who think more of a horse than just what they see on the track.”

“Yes,” Alec answered, without a pause in his work, “it is. But did you notice his eyes, Henry? They were clear as crystal. Sometimes I thought I could even see myself in them.”

“No,” Henry replied, “I didn’t notice. I guess I got eyes only for horses.”

BLACK GOLD
2

The famous trainer and rider stood quietly together in the stall, the Black snorting and pushing his soft nose against Alec’s neck.

“Henry,” Alec asked his friend, “how serious were you … are you … about taking him to Europe?”

“So-so,” the trainer answered.

“How serious is that?”

“He couldn’t go without you,” Henry said quietly.

“No.”

“And you want to get back to the farm.”

They said nothing more but each knew what the other was thinking.

He’s at his best. It’s a pity to take him home now.

Henry said, “Whether we go to Europe or not isn’t important. What we got to decide is, do we keep him like he is or do we let him down?”

“He loves to race,” Alec said, “even yesterday with all that weight on his back.”

“After yesterday,” Henry said glumly, “the handicappers will put more lead on him than ever. One of these Saturdays they might break him down.”

“Even in Europe?”

“I imagine so. It might be a little better for us over there but not enough to warrant the trip unless we got some other good reason for goin’.”

They left the stall and went into the tack room.

“Then I guess the answer is to go home,” Alec said, throwing a brush into the trunk. “I’ll feed him.”

Henry picked up a horse magazine and thumbed through it. “Here’s a funny one, Alec. Listen to this: Three yearlings arrived at New York International Airport from Spain on Wednesday. They are owned by Angel Rafael González and are the first consignment of horses from abroad to be received by John Hudson, agent. They are to be sold at the Saratoga (N.Y.) Sales.”

Henry glanced at Alec to see if the boy was listening and then read the concluding sentence: “The yearlings will be at John Hudson’s farm on Long Island until shortly before the Sales.”

Alec kept on with his packing. “What’s so funny about that, Henry? More yearlings from abroad are being sent over here every year.”

“I know,” Henry said patiently. “Foreign breeders are after the same money we are. They’re providin’ a lot of competition, too, because many American farms need new bloodlines and buyers have found a good source in England and France.