Worth tryin’ if Abu will sell.”

The minutes passed. Henry walked awkwardly around the barn rearranging bridles and saddles that didn’t need it. Finally he walked to the doorway and sat down on the step. Better to leave Alec alone with his horse, he didn’t have much time. Henry drew out his pocketknife and began whittling a piece of wood. Funny, the way you could become attached to some horses. It was no new experience for him. There had been Dynamo, the tough little bay that had run away with him in his first workout. He’d just been an exercise boy then—a kid, like Alec. Suppose he would have been fired, too, if Dynamo hadn’t run the fastest quarter mile ever seen on the old Empire track. Yes, they were all good memories. There had been a few others in the years that followed … Chang, who could outsprint the sprinters and outstay the stayers; Me Too, who used to stand as quiet as a pony at the barrier waiting patiently for the race to begin while all the others fought to break out of line, yet was never beaten. Those two were good horses that he’d never forget.

Then, years after he’d retired and the missus had done all she could to make him forget the track, along had come the Black and Alec, in spite of her. The black stallion was a better horse than he’d ever ridden or trained. Guess he knew that the first night he’d seen him. He had to laugh when he remembered how Alec, the kid from across the street, had talked the missus into letting him keep his horse in their barn. “His horse” … she’d probably visioned some old swayback like Napoleon. Funny, she never rebelled when she found out. Perhaps, Henry mused, there’s more horse in her than she lets on. Or maybe it was because, like everybody else, she felt sorry for Alec after all he’d gone through. He’d read about the Drake going down off the coast of Spain and had been told that Alec was one of the passengers, coming back from India after spending his summer vacation with his uncle.

He’d never paid much attention to Alec. Saw him coming and going to school, but that was about all … a skinny kid, who gave the impression to anyone who didn’t know him that he was pretty much the studious type. When the report had come through that there were no survivors, he’d gone to see Mr. and Mrs. Ramsay. They had been pretty broken up, but they hadn’t given up hope that Alec was still alive. “He’s a strong youngster,” Mr. Ramsay had said.

Five months later Alec had returned, and not alone. With him was the Black, unbroken and untamed. Yes, and unapproachable to all but Alec.