I’ll come back.”

“So you think you’re indispensable?”

“No, it isn’t that.”

“Sure it is, and that’s a bad state of mind.” Henry came around the desk, and took Alec by the arm. “If the Black goes, you go, too … and you stay with him until he comes back. That’s decided. Now let’s get out of these pajamas.”

As they left the office Alec asked, “Will you call Bill Gallon today to see if it’s all right with him?”

“Sure. When do you want to leave?”

“As soon as we can charter a plane. The sooner the better, now that we’ve decided to get him out of here.”

“Yeah, I guess so,” Henry returned. “No sense puttin’ it off, not after tonight.”

After Henry had left, Alec stood for a few minutes in the darkened corridor. The air was heavy with the smells of oiled leather, and soap, and hay, and grain. All this had become so much a part of him. Wouldn’t he worry about the mares and their foals, and the yearling colts and fillies while he was away? He supposed so, but it was needless. There was competent help here and, as Henry had said, no person was indispensable.

He heard the Black nickering, and his heart pounded while he thought of the two of them being alone again. Remember the island? Remember his first ride on the Black? Remember Arabia? Remember riding the Black across the desert and the steady beat of the stallion’s hoofs in the sand? Yes, in spite of his love for the farm, it would be good to be alone with his horse again. Like the Black, he wanted to be free for a while.

Without turning on the lights, he walked down the long corridor. He’d tell the great stallion what they were going to do, and somehow the Black would understand. Not from his words, but through some other way, which he himself didn’t understand and could only accept.

WINGED FURY
3

Two days later they stood within the close confines of a plane that had been specially equipped for the air transportation of horses. The floor of the horse pullman was lower than in passenger planes, providing additional head space, and the Black stood cross-tied in a boxed stall. He had given Alec no trouble while being loaded, following him up the ramp docilely and hesitating only before the rooftop doorway that had been raised high to give him more headroom upon entering the plane.

Now Alec adjusted the meshed-rope sling before the stall so his horse could more easily get at the hay it held. The Black pulled a mouthful from the sling, but held the hay between his lips without chewing, his large eyes wandering over the interior of the plane. He pawed for a while at the wood shavings beneath his hoofs, found the rubber matting beneath, and then his gaze finally returned to Alec. He began chewing the hay.

Henry said, “Until they find a better way of securing a horse inside a plane, air-shipping isn’t for me.”

Alec watched the stallion shift his weight from one side of his close stall to the other, and then shake his head as much as his tie ropes would allow. “They secure them as well as possible,” Alec said. “Give a horse no room to move at all, and you’ll only have more trouble.”

“I suppose so,” Henry admitted. He paused. “Well, Alec, I guess this is it for a while.” His smile belied the soberness he felt. “You two have a good vacation, and don’t worry about the farm. We’ll do all right. You give my best to Bill. Tell him I’ll be out there one of these days.”

“I will, Henry.”

“And be careful.”

The captain and co-pilot came up the ramp and into the plane. “We’re ready whenever you are,” the captain said.

Henry slapped Alec gently on the back. “Okay, kid, have a good trip.”

Alec walked to the ramp with him.